I know about him.”
I should have stopped her, especially with Lanh listening, but I didn’t. I was curious. I looked ahead and said nothing, waiting for her to go on.
“Red,” she said in a singsong voice. “Well, his real name is Hugh Redvers, which is much too proper for a man like him. That’s why in Indochine, he is always just called Red.”
“Convenient,” I said, still not meeting her eye.
“I think he would prefer to hear you say ‘mysterious,’” she purred, leaning into me, forcing me to turn in her direction.
“I’ll try to remember that,” I said.
“Yes, do,” she said, practically grinning. “What else? He loves listening to American jazz music, especially Duke Ellington. The Duke, he calls him. He has an enormous phonograph, which he had sent all the way from America. If you ever make it into his apartment, I’m sure he’ll show you,” she added in a whisper.
I turned scarlet, and she started to laugh, inching away from me.
“All right, all right,” she said, putting her hands up in mock surrender. “Look, I’ll just tell you these things, and you can do what you want with the information. So, besides jazz, and beautiful women, he likes a very spicy noodle soup called bun rieu cua. He consumes it at an alarming rate. I think he believes it makes him more virile, but I’m surprised it hasn’t caused him to breathe fire. He drinks room-temperature water with no ice, even on the hottest days, something he picked up from a Chinese woman he was bedding for a few months, and yet he takes those Pegu cocktails of his ice-cold. A man of mystery.”
She grinned, warming to her theme.
“He barely works, which is why those train tracks down the coast still aren’t finished. He smokes opium nearly every day, drives a dark green MG with plenty of room for another person in the front seat. And when he’s not in Hanoi, he’s traveling the Mekong Delta on some adventure for lost men who never want to be found.”
She stretched her left arm along the top of the back seat, letting it hover just over my shoulders.
“What else? Oh, yes, this is probably the most important point. Every single woman who comes to Hanoi between the ages of fifteen and fifty falls in love with him at first sight, so don’t feel too guilty. He never wants to be married, but he really does enjoy being loved. Or at least lusted after.”
“I don’t feel guilty at all,” I replied. “I don’t fall in love with strangers. I’m in love with Victor.”
“Aren’t you lucky,” she said breezily.
“So Red will be there, and Khoi,” I said, pronouncing his name just as Marcelle had. “Who else?”
“You don’t care who else,” said Marcelle, still smiling. “But you’re sweet to ask. Don’t worry, you’ll like everyone. Very pleasant people. As for Red, I asked Khoi to put you in adjoining rooms for the night. Only a few hanging silk drapes will be separating you, and those can be removed with a flick of the wrist.” She slapped my arm lightly.
“You didn’t!” I exclaimed, waiting for Lanh to tap the brakes out of shock, but the ride remained smooth. Lanh, I had learned, was unflappable and discreet. He had never mentioned his sister, not even a thank-you in passing, just as I’d requested.
“Oh, Jessie, what a terrible prude you are,” Marcelle said, taking my hand. “There are no adjoining rooms, don’t worry. Besides, I’m sure you have a chastity belt of some sort in that large valise of yours. Or maybe you have it on now. Is it uncomfortable?” she teased. I didn’t answer. “Every woman falls under Red’s spell for a little when they arrive,” she continued. “Your reaction is normal. Maybe you’ve even walked past his charming little place on la rue Jacquin hoping for a glimpse of him.”
“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” I answered, not admitting that I had looked up his address in the telephone book. “Besides, by your description, he sounds like a fantasy concocted by some bored women.”
“Red? No. He’s better than that. And what French woman in Hanoi is bored?”
I shrugged and reached back to fix a hairpin.
“I don’t mean to tease you,” said Marcelle. “The myth only lives because he is so charming. Humorous and quick-witted. The best party guest one could ask for. You’ll see. But he’s a bachelor for life, that one.”
“And I’m married,” I said as the pin I was adjusting stabbed me in