Fancy That

Guess who I saw in Shanghai, at the party on the roof of the Peace Hotel?

I was going to not see him, but W spotted me, and broke out of a group of snazzily dressed men of various ages to come up to say 'hi' and was soon warming up to his role as the hippest thing on the right side of the Bund. There I was marvelling at the scene, the chilly winter rooftop made sexy with sofas and carpets, with a view of the famous Shanghai nightscape, the sweep of shimmering river, the mood-lit colonial buildings, enjoying the jazz and the fresh air, sipping my champagne carefully and this would-be model was telling me - the cod fish at the Yong Foo Elite Club is so good? That the best party is here and there? That I should be staying at the Four Seasons because the beds were better than those at the Portman Ritz? Fancy That!
I never liked him, not even when ER picked him up from the club on a dare. He and his deaf -mute friend, signing away at the table. The pills, the music, the stories about the aunt and the suicide. Just six months back, he was turning tricks to get designer clothes. I couldn't get away fast enough, and felt so bewildered that I didn't even bother to be polite. I said I had to go back to my hotel as I wasn't feeling well. That's when he offered me his car and driver, and would I like him to get an invite for me to go to the after party, if I felt better later?
My god.