Back in her room she went straight for her purse and her pillbox. She picked out a whole tablet and washed it down with another bottle of Perrier. Then she called her mother’s house again. No-one would be home. She could not remember if she had told her mother that she was staying at the Boulevard. No doubt she would assume that Susie was in the middle of all the chaos, so this time Susie left a proper message, informing her mother that yes, she was staying at the Boulevard, and it was chaos, but everything was under control and that she would call once everything calmed down, which would probably be tomorrow.
Perhaps she should call her agent. Or the producer’s people. Bad idea. You don’t want to get them worried and talking. Who knows, she might come out okay. There was a lot of hotel stuff in the street. They couldn’t , wouldn’t check every single piece and fragment for her fingerprints. Not to find out who killed some terrorists. All this worry might be for nothing.

She went out onto the balcony. The helicopter was gone. She hadn’t even noticed it leaving. Listening for it she could hear the party on the rooftop. She walked over to Genghis’ side of the balcony and peered around the wall. She wasn’t spying, wasn’t doing anything really, just looking. His curtains were still closed anyway, so it was not like she could see in. His balcony furniture made her jealous. He was right about the fingerprints. But it might have bought her some time. Maybe she can still talk him around. Everything is worth a try.

Maybe if she had been wearing something more seductive than a tracksuit. She contemplated her unfinished packing. Maybe it was time to change out of the tracksuit. But everything was crushed. Crushed and creased in her panicked attempt to flee. Anything she could seduce would need pressing and it was all too much effort. She laid on one of the beds, between two open suitcases, just so she could close her eyes for a moment. The room was so bright. Her sunglasses were in Genghis’ room. He had her sunglasses. And a full complement of furnishings and fixtures. All she really wanted was his palm tree. He could keep the table and chairs. Just the palm tree. When she pushed hers off the balcony it was going to scare them away. It was going to land at their feet and they would look up and see all the little palm trees waiting on all the little balconies and they would stop. But that one man, a small man, had run out. It was already falling and it hit him and she saw pieces of the pot fly and a spray of dark soil and then he was dragged away by others of them and they kept moving closer and she kept throwing stuff, but then everyone in the hotel was.

It was very real. Not like a cartoon. It played so vividly in her head. It was like she was at street level watching the pot fall, instead of on her balcony. She saw it fall and hit him and he fell at the same speed as the pot and they hit the ground together and the pot exploded and when they dragged him away his head was like a ball of potting mix, but smaller than a head and muddy.

She sat up and tried to shake the images from her head, tried to replace them with her suitcases and piles of clothes. “Genghis” she said. He hadn’t been hit by a pot plant. His head was fine. She grabbed her pillbox and stuck it in a pocket. Let’s go see Genghis. As soon as she was in the hallway, and the door to her room shut behind her, the panic attack stopped. It took a while for her heart rate and breathing to return to normal. She spent it walking up and down the hallway, just on the off chance that a door to one of the other rooms might have been left open. Of course they were all firmly closed. She returned to Genghis’ door and knocked. Her prepared face faded. She knocked again. Maybe the furniture thing had freaked him out. He is not going to answer or he has gone back up to the bar. He doesn’t want to have anything else to do with her lunacy. Her troubles. Her police record. Leaning against the door jamb she pinched the bridge of her nose, like her mother used to do when they had been running amuck all night and refused to settle. Going back to her room right now was not an option, and if he was up in the bar it was going to awkward. She could just wander around the hotel. There was another bar on the second floor, overlooking the street. That would have been a great place to be during the riot. There was a click of the door handle being turned and Susie immediately stood up straight. Her smile was genuine. It was like she was being saved from something. And he hadn’t fled.

Inside there was food on the table: things to nibble, the remains of a steak dinner, a pot of coffee and another bottle of champagne.

Susie put her champagne down and shuffled to the edge of the bed. She reached out and put her hands on his arms. It was just like a scene out of “Willoughby Road”. She looked down and let her hair fall over her face, then she looked up at him through it, right in his eyes.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you let me have your balcony furniture?”

His eyebrows shot up and he sat back. She rushed through the rest of the explanation.

“Then they won’t fingerprint me and my stuff is in the street and even if you get fingerprinted you didn’t throw anything so there won’t be any matches and I completely understand if you say no but you will be completely saving my life and I will do anything, anything for you.”

She finished looking at the floor, hiding behind her hair, waiting for his answer. Should she cry? That thought triggered something inside her. The events of the morning, of the last few months, did it all have to be such a struggle? Her chin tightened and her eyes began to fill. It was now a matter of trying not to cry. Genghis leaned back in and took her wrists and dropped her hands back in her lap. She stared down at her upturned hands, her curled fingers, the lone freckle in the palm of her left hand and tried to calm the tears, keep them cool and contained. Genghis spoke gently to her.

“I remember something about you being kicked off of a plane. For hiding a gun. Was this true?”

She nodded, but didn’t look up.

“Were you charged with anything?”

She took a deep breath and gave out a sigh. Genghis was looking calm but serious. Her request had not made him angry. She tilted her head to one side and fiddled with her hair. It was too hard to meet his eyes.

“I wasn’t charged. Damien really came through for me. But I did get a good behaviour bond. For two years. It’s still going. That’s why I’m concerned and why I asked you for help. I haven’t had a real role since then and I’m here for talks with a producer and more trouble would be the end for me.”

“I understand. I have some bad news for you.”

Susie let go of her hair.

“You’re a cop.”

He laughed at that.

“Worse news than that.”

“FBI? CIA? Secret Service?”

“It’s not about me, it’s about you. Because of your airplane trouble the police will have your fingerprints in their database. So even if we do swap furniture, and they don’t fingerprint you today, they can still match you to anything they pick up off the street that you might have touched.”

“Oh crap crap crap. You’re right. Fuck fuck fuck.” Susie jumped up and paced the room. There had to be some way out of all this. Damien would have an answer. Oh god, he already had an answer – send Jason. He knew right away how messy this would be. Messier than the last time. Police trying to treat you well and screw you at the same time. They could hold her for days. Nasty headlines would be written. She would be playing outlaw skanks the rest of her life. Always greasy, always dirty and ugly. When she got out of jail. Shit. This really violated her good behaviour bond. They could stick her straight in jail. It was just getting worse.

She grabbed her glass and took a gulp of champagne.

“Listen, Genghis, I’m just going to go to my room for a second, okay? I need to…call my mother. She’s not well and I told her I would check in. But I’ll come right back. Is that alright? Haven’t got any plans, places to go, anything like that?”

“That’s fine. I’ve got calls to make, too. How about I order us up some food? I’m starving.”

“Go right ahead, but I tell you, this has really killed my appetite. I may never eat again.”

She drained her glass and headed to the door and opened and was nearly out when she turned around to peer past the door. Genghis was still on the bed, watching her exit.

“I won’t be long. Promise. And thanks for being so understanding. I really appreciate it.”

He responded with a smile and made little scooting motions with his hands.

The hallway of their floor was almost church like in its silence.

“Your room or mine?” Genghis asked her.

“Yours. Mine is missing some furniture. And I started packing and my bags and stuff is all everywhere.”

“Mine it is.”

His room was spotless. There was no sign that there was anyone staying there. Everything must be in drawers and closets.

“Is it okay if I use your bathroom?” she asked him.

“Of course. You will find it over there.” He pointed at a closed door.

“Just like my room!”

“Ha ha. Unlike your room you will find this one still has its bars of soap, toilet rolls and bathtub.”

“Yeah yeah.”

While she did have to pee, she really wanted to see some of his stuff., to get some idea of what kind of guy he was, what his tastes were. The toiletries arranged around the sink were nothing special. Nice brands but nothing exciting. There was one square bottle of clear glass containing a pale yellow fluid. She opened it to find that it was his cologne. She wondered what it was. Another sniff. Her nose got too close. It brushed against the rim, catching a drop of cologne. Rubbing didn’t make it go away. Not that it was a bad smell, she just couldn’t smell anything else. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice it. She did her business and made a noisy performance of flushing and washing her hands.

Genghis was sitting back on one of the beds. The champagne bucket and glasses sat on the night stand between the beds. The noise of the helicopter was reduced to a faint chuffa-chuffa transmitted through the glass of the balcony doors and the closed curtains. She walked over and peeked around an edge of the curtain. The helicopter was still hanging out there. She had left her balcony doors open. They could probably see right in there. See her bags and her scattered clothes. Stupid Shoshona having a day off.

“You can take off your sunglasses now. It’s been like talking to an astronaut, or a mirror. All I can see is my own reflection when I’m talking to you.”

She walked into the gap between the beds and sat on the edge of the empty bed, opposite Genghis, mimicking his position.

“You would be surprised at how many people actually enjoy talking to their own reflections. I don’t have to say anything, just smile. They just chat away and I watch their faces and I can see they’re enjoying it and I can tell they are looking at themselves and not at my eyes, not that they can see my eyes, but most people make a good guess. Except the narcissists. They probably could, but don’t bother.”

“Am I one of those?”

Susie took off her glasses and hat. She shook out her hair, pulled her fingers through it, pushed it back behind her ears.

“Nah. You were a mouth watcher. A lot of people do that when they can’t see your eyes. That’s pretty normal.”

“So you hide behind your big glasses, watching people?”

“I spend a lot of time talking to people. It’s show business.”

More champagne would be good. The bottle was still half full. She filled their glasses, pouring with two hands like a child aiming a carton of milk. Some spilled onto the carpet as she attempted Genghis’ deft lift-and-twist finish that swings that last drops around the mouth of the bottle and directs them back down the neck.

“Whoops. Room service!” She laughed and returned the bottle to the ice and held a glass out to Genghis.

“I think I’m okay for now. All this champagne in the morning is going to my head.”

She chimed the glass against the other on the nightstand in a solitary toast and saluted him with the glass.

“To morning champagnes.” She took a sip. “So it goes to our heads. What’s the worse that could happen? We fall asleep and the police wake us up at midnight or whenever they get around to interviewing us twentieth floor people. Their king and queen.”

“I still have business to take care of. I don’t need to leave the hotel. Alcohol and business don’t mix.”

“Accept at lunchtime.”

“Yes.”

He was being a bit dour. A bit serious since they left the bar. Maybe she should go back upstairs and leave him to do his business. The crowd had not been very appealing. She had thoroughly scoped it out. Jackie had been right about Genghis being the best in the bar. The only viable option. There was packing to finish. No, that room was now to depressing. There would be nothing to do but sit and stare at the stuff that was no longer there and worry about the police. Genghis’ distraction value was dropping. And she couldn’t leave before asking him about helping her with the balcony furniture. If there was nothing big missing from her room maybe they wouldn’t fingerprint her. They must have gotten tired of fingerprinting everyone with missing glasses and ashtrays and towels and stuff. It occurred to her that if Genghis gave her his balcony furniture they wouldn’t fingerprint her, and if they fingerprinted him they wouldn’t find any of his prints on any stuff in the street because he didn’t throw anything. They would both be in the clear.

While she was thinking he went over to the mini-bar and pulled out a coke.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her. “We could call room service. Or go downstairs to the bistro.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m too worried about the police to eat. I’m really worried and I was wondering if you would help me.”

He sat down on the other bed opposite her and leaned in, his forearms across his thighs, the coke dangling between his knees. “How can I help you?” he asked.

the rain in sydney falls, mainly,
but over you it hovers.

your pale hair and your clothes
remain dry as this morning.

as the gutters flood
puddles part before your shoes.

in the mud of the parks
and the road works
flat stones burrow to the surface
to support your steps.

when you hold out your hand
you catch a few drops -
not enough to warrant an umbrella.

“Is that where they were from? Damien, that’s my lawyer, a very smart man and very nice, couldn’t remember the exact name.”

“The president of Ruzekistan is staying on the fifteenth floor.”

“That’s what Damien said. That the president was staying here and that’s what the riot was about. And you know what else he said?”

“What else did he say?”

“The reason we are being held is because the people killed in the riot had been shot and they think it was the Ruzekistannians but they can’t just say that so they have to go through this long process of investigating everyone and everything and that’s why we’re trapped here.”

“Ruzekistanis. I guess this means you no longer have to worry about your missing furniture then.”

Susie traced the rim of her glass with her finger. Round and round. It was kind of like thinking, but nothing really happened. The real thinking was being done out loud, where she could hear the words and her thoughts.

“Damien said not everyone was shot, which means they may have been killed by stuff we threw at them. And there were a lot of people throwing things. Have you looked at the street? I think if you had been knocked down you would have been buried in so much stuff that they would have trouble telling which bit killed you.”

“Then you have less to be concerned about.”

“I know, but I don’t like the police. They go out of their way to make trouble for you, you know? If they miss you on one thing, they will keep a hold of you while they look for something else. They will just make stuff up and see if it sticks, or if it scares you. That’s why you need a good lawyer. Have you called your lawyer?”

Genghis shook his head.

“I don’t need a lawyer today.”

“You’re probably right. You weren’t the one throwing everything they could get their hands on out the window. Your room is probably still pristine. Fully furnished. Beds made. Tumblers still in their paper wrapper. Stop me at any time. Sanitation ribbon around the toilet seat. Am I right? Am I right?”

She leaned in closer to him. Peering up into his eyes, a mock studied look on her face, like she was trying to discern some reaction, some interior process, happening behind those eyes. Which is what she doing, wrapping it in parody, trying to slip it under his guard, but it wasn’t working. He had nice brown eyes, though. And some kind of spicy cologne. She saw in her mind the lift doors opening and Jackie leaning over Genghis. She could understand it, but was she that drunk? She sat back and tried to take stock.

“Can you hear a helicopter?” Genghis asked her.

There was something, and it was getting louder. Much louder. A helicopter painted in the livery of a local news channel dropped out of the sky to hover in front of the rooftop. It turned sideways to the roof and in its open door sat a cameraman, camera over his shoulder, filming the bar. The crowd rushed out onto the open rooftop, waving their drinks, shouting at the helicopter and dancing.

Genghis turned to the bar and waved down the bartender. He shouted an order for a couple of mineral waters. Susie touched her sunglasses, adjusted her hat. She wondered if she could be spotted by the cameraman. She turned and joined Genghis, their backs to the crowd, the helicopter and the camera.

“The noise is awful!” Susie shouted. “How long do you think it is going to hang there!”

Genghis opened his mouth, closed it, then shrugged. They sipped their mineral waters.

“How about we go downstairs!” she shouted. He thought for a moment and then nodded. She grabbed her champagne glass and stood up. Genghis fished in his pocket and pulled out some bills. He placed them on the bar, picked up his glass and the champagne bucket and gave a wave to the bartender. The bartender mimed going deaf and gave them a thumbs up. They walked to the elevator, the crowd oblivious to their exit, no-one cheering. Behind them the bartender scooped up the tip Genghis had left off the bar, his first of the morning.

She sat there for a moment between two suitcases. The packing still had to be finished. Jason had been introduced to her once, when she was visiting Damien at the firm’s office. He was not a very attractive man, but he was big and fierce looking. He looked like he had been in a few fights and when she had said this to Damien he told her he had been a boxer when he was young. Lawyers that liked fighting were probably the best kind of lawyers. She took the bottle of Perrier out on the balcony. There were more police in the street now, and other uniforms. They were all busy doing stuff. There were barricades and tape lines setup at both ends of the scene and people were lined up behind them, trying to see what was going on. A contrary impulse struck her - drop your bottle over the edge, run back inside before they see you. It was shaken off. She walked over to the corner over the balcony adjacent the vacant room next to hers. It must be empty. No-one came out during the riots.

The balconies had a privacy wall on each side, but they did not reach to the front edge of the balcony. The glass and steel railing turned the corner and joined the wall with a short section of railing. This let you peer around the privacy walls, if that was your desire, and to look along the front of all the balconies. When you were standing there, peering at the next balcony, there was a only small gap, eighteen inches, perhaps, separating your railing from the railing of the next balcony. You could straddle it quite easily. Susie leaned over and touched the railing next door. Very easy. The balcony still had a table and two chairs and a large potted palm. All she had to do was hop over, lift them up one by one and pass them back over the little gap. The police would never know. She looked down at the street. They weren’t looking up.

The railing was a bit high, to stop people inadvertently leaning over and falling into the street. Susie was not that tall, being around five foot six, so she had to hop up and brace herself on straightened arms while she lifted a foot into the corner for a bit of reinforcement before she swung it across the gap. Just like climbing fences when she was little. But they weren’t twenty stories up. She shifted each of her hands, trying to judge the best spot to start from. She did not want to end up too close to the edge after she swung her leg over. As she manoeuvred herself into position she found herself staring down between the balconies, down the entire twenty stories and she was suddenly aware of the empty space beside the building, its immense volume and vacancy. The balcony was so narrow in comparison, a thin ledge, and the railing was an eggshell border. The space between the balconies, the column of empty air that stretched away from her to a dark green awning far below, was a funnel, a drain pulling everything down and she was going to swing herself across it and sit there with all the unforgiving distance waiting for her.

She changed her mind and let herself back down. The adrenalin rush that had started quickly dissipated. She drank down the last of the Perrier. Maybe Genghis would help. Looking back at the police again she noticed the white shapes of hotel furniture on the ground. There were more than the three pieces she had thrown, so she would not be the only one in trouble for that. That was a minor relief. She would not be alone, or the first they discovered. The police standing around them caused some concern. She might be able to talk Genghis into helping her. It was worth a try. First thing would be to get him away from the bar. Downstairs, in one of their rooms.

When the lift doors opened the first thing Susie saw was Genghis leaning back against the bar, and Jackie leaning over him with a glass of champagne in her hand. This bothered her. Why? She didn’t like him. Because she needed him downstairs. She smiled at her double entendre and re-phrased the thought. She needed his help moving furniture. Jackie better be planning on giving her seat back. She put on her smile and walked over.

“Hey guys. Genghis, I see you have met Jackie, my bathroom saviour.”

Genghis handed over a glass of champagne to her. Jackie smiled, but did not move off her barstool.

“Yes. She’s been keeping your seat warm for you while you’ve been gone.”

Jackie was still smiling. Her eyes were swimming and her face was flushed. She wasn’t being rude, she was drunk. Not slurring and falling down, but on the verge. It must have hit her while Susie was downstairs. Perhaps adding the champagne in her hand to her mix of previous drinks had finished her off. What a burden.

The dj interrupted the music for another room announcement.

“Room five zero four. It’s your turn under the microscope.”

Jackie’s face lit up and she hopped off the chair and grabbed Susie’s arms.

“That’s me! That’s me! Finally. Oh god I think I’m drunk.”

Susie patted her arm. She was so glad it wasn’t her going.

“You’re fine. I’m sure they are only going to ask you a couple of questions and that will be it.”

“Thanks, Susie,” Jackie leaned in and gave Susie an air kiss, then turned and stood on her toes and did the same to Genghis, “Thanks, Genghis. You two have been really sweet. I hope I see you guys again some time.”

Susie echoed the sentiments. There was a pause. Was she waiting to trade phone numbers?

“My purse! I left it on the table! I would have left without it!”

The crowd cheered as Jackie crossed the floor.

“Wrong way!” someone shouted as she dashed in amongst them. When she re-appeared with her purse the crowd cheered again. They were getting drunker. As the doors on the elevator closed part of the crowd launched into “Auld Lang Syne”.

Back on her barstool, Susie chimed her glass against Genghis’. Neither spoke. They watched the crowd.

“I spoke to my lawyers.” Susie offered.

“Yes?”

“They said the riot was being treated as a terrorist act because they were all from Pakistan or somewhere.”

“Ruzekistan.”

Entering her room gave her a rush of panic. The balcony was bare, the tops of the tables and coffee tables and dressers were empty, and over the beds there were pale rectangles where paintings had sat. In one of the rectangles, previously hidden by a painting, someone had drawn a child-like landscape with a sun, a house and a tree. She found her pill box and picked out another wedge of xanax. All the tumblers had been thrown on to the street. She pulled a Perrier out of the mini-bar, opened it, paused while she finished chewing the tablet into paste, and then washed it down.

She pulled her phone out of her purse. There were eight missed calls. Two of them her mother, three unlisted and Shoshona, fired, her personal trainer, probably wondering why she was missing her appointment, her beautician, ditto, and her agent. They could all wait. She scrolled down, down, down to Damien’s name and pressed call. If he is in a meeting I am going to throw up.

He was not. The receptionist put her straight through.

“Susie Q, how are you? It has been a while.” His voice came warm and friendly over the phone. She could picture him in his office – his jacket and tie off, spinning in his leather chair to look out the windows over the city, his hands resting on his belly.

“Hi Damien. It has been a while. I’ve been being very good. And you? How is your little tank of sharks?”

“We’re growing. Every day. A little bigger, a little hungrier. How can I be of assistance to you today?”

“Well, I’ve been staying in the Boulevard Hotel…”

“Say no more. You poor girl. I caught some news about the riot, or what was left of it. It caught everyone by surprise, especially the police.”

“I know. That’s the problem. We were all defending ourselves and now the police are interviewing everyone and they won’t let us go. Is there anything you can do to help me?”

“Defending yourselves? How?”

“Throwing things at them from the balcony.”

“I see. Were you one of the defenders?”

“Yes. But they can’t keep us here, can they? The entire frikkin hotel?”

“Ah-hah. I will get someone down there to help you. While officially you don’t have to tell the police anything, their increased powers can make things a little tricky now-a-days. Add in that the police have declared the riot a terrorist act and are conducting their investigation under the umbrella of their anti-terrorist powers, yes they can keep you all there.”

“Terrorist act? It was just a riot. It wasn’t a car bombing.”

“You haven’t been watching the news?”

“No. I’ve been up in the bar along with everyone else trapped in here by the police.”

“Let me fill you in. That riot wasn’t some spontaneous public unrest. You are obviously unaware that the president of, um, I can never remember this one. Any way, one of the ‘stans, one of those Central Asian countries that spun off on their own after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Their president and his entourage are staying at the Boulevarde.”

“Oh.” That explained the men in reception. She had been pretending they were there because of her.

“The government there is having a lot of trouble at the moment, with insurgents, or guerrillas, or terrorists, or revolutionaries - whatever you want to call them. Their troubles followed them here. Seems like there is a large number of their displaced citizens, political refugees if you like, in this country, who don’t like their president and they were giving voice to that.”

“But protesting isn’t terrorism.”

“It is now, Susie. And when you realise that the opposition is Islamic and has been linked to other terrorist organisations, you can see how our government, our police can easily label the riot a terrorist act and use the extreme powers at their disposal.”

“Doesn’t that mean they can keep us here as long as they want?”

“Theoretically, yes. But they are already under media pressure to let everyone in the hotel go.”

“Well, why aren’t they doing it?”

“Because a couple of the people who died in the riot had been shot.”

“But we didn’t do that. We just threw stuff at them.”

“Yes, but the president of whats-it-stan has armed security.”

“They shot the rioters?”

“If they did it would be a very tricky situation. My guess is the police need to rule out everyone before they start pointing the blame at the, um, ‘stannians.”

“If they think it was them, then why are they fingerprinting us?”

“They’re fingerprinting you? I guess they want the investigation to be beyond reproach. There are big political points to be scored in this and you, unfortunately, are caught up in it.”

“Well get me out of it!”

“We will do everything we can, Susie. The important thing is to stay calm. If anything happens, if they interview you before our people arrive, don’t say anything. Remember what lessons we learnt at the airport.”

“I won’t say a word.”

“Good. They may threaten you with various things, but remember, not a word, no matter how angry you get.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m just making sure we’re clear.”

“We’re clear.”

“Okay. Have you got a pen? I’m going to give you Jason Krugerstein’s mobile number. He is the lawyer I will be sending down to the Boulevarde.” He rattled off the phone number. Susie scribbled it on a Boulevard embossed writing pad (too small to throw).

“Can’t you come down?”

“Jason’s the best guy for the job. I haven’t had face-to-face dealings with the police for years and I’m afraid I would be doing you a dis-service if I attended person. Jason is smart and is full of our trade mark ruthlessness. He will have a couple of assistants with him. They will be looking very important and not to be fucked with. You will be fine. I will give him your number and he will call you when he arrives. If you haven’t heard from him, call him as soon as you know you are going to be interviewed.”

“Thanks, Damien. I really appreciate it.”

“A pleasure, Susie. Once this business is finished, I would love to hear the entire story over lunch.”

“That would be great. I look forward to it.”

“One more thing before you go, Susie. While I have told you not to tell the police anything, how to put this delicately, you must be at your most coherent during the interview. Things will go more smoothly that way, unlike the last time.”

“Damien, I’m not taking anything any more. I will be fine.”

“I know you will. It’s just an old lawyer’s habits. We think to much. I must leave you now for a meeting. Take care and don’t hesitate to call if there are any problems.”

“Thanks Damien. Bye.”

Susie realized she had been clutching Genghis’ sleeve in her free hand. She let him go and made little smoothing motions, but her hot, sweaty hand had steamed them in and they were staying. She chuckled.

-Look what I’ve done. I’m sorry, Genghis. I don’t really like police. They make me tense. More champagne? Please?

Once again Genghis deftly filled their glasses, but this time his smile had been replaced by a more somber, or pensive look. He held up his full glass at arm’s length and peered through it. Beyond it was the open roof. Beyond that the tops of buildings reflecting the sun, the light shining back through the golden champagne, interrupted only by a thread of rising bubbles.

-A toast.

Susie raised her glass.

-To the fallen.

This was a turn for the serious. She mumbled out a repeat and Genghis emptied his glass in a single long draught. Susie tossed back half of her champagne. The move was more like a throw and she was left wiping her chin and checking her top for spots. Genghis poured himself another glass and topped up hers.

-That was very serious.

He nodded, then he smiled, like he was watching the toast again, from somewhere outside.

-Yes, yes it was. The dead deserve their respect, don’t they?

-Even if they’re rioters?

-Yes.

-Even if we don’t know them?

He looked at her like he was trying to look inside her to see if her questions were part of their games or part of her.

-Rioters, strangers, they are still dead. They deserve respect. That’s how I was raised.

-When I was growing up we didn’t get any guidelines on how to treat the dead. There wasn’t much call for it. One of my grandfathers died when I was twenty, but besides that no-one I’ve been close to has died.

-You’re very lucky then.

-Has it been different for you?

-You could say that. Many people that I have known: family, friends, acquaintances, have died.

This was not the kind of distraction that Susie had been seeking. Genghis had better lighten up or she would go and join Jackie. They fell silent. It grew between them. They watched the crowd nonchalantly but they were both aware of it. Genghis stood up.

-We are out of champagne again. And I must excuse myself to visit the men’s room. If you catch Jake’s eye, grab us another bottle.

He gave her a wink and a tap on the knee and moved away through the crowd.

I should really call my lawyer. I should have brought my phone with me. Ever since the policemen had appeared in the bar she had this growing sense of inconvenience and frustration. She considered it outrageous that the police would contemplate charging anyone over what had happened. What was the chance she had hurt anyone? She was on the twentieth floor. That was so far away. No-one could hit anything from that distance. Even if she did, they were rioting in the streets. They gave up any respect or protection they deserved. The police were going to look in her room and she was going to be trouble.
Genghis did have to leave right at the moment when she had to dash down to her room. She scanned the crowd. He hadn’t re-appeared. She really needed a lawyer here for this. They would try and hold her. The lawyers could arrange something. They saved her when airport security found her gun in her bag. She had forgotten she had put it in there. It was a messy time. And they wanted to treat her like a terrorist. As if she had a reason to be hi-jacking a plane.

-Hey Susie.

She re-focused. Jackie was standing at the bar addressing her.

-Hey Jackie. Still enjoying the festivities?

Jackie rolled her eyes.

-The police were a bit harsh. Personally, I think anyone hurt in the riot got what they deserved. A couple of the guys I was hanging out with, from the eighth floor, before the police came, were telling us how they were targeting people on the street. They were telling us they knocked a few down. Now, now they are freaking out and hoping their lawyers get here before they are interviewed.

-I know how they feel. I mean, I was just thinking I should call my lawyer.

-You should, you should. We’ve all called. Whether or not they get here is another matter. The police have cordoned off some streets and aren’t letting anyone through.

-How do you know all this?

Jackie held her mobile phone up.

-This, and a friend of mine works on channel 8. We did a bit of an info swap. You know what would be a great idea? You could talk to her. You could do like a live phone interview. A couple of us have already been interviewed, but the celebrity angle would be great. Monica would love it. That’s my friend the journalist.

-What’s in it for me? Sorry, Jackie. The industry makes you cynical.

-That’s alright, honey.

She dug around in her clutch purse and pulled out a card.

-Take this. It’s Monica’s card. Her private number is on the back. If you change your mind you can call her. She’s really nice. She’s got a lot of respect. Tell her you got her number from me and she will take care of you.

Susie took the card and stuck it in the back pocket of her track suit pants. She could throw it away later.

-Thanks Jackie, that’s very nice of you.

-It’s nothing, Susie. We all have to stick together at times like this. Speaking of sticking together. How is Genghis? Me and the other girls think you might have ended up with the best on board.

Susie laughed. The most morbid on board. She had noticed that he was better looking than the other guys in the bar. And fitter.

-I tell you what. I’ll share him with you.

Jackie squealed.

“Not like that. I have to pop down to my room to grab my phone. Could you wait here until he returns and let him know I will be right back? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure, honey.”

Jackie gave Susie’s arm a playful push.

“You run along and take your sweet time while I will make chit-chat with the Kahn.”

“Thanks, Jackie. I won’t be long.”

“I said take your sweet time.”

Susie gave her a laugh and went over to the elevator. A few of the drunker, less attentive members of the crowd let out a staggered, confused cheer. She ignored them. Where was the elevator? She pressed the button a few more times. They could at least put up one of those displays that show which floor the elevator is on. The chimes eventually sounded and the doors opened. Once the doors closed the silence was remarkable. The fuzziness in her head was not the mix of noise and music and the crowd circulating in the sunlight, it was the champagne.