her voice when she saw me flush. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m just surprised. They practically shoved one of these in my mouth as soon as I arrived. But I’m happy to be the one to initiate you. First, I show you the Officers’ Club—well, the good parts anyway—and now this. There’s almost nothing left for me to teach you concerning the vices of Indochine. Almost,” she said, glancing at Red.
“No,” I said, watching as he lay back on a pile of pillows, one of the young native girls coming over to tend to him. “I’ve never even smelled it before.” I knew there was rampant opium use in Indochine and that the Europeans indulged in it as much as anyone, many of them becoming addicted. But after seven weeks in the country, I still hadn’t seen it. My closest encounter—and that was secondhand—was with that overly bold Frenchman on the day I witnessed the delivery of the dead communist.
“The wood those pipes are made of is very ornate,” I said to Red as he inhaled and closed his eyes.
“It’s not wood, it’s bamboo,” he said, exhaling and rearranging the pillows the better to sink between them. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Yes, surprisingly so,” I replied, marveling at the way his face and body already seemed more relaxed.
Within a few minutes, everyone was smoking except for me and, I noticed, Khoi. He had left the room after seeing that his guests were attended to. A piano melody was playing softly on a phonograph, and the conversation had died away. Red motioned one of the girls over and whispered something to her, his hand on the small of her back, rubbing her dress in a gentle circle.
When the girl asked me if I would like a pipe of my own, I shook my head and pressed against the wall, feeling light-headed and a little nauseated.
“I think I’ll go back up to the sundeck,” I said to Marcelle, not wanting to see her or Red like this. Marcelle nodded but didn’t reply, her eyes half closed, her head back against a mound of bright cushions.
When I reached the deck, Khoi was sitting alone with a cocktail.
“Don’t you smoke?” I asked after he’d pointed to the chair next to him.
“Rarely,” he said, handing me a glass of champagne that he’d poured himself, waving off the boy. “It bores me a bit. Perhaps because I grew up around it. I do indulge occasionally, but less and less often as I get older. It just doesn’t have the same exotic appeal for me that it does for foreigners. Colonials behaving badly and all that. Of course, the French also love that it’s a very profitable commodity for them. The colony would have taken far longer to become profitable if they hadn’t levied the opium tax, and managed to put the substance in so many people’s hands. It’s sticky, in more ways than one. But you’re smart not to smoke it. You’re too charming to let your mind be dulled.”
I liked Khoi. Besides his mesmerizing looks, he had a self-assurance that the rich French lacked. All the fuss, he seemed to shrug, was a little tedious, even though he was the one providing it.
“May I offer you something other than champagne?” he asked, looking at my full glass. “I’m sorry, I just assumed.”
“What are you having?” I asked.
“Lemonade,” he said, holding up the tall glass with a grin. “I loved it as a child, and I’m afraid I never grew out of it. I had a French cook—isn’t that funny, a French cook for an Annamite boy?—who made the most delicious kind, with lavender in it. I have no idea where he found the lavender. This one lacks the herb, but it’s still quite good. Please, try it.”
“This might actually be better than the Veuve Clicquot,” I said after he handed me his glass and I took a sip.
“Here, you can have both,” he said, gesturing for another glass.
“So, I hear you own a Delahaye,” Khoi resumed, watching me drink. “It’s a beautiful car.”
“Do you know the company?” I asked. I hadn’t seen any other Delahayes in Indochine.
“I do. My father is quite an enthusiast himself. He owns three.”
“Three!” I exclaimed.
“He tends to do things in excess. At least when it comes to cars.”
“This boat isn’t excessive, though,” I said, looking around us. “It’s perfect.”
“Thank you. I chose the boat.”
He looked at me, with a glance that seemed to flicker between admiring and appraising.