by Lia London
As she swept Chieko into a rocking hug, Barth frowned. This was the scary serious Parker? Chieko had lied to him!
But as the women rotated enough for him to see Chieko’s face, he second-guessed the judgment. She looked aghast. Her eyes widened, and she mouthed, This is so weird!
At last Parker let go and reached towards Barth. “And you must be Bartholomew Jefferson, Amaya’s cousin.”
He shook her hand, surprised by the firmness of her grip. “Barth is fine. Nice to meet you, Dais—Parker.”
“Daisy or Parker. Pick one,” she teased. “I don’t care which.”
Barth glared sideways at Chieko. “You seriously messing with me?”
Chieko gave an oversized shrug. “First time I met Parker, she made it clear our lives were in peril if we ever used her first name.”
Parker erupted in a cackle. “Oh my gosh, yes. Sorry about that. Those were my Hollywood days. Pre-Guy.”
“Pre-Guy?” asked Barth.
Flourishing her hand, Parker revealed a tiny diamond ring. “Guy Fox, my fiancé. He’s a lion tamer among other things.”
Barth gaped. “For reals?”
She laughed. “I’m the lion.” Repositioning a large canvas computer bag on her shoulder, she pointed towards the dining area. “Are we going in? This is heavy, but I wanted to show you some sample vids.”
In a whirl of commands, Parker maneuvered them through the dining tables to a corner booth, ordering their food as she walked and letting the hostess know they should not be disturbed more than absolutely necessary to keep her Diet Coke filled.
Trailing last in line, Barth leaned forward to whisper in Chieko’s ear. “You weren’t kidding. I almost doubted you, but dang.”
“She knows what she wants and gets it done,” said Chieko with obvious admiration. “Terrifying and inspiring all at once, isn’t it?”
“I’m going to wait to cast my vote.” He slid into the booth next to Chieko and watched Parker unpack a laptop and other gear.
Without looking up from her labors, Parker chuckled. “Barth, you can stop drumming on the table top. Don’t be nervous. I’m not the psychopath I once was.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He slid his hands into his lap, and Chieko chirped a giggle next to him. Exaggerating his lip movement, he mouthed, Terrifying to Chieko.
She bubbled over with another round of giggles, and Parker looked up, ready to focus on them.
“Good to see you two already getting along. This would’ve been awkward otherwise, huh?”
Barth squeaked nervously. “Yeah. Awkward.”
Chieko kept herself from punching Barth’s arm only because she knew he’d take it as a flirtation, and she did not want to give him the wrong impression. This arrangement was awkward, but they couldn’t let Parker know.
Instead, Chieko folded her arms and summoned a steely look. “Barth, keep it together. We’re in a professional meeting with our new boss. Honestly.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Parker’s appraising smirk, and she willed her cheeks not to flush. Turning to Parker, she adopted her anchorwoman voice. “What can you tell us about the assignments you want us to cover?”
Parker opened her mouth to answer just as a ruddy-faced waiter with lobes full of neon twisty bits of plastic approached and slid four glasses of ice water onto the table.
“How y’all doing today?” His drawl sounded too sunny for the weather outside.
“Wet,” said Parker, making a show of wiping the condensation from the table as she shifted the glasses around the gear.
“Yeah, it’s bad out there today,” agreed the waiter. “But the wind’s held off.”
“Was the extra glass of water a consolation prize for not getting my Diet Coke?” asked Parker.
“Oh. Uh.” The waiter counted the glasses, then counted Parker, Barth, and Chieko. “You weren’t four?”
“Not unless you’re counting Barth twice,” quipped Parker. She held up two fingers and spoke with exaggerated distinction. “Bring me two Diet Cokes and then leave us alone until the fish and chips are ready.”
“Oh. Um. Right.” The waiter backed away, nodding nervously. After three feet, he turned and slithered away between the other diners.
Barth smoothed both hands over his bald head and whispered, “Totally terrifying.”
Chieko’s body shook with silent laughter, but she kept her face straight. “You were saying, Parker?”
“I’m still working out the details on a few of the shoots, but I’ve got one for a Nutcracker Museum in Leavenworth, one for a fossil dig in—get this—Fossil, Oregon, and one for an outreach project for teens in Christmas Valley.”
“Not to get myself fired or anything,” said Barth. “But why aren’t you doing the shoots yourself?”
Parker counted on her fingers. “I would, but (a) I’ve got two other shoots that are time-sensitive; (b) I’m winding up wedding arrangements; and (c) my fiancé—and camera god—gets anxiety attacks around crowds. Each of these shoots I’m giving you has the potential of involving larger numbers of people. I know Chieko can handle that end of it, so as long as you can make her look good, we’ll be all right.”
Barth gave a sly smile to Chieko. “I don’t think you can make Chieko look bad.”
A butterfly rose in her stomach, but her common sense swatted it down and swept the crumpled mess out of her ear. Listening to Barth’s endless compliments and flirtatious remarks would only confuse her vulnerable and dimwitted heart, and now was not the time to turn into a twitterpated mess. Parker had already witnessed that act.
“Right.” Parker leaned forward on her elbows, eyeing the two of them in rapid succession for a moment. “Though, technically, you’ll need to make sure the featured guest is the featured face. We’re trying to honor the unsung.” Swinging her laptop around to face them, she pulled up a file. “Here. Plug these earphones into the audio splitters and let me show you what we’re doing.”
They huddled closer to the screen for the next ten minutes as Parker showed them several short clips, pointing out the kinds of camera angles she preferred, the types of questions to ask, and how to bring out the punchiest emotions in the stories.
The discussion of emotions would normally make Chieko’s stomach churn, but the rumble of her pulse overrode the response. Barth’s knee pressed against her leg, and his arm occasionally brushed hers as he pointed out something on the screen. With each touch, her senses wriggled against each other, demanding attention. She felt his strength, heard the warmth of his voice, and saw the mellow hues of his skin. Even the scent of his deodorant blended with laundry softener in a comfortable way.
Her brain reminded her he hadn’t yet invaded one of her senses: taste.
Chieko shook her head. No. Not going to find out how those big, soft lips taste. Not happening.
“Is there a problem?” asked Parker.
Chieko hiccupped, realizing her inner monologue showed on her face. In a panic move, she elbowed Barth. “I’m thinking there’s no way he’ll be able to do all that. These shoots are so good.”
Parker leaned back with a satisfied smile. “Of course he won’t. My Guy is a genius.” She narrowed her eyes and gave Chieko a wry grin. “But your guy can learn, right?”
Chieko met Barth’s inquisitive gaze with wide eyes. “My guy?”
Barth wiggled his eyebrows. “She thinks I can learn to be a genius with the camera. What do you think?”
“I think I’m probably an idiot for taking this job.”
The waiter arrived, tight-lipped and efficient, placing the two Diet Cokes and everyone’s food before them in record time before sheepishly withdrawing.
Parker watched him go as she unwrapped her napkin. “See how quickly I trained him?” She flourished the napkin onto her lap. “If you’re half as smart as Amaya, you’ll be doing great work soon enough. I promise this will be good for your portfolio.” Lifting her Diet Coke in a toast, she added, “To our future endeavors of opening hearts all across America.”
“To opening hearts,” said Barth.
Chieko clinked her glass against theirs with a shaking hand. This job sounded more and more dangerous all the time.
When Parker bowed out of the lunch early, taking her unfinished portion and leaving a large tip, Barth smiled after her.
“Hey, she’s not so bad after all. Look at how nice she was to the poor waiter after scaring his pants off, and now she’s gone and left us together all cozy in the corner.” He meant it as a casual flirtation, but when he turned his eyes on Chieko, the onion rings in his stomach began grappling. “Anyone ever tell you you’re prettier in person than on TV?”
“Oh, come on, Barth. Knock it off,” said Chieko, her lips frowning but her eyes sparkling a little.
“No, really.” He stopped, mesmerized for a moment by the way her graceful fingers held her glass. Drawing a calming breath, he leaned back.
What should he say?
Why was his heart pounding like he’d just run lines?
“You think we can do this?” He asked, wagging a finger between them.
Chieko’s face twisted with confusion. “This? Which this do you mean? Us this? Or the job this?”
Barth untangled her words and straightened. “Is us this an option?”
“In your dreams, Bartholomew,” she said, downing the last of her water.
“Right. Then I meant this the job this, not us this.”
“This is ridiculous.” She gestured for him to move. “We’ll be fine with them showing us the ropes, but right now I need to go.”
“Oh.” He scrambled out of the booth to let her pass. “Wait, go go? Or go leave go?”
Chieko placed her hands on her hips. “Do you always struggle with simple words like this and go? It’s a wonder you graduated.”
He folded his arms, purposely standing close enough to block her way. “I repeat. Are you going to leave go, or the other kind of go?”
Chieko pressed on his chest as if to move him. “Go as in urinate. Pee. Powder my nose. Relieve myself. Capiche?”
“I don’t speak Japanese.”
Chieko headbutted his chest with a groan. “That was Italian, you idiot.”
Barth failed to feel insulted because her silky hair brushed his arm, sending an unexpected swish of happiness through him. Stepping back to let her out, he said, “Then by all means, go. I will stay.”
She tossed him a reluctant smile. “And after I go go, I’m going to go leave.”
“Oh.” He swallowed his disappointment. “Right. But hey, which car should we take to that first shoot?”
Chieko hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“It’s silly for us to drive up separately. I thought we could ride together. My truck could hold the gear, but the gas mileage is only so-so.”
“I’ve got a Prius,” said Chieko. “But I can’t see you and a bunch of equipment fitting into it very well.”
He grinned. “My truck it is. What time should I pick you up?”
Chieko pulled her phone from her purse and tapped. “Looking at this map, I’m guessing it’s about a five-hour drive. We’ll need time to set up.”
“So, seven o’clock?”
She shrugged. “I guess. You’re sure about this?”
“I’ll bring breakfast burritos.”
“And I’ll pitch in on the gas,” she offered.
“It’s a date, then.” He beamed down at her, enthusiasm rising.
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s a job.” She patted his arm as if he were a small child. “I’m going to go potty now, and then I’m going bye-bye. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Aw, now why do you talk to me like that, Miss Chieko?”
She rolled her eyes. “I should ask: Are you a morning person?”
“Not at all.”
“Good.” With a wave, she wound her way through the tables towards the restaurant’s restrooms.
Barth smiled and let his shoulders rock. For the first time, he thought maybe his coy plays might be more than a decoy. What if this tickling in his chest meant something more was in store?
Chapter 4 ~ Nutcrackers
“Wow, I’m impressed,” said Chieko, climbing into the cab of Barth’s older model white pick-up. “Usually old trucks are a wreck inside, but you’ve kept it clean.”
Barth’s laugh sounded forced. “Sure, I keep it clean. I’m a classy guy in a classic truck.” He closed the door for her and rounded the front to get in on the driver’s side.
Smoothing her hand over the bench-style seating, she suppressed a smile and eyed him pointedly. “You cleaned it out this morning, didn’t you?”
“What? No!” he protested, slamming his door shut and gripping the wheel. He cast her a sideways wink. “I did it last night. Not a morning person, remember?”
Amused by his candor, Chieko buckled in. As she turned to negotiate the clasp, she noted the black cases in the back of the truck beneath the canopy. “Where’d you get all the gear?”
Barth started the engine and fastened his seatbelt while the motor puttered. “I bought my own stuff at graduation.”
“Isn’t it expensive?”
He nodded vigorously, reminding her of a bobble head doll. “You better believe it. I’ve been staying with Grammy MarLee since then ’cause I used the last of my cash to buy it all. But you need the equipment to do the work, right?”
“Don’t people use the stuff at the studio that hires them?”
“How are you going to get hired if no one thinks you take your craft seriously enough to buy the equipment?”
Chieko frowned at this thought. She’d only paid for professional attire, and once she moved up the ranks, even some of that would be covered by the news station.
If she ever moved up the ranks.
“Wow. Sleeping on MarLee’s couch,” she said, struck by the sacrifice he’d made. “That doesn’t sound fun.”
“The couch is lumpy, but the cooking’s good.”
He seemed embarrassed, so Chieko looked away. Chewing her lip, she tried to imagine having to live with her parents or grandparents due to financial hardship. She couldn’t think of a comparable torture.
Her grandparents, Issei, born in Japan, emigrated to the United States shortly after their marriage, but they carried the old country values and culture. Although Chieko admired and respected her heritage, she found it difficult to swallow their controlling views of how a successful young woman should look and act. Such was the curse of the Sansei generation: the moment she left the house every morning, she spoke English and lived in a world of American pop culture where creativity and individualism were encouraged. Then, she came home and had to pretend like that world didn’t exist. No matter where she went, she imagined herself on loan from another world, not really belonging anywhere. She tried to meet the expectations of both yet never found herself comfortable in either.
Chieko cracked her knuckles and muscled her tense emotions back inside. Better to talk about Barth and his experience.
“Is MarLee as nice as she seems?”
“Right, you’ve met her a few times, huh?” Barth’s face lit up with the memory as he pulled the truck into traffic. “You and me danced.”
“Um. My recollection is of you tossing me around the room, barely keeping me from going through the ceiling.”
“Yeah, swing dancing is fun.”
Chieko blinked. How could two people remember the same incident so differently? “If you say so. Try it where you’re the hacky sack and see if you like it as much.”
“Aw, I never kicked you.”
His dimpled grin nudged her conscience, and she fell into silence, mulling the resolution to be kinder to him if not accepting of his flirtatious overtures. Mornings didn’t agree with her, and she was grateful Barth willingly tackled the drive.
“You know where we’re going?”
“To get the breakfast burrito I promised you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.” Chieko yawned.
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“Did you eat yet?”
“No.”
“Neither did I. I don’t think we should start our first day of work together hangry.” He pulled into the drive-thru lane of a fast food place. “Is this okay?”
Chieko realized his disposable income must be low, and her heart softened in gratitude. “It’s perfect.”
“Bacon or sausage on yours?” he asked, squinting at the menu board.
“Bacon unless you want to me to be gassy.” She blushed at herself for admitting such a thing. Her mother would have been mortified to hear her mention gastro-intestinal distress of any kind. Urging herself to leave a better impression, she added, “Speaking of which, I owe you for gas. Here.” She pulled a pair of $20 bills from her wallet.
He flicked his wrist. “No, ma’am. Wait ’til we’re running on fumes.”
She shrugged. “Okay. But if we get stranded on some lonely highway, you get to hike back for gas.”
“Understood. You couldn’t do it in those—hey, you aren’t wearing those spiky shoes today!” His eyes ran from her feet to her face in a cheerful sprint, giving her no sense of lechery. “I’m glad you’ll be comfy today!”
“Stilettos didn’t match the jeans and sweatshirt.” Chieko frowned at her dark blue Nike sweatshirt. Parker’s insistence that they dress casually went against Chieko’s training. She’d donned feminine, chic business attire and high heels since high school graduation, assured by her parents that dressing for success brought money like a magnet.
The jury of her life experiences still debated that point as she welcomed the comfort of tennis shoes and the freedom to slouch a little without the fear of popping a tailored seam.
Barth handed her the paper bag full of their breakfast burritos. “I like the ones here ’cause they don’t drip as much. Easier to eat on the road without making a big ol’ mess.
Chieko arched an eyebrow. She wanted to congratulate him on good thinking but couldn’t bring herself to say anything flirty. “Can’t you down the whole thing in one bite? No time to drip.”
