Messy Mandy Presents The Lunchtime Chronicles
The Bento box
Lunchtime Chronicles Issue 1
Olivia Gaines
Davonshire House Publishing
PO Box 9716
Augusta, GA 30916
THIS BOOK IS A WORK of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.
© 2019 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin
Copy Editor: Teri Thompson Blackwell
Cover: Wicked Smart Designs
Olivia Gaines Make Up and Photograph by Latasla Gardner Photography
ASIN:
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.
Printed in the United States of America
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 9 8
First Davonshire House Publishing October 2019
DEDICATION
For my sisters in words, Siera, Xyla and Reana.
Word up!
.
“Easy reading is damn hard writing.”
- Nathaniel Hawthorne
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To all the fans, friends and supporters of the dream as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired and moving forward.
Write On!
Also by Olivia Gaines
THE MEN OF ENDURANCE Series
A Walk Through Endurance: Olivia Gaines & Siera London
A Return to Endurance By Olivia Gaines & Siera London
The Art of Persistence By Olivia Gaines
Intervals of Love
Enduring Emily
An Enduring Christmas – Winter 2019
The Technicians Series
Blind Date By Olivia Gaines
Blind Hope By Olivia Gaines
Blind Luck By Olivia Gaines
Love Thy Neighbor Series
Walking the Dawg: A Novella
Through the Woods: A Novella
Life of the Party: A Novella
Modern Mail-Order Brides
North to Alaska
Montana
Oregon Trails
Wyoming Nights
On a Rainy Night in Georgia
Bleu, Grass, Bourbon
Buckeye and the Babe
The Tennessee Mountain Man
Stranded in Arizona
The Zelda Diaries
It Happened Last Wednesday
A Frickin' Fantastic Friday
A Tantalizing Tuesday
A Marvelous Monday
A Saucy Sunday
A Sensual Saturday
My Thursday Throwback
Slivers of Love Series
The Deal Breaker
Naima's Melody
Santa's Big Helper
The Christmas Quilts
Friends with Benefits
The Cost to Play
A Menu for Loving
Thursdays in Savannah
Table of Contents
Chapter One- Oh Chopsticks!
Chapter Two - Oh Shitake!
Chapter Three – Sticky Rice
Chapter Four – Wasabi
Chapter Five – Soy Saucing
Chapter Six – A Bit of Meat
Chapter Seven –Noodles
Chapter Eight – Pickled
Chapter Nine – Satisfied
The Lunchtime Chronicles THICK CUT
Bonus Chapter- An Endurance Christmas
Chapter One- My True Love Gave to Me
Chapter One- Oh Chopsticks!
KOJI SHIKAESHI OKADA didn’t believe in taking no for an answer. Actually, he prided himself on being one of the toughest negotiators in the software development business. His company, OkadaCorp specialized in cutting-edge applications designed to ensure that mundane tasks and routine responsibilities, which would normally take several phone calls, follow-ups, and in-person visits to clarify or resolve, were automated. Koji’s latest piece of a technological marvel only needed a facility in order to test the practicality of the application.
He knew just the place to run his software, but the owner and operator of the business would not return his calls. If, and it was a big if, the woman would utilize the app he’d sent for a test run, there would be no need for him to hop on his private jet and leave London to fly to the heart of Georgia in the middle of summer to have a conversation. However, this was what she was forcing him to do, which irked the soles of his feet.
Eldredge Sung, his best friend since early school days, also served as his personal assistant and frequently traveled with the boss, ensuring Koji didn't put his foot on the neck of the person serving up dinner. Although Eldredge understood the personal applications of the timesaving software, Americans didn’t have the same views as Asians on death, which Eldredge often tried to explain to his employer. When that tactic failed, he tried to explain it to his friend.
“Listen, man,” Eldredge started, “I see where you’re going with the software and it makes a great deal of sense overall, but Americans don’t want to get a time-stamped text about when their loved one went into the cremation furnace, the optimal temperature or the cooling times of the singed remains. It’s morbid. At a time of loss, most people want a human to hold their hands and console them during the grief.”
“This software will revolutionize the funeral service industry,” Koji declared. “All I need is one Southern funeral home in a large metropolitan city to use it, and the product will sell itself across the country. Dr. Hathaway will value the in person visit.”
“She’s not going to appreciate you showing up uninvited, unannounced, and unwelcomed,” Eldredge replied. “Plus, she doesn’t even like you. The lady basically said exactly that to your face when you were in New York last month.”
“I know what she said,” Koji answered, his face down on the phone screen. He put the phone aside to take out his tablet, click a few icons with the electronic pen, and continue to work.
“Maybe you should hear the lady and really listen to what she is telling you, Boss. Her family has been in the mortuary business for several generations. She’s the county coroner and the heir to the family dynasty,” Eldredge offered.
“Exactly why I chose Dr. Hathaway to be our guinea pig for this app,” Koji replied, clicking a few more icons, pleased, then turning off the device as the plane prepared for landing.
“You may have chosen her and her father’s business to test the software, but Dr. Hathaway was very clear that she wanted no part of your application,” Eldredge reminded him.
“Which is why I have a new approach,” Koji said, the smile on his face boasting his arrogance. “The woman smells like formaldehyde, works constantly, and couldn’t possibly have a love life.”
Eldredge’s eyes were wide. “Your plan is to spray her in perfume and woo her to your side?”
“A strand of pretty pearls, a ride on the old jet, and dinner in Paris, and voilà, the deal will be done,” Koji said with confidence. “She’s not a bad-looking woman, if she did something with her hair and that smell. I’d do her.”
“Do you hear yourself, man?”
“Trust me; I have this one in the bag,” Koji said, fastening his seatbelt for the landing. “Dr. Hathaway is not going to know what hit her.”
MACON, GEORGIA
The hour neared nine p.m. as Trista Hathaway pulled into her driveway. Her back ached, her feet throbbed, and her head thumped from the strain of her day. A twenty car pile-up on I-16 where I-75 connected and merged into southbound traffic caused by a reckless driver texting a message tha
t he was on the way took 12 unsuspecting lives in one stupid, unneeded click. It was illegal to text and drive in the state of Georgia, but there was always that one idiot who believed it wouldn’t hurt to just quickly shoot off a message to a friend apprising of an arrival status.
The latest update when Trista left the office was that the final toll, and she didn’t care to use the term body count, would near the twenty mark with a ton of other injuries, sprains, and broken bones. Technology was going to be the death of society in her estimation. The more the automation, the less human interaction that reduced the personal touch of actually giving a shit about the guy in the car next door. She often told her employees that instead of road rage, they should consider the possibility on the front seat of the driver who is taking his time, there may be a hot pot of soup for an ailing Grandmother.
“He doesn’t want to spill the soup,” she would tell her employees when they were trying to rush a process. Too many people were in a hurry to create shortcuts, but there were none when it came to success. If she had her way, the cellphone that was always close, would be turned in and turned off, forcing those who needed her to come in person.
Her phone buzzed loudly, but she was hungry, hot, and in need of a shower. The last thing she wanted was to talk to any other person today about anything. If she were to be totally honest, a hard man would be good to use for the night and send on his way the following morning.
The phone buzzed again, but Trista had no intention of answering it tonight. Kicking off her shoes, she plopped down on the couch, staring longingly at the bottle of wine across the room and the glass on the kitchen counter, wishing she’d paid more attention when watching the Harry Potter movies. A magic wand could be swished and flicked and the wine would open, flowing into the goblet which then could float across the room to her waiting lips.
“If a bish could cast a spell and make some shit levitate then come to my hand, my life would be so much easier right now,” she grumbled, getting up to grab the bottle. The glass was also within reach of her goal to take it down a thousand when the doorbell chimed.
Initially, her purchase of the older craftsman styled home boasting the large picture frame window and a large front porch had been a blessing on cool fall evenings. Tonight, it was a curse. On her front porch stood the most inflamed pimple on the butt cheek of society− Koji O-Something Or Other. She knew why he was here. Trista refused to return his constant phone calls. The nerve of the man coming to her house at this time of night to talk about his stupid app. She planned to open the front door and give him a piece or two of her mind, but she stopped.
It was what he would expect from her. Resistance. Fighting. Arguments about how the app was wrong for the morgue and her family business. A smile covered her face. He’d come prepared to have a bit of push back and he was going to lay it all out, red carpet and all of his charm.
Charming hadn’t been in her bed in a long time. He was fairly handsome, and she’d never been with an Asian man before. Life was short and Annie Mae needed to eat some cake. Wine bottle in hand, she went to the door and opened it with a smile.
“Mr. Oshada, I hope that’s right. I’m horrible with names. It’s a good thing most of the people I deal with have little tags of identification tied to their toes,” she said with a wide smile and spotting the bag of Japanese takeout from one of her favorite eateries. “Perfect timing. I just got home, my fridge is bare, and I’m starving. Please come in.”
“Uhm, It’s Okada. Koji Okada,” Koji said, taken aback by the lack of fight in her toward him for showing up unannounced. “I’ve been calling and didn’t get an answer. Honestly, I was in town and hungry, and I didn’t know anyone, so I was calling to take you to dinner.”
“Yeah, okay,” she said, leaving him in the living room to go the kitchen, listening to him while at the same time taking down plates from the kitchen cabinets.
“When I called your office, they said you’d just left,” he said, bringing the food into the kitchen after closing and locking the front door. “At this hour, I figured you wouldn’t want to go out for a meal, so I took it upon myself to bring you one.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said, pouring herself a glass of wine. The once-over look she provided Koji made his eyes grow wide, and he gulped twice and took the seat she offered on the couch. “We can eat in the dining room, but I figured we’d just spread the food on the coffee table, use some chopsticks, and eat our way through this conversation.”
“Oh chopsticks!” Koji exclaimed, realizing he’d forgotten to request sets be placed in the bag.
“No worries, I have some,” she said, taking off her sweater and leaving just a tank top, which accentuated her full breasts. She heard him gulp again as Trista made a pit stop at the fridge after securing two sets of chopsticks from the drawer. “I have beer, wine, white and red, sweet tea, a bottle of something in the back of the fridge that used to be fruit juice, and bottled water. What can I get you? I’m out of sake.”
“The water will work,” he said, looking over his shoulder to see if there was a camera crew in the next room filming his responses. “Dr. Hathaway, I must admit, this is not the rejoinder I was expecting from you, considering our conversation the last time we met.”
“And I wasn’t expecting you to show up on my doorstep carrying a snack and looking like one. The British accent is working for you tonight; it’s odd though, coming out of the mouth of a Japanese man. Either way, a lady could eat. I’m starving,” she said, taking a seat closer to him than before, then touching his thigh.
“Brilliant,” he said, reaching for the food. “I brought beef, chicken, and duck since I have no idea what you like to eat. I avoided the pork... well, ahh.”
“Thoughtful of you, Koji, I hope it’s okay if I call you that,” she said, leaning forward and snatching a piece of chicken between the tongs of the chopsticks and feeding the first piece to him. Koji accepted, uncertain what was happening. “You’re single, right? I mean, is there a wife or fiancé at home waiting for your return when you seal this deal with me?”
Perfectly arched brows raised on his smooth forehead. Koji asked for clarification on the term, “Seal the deal?”
“Yeah, I’m assuming since you’re here that you had a plan to come in, woo me, show the nerdy black woman who smells like a medical lab a modicum of affection, a bit of attention, provide me with an expensive gift, and what else, Koji? Is it okay for me to call you by your given name?”
He coughed, trying not to choke on the chicken. Chewing slowly, he realized a little too late that he’d underestimated his opponent. She knew what he was up and was heading him off at the pass before he reached the village to pillage the resources.
“Well, I was thinking of staying over for the weekend and maybe taking you to dinner in Paris,” he said, “via my private plane. A gift purchased in the form of a nice piece of jewelry as a token, and if, maybe I was lucky, get you in bed to seal the deal.”
“Hmm,” she said, picking up a sliver of the beef and chewing with intent. “So, if the last part was the coup d'état, you must be pretty great in bed. Did you bring condoms, toys, Ben Wa balls?”
“Excuse me, are you plastered Dr. Hathaway?” Koji said, shocked by her forwardness.
“Listen, my answer to your software program is going to be no,” she said, picking up a piece of bok choy with the chopsticks. “It’s only fair to let you know that up front, but I have my passport, and I could pack a bag in a hurry. Breakfast or dinner in Paris sounds delightful. We could leave in the morning.”
“In the morning,” he repeated, trying to get a grip on his senses. Tonight, she didn’t smell like chemicals from a lab. The tight knit top fit perfectly, showing off noticeable assets and shifting his view on the good doctor. He focused on her lips, which were at the moment saying words to him that he couldn’t comprehend since all the blood in his brain was rushing lower. He asked her to repeat herself.
“Of course, we have to test your skil
lsets tonight so I will know if it would be worth the jet lag to get whisked off to Paris with a man who is only so-so in bed,” she said, getting to her feet.
“Wait just wait a minute,” Koji said. “I thought you didn’t like me?”
“Koji Okada, I know of the man who makes software and wants to place the burial process on an app called Homegoing. That’s just tacky. I won’t agree to it,” she said. “However, if your plan is to try to seduce me to get your way, let’s just cut through the muck and have some sex, and you get the pleasure of my dazzling company for the weekend. We get to know each other better and end it all as friends.”
“I have enough friends,” he said, feeling disappointed for the lack of conquering victory.
“Then, let’s end it as lovers,” she said with a wink, getting to her feet. She took the wine bottle and glass with her, and she walked down the hall to her bedroom. Trista was disappointed at his slow uptake, pondering the point in being the spider if the fly was going to be difficult?
Koji Okada felt out of sorts. It was his plan to seduce the lady and change her mind about the app. Instead, the tables were turned on him, and it had been quite a while since he’d personally interfaced with warm software. She didn’t want to play games with him. Her answer was no. His answer was to try. Plus, the way she had fed him the chicken on the chopsticks stirred his blood.
“Blimey,” he said, getting to his feet, adjusting his tie, and following her down the hall.
Chapter Two - Oh Shitake!
“WOULD YOU HAPPEN TO have a place to hang my jacket?” Koji asked as he entered the spacious bedroom. Her tastes were simple, with clean lines and no clutter in the bedroom. He made a mental note as he watched her open the nightstand drawer.
“Sure, hand it to me,” she said, taking the coat.
He watched her firm bottom as she went to the walk-in closet and hung his jacket on a padded hanger in the back, separate from the other clothing. While undoing and removing his tie, his eyes searched her hand to see what she’d removed from the nightstand drawer. Koji considered himself to be as adventurous as the next guy, but he had no interest in her running anything into an orifice where matter should come out.
The Bento Box Page 1
