The Last Assassin

professional façade she stood behind while chatting with them. The façade wasn’t fake, exactly, the warmth was certainly real enough—but it wasn’t the real woman, either. Delilah smiled slightly. Seeing the public display would make it that much easier to know when she had burrowed through to the private person beneath.
    The guy in the leather jacket came over and said, “Looks like whoever he was, he did lose his mind. You feel like a drink?”
    Delilah smiled. She knew he’d been watching, and that he’d noticed she was still alone. She liked that he asked again. Someone with a little less confidence might have just sent a drink over at some point. She got that all the time and hated it. It was so lame, a way of trying to force an obligation on someone from a safe distance.
    “Thanks for asking,” Delilah said. “But I’m going to meet him now. I just want to talk to Midori first.”
    “Okay…” he said, that nice smile lingering, hoping for more.
    Delilah smiled back to let him know she was flattered—he deserved that. But she also dipped her head to let him know the answer was final. He said a gracious good night and they were done.
    When the line had dwindled, Delilah got up and walked over. She knew Midori had noticed her during the performance, and then afterward, and now the woman offered a smile, part welcome, part apology for having kept her waiting, part curiosity about who this attractive woman alone might be.
    Delilah smiled back and said in a heavier than usual Parisian accent, “I have to tell you, you play beautifully. I’m so glad I had to come to New York on the same night you were performing.”
    Midori said, “Thank you. Where are you from?”
    “Paris.”
    “You’ve heard of me in France? I’m flattered.”
    Yes, that was the idea.
    “I have friends all over the world who recommend music to me,” Delilah said. “A girlfriend in Tokyo told me I would like you, so I went online and bought your CD Another Time. I love it. I come to Manhattan a few times a year, but this is the first time we’ve overlapped.”
    There, a few more brushstrokes to fill in the canvas. Friends all over the world: cosmopolitan. Interested in music: sophisticated. Frequent trips abroad: wealth, status, an important job, perhaps? With that conjoining we at the end subtly implying that Delilah’s intriguing international existence might extend also to Midori.
    And of course Delilah had as always researched all these points: the name of Midori’s album, online availability, etc. She was even ready to talk about her friend in Tokyo, but Midori didn’t follow up on that. Instead she asked, “What brings you to Manhattan from Paris?”
    “I’m a fashion scout for some of the boutiques there. I travel around and photograph native clothing styles, art…anything that inspires the Paris designers. The business meetings are usually in New York, Milan…”
    The story was true, too. Delilah really did have relationships with some of the Paris designers, and they really did use her photos. A cover wasn’t worth much if you didn’t live it.
    “Wow,” Midori said. “That sounds like a fabulous job.”
    “I can’t complain. But it feels boring compared to what you do.”
    Midori laughed. “I don’t know about that.”
    “Really. I would kill to have a talent like yours.”
    “Well, I guess I can’t complain, either.”
    “Where did you learn to play? And why jazz? Did you know when you were a child that…I’m sorry. You must get this all the time.”
    Right. Gorgeous, sophisticated, intriguing women who were ten times more interested in talking about Midori than they were about themselves? Delilah doubted it.
    Midori laughed again. “Not really, no.”
    “Well, I’d love to hear more. Look, I know it’s late, and you probably get this all the time, too, but…is there somewhere around here we could get a drink? I would really enjoy that. My name is Laure, by the way.”
    Midori paused, then said, “Sure, why not. Let me just call the nanny first, make sure she can stay a little longer.”
    Delilah raised her eyebrows innocently. “Oh, you have kids?”
    Midori nodded. “Baby boy. Hang on.” She pulled out a mobile phone and walked a little way off. After a moment, she came back. “Okay, we’re fine. How about L’Angolo, right next door? It’s a neighborhood kind of place, if you like.”
    “That sounds great.”
    “Just give me a few minutes, then.”
    Delilah nodded. Midori