The Destiny Seeker Ch. 01

It was late afternoon and I was watching the sun go down across the harbor in Hong Kong. I loved this city. It was a witch's brew of culture, drama and excitement. If you were bored in Hong Kong then it was your own fault. Today I had attended a gallery exhibit opening for my niece, a young bohemian diva who found that the atmosphere here fueled her creative fires. While I cannot say that her paintings are to my taste, I do agree with her that nearly all types of creativity here are appreciated.

Her work tends to be angry slashes of red, black and deep purple on pristine white canvas. Sometimes there were tears and rips at odd angles. I told her that looking at her work made me feel that the canvas had been violated. She simply responded "Thank You."

I live across the border in Shenzhen, China. I moved there 8 months ago for reasons that have nothing at all to do with this story. Let's just say that I had finally found a place where my own creative desires and proclivities could also be explored and appreciated. I found an employer; really more of a sponsor, who paid me a handsome salary to make sure that his and his partner's international business interests were managed in a way that both limited risks and maximized profits. I am very good at what I do. I live in the Futian District in a penthouse apartment in the Shangri La hotel. While I would prefer to live in Hong Kong, it works out better to maintain a mainland address, and the border crossing is relatively easy these days.

The heat of the summer had finally dissolved into a crisp fall. It was the best time of year to live here. I sat on the wooden steps admiring the hundreds of skyscraping buildings in Honk Kong and Kowloon, and watching the boats skitter across the choppy harbor waters. There was a ferry boat heading towards me, one of dozens that made the trek across the harbor to various islands and ports. I tried to avoid the ferries because the sheer number of boats on the harbor always made me calculate the probability of a collision. The ferry captains seemed to me to have gone to the same navigating school as the Hong Kong taxi drivers. It was a matter of when, not if, an accident would take place.

I noticed a woman standing on the bow of the ferry. She was unmistakable because of her blazing red hair. At the moment that was all I could see except that she was wearing a cobalt blue dress. Both her hair and dress were waving in the stiff afternoon breeze. Her face was upturned. I suppose she was letting the slanting rays of late afternoon sun warm her cheeks. As the ferry came closer I could see that not only was her hair vivid red, it was also very curly. The red hair and pale skin told me that she was western, probably European. I began to study her more closely and let my mind wander a little bit with curiosity.

She was wearing white athletic shoes of some sort and had a cream colored sweater tied across her shoulders. At her feet was an athletic duffle bag. Was she a tourist? I didn't think so. She seemed to be alone and not many western women toured alone. So she was a local, probably coming back home after a workout of some sort. She looked fit. Her azure dress was tight in all of the right places and short enough that it showed off shapely legs. Perhaps she was a tennis player. She had that look. The dress could have even been an athletic garment and the duffel could easily have contained a racket.

I found it fun to let my imagination wander as the ferry slowed and stopped only 50 meters in front of me. A sudden thought occurred to me. I wondered if she had the same tightly curled bright red hair underneath her dress. I suddenly had a crystal image in my head of her nude with a soft patch of curly hair that was the exact color of the setting sun against very pale and creamy skin.

She picked up her bag and turned to head for the ramp that was being set from the pier to the ferry. There were only a few other people onboard and all were Asian so it was easy for me to follow her progress. She had a bounce to her step that reinforced in my head the idea that she was an athlete of some sort. As she was waiting for the ramp to open she took something from her wrist, gathered her hair into a messy ponytail, and lifted her bag to her right shoulder. She was the first one down the ramp, and I made an immediate decision in my head that if there was no one to meet her at the pier then I was going to follow her.

I did not have any clear idea of my intentions, not yet. I only knew that I was enjoying the fantasy game that I was playing with her in the lead role. I was afraid that she would head to the taxi que, which would have made following her more difficult. However luck was on my side and she began to walk up the hill through the winding cobbled roads of Central Hong Kong.

The streets were neither too crowded nor too sparse, which made my task easy without being observed. Of course following the bouncing spot of red made it even easier. She turned onto Austin Avenue and for a moment I lost her. I hurried up to the intersection and just caught site of a flash of blue and red entering a small shop about 20 meters to my right. I hurriedly walked up to the entrance and found that it was a small French café. I stood there for a moment trying to decide what to do. It was not in my nature to follow strange women. I consider myself a gentleman first, and that would be simply rude. However, that was exactly what I had done so there was no stopping now.

I opened the door, stepped in and let my eyes adjust to the dark interior. The café very small and was practically empty. It was going to be hard to remain inconspicuous. I needn't have worried. At the bar sat the red headed woman, and her eyes were locked onto me. I stood motionless for a moment, and then she waved her left hand and pointed to the seat that was next to hers. I walked over to her with all of the dignity that I could gather, pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head, and slid onto the polished wood barstool.

"Why don't you order for us." She said. She had an accent that could have only originated in the United Kingdom But I couldn't place quite where. Not Irish, not cockney...more refined. I hesitated only for a moment before turning to the tattooed bar mistress. I knew next to nothing about French wines and I doubted that they served California wines. I took a chance..."Two glasses of Pinot Noir, si vous plaits." She answered back in pure yankee Bronx. "I don't have any Pinot, honey. But I do have a merlot that I think you might like." I could have kissed her.

I turned to the red headed woman and raised my eyebrows inquiringly. She said "That sounds fine to me." Then she took my had into hers.

"You followed me." She said. "I saw you as we docked and saw that you never took your eyes off of me."

I started to shift in my seat uncomfortably. She squeezed my hand. "It's okay. I was staring at you too. You have beautiful eyes and hair. I found myself wondering what a handsome American was doing sitting alone watching the harbor in Hong Kong."

"How do you know that I am American?" I asked.

She laughed. "You are wearing designer jeans and shoes, and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up exactly three times. That either makes you American or an actor playing one."

I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. She was amazingly intuitive. This was going to be interesting.

I held out my free hand for her to shake. "Let me introduce myself. My name is..."

She stopped me by placing her free hand over my mouth. "No names. At least not yet. I don't want to ruin the fantasy that I have created about you. I have not yet decided what your name is. I'm afraid if you tell me that it is Billy or Bubba or Randy then I will have to change my opinion of you completely."

I looked at her intently. What was she doing? Was she just messing with me?

"I have already decided that your name is Wendy." I said.

"You mean like in Peter Pan?" She said with a grin.

"Exactly!" I said.

"I think I might like that." She said, thinking out loud. "Just know that if you had named me Crystal or Amber or any other mineral I would be out the door."

At that moment two glasses of wine were set in front of us. My Yankee friend introduced herself as Sapphire, which made my red headed friend roll her eyes discreetly.

I said to her "This is Wendy, and my name is..."

"Charles." Said Wendy. "Yes, your name is most certainly Charles."

Sapphire gave us a very curious look but decided better of saying anything. After all, this was Hong Kong and there were lots of curious things that happened every day.