This is probably a bit short, but I’m working on the second act before I have another go…
The office was spacious, loud and crowded. Row upon row of desks filled the entire floor, filled with teams of designers, writers and salespeople all chattering away and drinking endless cups of green tea. Tucked away in the corner, a small sub-office with just six desks. Only three were filled at the moment, with two foreigners and a tiny Chinese woman tapping away at their computers.
One of the foreigners was having a bad day. Alex Grimm had been working in magazines in China for years, and this one was a pretty good one, as these things go. The pay was reasonable, the bosses Japanese, and the content fun. He was having a bad day because it was 40 degrees and 98% humidity, the air con wasn’t working, and the deadline was coming fast. Still, that’s what publishing was all about, so he kept working on the photos in front of him, cloning out the defects for print. His boss, Natasha, was having a worse day, trying to reconcile an advertiser’s demands for copy with her editorial ethics. It was never an easy job, but this case was worse than usual as the client bought ads in all five Chinese language magazines, not just the fledgling English one.
Turning away from her shouting into the phone, he was saving out his work when she called him over. “I need you to go review this restaurant/club place in XTD again. The Fun House- you know the one we panned and advertising sent back the review?” He did know exactly which place, because she’d been shouting about it all afternoon, and he’d written the initial review that caused it all. This was China lifestyle writing at its best- be honest, get bawled out. She continued “You’ll be getting the full treatment this time, the manager and PR girl will eating with you. I got them to agree to an ‘invited us’ in the copy so it doesn’t come across as pretending to be a blind review, but I doubt much will be wrong with it. You’ll be going with Judy, who will keep them happy from an accounts point of view.”
He grunted, not pleased with this but at least heartened by the prospect of an evening’s free booze and food. Besides, Judy, the account rep, was sexy and possibly interested. He tried not to think about the potential for conflict of interest and complicating his working life, but instead focused on the champagne and steak he’d get for turning a blind eye to his ethics. It was cold comfort, but at least was cold with bubbles.
Natasha looked over her monitor with a rueful smile. “I know, I know. But it’s where we are, and what we do, and we’ve got a magazine that’s way more honest than everyone else. Pick another battle, and drink some bubbly for me. I’ve got a gallery opening to go to, and it’s going to bore the piss out of me. If you’re really upset, we can swap?”
He laughed. Natasha was a good person, a full-on butch from England with a stunner of a girlfriend. She was as hardass as an editor could be, but still a decent human being- and there was no way he was going to suffer through another boring gallery opening full of pretentious foreigners and wannabe contemporary artists playing at glitterati. Nope, it was off to the touristy theme restaurant he’d go, and get good and drunk in revenge. With an exaggerated gesture of resignation, he went back to his photoshopping, ignoring the whispered “drama queen!” from Natasha.
#
The Fun House was crowded with tourists, as it always was, since it had been written up in Lonely Planet as a ‘good French restaurant’ in 1999 and nobody had bothered to update the listing since. Now a carnival themed bistro set in an old shikumen along the main drag of Xintiandi, it drew in footsore tourists who needed to eat and couldn’t decide between Paulaner’s pseudo-Bavarian fare and The Fountain’s innovatively bad fusion cuisine. The atmosphere was one of frustration, sweat and alcohol, fuelled by roving beer girls in tight, short PVC outfits hawking Tiger, Heineken and Qingdao.
It was, thought Alex, the sort of place that immoral restaurant critics were sent to after death, to suffer eternity surrounded by bad food, mediocre service, and fat, loud American tourists. He settled deeper into his seat in the corner, and lit a cigarette while Judy chattered to the PR girl and the manager. As he smoked, he looked around the room. The dinner crowd was slowly dissipating, leaving the dance floor free for the incoming Salsa night. He was turning back to Judy’s cleavage when his eye was attracted by an incongruous scene in the opposite corner, were a greasy, lank haired fat man in a faded tailcoat was making obscene balloon animals for a group of rowdy, late-middle aged Americans. As he handed over his last creation, which appeared to be a bright green giraffe with a raging purple erection, the manager noticed him and gestured for him to come over.
“Let me introduce our entertainment!” he said with a touch of pride as the man approached, “This is Professor Walrus, an internationally famed magician! He had a TV show in Singapore, you know. Professor, meet Alex and Judy, they’re from The Hunt.”
Alex shook hands with the man, noting the Dali moustache and bloodshot eyes. “Hi. Alex Grimm. Good to meet you.”
The Walrus produced his card, and proffered it with a flourish. “My card. I always enjoy meeting members of the fourth estate.”
With a grimace, Alex replied “yeah, well, I’m not exactly a journalist you know. According to the government, I write for a direct marketing publication. But thanks, anyway.” He pulled on his smoke one last time, then looked around for the ashtray.”
Seeing this, the Walrus leaned over and said “let me deal with that!” and took his cigarette butt with a flourish. He picked up the edge of Judy’s skirt, leering down into her ample cleavage as he did so, and after making a little pocket in the fabric stuffed the cigarette down, grinding it in with his thumb. Pulling back his hands, he rubbed them briskly and stuffed them in his pockets, saying “there you go, all gone!” and leaving Judy to marvel at her unburnt skirt.
Alex grinned, and waved The Walrus over. Leaning in and speaking quietly, he said “so, don’t you find that butting out cigarettes wears out your thumbtip?”
Walrus looked annoyed, then smiled. “Ah, you know something, do you? It would, but this one was custom made for me- hand carved out of horn in Nepal. It’s fireproof. Where did you learn about magic?”
“One minute” standing up and smiling to the rest of the party, Alex said “excuse us for a moment” and took The Walrus aside.
“This isn’t a conversation to have with them listening, is it? I used to do special effects, and I’ve worked with magicians before. I’m not Magic Circle or anything, but I can build a decent illusion.”
“Can you then…” muttered the Walrus. “Give me your card. I think I have a project coming up and I may need a your assistance. You’ve worked on big shows before?”
Intrigued, Alex looked at him for a hard moment before replying. “Back in Montreal, my partner and I did a bunch of ads, some movie work, some Cirque type stuff- but it all ended after 9/11. He’s still in the game there, but I write for a living now. What’s this project?”
The Walrus smiled smarmily, and replied “now isn’t the place to discuss it, really. Let’s meet tomorrow for a coffee, I’ll fill you in. Is your partner free these days? I need an experienced crew.”
“OK. 2 o’clock tomorrow, at the Starbucks next door. Let’s talk”
With that, Walrus went back to his performance, and Alex went back to his champagne. Life was looking interesting.