Chapter Four:
It took Quinn two hours to get ready for the show. Stevie helped to arrange her mousy-brown hair, curling it into wide waves that touched her shoulders and bounced when she walked. She had bought four dresses for the event, unsure which one would best suit the weather or her mood, and Stevie waited diligently while Quinn tried each one out and ignored any and all positive commentary offered. Eventually, nearing six in the evening, Quinn settled on a pale pink dress made of silk that was bonded with deep pink highlights for straps and at the hem and around the neckline. She adorned similarly coloured heels that pushed her height close to six feet, and accessorised with a simple silver locket containing an image of her parents and the slim medical bracelet that accompanied her left wrist wherever it went.
Stevie looked stunning in yellow and white lace that drew attention to her dark hair and bright eyes. Her whole outfit seemed designed to drive the viewers eyes to the curves of her shoulders and the small of her back, which showed through a little diamond-shaped cutout. Quinn felt too girlish beside Stevie’s very adult attire, but she had no more time to change, and her friend assured her that there was no way that the artist could ignore her in a crowd.
They both had plans for the evening, contingencies that had been rehearsed and tested. Stevie was eager to meet a nice Japanese boy for the night but she was aware that Quinn was not entirely comfortable with being left to fend for herself amongst a city of strangers. Quinn wanted little more than to see the new showing of Robert Chaff’s work – his first new work to reach the public eye in more than three years. She hoped to meet the artist himself if he was there, but luck had rarely been on her side before. The girls made a pact that no matter what happened they would check in with one another before the prospect of being separated presented itself and that their friendship trumped any boy they might meet. Stevie was quite forceful about the last point, emphasising that if Quinn felt unwell or wanted to leave, she would abandon whatever excitingly sordid line of events she was pursuing for her friend. They had both laughed at the idea – but Quinn knew that Stevie meant it.
The sun was setting against the built-up compression of Roppongi real-estate when they arrived. The Mori Art Museum building eclipsed the surroundings with its enormity – curved walls and reflective glass accentuated by small lights and neon tubes. A small summer festival was in full swing near the museum and Quinn caught glimpses of meticulously conceived outfits in the styles of anime characters and video-game heroes. Stevie jokingly remarked that they could retreat to the cosplay party if the exhibition was no good. Men and women were rushing in every direction, their outfits a mixture of the refined Tokyo elite and unhinged designs constructed from strips of material, plastic, and cardboard adorned by teenage boys and girls. The spiral cone of the museum was filled with paper bulbs that appeared alive in the warm summer breeze which slipped through the main doors and up the stairs into the building. Quinn laughed when Stevie stopped outside the cone to whistle as she gazed upwards at the immense structure.
“That’s all going to be his stuff?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn laughed. “The museum’s just one big floor up near the top, I think.” Quinn shrugged and looked up at the building just as its lights turned out to allow for luminous water droplets the size of cars to build and fall down the curved exterior. For a split second the two girls thought the display was real and they both took a step backwards in fear before giggling at their awkwardness.
A thinly built man in his twenties, dressed in a crisp pinstripe suit, bowed towards them with a smile. In carefully pronounced English he asked them whether they were attending the show opening. Around them, elaborately attired people filed up the sandstone stairs into the intricately designed cone, making their way to the museum’s main entrance. Quinn could see them having their tickets checked before being handed a thin bag adorned with uniform triangles in shades of blue. Stevie responded in Japanese, bowing her head at the end of her sentence in a show of respect.
“Would you allow me the pleasure of accompanying the two of you?” the man asked in fluent, deliberately slow, Japanese. “My name is Remy.” He smiled widely, and switched into English. “It is short for Rembrandt. My parents were big fans,” he added with a shy head tilt.
Stevie glanced at Quinn without really seeing her and introduced herself, accepting Remy’s offer. Quinn offered her hand gingerly to the man and introduced herself in Japanese.
“My,” he bowed with surprise, holding her fingers gently, “you both speak Japanese. A fortuitous sign, no doubt.”
“What do you mean?” she asked looking into his soft eyes.
“I have travelled alone from Nagano to see this showing of Mr Robert Chaff. Did you know that the exhibit was delayed two years ago? Imagine my heartbreak at the time.” He bowed again, slightly embarrassed. “But here I am for the opening – alone in this great city. When I saw you both I thought perhaps we three might share our traveller’s loneliness together! How lucky I am that you both speak my native tongue so well, and, if you forgive my saying, that you are both so beautiful.”
The way he said the words made Quinn hold her breath for a moment. He pronounced the statement with such solemnity that he made her feel embarrassed and completely unworthy of the compliment. She looked at the ground, her cheeks colouring.
Stevie laughed and put her hand around Quinn’s waist to hug her. “Seems we’ve found ourselves a charmer, hey?”
She thanked Remy for his compliment and apologised for Quinn’s shy response.
