A Lover's Wish (4 page)

With the meeting finally out of the way, Dao walked out to the front and leaned heavily against the counter. He suddenly felt like he had the world on his shoulders. He was extremely tired. His secretary, Beth-Ann, stood and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Over the past few years that she had been there, the two had become friends. He could depend on her to have his back and that was something he didn’t find much in anyone except his best friend, Claude.

“They still trying to get you to tour Prod?” Beth-Ann handed him a cup of steaming coffee.

Dao took a sip. “Yah. That kid is a walking disaster. It seems that every time we let him loose, he causes some kind issue. It has gotten to the point where every time the phone rings, I wonder what he did this time and how much it was going to cost me! I mean he has so much potential, but if they keep pushing me on touring him, I’m going to rip up his contract. There’s only so much I can take.”

The telephone rang and Beth-Ann answered it.

Dao watched her eyes change from anger to worry.

She covered the mouthpiece with a hand. “Go into your office and turn on the television. Put it on MTV.”

Oh no! Prodigy!
Dao didn’t argue. He darted into his office, flipped on the television and turned to the channel Beth-Ann had told him. He was just in time to catch a slow motion replay of Prodigy, undoing his pants, turning around and fully mooning the MTV camera and audience. “I’ll kill him,” Dao growled.

“Dao?” it was Beth-Ann behind him. “Breathe.” “Breathe? We just went through this!”

“I know but—”

“See? This is
exactly
what I was talking about!” Dao was fuming. He banged his fist into the desk angrily. His head began throbbing lightly as rage surged through him. He could not believe it. The

kid was going to single handily bring down the Red Dragon Label and he would be damned if he allowed that to happen. “Find his contract for me, then get Mark and Prodigy over here,
now
.”

He heard Beth-Ann’s feet leave the office and Dao flipped off the television as they were replaying the scene over and over—each time they played it slower and slower. He flopped down into his seat and buried his face in his hands. He loved giving people second chances because he thought some people could change to do better.

But Prodigy was cut from a different cloth—he had gotten a second chance, a third chance and a fourth chance. The kid had to go there was no way around it. There were so many other singers out there that would kill for a chance to have Dao listen to their demo. Everything had come easy for Prodigy, for Dao knew about him through the kid’s father. But there was a time for loyalty and a time for good business sense.

For the rest of the day, Dao could think of nothing else. His anger hadn’t subsided either. He was angrier at himself than at Prodigy then. He was mad because he had allowed himself to be suckered in by everything that has been said after each incident. He began wondering what was taking them so long to get Mark and his client in.

It was almost time to call it quits for the day when a knock came at the door and Mark stuck his head in.

Dao motioned for him to come in. Behind Mark was Prodigy and behind him was Beth-Ann. They all sat down and Dao grinded his teeth before he began speaking. “I’m a very patient man,” Dao spoke softly. “But for the past two years, you’ve been a royal pain in my ass.” He eyed Prodigy who was lounging in his chair.

“Sit up!” Dao thundered. Maybe it was the anger in his voice or something else, but the young singer flew upward into his seat. “You’ve only been here for two years and already you’ve cost us one point two million dollars in lawsuits and damages to public property. Do you understand how many people would kill to have what you have? Are you that dense that you don’t see what you have here and why you should do everything in your power to protect it? I’ve given you chance after chance and you keep racking up the bills! Do you know what your skinny ass on television is going to do to us? We have reputation to uphold.”

Dao stopped to breathe before he turned to Beth-Ann. She handed him Prodigy’s contract and Dao ripped the papers in half. “You’ve just violated your contract one too many times. You no

longer belong to Red Dragon. My lawyers will contact you. Now get out.”

“Come on, Dao,” Mark pleaded. “This will end his career!”

“Well, ask me if I care. He should have thought about that before he decided to give the world a view of his backside. Beth-Ann, call security.”

“You can’t do this!” the young singer flew out of his seat. “We have a contract.”

“How appropriate! Now you are acknowledging the contract? What did the contract say about representing Red Dragon? Answer me!”

The kid didn’t speak.

“You are nineteen years old and you have no respect for anything or anyone!” Dao snapped. “You have caused us to lose more money than you brought us. Every time we let you out in public, you cause one havoc after another, then you leave us to clean up your mess. Like I said before, I am a very patient man, Prodigy, but enough is enough. Now, you need to leave or I will personally throw you out. And trust me, it is a very long drop from this floor.”

That cleared the room.

Dao’s temples were throbbing. It was as if someone was playing a set of drums inside his head. He checked his email one last time to some bad news. His personal assistant had quit. With a

shake of his head, he slammed the laptop shut, shoved it into his bag and left the office. “I can’t stand this crap,” he muttered angrily.

At home, he took a small nap. When he woke up and remembered all he had gone through that day, the slight pounding came back. With a moan, he decided to try and get some work done and not wait for the morning. The first order of business was to find a way of getting a new personal assistant as soon as possible. But when midnight rolled around, Dao Zhi still sat before his computer typing out a mass email.

No matter how many times he changed the wording, he was still not satisfied with it. He tried typing it all out in Chinese, then translating it to English, but that had been a major mistake. He had to get it perfect or close to it because it would be an ad to the newspapers where everyone would see it.

It had been a rather trying few weeks and the day before had been the one sent forth to challenge him. At the last minute, he got an idea and added a slew of email addresses from people who had applied for work with Red Dragon before. They hadn’t gotten a job, but their resumes had interested him. When he finally hit send, he pressed back against the seat, arched his back and

moaned as his spine seemed to snap back into place.

He purred at the delicious feelings vibrating through him as he closed his laptop and climbed the stairs from the den to his bedroom. He crawled into bed and just as he began pulling the sheets to his waist, it started raining. Lightning lit up his room followed quickly by thunder and he knew it was going to be a bad one. Thankfully, he had parked in his driveway. That meant his vehicle would be clean the next morning. Grinning, he turned to set his alarm clock, then rolled over to face the wall.

With his window open, Dao’s mind drifted back to when he was a child and it rained in Xingping, China. He would always want to go floating on his raft down the Li River, but his parents would not allow him. They always told him,
do not anger the river while she feeds
. That made absolutely no sense to him then and it was even more confusing as an adult. Maybe they meant for him not to tempt fate—who knew with his parents? They meant well.

Back then, he would grin it off and rushed out the door to play in the rain. There was something magical about feeling the raindrops fall gently against his skin. He loved feeling the cool water soaking through his hair and his clothes. The wet mud seeping between his toes was utter pleasure

and watching the fog that the rain brought over the Limestone Mountains was breathtaking. He may have only been a child, but he loved every second of it. Every breath of air had a sweet tinge of magic to it. Sometimes, in the morning, he would sit on a large rock behind his house. He would close his eyes and did nothing but inhale.

But in order to make a life for himself, he had to leave China. He had to leave and would have taken his parents with him had they wanted to leave. He did not feel as though he could remain where he had grown up. It was as though he was forced to fly a plane, blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back. But the small place was so utterly breathtaking, especially when it rained.

“Dao, I cannot leave, Xingping,” his mother had pleaded. “I was born here, met your father here. I grew up here, had you here and with that saying, I will die here. It is peaceful. You have to understand that I love peace.”

Dao smiled in the darkness of his room, “I know,
Mou Chan
,” he whispered just as his eyes slipped shut. “I know.”

It had stormed all night. Each time the storm got bad, the thunder would rumble throughout Scarborough and this caused Dao to jerk upright in bed. He hated the storm—the light rain he

would rather have because he could play in it. Whenever he was a child and it stormed, he would toss and turn in his sleep. He would also cry out so terrifyingly that his mother would wake him up, make him some tea and sit with him until the storm was over.

He was so used to having someone with him that each time it stormed, Dao felt alone. Each time he woke up, it took longer to fall asleep again until finally he gave up. By the time morning finally came, Dao had long since been awake, carrying out his morning routine. It had finally stopped raining. When the sun was fully up, Dao moved his body into the
Closing Form
of his Tia Chi form. Inhaling, he pressed his arms, straight down at his side and bowed deeply to the rising sun.

For him, Tai Chi calmed him and kept him grounded through his day. That did not mean that Dao didn’t get angry, far from it. But with Tai Chi, he felt more in control of his days and what happened around him.

Sweat was leaking from his body by this time and when he stood straight again, he turned and walked back through the backdoor of his home. Grabbing the towel that he had tossed over the back of a chair, he picked up the Blackberry from the counter and rushed up the stairs. He scrolled into his email and replied to a few of them. By the

time he looked up at the clock and glanced back at the screen, he already had seven interviews for that day. A sound left his throat as he hated interviewing. His day from hell had officially begun.

His last personal assistant had quit the day before, leaving him high and dry. He tried not to be angry, but could not help it. As he climbed the stairs, he scanned through the electronic day planner and added his long list of interviews. Frowning, he placed the Berry down against his night table, dropped the towel to the floor and entered the bathroom.

Dao Zhi’s clothing line and record label were booming and having the person who was supposed to back him up just quitting at the last minute was not something he wanted to go through again. He thought about making it a part of the contract with the next personal assistant he hired that they
must
give him two weeks notice before quitting. He knew that sending out a mass email and an emergency ad in newspapers were going to just give the deadbeats access to him, but he was desperate.

Lifting his face to the water, he rubbed his hands over his abs, but did not have time to enjoy the coolness of the water over his skin. If he didn’t hurry, he would not have time to get any settling in done once he got to the office. He loved going

into the office earlier than everyone else and just sit there in the silence until the day began.

His days consisted of one meeting after another, calls from abroad, calls from within Canada. Clients freaking out, singers throwing tantrums, contract mishaps—it was one drama after another and Dao wouldn’t have it any other way. Smirking, he stepped from the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. Glancing at his face in the mirror, he decided to go against shaving. The truth was, he would rather light his pants on fire than shave, but that was being dramatic. He dumped some aftershave into his palm, rubbed them together, then wiped it against his cheeks and neck.

It had taken a bit, but he was finally dressed in a designer suit and was rushing down the stairs again. He was halfway down when he remembered his Blackberry. He made a second trip and realized that he had left his cell phone as well. Grabbing them and ensuring he wasn’t forgetting anything else, Dao turned down the stairs again. He was dumping his things into the passenger side seat when a voice called.

“Morning, Mr. Zhi!”

Dao smiled and turned to wave at the paperboy. Seeing the kid meant that Dao was on time and hadn’t managed to shoot his schedule to Hades just yet. Reaching a hand out, he caught the

paper before it fell. “Thanks, Danny!” He climbed into his luxury car. With that, he was on his way, speeding through the streets of Scarborough, heading toward downtown Toronto.

The traffic was brutal. It was as if everyone had decided to leave their home at the exact same time. He had a thought to try the 407 highway since it was a tolled route, but knew that others must have had the same idea—that route wouldn’t be any better. Dao knew that most of the motorists probably thought that if they left early, they could beat the traffic. And low and behold, everyone else had that exact idea.

Inhaling deeply, he tapped his fingers against his steering wheel as he waited in traffic. Just like he had every other morning, he wondered why he had taken the Gardiner Expressway. Reaching forward, he pressed on the radio, trying to see if he could probably get another route to work, but there was nothing. In his frustration, he turned the radio off again just as his cell phone began ringing. “Zhi,” he spoke into the headpiece.

“Erm, good morning,” the female voice sounded nervous, shy even. “I’m calling about the ad in my email seeking a personal assistant?”

Had he really forwarded all his calls to his cell phone? When had he done that—why had he done that? “Yes,” Dao pulled his mind from his confusion.