Single Sashimi

by Camy Tang

  Venus looked at the ground. “I’m sorry That came out wrong.”

  What had he expected? She didn’t trust him. The woman had issues enough to scare away most sane men. The crazy thing was that he did understand her, and she drove him nuts.

  “Drake, I didn’t mean it to sound so callous. I just didn’t want you to misunderstand.”

  “No chance of that.” Venus always said what she meant. Sometimes he wished she were less efficient and more tactful.

  “I really need your help.”

  She never needed anyone. The fact she approached him must be killing her. “Venus, we’re not even friends.”

  “I don’t hate you anymore.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No, of course not. I apologize. I’m not good at this stuff.” She sighed. “Mr. Yu, I have a business proposition for you.”

  He turned back to her, an unwilling smile tugging at his mouth. “Go on.”

  “I would like to request your escort for my grandmother’s Christmas party. You are successful, professional, and good-looking, and I am asking you to allow me to use your family connections to impress a potential investor.”

  Good-looking?

  “This is a business proposition, not a sol-solicitation or a favor.” She swallowed.

  “If it’s a business proposition, what do I get out of this?”

  She didn’t speak at first, just stared at him with eyes dark and large in the shadows cast by the lamppost. Then her shoulders settled back. “What do you want?” she asked in a low voice.

  Had he heard her correctly? He waited for her to laugh and say it was a joke…except Venus never made jokes. Or she’d burst out and say she’d changed her mind. She did change her mind…sometimes.

  What did he want from her that she’d be willing to give? Because regardless of what she said, he wasn’t about to dig up her resentment against him again.

  “Nothing.” He reached in his briefcase for his car keys. “Nothing. I’ll do it as a favor.”

  She blinked at him.

  He took a step closer and looked down at her. “Favors don’t get repaid, Venus.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I know that.”

  At least he got a response. He would have sighed except she’d snap at him more, and he was too tired to deal with her. “Is there anything else?”

  “No.” She dipped her chin as she said it, and he almost didn’t catch her reply. She seemed almost disappointed—it would serve her right if she was, although she’d probably deny it to herself.

  She gave a little shake of her head and glanced back up at him. “Thank you, Drake.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Good-night.” And she disappeared into the evening darkness like a ninja.

  He deactivated his car alarm and fumbled with his bag as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Yes, he understood her, but he still wanted to wrap his fingers around her throat and squeeze. Yes, she didn’t want him to misunderstand, but she’d sucked any enjoyment he could have had from an evening with her. Yes, he knew she was neurotic, anal, and driven, but he was still surprised when she pulled stunts like this.

  He started his engine. She disarmed him, and he didn’t like it. He should be more than a match for her. While he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, he also didn’t want to roll over so she could walk all over him with her five-hundred-dollar shoes.

  A thought occurred to him just before he backed out of his parking stall. He sifted over her gestures, her words, the things she didn’t say in their conversation.

  Yes, this would unnerve her. He knew what he’d do.

  TWENTY

  Venus couldn’t have spoken to save her life.

  She had opened her front door to Drake, but she wasn’t prepared for the sight of his eyes darkening to mahogany when he saw her in the Marchesa gown. The vision of him in a black tuxedo made her want to grab his lapels and repeat that mind-numbing kiss. To prevent herself, she gripped her doorknob hard enough to make it give a faint metallic creak.

  She made it to the car but stopped short at the sight of Esme’s petal-fresh face in Drake’s backseat.

  “Esme.”

  “Hi, Venus. I hope you don’t mind?”

  Yes, I mind ! “Of course not.” She climbed into the front seat. “I didn’t even know you’d been invited.”

  “Drake was so nice, he remembered a comment I made about the invitation on his desk. It was weeks ago, but then he called and asked me to come with you two as his parents’ guest.”

  Weeks. Around the time Venus had accosted him out in the parking lot and demanded his escort to the party? She glanced at Drake as he got in the car, but couldn’t interpret his look. “Uh… Esme, you’ve been working so hard lately and done such a great job, I’m glad we’re able to give you something special.”

  Drake coughed.

  “Thank you so much, Venus. I couldn’t ask for a better boss.”

  “It’s nothing. You deserve it.” Well, having Esme around would keep her mind off of Drake. He started the engine, and they headed toward downtown San Jose.

  “I’m excited, but I’m also nervous,” Esme said. “I’ve never been to a big business party like this before. You’ve probably been to tons.”

  More than she cared to remember, for more years than she cared to remember. “You’ll do fine. You’re naturally friendly and elegant.” Whereas Venus still felt awkward when she was the center of attention. Maybe Esme’s poise could rub off on her.

  They arrived at Grandma’s bank, gave the car over to the valet, and headed inside. As a woman took their cloaks, Venus caught a glimpse of Esme’s dress.

  A simple, but not cheap-looking black dress, in that clingy fabric Venus could never wear because it made her hips look out of proportion, but which made Esme runway-perfect. And how on earth did the woman manage to have a behind as tiny as the church high school girls?

  Drake did a double-take at Esme, and heat rose in her chest. No, she didn’t want to flush and clash with the ruby crystals on her gown. She visualized air-conditioned Nordstrom’s, the lap pool at her gym, Hawaiian shave ice—stop it, she’d gain five pounds just thinking about shave ice.

  Stupid Drake.

  Then he caught sight of her in the Marchesa—again. His face stilled, his eyes darkened.

  She didn’t want to feel so cheery about it.

  They entered the bank, flanked by strings of garlands. A gigantic Christmas tree dominated the far end, glittering like an emerald and diamond-crusted pendant—a rival to the jewels of the people gathered.

  Venus entered the crowd like she was on her way to a board meeting. Essentially, she was. Despite the fact Grandma called it the bank’s Christmas party, people came to gather information about business, learn and share gossip, and make handshake deals—not to party.

  Esme hovered close to Drake, wide eyes taking in the clusters of businessmen and women standing and chatting. She looked charmingly overwhelmed, making Venus feel like a hulking gladiator in the Colosseum.

  Drake suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

  “You brought it with you?” Now Venus didn’t feel so bad for having hers in her purse.

  “I was expecting this call. Be right back. Hello?” He walked a short distance away.

  Esme followed him with her eyes, and Venus—never the most sensitive person—suddenly realized the truth like a wooden staff crack to the side of her head. “Are you and Drake…oh, I’m sorry. That’s too personal.” But a burning had grown in her stomach, like glowing hibachi coals.

  Esme blushed. “No, it’s okay. Yes, I’ve liked him for a while.” Her freshness and openness made Venus feel like a pill for her flare of jealousy.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t even know you were—”

  “Oh, we’re not dating.” Venus added the implied “Yet.”

  But Venus wanted Esme to be happy. And she herself didn’t want Drake, right? Drake was the last
man on earth she could ever be happy with.

  She didn’t have time to assimilate her tumultuous thoughts and feelings, because Drake returned to their side. “Sorry about that. Let’s find Chieko—”

  “Drake! How are you, m’boy?” A tall, slender man approached and shook Drake’s hand. His moustache matched his accent—Southern to the core. “And won’t you introduce me to your lovely ladies?” He bestowed a charming smile on Esme, who returned it with a delicate tilt to her chin.

  He shifted his gaze to Venus, who tried to mask her face into something friendly and approachable, but the man’s expression faltered. Really, it wasn’t as if she scowled at him. Just because she didn’t smile like a debutante…

  “Esme Preston, Venus Chau, this is Miller Kendig. He’s on the board of directors for Russo Graphics.”

  While Esme flashed her pearly whites, Venus tried to remember where she’d heard that name. Oh, that’s right—the company Drake started after he sold TrekPaste.

  “Esme is operations manager, and Venus is CTO for Bananaville, my sister’s new company.”

  Miller shook Esme’s graceful hand. “Hard to believe someone as pretty as you is smart as a whip too.”

  “Oh, Mr. Kendig.” Esme had just the right amount of flirtatious-ness, without seeming ingenuine.

  “Call me Miller.”

  Venus realized she was pouting and relaxed her mouth. She’d always prided herself on the fact that she was efficient, but Esme’s charm elicited a warmer response than she’d ever had. She happened to catch Drake’s look to her. Amusement gleamed from his watchful eye.

  “Well, Miss Preston, if Drake here gets to be too unbearable, you give me a call. I’ll give you a job working for a nicer employer.” He winked at Esme. She smiled and lowered her lashes.

  He turned to Venus with a cooler expression. “You’re Drake’s CTO?”

  His handshake seemed harder and more aggressive than the one he gave Esme, but Venus returned it firmly. “Technically, I work for Gerry. I heard you’ve taken Russo Graphics light years beyond what it was when Drake was there.” Actually, when he owned it, but she had enough sense not to mention that to the head of the board of directors.

  Miller gave Drake a mischievous smirk. “Shouldn’t have sold out, m’boy.”

  Drake took it in good humor. “I received an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  Miller laughed heartily, glancing back at Venus. “Uh… Nice to meet you, Miss Ching.”

  Chau. Oh, brother. She tried to smile, but it felt more like a sick simper. “Same here.”

  Venus turned from Drake talking with Miller, but she came face to face with another woman. She and the woman started, but then Venus recognized her. “Pamela! How nice to see you.”

  “Venus.” Pamela Wyatt leaned in to buss her on the cheek in a puff of rose-scented face powder. “Who are you here with? By yourself?”

  “I came with Drake Yu.”

  “Drake! Where is he? I haven’t seen him in ages.” Her gaze darted around.

  Venus stepped aside to include Drake and Esme. Miller’s tall shoulders were just disappearing into the crowd of tuxedos, so they were standing alone together.

  Pamela danced up to him in a flutter of baby-blue silk and gave him a kiss. “Hello, Drake.”

  “Pamela! It’s been years.” His smile beamed down at the smaller woman, brighter than any he’d given to Venus. Or Esme, for that matter, which mollified her. No, stop being jealous.

  “What have you been up to?”

  “I sold Russo Graphics and retired, but now I’m temporarily out of retirement and working for Gerry. This is Esme Preston, Gerry’s operations manager.”

  They shook hands. “And how do you like working for Gerry?”

  The two of them chatted for a few minutes. Esme responded with friendliness and the right amount of deference, which Pamela warmed to immediately. They parted with “We should get together for coffee,” and “I’d love that,” as if they were old friends.

  Then Pamela turned to Venus. “I’m sorry, I have to fly—I have to make sure I speak to Sandra before she leaves the party early. It was nice seeing you, Venus.” And she disappeared in a swirl of blue silk.

  Venus was starting to feel like Frankenstein’s monster. True, she wasn’t as charming as Esme, but she wasn’t that difficult to converse with.

  “I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?” Her voice came out a bit harsher than she intended.

  Esme didn’t notice and simply shook her head. Drake, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow at her. She schooled her face into a neutral expression. She didn’t have to explain anything to him. “Well?”

  “Nothing for me, thanks.”

  An open bar had been set up at the far end near the Christmas tree. She stood in the crowd, waiting for an opening. She kept away from the tree, not wanting any fir needles touching her gown. One good thing about having it there was that it covered the awful dead chicken head painting Grandma had bought earlier this year from Trish’s ex-boyfriend, in order to foster goodwill with the boyfriend’s wealthy Japanese banker parents.

  Someone jabbed her with an elbow. She moved away. Another hand touched the small of her back, and a spasm rippled through her muscles, making her skin shrink away. She jerked away and stepped on someone else’s foot. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  A medium height man smiled back. “That’s all right.”

  She’d thought she stepped on a woman’s shoe, not a man’s, but maybe she was wrong. She was about to turn and try to muscle her way to the bar when he spoke again. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll get it myself.” She might be at Grandma’s party, with an exclusive guest list, but she wasn’t stupid. She refused to drink anything she hadn’t received directly from the bartender’s hands.

  The man’s smile didn’t falter despite her rebuff. “I’m Arnold King.” He held out his hand.

  “Venus Chau.”

  “My uncle is friends with Chieko Sakai. You’re one of her granddaughters?”

  He actually pronounced Grandma’s first name correctly. She shook his hand. “Yes, I’m Laura’s daughter.” Venus speculated on his age. Her mother’s, probably.

  Arnold held onto her hand too long. Venus’s smile cooled, and she yanked her arm to disengage herself. His faded blue eyes discreetly checked her out, and her stomach tightened. She felt a draft under her skirt and wished she’d worn hose.

  “Nice meeting you, Mr. King.” Yeah, right. Venus sidestepped around him.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm with one hand, while the other molded to her waist.

  It was like being embraced by a dead squid. She tried to step away, but his hand gripped her arm harder, and while his touch at her waist wasn’t so close, he still wouldn’t remove his fingers from her.

  She twisted around to make him let go of her, but this brought her face to face with him. His hands immediately latched onto her upper arms.

  Venus’s wrists snapped up to knock him away. “Keep your hands off me.” Her glare seared through his limpid eyes straight into his lecherous brain.

  But he was an octopus. “Venus,” he chided, smile lines creasing his face. One hand cupped her elbow, the other one snaked around her arm to touch her waist again, this time higher up.

  Concealed by the press of bodies and her skirt, she jabbed him in the instep with her heel.

  He grunted, his face folding into lines of pain, but his masking tape hands wouldn’t let go of her—he probably held on so he wouldn’t collapse onto the floor. She knocked his hand from her elbow and pushed him away with a knuckle in his gut. He stumbled backward and his fingers left her ribcage.

  She spat, “I don’t care how good friends your uncle is with her. My grandmother is going to hear about this.” And for the first time in her life, she was heartily glad that Grandma had those adamantine claws hidden under her respectable Chanel suits.

  Venus shoved her way
through the other party guests, although she slowed her pace when she reached a group with drinks in their hands. It was too early in the evening to spill something on this insanely expensive gown.

  She elbowed her way to the bar and signaled to the harried bartender. “Soda water and lime.” He hustled to get it for her.

  Venus kept her head turned behind her to make sure no one sloshed into her. Suddenly a beringed hand popped up above people’s heads and fluttered at her.

  “Venus!” called a shrill voice. The small figure pushed her way toward her.

  The woman erupted from the crowd, a little unsteady on her heels, but with a beatific smile on her Shiseido-powdered face.

  Mom.

  And she was drunk as a skunk.

  Her mother, thankfully, didn’t drink often, but she was a mean drunk when she did overindulge.

  “Stop it.” Mom slapped Venus’s hand where it gripped her upper arm. Venus only tightened her hold as she pulled her unwilling body away from the bar. She had commanded the bartender to not serve Mom any more—hopefully the man would obey later in the evening.

  A part of her realized she ought to leave now and take Mom home. But that would mean cutting short her evening, and she hadn’t had a chance to talk to anyone, not even Grandma. Certainly not Hudson Collins, and she absolutely refused to leave before she had at least two minutes with him.

  Her guilt warred with her selfishness, and she knew she was being selfish. And she was in this situation all because of her mother. Venus shoved her away from the bar with more force than necessary.

  “But I wanted a drink.” Mom scratched viciously at Venus’s hand, making her drop her arm.

  “Mom!” Venus rubbed her hand. Dark pink scratches, but no blood. “You’ve had enough. Grandma will kill you if you embarrass her.”

  That was only wishful thinking. Grandma, while ruthless in business matters, always bailed out her youngest daughter. No one in the family understood the illogic of it, especially since Grandma had no grace for anyone else.

  Normally, Venus would just leave her mom to fend for herself, or for Grandma to take charge of, but tonight she needed to stay on Grandma’s good side. Her company depended on it.