Hard Rain

To me they looked young.
    I made my way to where Midori was sitting. She watched my approach but
    made no move to greet me.
    She was wearing a black, form-fitting sleeveless turtleneck that looked
    like lightweight cashmere, her face and her arms luminous in contrast.
    She leaned back in her chair, and I saw a pair of leather pants, soft
    with age and use, and high-heeled boots. Other than a pair of diamond
    stud earrings, she'd left things unadorned. I'd always liked that she
    didn't overdo the jewelry or makeup. She didn't need to.
    "I didn't really expect you," she said.
    I leaned in so she could hear me over the music. "You didn't think I'd
    get your message?"
    She cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't think you'd show up if I proposed the
    time and place."
    She caught on fast. I shrugged. "Here I am."
    There were no seats open, so she got up and we leaned against the wall,
    our shoulders not quite touching. She took her drink with her.
    "What's that you're having?" I asked.
    "Ardbeg. You introduced me to it, remember? It tastes like you
    now."
    "I'm surprised you enjoy it, then."
    She glanced at me, sidelong. "It's a bittersweet flavor," she said.
    A waitress came by and I ordered an Ardbeg. We listened to Toku sing
    about sorrow and loneliness and regret. The crowd loved him.
    When the set was over and the noise of the ensuing applause had died
    down, Midori turned to me. I was surprised to see concern on her face,
    even sympathy. Then I realized why.
    "Did you ... you must have heard about Harry," she said.
    I nodded.
    "I'm sorry."
    I waited a second, then said, "He was killed, you know. Those Pis you
    put on him got word to the wrong people."
    Her mouth dropped open. "You know ... they told me it was an
    accident."
    "That's bullshit."
    "How do you know?"
    "Circumstances. At one point they thought they had me, so they figured
    they didn't need him. Besides, his stomach was full of alcohol. But
    Harry didn't drink."
    "Oh my God," she said, her hand over her mouth.
    I looked at her. "Next time, hire a firm that takes its
    confidentiality obligations a little more seriously."
    She shook her head, her hand still over her mouth.
    "I'm sorry," I said, looking down. "That wasn't fair. This was
    nobody's fault but the people who did it. And Harry's, for not having
    known better." I told her a sanitized version of how they had set him
    up, and how he had refused to listen to me.
    "I liked him," she said when I was done. "I wondered whether he was
    lying to me when he told me you were dead. That's why I hired those
    people to watch him. But he seemed like a good person. He was cute
    and shy and I could tell he looked up to you."
    I smiled wanly. Harry's eulogy.
    "If I were you," I said, "I'd be careful in Tokyo. They lost me, but
    they'll be looking for me again. If they know you're here, they might
    take an interest. Like they did with Harry."
    There was a long pause. Then she said, "I'm going back to New York
    tomorrow anyway."
    I nodded slowly, knowing what was coming.
    "I won't see you after this," she said.
    I went for a smile. It came out mostly wistful. "I know."
    "I figured out what I want from you," she said.
    "Yeah?"
    She nodded. "At first what I thought I wanted was revenge. I kept
    thinking of how to hurt you, how to cause you pain, like the pain you
    caused me."
    I wasn't surprised.
    "And I resented you for that," she went on, 'because I've always
    believed that hate is such an unworthy emotion. So weak and ultimately
    pointless."
    I marveled briefly at how innocent a life someone would have to have
    led for such a philosophy to emerge credible and intact, and for a
    second I loved her for it.
    She took a sip of her Ardbeg. "But seeing you the other day changed
    that. Part of it was realizing that you really did try to get that
    disk back and finish what my father had started. Part of it was
    knowing that you were trying to protect me from the other people who
    were trying to find the disk."
    "But what was it really?"
    She looked away, over to where the band had been playing, then back to
    me. "Understanding what you are. You're not part of the real world.
    Not my real world, at least. You're like a ghost, some creature forced
    to live in the shadows. And I realized that someone like that isn't
    worthy of hatred."
    Whether I was worthy of hatred and whether she hated me weren't the
    same thing. I wondered if she knew that. "Pity, instead?" I asked.
    She nodded. "Maybe."
    "I think I might have preferred having you