Free The Queen of Patpong by Timothy Hallinan

be, too.”
    Miaow’s face is as closed as a stone. “Fine,” she says, snipping the word at both ends.
    “We’ll be going,” Rafferty says. He stands, and his numb legs hold him up. “Thanks for the tea. Come on, Miaow.”
    Miaow says, “Mia,” but she reluctantly lays the mirrored fragment on the table and follows him to the door.
    Mrs. Shin says, “You’re going to be beautiful, Mia.”
    “Not as beautiful as Siri,” Miaow says. She’s not meeting anyone’s eyes.
    “You’ll be beautiful in a different way.”
    “Yeah.”
    “What she means to say is thank you,” Rafferty says. “We’re finding our way through a little snag in the growth process. The politeness area of her brain has shrunk.”
    Miaow says, “Poke.”
    “Don’t tease her,” Mrs. Shin says, opening the door as they slip into their shoes. “I need her to be in good spirits, no pun intended.”
    “I’ll do what I can,” Rafferty says.
    “I can take care of myself,” Miaow says.
    “Yeah, well, don’t trip over your lower lip on your way out. Thanks again, Mrs. Shin.”
    “You take care of my little Ariel.” Mrs. Shin gives Miaow a fingertip wave, which Miaow acknowledges with a nod that borders on curt. With a quick glance at Rafferty, Mrs. Shin closes the door.
    Rafferty and Miaow walk to the elevator in complete silence. He pushes the button, and Miaow slips in between him and the closed doors, facing them with her back to him. They wait without a word until Rafferty says, “This won’t do, Miaow.”
    “You told her,” Miaow says.
    “I don’t know how to break this to you,” Rafferty says as the elevator doors finally slide open, “but the school knows pretty much everything about us.”
    “Omi god, ” Miaow says, sounding so American that Rafferty almost does a double take. “Everything?”
    “There were about five thousand forms to fill out just to get you in. And then interviews.” The elevator starts down.
    “But suppose Siri finds out.” She’s got her fingers knotted together, chest high, just barely not wringing her hands. “Suppose Andy —” She breaks off and abruptly closes her mouth.
    “Who’s Andy? That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him.”
    Miaow’s response is a savage kick to the elevator wall. “Skip it.”
    “Absolutely no problem,” Rafferty says. The two of them ride down in an elevator that feels like a diving bell. They endure an ear-popping silence until the car shudders to a halt and the doors open. “And whoever Andy is, either he’ll like you for who you actually are or he won’t. And if he doesn’t,” Rafferty says with a sudden surge of heat, “fuck him.”
    Miaow helps the doors slide open with a shove and stalks across the lobby, her shoulders almost as high as her ears. The day gleams painfully bright through the glass doors. They’re halfway to the door when she stops and whirls on him.
    “I don’t have any friends. Not any, not real friends. Everybody looks at me like I’m a black peasant kid. And I am. Siri asked me . . . she asked me whether I was a scholarship student. Like charity. Like I came down from some farm somewhere, so some rich person could make merit. Like my mother and father raise pigs in the mud and I usually wear rags and have snot on my lip. What am I supposed to say? I don’t know who my mother and father are? I used to live in the street? My mother, my stepmother, used to be—”
    “That’s enough,” Rafferty says. He puts his hands on her shoulders, and she stiffens, so he kneels down until their eyes are level. Her upper lip is shining with sweat, and her eyes are all over the place. “Nobody loves you more than Rose does,” he says. “Probably nobody ever will. She’d die for you. Do you know that?”
    Miaow grabs a breath, holds it for a moment, and then lets it out in ragged spurts. She finally meets his eyes, and at that instant she starts to cry. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her hot, wet face