Free Heaven's Edge by Romesh Gunesekera

believing Zeng. Stupid also for taking the risk, and stupid for thinking Uva would really have come anywhere near such a place. Stupid and more than a little scared.
    â€˜Fear is not cowardice,’ Eldon had always maintained. ‘To be brave, one must know fear and learn to overcome it. Release it, not instil it.’ It was a theory I wanted to subscribe to. I took the stairs down to the promenade.
    Only once I was down at that level did I glimpse the blue beacon, flickering beyond the empty atrium tubs. I hurried towards it, stooping so that my height would not be too noticeable.
    When I finally reached the Juice Bar, I lingered outside. I remembered how Uva had spoken of Jaz as though he belonged to a profane underworld I could never bridge. But why not? If she could, why couldn’t I?
    Hiding my fists in my pockets, string bag swinging, I entered. Inside, scarab lamps burned in a dozen miniature alcoves. As my eyes adjusted, I made out a cluster of young men and women, preening and clucking. On a small mirrored stage, a troupe of nubile, genderless creatures with shaven bodies gyrated to the hard relentless noise of a dance machine. Two girls and a bleached boy detached themselves from the huddle and crowded around me. ‘Happy … ?’ the boy mewed through lips of gilt and glitter. I missed the other word as the drums intensified.
    â€˜Happy tea,’ the high-booted girl echoed cuddling up. I held her at bay and shouted out Jaz’s name, trying to raise my voice above the racket. The boy smiled knowingly and passed me a bowl of mist. I took a sip and felt, for an instant, that my head had come apart; the mouthful spread through me deadening each cell in my body, one by one, until my flesh unreeled from my bones. Someone struck a flint andflames streaked across the room lighting a river of spirits to burn what looked like spunk off the floor.
    I asked for water, plain water.
    â€˜Try the bar,’ the girl pouted and pushed me towards the back of the room. The deranged electrons around me had no rhythm, no anchor. I was spinning.
    Then behind the bar, I spotted Jaz.
    He was unmistakable. A radiant face, embellished by the glossy curved lips of a charmfish; dark eyes twinkling over a rococo amethyst necklace, and a bare body of thin light muscle enmeshed in the filigree chain-cloth of a silver waistcoat laced on each side. Around his middle he had a tiny pleated tangy-green sarong tied with a fantail bustle at the back. ‘Speak up, darling.’ He cupped a hand to his left ear, distinctly larger than his right, compensating the twist of his taut body as he leaned over, exposing a gleaming buttock and exuding the scent of cinnamon and honey. ‘Into my ear, will you?’ he coaxed.
    â€˜Are you Jaz?’
    The machine music faded.
    â€˜And who are you, gorgeous?’ Jaz fluttered his malachite lids luxuriously. He was younger than me, but knew exactly what he could do with his body.
    I shook the echoes out of my head and looked around; I was sober again. I moved nearer. ‘Uva said you were her friend.’
    The mention of Uva made him straighten up in surprise. ‘Oh, you must be the darling new lover then? Tall one, huh?’
    I was relieved; she must have told him about me. ‘Do you know where she is?’
    â€˜Marc, isn’t it?’ He reached across the bar. ‘Nice hands. Very nice.’
    â€˜Do you?’ I repeated. I was beginning to doubt that he could help me. ‘Do you know what has happened?’
    Jaz feigned an exaggerated concern. ‘Why, you haven’t already had a little tiff, have you?’ He moved my hand gently aside and swatted a small red termite with a coaster. His arm, his bare hairless chest, his face all shone with what looked like serum. He seemed incapable of understanding the danger she might be in. I wondered whether he was really a friend, or just a kind of doll she liked to play with. How much could I safely