Page 40 of Somewhere Only We Know
We were headed to Hong Kong Park, a sprawling, lush park set into a hillside right in the middle of the Central district. There was a giant crowd near the base of the park and we had to weave through it.
“What is this crowd for?” Lucky asked as she did that thing again—of compressing her body into a smaller version of itself.
It occurred to me that her people might be looking for her. That she wasn’t only hiding from fans, but her management, too. I pushed myself into the crowd to get closer to her, using my body to keep her somewhat shielded. I didn’t want her to get caught, either. It would be the end of the story.
I replied, “Oh, it’s for the tram. It takes you up to Victoria Peak.”
Her eyes lit up. “A tram? Ooh. What’s Victoria Peak?”
I was already calculating the cost. It was at least eighty Hong Kong dollars for each of us. But man… that photo at the peak would bekiller. I’d ask Trevor to pay me back for all expenses later.
“It’s the highest mountaintop in Hong Kong and it has amazing views of the city.” I looked at the giant line of tourists and shuddered inwardly. “Do you want to go?”
Her smile hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the smile I had seen in her concert videos, the full wattage reserved to stun anyone in its path. The smile of someone who is worshipped. When she wasn’t shrinking into herself trying not to be discovered, she was the most confident person I’d ever met. Someone who was keenly aware of her own power.
“I wouldloveto go!” She was already scooting herself to the end of the line.
We stood in the sun and it felt good. Lucky seemed uncomfortable in close quarters with everyone, but the tourists around us were absorbed in their own conversations, and after a while, she relaxed. I did, too, feeling more and more certain that Lucky would stick with me for the rest of the day.
An entire day with her. Undercover. This was too good.
It was a good time to finish our bao, and I scarfed one down, the filling having cooled off some.
The line moved forward, and Lucky looked deep in thought.
“Thinking about your next meal?” I asked with a grin.
She widened her eyes. “I wasn’t, but now you’ve got me thinking all sorts of things.”
“Oh, God.”
“Actually. I was thinking about our Buddhist conversation earlier,” she admitted. “You asked me something. Can’t a quality life also be selfish?”
I shook my head. “No, I said can’t it havesomeselfishness?”
She waved her hand. “Okay. Well, I’ve been thinking about it. Yes, you can have selfishness. But there’s a balance. If you’re always driven by ego, narcissism… what you create at the end of the day, what you’ve built, isn’t that meaningful.”
Like Lucky’s body of work? Her fandom? Interesting.
“But isn’t that all art? It’s driven from ego and it’s okay! People love it, they want it. You should be proud. I mean, as in, people should be proud of what they create, even if it’s driven by ego!” Holy crap, that was close. “It’s not something that should make you feel ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” she said, quick and defensive.
Careful.
“I’m using ‘you’ in the general sense,” I said. We were both quiet, sitting with our lies.
“You sure have a lot of opinions about art,” she finally said, shooting me a smile. “Are you an artist?”
I thought of my camera back at home. I would have killed to have it with me today, but secrecy was the name of the game.
“Nah,” I said easily. “You’ll be surprised to know that I, a male, am merely very opinionated.” Even though I loved photography, I always hesitated to call myself an artist. Something about it felt, I don’t know. Presumptuous. I was a guy with a camera. That’s all.
Lucky laughed. “What about you, then? What would you pray for in that temple? If you were a believer?”
I crumpled up the paper wrapper of my bao to avoid answering right away. “Hm. I don’t know. I’ve never prayed for anything before.”
“What?” she exclaimed. “Not ever? Not even when you were a kid and you were scared of getting in trouble or something? No, ‘Dear God please don’t let my mom see the grape juice stain on the carpet.’”
