Single Sashimi

by Camy Tang

  Venus stared at the empty doorway. That’s it? That’s all he said? That couldn’t be all. He was as much as, if not more of, a control freak than she was. Five years ago, he’d have exploded, then pored over the code with her, demanding changes as he went.

  This man was a complete stranger to her.

  Esme stood with lips pressed primly together, hands clasped in front of her. She exuded a faint aura of frustration, or disappointment. At what? That Venus hadn’t gotten into more trouble? How ridiculous. Now she was being completely stupid.

  She stood and handed the folio back to Esme. “I’ll talk to the programmers. Is there anything else I need to see before I do that?”

  Esme’s face blipped back to her habitual cheer. “No.”

  She sighed. “Good.”

  She padded down the carpeted hallway toward the other end of the building, where the programmers held court. She stepped gingerly, even though she knew it wouldn’t cause fewer germs to adhere to her bare feet. She almost wished she’d worn hose, if only to give her another barrier between the dirt and her toes. Maybe she shouldn’t have thrown away her shoes…no, her aching hips wouldn’t have let her limp around much longer. She could have used the antiseptic wipes in her desk drawer or her purse, but what was the use? She’d have to walk somewhere else and would get dirty again.

  Eeeek! Cold stabbed up the soles of her feet from the concrete floor of the large room where the programmers’ cubicles were set up. It didn’t help that the programmers kept the temperature sub-arctic because the computers ran so hot. She skittered to Macy’s cubicle.

  The Web director wasn’t there. She peeked next door into Lisa’s cubicle. “Where’s Macy?”

  Lisa looked up at Venus, then her eyes slid away. “She told Darla she had a doctor’s appointment today.”

  Something about that wording made Venus a little uneasy, but her feet were getting frostbite and crashing programs had priority over strangely worded answers. “Esme told me about the wrong patch. Did I really tell you to use EBF 4.0?”

  “Actually…” Lisa swiveled back and forth in her rolling computer chair. “Esme was the one who gave us the instructions on that. At the time I thought it was a bit strange, and I asked her if she was sure. I remember thinking it was odd that she didn’t consult her notes when she repeated her answer.”

  Venus stilled, feeling like the megawatt air conditioning had frozen her into an ice sculpture. Sometimes the fact she worked with all women made her suspicious of cattiness when there wasn’t any. Cattiness, that is. Lisa’s hazel eyes seemed earnest. Maybe she was a good actress? Because why would Esme do anything suspicious? Bananaville was her company too, not just Gerry’s or Drake’s or Venus’s.

  Venus put on her professional face. “What’s important now is how long it’ll take you to fix it. We need to use version 3.0p instead—Q&A just finished testing it last week.”

  “We’ll start right now.” Lisa hesitated. “Will you email Macy about the changes? That way she’ll know it’s from you.”

  Again, that odd wording. If Venus were a more touchy-feely boss she’d probably understand it. Trish picked up social cues better than she did—she made a mental note to ask Trish about it when she got the chance.

  “We’d better go over this before I have you make changes.” She leaned over to peek inside Macy’s empty cubicle again. “I wish she were here. Maybe I should wait so you don’t have to go over it again with her to get her up to speed.”

  “No, no.” Lisa stretched a hand out as if she were afraid Venus would take off. “It’s okay. I’d rather you go over it with me, anyway. Prevents…um, miscommunication.”

  Okay, even Venus caught that one. “What kind of miscommunication do you have with Macy?”

  “Nothing. I love working with her.” But Lisa didn’t elaborate, and what was more, she didn’t even crack a smile. Venus stared hard at her, but she simply blinked up at her from her chair.

  Well, if she didn’t want to talk, Venus couldn’t strap her to a rack and torture her. It was actually rather refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t want to gossip.

  They went over the code to be fixed, and Venus tried to contain her dismay at the scope of what needed to be done. Lisa cowered under Venus’s scowls, despite the fact she repeatedly assured Lisa she wasn’t upset with her. Lisa’s spinelessness began to annoy Venus as much as the consequences of her mistaken instructions to the programmers.

  They both winced at an entire screen of code. Venus finally closed her eyes, wondering if it would go away if she prayed really hard.

  “Venus, there you are.”

  She jumped—literally had some hang time—at Drake’s voice behind her. Not just because she was startled, but also because he’d take one look at the code on the screen and start yelling at them both. Lisa must have picked up on her anxiety, because she bit her lip and dipped her head.

  Drake paused as he took in the page of code that had formed the posse crashing and burning the system that morning. The silence thickened like Jenn’s egg drop soup when she added cornstarch.

  He exhaled long and low. Venus didn’t want to actually edge away from him, but she couldn’t help shifting her weight to the leg farthest from him and leaning way back.

  But his expression never shifted from curious and thoughtful. He leaned down. “There’s an easy way to fix this.” He opened another application.

  Venus stared at the stranger bent over Lisa’s computer. No temper? Not even an icy glance or a cold, sarcastic comment? Was he actually calmer than she was?

  She straightened and frowned at his indecently broad back. They’d always both been driven, but she’d at least prided herself on the fact she had softer feelings than he did. Maybe that early heart attack had mellowed him in more ways than one. Had he really had a complete attitude adjustment?

  Without turning his head, he remarked, “I left something for you on your desk.”

  Another emergency? More work? “I should probably stay—”

  “I’ll take care of this.”

  He couldn’t have dismissed her more firmly than if he’d turned her around and given her a boot in the butt. Hmph. She glanced at Lisa. He seemed in a good mood—it might be safe to leave her with him. “Fine.” She swiveled—hard to do dramatically in bare feet with toes about to fall off from the cold—and marched out. She missed the firm clacking noise she could have made with her stilettos to signal her displeasure.

  She tried stomping down the hallway, but the carpet muted her striking heels, and it hurt, besides. Stop being such a baby. Be grateful he didn’t throw a fit. Why are you so mad?

  She didn’t know. And she hated that she didn’t know. She was angry at Drake for some unknown reason, and she was angry at herself for being so illogical.

  She slammed into her office. What the heck was that on her desk? She flipped on the overhead lights.

  A pair of Michael Kors pumps, glossy brown leather with gold metal trim. She’d seen them at Neiman Marcus last week.

  Drake had bought her shoes.

  EIGHTEEN

  Venus arrived at church on Saturday night, ready to demolish a few egos. Most notably, Drake’s.

  That is, if her jeans button didn’t pop off in the middle of the video game competition. Working with Drake had made her so stressed, she’d eaten way too many Reese’s peanut butter cups lately. It was all his fault. Which was why she intended to play him like an iPod.

  For once, all the kids had arrived on time because David had warned that no one would be allowed to enter the competition if they arrived after seven o’clock.

  A couple high school boys were talking near the door when she entered. “Venus!” Timmy did a few shadow boxing moves. “Ready to rumble?”

  Josh laughed. “Dude, Venus will take you out.”

  The door behind her opened and Drake entered. He saw her—specifically, he got an eyeful of her jeans—and paused.

  Venus’s cheeks heated faster than her coffee in t
he microwave. Drake rarely saw her in anything other than suits at work and slacks at youth group, and these jeans were a bit tighter than normal. Did she look that fat?

  “You look really good, Venus.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You were looking too skinny for a while, there.”

  “What?” Her hot cheeks prickled. She could swear she saw sparklers shooting out from her eyes.

  He gave her a bland smile while the high school boys gaped. No one spoke to her the way Drake did. Well, no one spoke that way and lived except for him.

  “I’m just saying you look sexy rather than twiggy.”

  “Twiggy? Sexy? We’re at church—don’t use the S-word in front of the guys.” She flapped a hand in their direction and hit somebody’s nose, eliciting an “Ow!”

  Timmy spoke up. “I already know all about s—” Chris smacked him in the arm, hard.

  Drake cast a casual eye over the guys. “If they don’t learn at church about God’s intention for sex, where would you rather they hear about sex—from their friends?”

  Venus opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She was saved by David’s call down the hallway, “All contestants gather in the Social Hall!”

  As they headed toward the Social Hall, Drake leaned close. “Winner buys dinner.”

  His silky voice tingled at the base of her neck, but despite the prancing of her heart, she stepped away from him. He made her uncomfortable; she didn’t want to like him, and this was just weird. “Winner buys Xenon’s Revenge when it releases next month.”

  He didn’t press. “You’re on.”

  She felt safer, but a bit disappointed too. Stupid.

  “Okay guys, here are the rules.” David peered at the paper in his hand. “Everybody who signed up will be assigned a random opponent for the first round. This is single elimination”—his voice rose as kids protested—“because we have so many people playing. Quit yer whining.”

  The murmur went on for another few seconds before he continued. “Be careful with the game consoles. One belongs to the church, but five belong to me and the other guys.” He nodded to some high schoolers and a few junior highers.

  “There are six stations set up around the church. Each competition will be assigned to a station. No complaining about who gets the big TV here”—he jerked his thumb at the gigantic 73-inch HDTV in the Social Hall—“and the projector screen in the sanctuary. It’s all random. Comprendez?”

  He gave them a few seconds to vent their spleen, then continued. “We chose Psycho Bunny so the junior highers’ parents won’t throw a hissy fit, but it’s challenging enough for the high schoolers. Plus, we could get six copies of it for the six stations.”

  He had to shout as the kids talked and the volume rose. “If you haven’t put your name in with Kat, do it now!” Venus hustled over to where Kat sat with her laptop, ready to input names and randomly generate the first round lineup.

  Venus played against Timmy for her first game in the 1st and 2nd grade Sunday school room. She trounced him in seven minutes.

  “Veeeenus.” He sighed and placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “No mercy?”

  “Nope.”

  She had to wait for her next round, so she sat beside the high school girls in the sanctuary pews, where they watched two junior highers face off. “You guys aren’t playing?”

  “Naomi was, but she lost.”

  “We came for moral support.”

  “Except she doesn’t need it anymore.”

  Venus glanced around the sanctuary. “Did Mika come?”

  “She’s outside talking on her cell with her mom,” Naomi said in a hushed voice.

  Venus sat up straighter. “Is she okay?”

  “I’m not sure, they were talking in Japanese.”

  “But it sounded like maybe Mika was in trouble.”

  “But her mom drove her here tonight, so it must not be that bad.”

  And with that comforting thought, they turned their attention back to the game on the projector screen. Venus sighed. She’d never understand teenagers.

  Well, even if they weren’t concerned, she was. She got up a bit abruptly and aimed for the side doors, blinking in the darkness after the bright lights. From somewhere, Mika’s voice spat out Japanese sentences like bullets.

  Venus turned the corner of the building to see the slim girl pacing back and forth, head bent as she listened to her cell phone, other hand gripping her hip. She paused when she saw Venus, eyes wide, mouth stretched. She whirled away with a swirl of her ponytail.

  Venus headed back inside. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t as if she was motherly. What could she hope to do for a girl having parent problems? She barely remembered to be civil to her own mother most days.

  She returned just in time to be called for her second match, this time against Chris. She demolished him in thirteen minutes.

  He stared stupefied at the TV in the junior high Sunday school room as she set her controller down. Then he pointed a finger at her. “You are no fun.” But he grinned as he said it, flashing his newly installed braces.

  She passed several games on her way to report her victory to Kat. She was impressed at the skill of some of the other kids. It was a while down the road, but maybe testers for her game…

  One junior high girl squealed as she beat a high school boy. The boy good-naturedly groaned and flung himself backward on the ground while his friends ragged him with laughing and pointing. The girl giggled and crowed. Other junior high girls did Snoopy dances for her.

  Venus paused, watching the innocent play. She couldn’t possibly give her violent shooter game to these kids. Never. It would be like taking them into an NC-17 movie.

  But she also knew kids their age would get hold of the game—via friends or relatives—and play it anyway. She’d make tons of money. While corrupting children.

  She continued down the hallway. She couldn’t control stuff like that. It was that way with any game in the industry.

  The difference was, it would be that way with her game. With something she’d developed and brought into being. Her game concept of a SOCOM with sexy all-female players would fit right into the market, and she knew she’d make a killing, but suddenly the realization of what she was doing made something writhe inside her, like a dormant dragon. Her shoulders tensed as she shuddered.

  Kat glanced up at her with raised eyebrows. “That was fast.”

  Venus buffed her nails against her shirt. “When you’re good, you’re good.”

  Kat laughed as she inputted the win in the computer. “Your next bout won’t start for a while, sorry.”

  Venus’s eyes turned unwillingly toward the side door. No, Mika was probably still on the phone. And what if she wasn’t? What could Venus say to her—“Sorry your mom is being a pain”? Or some pat answer like, “Give your burden to God and He’ll give you strength and peace.” Oh, please. Trish or Jenn would know what to say, but Venus was used to barking orders, not comforting hormonal teenagers.

  So what did she do? Headed out the side door, naturally.

  This time, she followed the sniffling sounds around the corner. Mika leaned against the stucco wall, gripping her pink cell phone, head bowed. Venus hesitated. Would she want company or not? Venus herself usually wanted cave time so she wouldn’t bite someone’s head off.

  Apparently Mika wasn’t Venus, because she raised her head and regarded her through reddened, wet eyes. Her lips drooped like roses in the rain. She sniffed again, still regarding Venus, still not saying whether she wanted her to go away or give her a hug.

  Ugh, maybe she wanted a hug. Venus was so not a huggy person. But this was a teenage girl, and she’d just fought with her mother, and Venus tried to imagine what she’d feel like if she were…well, emotional. Like Trish—Trish was always emotional. Okay, if she were Trish and had stormed off the phone with her mom. Yeah, not a pretty sight. Mika probably wanted a hug.

  Oh, man.

  Venus forced herse
lf to reach out a hand toward Mika’s shoulder.

  Mika sobbed and buried herself in Venus’s generous bosom. The feel of bony arms around her and a damp face against her chest made her spine straighten and her arms to become like tree branches. Breathe…relax… She awkwardly put her hands on Mika’s back and patted lightly.

  Mika cried for a long time. A very long time. Tears soaked through Venus’s shirt until her bra became damp, which made her cringe a little, but what was she going to do, pull away from this hysterical child and say, “Sorry, this bra is saturated”?

  Finally, her tearful symphony began a decrescendo. “M-my mom hates me.” She spoke into Venus’s shirt.

  Good, Mika was talking. Venus felt the earth right itself under her feet. Sane, communicative individuals she could deal with. She solved problems all the time at work. “She doesn’t hate—”

  “Nothing I do is ever good enough for her.”

  “I’m sure you’re—”

  “She told me I didn’t practice enough violin today. I practiced for two hours!” Mika wailed and snuffled into Venus’s shoulder.

  Ew. Don’t think about the snot. “Two hours is—”

  “She doesn’t make my brother practice that long, but that’s ’cause he’s a boy.” She said boy like idiot.

  “Well—”

  A voice roared in her head—sounding a bit like Drake, to be honest—telling her, Venus, shut up.

  She shut up. She wasn’t sure if it was really a message from God, but if she was reduced to yelling at herself, she better listen.

  Mika’s tears grew stronger. “I hate first generation Japanese parents! They’re so demanding, and they only want their own way, and they won’t listen to you!”

  Which sounded an awful lot like second generation Chinese fathers and second generation Japanese grandmothers (but not so much like irresponsible, third generation Japanese mothers). It probably would have been a lot like Venus’s first generation Chinese grandparents, except she didn’t know enough Cantonese to understand about 50 percent of what they were saying to her every time she went over to their house—she was lucky she knew enough Chinese to order at a restaurant.