Chapter 31

Lev’s feet hurt. Except for a couple of quick stops for meals, he’d been on them all day. Kathmandu might be a city of temples, but it was also a city of stairs and Tiffany Patton seemed to find every single one of them to march her little entourage up and down. His steel-toed boots felt like they weighed a few hundred pounds each, but he wasn’t about to complain. Olivia, Ruby, and Cyrene had done the whole thing in heels.

Besides, he didn’t want to do anything to dim Arwen’s enjoyment of Kathmandu. They’d been moving from attraction to attraction as quickly as the camera crew could get pictures of the band and their entourage showing the proper enjoyment and/or reverence for the location. Arwen’s enthusiasm had at first been at odds with the models’ more reserved approach, but she’d quickly won over Tiffany to a more honest, straightforward enjoyment of the wonders around them. With Tiffany on her side, the others fell like bowling pins until they were all chattering, whispering, and laughing like a bunch of schoolgirls.

Ruby had commented at lunchtime that Arwen and Tiffany were like long-lost sisters. Lev thought they looked more like they were on a date, but that might be because he knew Arwen was looking to branch out in that direction. He didn’t mind. His girlfriend certainly wasn’t ignoring him and, as he’d told Tiffany on the flight over, even if she stole Arwen away for a while, he knew how to steal her back. Even if his ordinary methods should fail, he was carrying his very own nuclear option in a small, wooden box in his pocket.

Beyond that, Lev thought Kathmandu was beautiful beyond Tel Aviv where he’d grown up and certainly moreso than New York with its blocky architecture. The ancient Nepalese city made him homesick without being anything like home beyond a sense of timelessness - like the cities would be there forever even if all the people went away. Americans called a building old if it had stood a hundred years.

Right now, Kathmandu’s timelessness was being challenged. Not all of the rubble from the series of earthquakes earlier in the year had been cleared away and many of the venerable buildings were wrapped in scaffolding or showed clear signs they could use some. The city was slowly rebuilding, but there weren’t enough work crews for all the jobs that needed to be done. The crowds were full of able-bodied men looking for any work they could find and the work was going undone. It was exactly the sort of situation the ACCD Fund’s money could ameliorate.

Lev could imagine staying here and helping the rebuilding effort. Before Nick’s good fortune, if Lev imagined himself providing disaster aid somewhere, it would have been with a strong back and arms or defending the workers, not representing some big donor who was looking for the best place to give money. Giving him the opportunity to get this perspective and implying in his offer that Lev’s mind was even more valuable than his considerable physical presence was one of many things Lev felt gratitude towards Nick for. Lev knew he would never be as witty as Nick, Max, and Simon, but he wasn’t stupid.

For instance, he could see that Kathmandu currently held far more people than it could house. When he’d asked Labh and Kamakshi, their honest-to-God Sherpa guides about it, they’d told him tens of thousands of people from more rural areas had lost their homes and, in some cases, their entire village and fled to the city. That knowledge added a somber cast to the excursion, but only until they got to the Swayambhunath Stupa, commonly known as the “monkey temple” because of the large number of such primates who considered the temple their territory at least as much as the humans who swarmed around it.

Someone in their group must have crossed some imaginary line because, all of a sudden, a big golden bull monkey was charging towards them chittering angrily. The women had scattered and regathered in a tight knot with Lev between them and the aggressor. Afterwards, a laughing Izzy had shown Lev a picture of himself with the women behind him leaning forward and baring his teeth at the angry monkey, then taken one with them all gathered around him like he was some sort of conquering hero. Arwen gave him a knowing look as if to say, “Imagine how jealous I would have been about this a month ago.”

By the time they reached the last stop on their itinerary before they needed to head off for Tiffany’s concert, the models were starting to flag. Ruby suggested she could head straight for the bus and maybe catch a quick nap, but Tiffany said, “This one is special, Ruby. You’re not going to want to miss it. Trust me.”

The golden spire of the Boudhanath Stupa was wrapped in wooden scaffolding, an ugly scar of raw, broken brick marring one corner of the iconic four faces at the base of the tower. They looped around to an undamaged face, a rectangle of gold-colored brick painted with two large brown eyes and a nose looking out over the Kathmandu Valley. Up on the observation platform a smattering of worshippers walked around the base of the temple singly or in pairs. In one corner away from the white and gold dome, musicians played stringed instruments Lev couldn’t have begun to guess the names of. Tiffany drifted towards them and the entourage followed.

When they group had landed at Kathmandu’s international airport, they’d been met by the young Sherpa couple, Labh and Kamakshi. The husband Labh had narrated most of the trip while Kamakshi had answered questions from the group. But it was Kamakshi who spoke now about the four times four sons of Jadzima toiling seven years to build the stupa and the crucial role this temple had played in the history of Buddhism - the kings and princes and bodhisattvas who had prayed here, the Buddhas and Heavenly Deities who had incarnated as Lamas in this stupa. She wove together history and mythology so that it wasn’t clear which was which.

“Did Jadzima really have sixteen sons?” Cyrene winced. All the women in the group looked discomfited to varying degrees.

“She did - four by each of her husbands - a horse trader, a pig trader, a dog trader, and a poultry trader,” said Kamakshi. “Her karma allowed her to be reincarnated as a beautiful apsara - a spirit of clouds and waters.”

The young woman went on to describe the temple’s place as a center in the struggle between those who sought to preserve and promote Buddhism and the demons who sought to destroy it. As she did, the buskers changed the tune they were playing to one that seemed to underscore the narration. With everyone focused on Kamakshi, Tiffany slowly backed away from the group until she was standing with the musicians and Lev positioned himself right behind Arwen.

When Kamakshi finished speaking, the music changed from something purely of Nepal to something that mixed both Western and Eastern music into a familiar tune that became more recognizable, particularly once Tiffany joined in on the violin the buskers had been given to hand to her.

The song was a gamble. Arwen had sworn him to secrecy under pain of death before she’d admitted her love of the Twilight movies to him. And certainly, if their friends ever found out about it, the ribbing would be ruthless. Nick personally disliked the series enough that he’d added “sparkly vampires” as a bit of comic relief to his campaign. But not everyone would immediately associate Christina Perry’s A Thousand Years with the movies. It was also just a very pretty, very romantic song.

Lev watched Arwen’s body language as Tiffany played the opening strains and the buskers joined in. Her shoulders tensed a little and she turned her head to listen while still looking at the damaged temple. It wasn’t until Tiffany started singing that she spun around to see and found herself staring straight into Lev’s chest. When she looked up at him, he smiled and held out his hands as he would at the beginning of a waltz. “Dance with me?”

Arwen’s eyes narrowed, but she took his hands and they danced. “Levi Israel Jessop, what are you up to?”

Lev couldn’t help laughing. His full, legal name was probably a warning and a reminder that they knew each other’s embarrassing secrets, but he just smiled and said, “I think you know.”

And so it was that Lev danced with the woman he loved on the far side of the world from their home on the platform of the largest Hindu temple anywhere with the Himalayas in the background, serenaded by a Grammy-nominated pop star and three carefully-planted Himalayan musicians. At his request, Pilar had been teaching them the waltz so that they knew the steps by heart now. That was a good thing. Tears glistened in Arwen’s eyes and one slid down her cheek. Lev’s vision clouded as well and he wouldn’t have been ashamed to admit that there were tears of joy in his eyes - and maybe a bit of relief that it had all been successfully pulled off.

Tiffany’s entourage had formed an arc around them, enclosing the corner with them and the musicians while leaving them room to dance. Some of them probably suspected what was coming next, but there was still an audible gasp when the song ended and Lev went down to one knee, drawing the small, wooden box out of his pants pocket. He popped it open, revealing the two copper and silver Mokume Gane rings nested inside each other, the woodlike-grain of the two metals glowing in the sunset. “Arwen Dickinson, will you promise to marry me?”

Arwen gave a happy sob. “I don’t suppose you leave me much choice.”

Lev drew the rings out of the box. “Give me your hand.”

She did and Lev slid the nested rings over her finger before drawing back only the larger ring. Like everything else about them, Lev’s hands dwarfed Arwen’s and his ring came away easily. He offered it to her. “Would you do the honors?”

She took the ring and, with shaking hands, slid it on Lev’s finger, then threw herself into his arms. If he hadn’t been accustomed to her frequently exuberant displays of affection, Lev probably would have gone over backwards, but he was ready for her. When she hit, he pushed off his bended knee and rose, taking her with him so that her feet kicked nearly a foot off the ground. Her startled, joyous squeal undoubtedly alerted far more people than had witnessed their little tableau, but that just meant the applause when they kissed was louder, even if not everyone clapping knew what was going on.

Before too long, James was whispering in Tiffany’s ear. She nodded and handed the violin back to one of the musicians, then said quietly, “Folks, we need to get moving if we’re going to start the concert anywhere close to on-time. The bus is waiting for us about a half mile from here outside of the worst of the traffic.”

“Another half mile?” Ruby groaned. “I swear I’m going to murder Jimmy Choo the next time I see him.”

As they wound their way through the streets, the men with the longest legs and Olivia who looked to be around six feet tall gravitated towards the front of the group, clearing a path for the rest. Dennis fell into step with Lev. “So, are you are Arwen really getting married ... or was that just for the cameras?”

“We’re really getting married ... eventually,” said Lev. “Not this year and not next, but maybe the one after that. There’s no rush. We just know that, when we do get married, we want to marry each other.”

“Really?” Dennis let the question hang in the air, but Lev chose to hear it as rhetorical. “Well, good for you, man. I admire your certainty.”

“We’ve been together two years.” Lev reminded him.

“Two years in Brownfield Mills and a month in New York,” Dennis said. “Hell of a lot longer than anybody stuck with me. Congratulations to both of you.”

Tiffany caught up with them. “Dennis, can I ask you a huge favor? Ruby says her feet really hurt. We’re most of the way to the bus already. Can you maybe ... carry her on your shoulders, please? I asked Soup and Lex, but the union would be all over all our asses if one of them did it.”

Dennis looked back and smirked. “Duty calls.”

That left Lev alone at the point, clearing a path as politely as he could by simply lowering his head and walking in a straight line. He so towered over the average Nepali that people just naturally gave him the right of way. Once they made it to where the bus was waiting, a ragged cheer went up and the group filed on. Ruby high-fived Lev before getting down from Dennis’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure if the gesture was for the proposal or his superior pathfinding ability, but he returned it. As Lev climbed on the bus behind Dennis, Tiffany said to his friend, “Can I borrow you for the ride over? I could use your help with something.”

“Another piggyback ride?” Dennis smiled.

“I want to tune up some last-minute arrangements. You have a good ear.” Tiffany said.

“You’re changing arrangements now?” Halfway down the bus, James turned around. “The concert’s in less than two hours.”

“The four songs from the last album are completely wrong for playing here.” Tiffany led Dennis further back. “You told me life was back to normal here, Jimmy. That’s bullshit. Kathmandu is still an open wound. I’m not going to play that flashy shit to a city full of refugees.”

James blocked her way to the back of the bus. “If you don’t play those four songs, the label doesn’t pay for any of this. That’s in the contract you signed.”

Tiffany went up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “I know what’s on the contract. We’re still doing the songs, but we’re doing acoustic versions. I’ve been working them out in my head for a while now. Dennis is going to help me polish them on the way over.”

James gave her a doubtful look, but stepped aside to let her pass. “All right, Tiff. You know what you’re doing.”

That small drama resolved, the bus pulled out onto the highway. Lev and Arwen snuggled together on a seat, talking in low voices and taking turns holding out their rings to examine, considering what they meant. Eventually, James came and found them with a pair of manila folders in his hand. “Congratulations, you two. As an early wedding gift, I have releases for you to sign.”

Arwen smiled wickedly at him. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten.”

“Even if I had, I’d have to track you down eventually. We can’t use any of the footage you two are in without your John Hancocks and that’s probably most of it.” James offered Lev a pen

“Are you going to use the proposal?” Lev frowned.

“I don’t make any of the editing decisions, but if the people who do don’t use that, they need to go back to film school,” said James. “That was beautiful, man.”

Lev looked to Arwen, whose eyes shone with the idea. Even though he’d been aware of the cameras rolling around them all day, Lev hadn’t thought much about their purpose. For his own sake, he was hesitant to share the proposal with the world, but he knew from previous discussions that Arwen wouldn’t even understand his objections if he raised them. He sighed and signed, handing her the pen.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t hold the label hostage on this?” Arwen smirked. “If we’re in all the footage you took...”

“You can if you like. I can imagine Tiffany suggesting it, but if you do, any kind of settlement you get would come out of the money raised for disaster relief before dollar one came out of the label’s pockets.”

“Oo! That’s no fun.” Arwen signed, then offered James the pen. “It must be hard serving two masters. Huh?”

“Tell me about it,” grumbled James. “I totally get that Tiff wants to leave the label. She’s a much better singer and worlds better as a musician than they let her be. If she does get free, I’ll be the first one to apply to work for her, but until then, it’s my job to keep both her and the label happy.”

After he’d left, Arwen turned to Lev. “Poor Jimmy. Do you think he’s in love with her?”

Lev looked over his shoulder at the retreating man’s back. “What makes you think that?”

Arwen laid out her theory, which seemed to be based on a few verifiable facts woven together with a lot of speculation and wishful thinking. It didn’t sound likely, but it was moderately plausible, which he acknowledged with a “maybe.”

By that point, they were pulling into the parking lot of Dasarath Rangasala Stadium. The stadium had either escaped damage in the quakes or already been repaired. It was lit up against the gloaming sky and festooned with prayer flags.

The bus pulled right up to the stadium in a small, fenced-in area where three tractor trailers and another bus were already parked. Lev found himself taking point as they crossed the lot and made their way down the hall, led only by a cameraman walking backwards, filming their arrival. He found himself resisting the urge to push the camera aside as if it were paparazzi instead of their own crew. Before he could decide if it would be funny or bad, the cameraman decided he had enough footage of them walking down a featureless hallway and broke off for some advance scouting.

Eventually, they approached another group coming the other way. As they got closer, Tiffany muttered, “Oh, fucking hell. What is he doing here?”

Lev slowed his footsteps to look back at her. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine.” Tiffany muttered. “That guitarist, he’s not who I expected to show up for this gig. He’s a good musician, but we kind of had a thing for a while.”

“Did it end badly?” Arwen had fallen into step with her.

“It didn’t really officially end ... or officially start for that matter,” muttered Tiffany. “God, he’s probably going to want to sleep with me again.”

“And you don’t want to?” Arwen asked.

“No. The sad thing is that I do,” said Tiffany. “Fuck my life.”

At that point, the two groups met at a T in the hallway. Tiffany called out, “Tom, what the fuck are you doing here?” in a good-natured tone.

“Niles got a hold of some bad Indian food and couldn’t make it. I was in Tokyo, so Rick asked me to fill in.” Tom hugged Tiffany. “It’s been a while.”

“Almost a full incarnation. You should hear the new stuff.” said Tiffany. “Did James send you the setlist?”

“Like three hours ago. It hasn’t given us a lot of time to prepare,” said Tom.

“It’s good you didn’t waste too much time on it. I’m tearing it up and starting over,” said Tiffany.

That generated a wall of protests from the whole band. Tom pointed out, “We’ve got like two hours before we go on.”

“That’s why we hire professionals.” Tiffany turned to her entourage. “Get comfortable. You guys have the run of backstage as long as you stay out of the roadies’ way. If I don’t see you again before the show, I’ll see you after.”

As she led the band into the dressing rooms, she added, “We’re doing the stuff from the last album acoustic. I’ve got new arrangements we’ll need to run through.” Another wave of protests erupted.

As the door closed, James turned to the group. “We have a lounge for everyone set up with food and drinks. And, if you’re up for a little bit of fundraising, there are some potential donors already there waiting to meet Tiffany. I don’t think they’ll mind if we throw a few supermodels at them.”

As they turned to go, Tiffany stuck her head out the door. “Dennis, can you join us? I can’t read your tab.”

As Dennis slipped past them, Arwen wrapped her hand around Lev’s elbow. “Come on, Lev. It looks like it’s just you and us supermodels.”

“We could totally pretend you’re a huge model and scoff at them for not knowing who you are,” said Cyrene. “That could be fun.”

“Tempting,” said Arwen as they walked. “But, I’m planning to work in philanthropy for a long time and I’d rather not start out by making fools of people I might have to work with.”

“Good point,” said Cyrene. “But, ‘potential donors’ is usually just code for rich guys who want to hang out with models or meet a pretty, young rock star.”

When they got to the lounge, Cyrene appeared to be mostly right. There were about a dozen people in the room. Eight of them were older men with graying hair, all Asian. One was a young Japanese woman, the daughter of one of the older men and a huge Tiffany Patton fan. Two were bodyguards, one Japanese, one Korean. They significantly overtopped their charges, but Lev was nearly a full head taller than either of them. The last one was a gorgeous young Korean woman who turned out to be a huge pop star in her home country who went by the stage name Nagusa Oblongata. Lev had never heard of her or even been aware that KPop was a thing, but Tsugi (the young Japanese woman) apparently had and was almost as excited to meet her as she was to meet Tiffany.

When James had made introductions, one of the older Japanese men said something to Tsugi and the two of them came over, trailing Nagusa. Tsugi stepped forward and bowed. “Excuse me. My father does not speak much English and has asked me to translate for him.” Her own English was heavily accented. “He wishes to know if you and Lev work for Nick Coyle.”

“Looks like your boss is internationally famous.” Cyrene drifted into the conversation.

Arwen looked at Lev, then said, “We do. How is it that your father knows about Nick?”

After a round of translation, Tsugi said. “My older sister is Shika Anzo-Stone. She is married to Nick’s relative John-Peter Stone of San Francisco. She has spoken of you. Her husband is very excited to meet Nick. He is a banker. Yes?”

Arwen looked at Lev who had to shrug. He hadn’t heard of any of these people and didn’t even know there were any Stones in San Francisco. That was unsurprising. He barely knew anything about the Stone family beyond what was general knowledge. He’d only met Pilar, Jazz, and Jesse - all of whom seemed a bit odd in their own unique ways.

The conversation meandered for a bit and Lev half stopped listening. It wasn’t until Tsugi’s father said something that caused some discussion with her father that his attention was drawn back by Cyrene saying quietly in his ear. “Watch out for this one. Her father just tried to ask for an invite for her to meet Nick and, when she objected, told her she needs to find a husband.”

Lev nodded and put his arm around Arwen, drawing her in as Tsugi said. “My father says I will be traveling to New York soon and wonders if I might have a chance to meet my in-law, Nick.”

“Our calendar is pretty full right now. You should probably call ahead if you want to make plans.” As Lev said it, he squeezed Arwen’s hip enough to make her look up at him and cut off whatever she’d been about to say.

Tsubi gave a faint smile and nodded before turning to her father. He looked unhappy and another exchange passed between them before Tsugi turned back to them. “May I have a number to call, please?”

That sent Arwen digging into her little beaded purse and Lev drawing out his wallet. As Arwen extracted her card, she asked, “Would your father like our cards as well?”

“Yes,” said the older man, not waiting for translation. “Thank you.”

They distributed cards back and forth. Tsugi’s father was Akira Anzo, CEO of Anzo Seafood, a company Lev had never heard of. He spoke to them briefly and politely before Arwen turned to Lev and said, “My parents should be up by now. I should call them before they go to church.”

Once they were in a quiet corner of the conference room, Arwen drew out her phone, “What was that all about?”

“Cyrene tipped me off. Anzo-san was trying to marry his daughter off to Nick.”

“Of course he was.” Arwen scrolled through her screen. “What father wouldn’t want his daughter married to a billionaire?”

Lev frowned as he dug out his own phone. “One who wanted her to marry for love maybe?”

“You know, it’s possible to want your daughter to marry for love and still to want her to marry a billionaire.” Arwen frowned and started typing numbers into her keypad. “Even my father suddenly thought I should marry Nick.”

“Wait. When was this?” Lev scowled.

Arwen lowered her phone. “Nobody actually said ‘marry,’ but right after we found out Nick was filthy rich, the Thrall mentioned at dinner one night that he thought Nick and I should go to prom together. The Wicked was there and clearly approved this abrupt one-eighty in the no-dating policy. I told them it was unlikely and spent the next thirty minutes being passive-aggressively interrogated on the nature of my relationship with Nick to see if they still had a chance to win the game of Who Wants To Be A Billionaire’s In-Laws?”

“You ... never told me that,” said Lev.

“I wanted to. I was pretty furious about it all, but I didn’t want it to be a thing,” said Arwen.

“How would it have been a thing?” Lev asked.

“Well, they’d already made so many rules about the possibility of me going to prom that they’d sucked any possible joy out of it.” Arwen reminded him. “And I didn’t want to say anything to you about it because it would be ... fraught.”

Lev considered the whole thing. He didn’t have a lot of love for Arwen’s parents already and this revelation didn’t do much to change his opinion of them much. “You could have if you wanted - gone to prom with Nick, I mean. Even if he weren’t a billionaire, you two have been close forever. If you weren’t going to be able to go with me...”

“This is what I mean by ‘fraught,’” said Arwen firmly. “I didn’t want to discuss it with you because I didn’t want to have this particular discussion. I was pretty sure you would be all right with me going to prom with Nick. I didn’t want to ask him to prom and I’m pretty sure I didn’t want him to ask me. I don’t like the idea of being the girl who said no for years until the guy got his hands on some money, then changed her tune. I didn’t want Nick to ask me because he thought the money would turn my head. I’m just as happy neither one of us went to prom. I preferred what we did on prom night to any of the viable options.”

“Bowling with Max and Simon?” Lev smiled at the memory.

“I was thinking about what we did after bowling.” Arwen gave him a deliberately lewd smile. “But I wouldn’t have missed the sight of Simon in his rented tux and bowling shoes for anything.”

“It was all very ... memorable.” admitted Lev. Simon had insisted that the only value in prom night was getting to wear a tuxedo in public and rented one for the evening’s activities. On a similar theme of rendering out the best part of prom, Lev and Arwen had arranged through a bit of cloak and dagger to rent a hotel room on the Interstate near Brownfield Mills. The room had been nothing to speak of, but it had been clean and tasteful and one of the first times they’d managed to take their time and make love in a bed without much fear of discovery. In some ways, it had felt like their first time.

“I should really make that call,” Arwen reminded him. “I’m dying to post the rings on Instagram and change my Facebook status, but I don’t think my father would forgive me if he found out that way.”

Standing next to her, Lev only got to hear Arwen’s side of the conversation, but it seemed to go as well as expected. She said, “Hey, Dad. Do you still have Mom’s old guitar?”

“Do you think you could bring it with you when you come into the city this week to celebrate my engagement to Lev?”

“Eventually yes. But for now, we’re just getting engaged.”

“I don’t know yet. When we’re twenty-five. Maybe sooner. Definitely not in the next couple of years.”

“Not particularly, but I guess you can put her on.”

“Uh, thank you. We’re very happy too.”

“Not for at least three years, maybe longer.”

“Ok. Uh ... we’ll be back late Monday and jet lagged to Hell and back on Tuesday. So, it would have to be Wednesday or Thursday. We’re leaving again on Friday.”

“Uh, thank you again. I ... should go. The concert’s starting. Uh ... remind my father about the guitar, please?”

“Okay. Love you, too.”

“Uh, yeah. All right, Marni. I’ll see you in a few days.”

After she hung up the phone, Arwen shook her head. “Shit. I just told Marni I loved her.”

“You’ve never told her that before?” Lev asked.

“I don’t love her. I can’t stand her.” Arwen reminded him. “She made my life Hell for the last eight years. She just confused me by being happy for us. I was all amped up to tell her to fuck off. She’s been so weird ever since I moved out.”

Lev was always careful in what he said about Arwen’s stepmother. He was about to say something noncommittal when the two young Asian women started chattering excitedly, indicating that Tiffany had made an appearance. After watching them for a minute, Arwen asked, “Are you going to call your parents?”

“They’re probably still asleep,” hedged Lev. “They don’t go to church on Sunday.”

Arwen bit her lower lip and gave an impatient wriggle. “How late do they sleep?”

Lev really would have preferred to call his parents privately, but Arwen was vibrating like she needed to pee. He sighed. “I suppose this is worth waking them up for.”

Arwen wrapped herself around Lev’s bicep in a hug and rested her head just below his shoulder. Lev dialed his parents home number.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” his mother said, picking up after a single ring. “Are you still in Tibet?”

“Nepal,” said Lev.