Only Uni

by Camy Tang

  The door opened and Spenser strode through. It was way weird to see him in date clothes. His Ralph Lauren short-sleeved knit shirt accentuated his broad shoulders but didn’t caricature them. His gaze alighted on her, and he gave a wide, white smile softened by his dimples, which didn’t come out often enough when he was with her.

  She rose to her feet and dreamily returned his wide grin. Spenser paused and stared down at her for a moment, looking a little dazed. Strange, he did that randomly when they talked. She couldn’t figure out why.

  He blinked as if waking from a daydream. He turned to nod at the hostess, who had approached with two menus in hand.

  “Tell me you like sushi.” He sat gracefully into his chair.

  “I’m Japanese. Of course I like sushi.”

  “Good. Let’s order a platter.”

  They ordered, and Spenser started fiddling with the paper wrapping of his wooden chopsticks. Trish rested her cheek in her hand.

  Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

  “So, Spenser — ”

  Up went his hand, palm out. “You’re going to start babbling, because you hate dead space. Don’t. We’re friends, we’re past that stage. Ask me something. Anything.”

  “Tell me about Kazuo and Linda.”

  Oh, Trish. You should staple your mouth shut.

  He looked like he’d swallowed a goldfish. Live. “You really go for the gut.”

  “Sorry, sorry.”

  “No, I did ask for it. I don’t know how they met, I know she was modeling for his latest painting.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “What?”

  “The painting.”

  “And when would I have been at his studio?”

  “Oh. Well, you’d be pleased.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s Asian, right? Besides mine — his current one — he only has one other Asian woman painting, and he cut her head off.”

  Spenser had a look on his face that indicated he really didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “Kazuo has a headless motif.”

  “Ah. Anyway, I found out when she told me she was leaving me and Matthew.”

  “What? What a tramp. I can’t believe — oops, sorry, I shouldn’t have called her a tramp.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” His heavy lidded eyes gave her a dry look.

  “How old was Matthew?”

  “Five months.”

  “She left her baby? I would never do that. Boy, do you pick ’em — uh . . .” Oh, man. Shoe-leather diet. She was on a roll tonight.

  “You’re on a roll tonight, honey.”

  How did he do that? “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting this is a date and not lunchtime at work.”

  They stared at each other for a moment. The next thing she knew, she was laughing like her lungs were going to explode. He wasn’t laughing quite so hard, but his dimple peeked out.

  Trish saw a glimpse over his shoulder of a long ponytail of straight hair falling almost to the ground, swung in an arc over a bony shoulder. “Oh no.”

  She hadn’t realized she said it aloud until Spenser’s brows came together. “What is it?”

  “My cousin Mimi. My eternal enemy, Dracula’s daughter, Mephisto’s mother, vamp of villainy . . .” She couldn’t come up with more flavorful descriptions before the she-devil herself sashayed up to their table.

  Mimi’s signature ankle-length ponytail measured a few inches shy of five feet, since Mimi herself had stopped growing at four feet, eight and three-quarter inches, to her frustration and rage and Trish’s secret delight. Everything else in Mimi’s life had gone according to her wishes — luscious pearl-pink lips and onyx eyes set in a face of pale ivory, a delicate bone structure giving the impression of frailty and triggering male-protectiveness, yet flaunting two bouncing C-cups and a tight little buttocks. It amazed Trish that Mimi’s height wouldn’t follow expectations, also.

  “Hiya, Trish.” Mimi rested her hand on the top of Spenser’s chair, probably sinking her claws into his back.

  “What do you want?” Somehow, Lex got along swimmingly with their cousin, but Trish still didn’t see the girl’s less repulsive side.

  Mimi feigned ignorance of the prime object of her attack in a brilliant tactical maneuver. “We missed you at the Obon dance committee meeting.”

  Ah, a chance for a flush hit. “My mother went.” Her saccharine tones implied the Obon committee was for the older generation.

  “So did mine. You didn’t want to help her?”

  Ooooo, it had been a sacrificed pawn. “I haven’t been to an Obon in years.” Ever since Mimi “accidentally” shoved Trish out of the traditional Japanese line dance right into a mud puddle, ruining her great-grandmother’s heirloom silk kimono and Trish’s self-esteem.

  Mimi’s gaze oh-so-casually settled on Spenser’s polite expression with a speculative gleam. Trish gritted her teeth. “Spenser, this is my cousin, Mimi Sakai.”

  Mimi gave a mysterious, seductive smile reminiscent of Lucy Liu.

  Trish watched him study her down-tilted face — flawless, gorgeous, and dainty — everything Trish was not. But something he saw made his eyes chill to beads of black ice, and his wide smile curled short of a sneer. He confounded her by his indifferent, “Hi,” before he turned back to rest both elbows on the table, shutting Mimi out.

  Mimi’s jaw plummeted to the floor. Trish saw all the way down her throat to her tonsils, while her mystical eyes bugged out into gecko orbs. Trish wished for a camera so the Cherry Blossom Times would run a front page spread: “MIMI DISSED!” Trish gripped her seat with both hands to prevent herself from jumping into the Snoopy dance right there in the restaurant. She rewarded herself with a cheerful “Bye, Mimi.”

  Her cousin swirled in a cascade of dark hair and flounced away.

  Spenser’s face shone with mirth and shared triumph. She wanted to reach over and kiss those adorable dimples.

  Nononono. Stop thinking about kissing.

  She actually had brain activity for an entire 0.2 seconds before blurting out, “Not to be mean, but I would think she was your type.

  She’s like the stick — I mean, the Hong Kong intern at work.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “You said it yourself, I’m on a roll. Who am I kidding? We’re friends. I can’t expect to censor my mouth here when I wouldn’t if we were both in the lab.”

  He sighed. “Good point.”

  “So? Mimi?”

  “Girls like that expect every guy they smile at to fall at their feet.”

  “Mimi is gorgeous. It’s always been like that for her.”

  Some of her wistfulness must have colored her tone, because his eyes gentled. “What’s it been like for you?”

  The question startled her. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, the bad blood between you two isn’t obvious at all.”

  Trish remembered flashes of her childhood: at family parties, the girls a few feet away laughing about her, making her feel isolated in the middle of the crowd. Mimi making a habit — case in point — of stealing her boyfriends. “She always made me feel like I didn’t measure up.”

  “Maybe she didn’t.”

  “Did ya look at her?”

  “She looks like Barbie’s sister Skipper.”

  Trish sighed and her eyes drifted to Mimi’s distant figure on the other side of the restaurant. “I’d kill to look like Skipper.”

  “Snap out of it.” He glared at her. “You’re being an idiot.”

  She gave a cheeky grin. “Now who’s on a roll?”

  “Trish, don’t you know . . .” He held her gaze. He wasn’t being charming or flattering. Somehow, slowly, his serious expression made her feel as if she glowed. As if she was hotter than radioactive P32. As if she was the most gorgeous woman in the entire restaurant.

  As she studied Spenser’s face, it seemed that in his eyes, she was.

  She was ready. Body humming, mouth primed.

  Dinner had
been consumed with minimal public pigging-out on her part. Conversation had been witty and entertaining. Glances had been inviting but not too coy. If he hadn’t gotten her message, he was dumber than a rock.

  Kiss me, baby!

  His kisses must be like Godiva truffles. She’d become conditioned — the whiff of his cologne made her salivate. She was ready to be smooched and see stars.

  As she stood by her SUV, he enveloped her in a bear-hug that swallowed her in a rich sea of cologne, Lever 2000, and Spenser-musk. She contentedly drowned. “Thanks for a great evening,” she spoke into his jacket pocket.

  “Not bad for two friends, huh?”

  Mmm, he had a solid torso. She wasn’t close enough to feel his heartbeat, but she was fairly certain it beat faster than baseline, if this long embrace was any indication. Better and better. He loosened his hold and stared down at her for a long moment. She couldn’t quite see his face because of the parking lot light shining behind him, but she felt the tickle of his breath on her forehead.

  Her heart flipped cartwheels. Her senses came alive — she felt every light touch of the evening breeze, heard the faint roar of car engines, the skitter of some animal in the ornamental brush beside the restaurant.

  He moved his head, leaning close.

  Oh, yeah. She tilted her head up, but not too quickly, or else he’d think she was being too easy to get. Her lips parted.

  He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

  What? Her heart smacked face-first into the pavement. Her muscles went into rigor.

  Why didn’t you kiss me, you freak?! Her cheek! A brotherly kiss.

  But he didn’t move away. His jaw pressed to hers. His breathing sounded harsh in her ear. Her body hummed where his hand, still embracing her, scorched her back.

  Then another part of her realized, Man, a guy with self-control!You scored, babe.

  Had she wrongfully assumed his playboy reputation? Or maybe he was being extra careful because she both worked with him and went to his church. Or maybe he had discovered during the course of dinner that she was too ugly and her mouth was too caustic for him to consider even thinking of her as other than his coworker and sometime friend, and he’d now go ask out that stick-skinny Hong Kong intern girl and they’d get married and have beautiful, skinny children together.

  Then his voice rumbled in her ear. “Let’s take it slow.”

  No! No! No! “Sure.”

  He drew back. She did not imagine that his hand lingered on her back longer than was technically necessary. And yes, she could barely see her hand in the dark parking lot, but she definitely heard his faster breathing. That took the edge off her disappointment.

  She drove away with a smile on her face. She grinned at the empty intersection while she waited on the stoplight. She grinned at the drunken pedestrian who crossed Camden Avenue at a randomly chosen spot. She grinned at the suicidal rice-rocket as it zoomed past her, winking at her with a flash of red taillights.

  She couldn’t wait for work tomorrow morning. She wondered how long he’d want to take things slow.

  THIRTY-ONE

  He didn’t know how much longer he could take things slow.

  Spenser activated his mother’s car alarm and hustled into the church with Matthew between him and his mom.

  She tucked her hand in Matthew’s but spoke to Spenser. “Are you going out to lunch with your friend?”

  “Don’t know yet.” He hoped so, just the two of them. “You’re fine getting a ride with Mrs. Choi?”

  “Of course.” But she wasn’t about to be distracted. “Did you have a good time with your friend on Friday night?”

  “Yeah.” They’d gone out to coffee after she’d finished worship team practice. “Thanks for watching him. Matthew said you both slept on the couch.”

  She smoothed down the collar of her favorite lavender suit. “VeggieTales. He fell asleep first, for a change.”

  They happened to see Trish in the foyer as they entered the church. She lit up the room with that smile. It seemed a bit brighter than normal, which made him lengthen his stride. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Oomph! Hey there, Matthew.” She bent to peer down at the five-year-old attached to her leg.

  “Tish! Tishtishtishtishtish!” Spittle rained on her khaki slacks.

  “Machoomachoomachoomachoomachoo!” She tickled his ribs until he giggled and let go of her leg, to hang on like a monkey to her arms. While swinging him, she turned to Spenser’s mom. “Hello, Mrs. Wong. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. I keep wanting to tell you how inspiring it is to have you up there on the worship team.”

  Trish’s smile turned nuclear. Spenser could feel the warmth. “Thanks so much, Mrs. Wong.”

  “Well, I better take Matthew to Sunday school. I’ll see you.” She disentangled her grandson from Trish’s arms and led him down the hallway to the Sunday school room.

  Alone at last.

  Trish’s eyes softened when she looked up at him. “Hi — oh, Olivia!” She reached around him to grab Olivia by the sleeve.

  “Hey.” She gave the two of them a speculative smile.

  His gut clenched in an automatic reaction. But rather than wanting to ease away from Trish, his feet shuffled closer to her protectively.

  Relax, Spenser. She was a big girl. Gossip wasn’t bullets. Besides, Olivia wouldn’t say anything, even if she did suspect they were more than friends.

  “Olivia, I’ve been meaning to ask you, would you be willing to write a reference for my MDiv application?”

  Olivia’s teeth gleamed against her dusky skin. “Oh sure. Get me the form and tell me when you need it. Who else have you asked?”

  “Griselle, and also Christina who works with me at Katsu Towers. My fourth one is on my supervisor’s desk at work right now.”

  That’s right, on Friday they’d talked about her wanting to get her MDiv. He tried not to feel left out that she hadn’t asked him, but then again, if things worked out . . .

  He shifted from foot to foot as they chatted. Weren’t they going to lead worship together? Did they have to discuss all this now?

  “See ya.” Olivia hitched her gig bag higher on her shoulder and headed toward the sanctuary.

  Finally.

  Her smile said she had seen his impatience. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  She laughed. “It’s fun.”

  “To annoy me?” He flicked a lock of hair off her cheek.

  “And it’s easy.” She stuck her tongue out at him. She also eased a little closer.

  He liked that. “I have something for you.”

  Her eyes sparkled like she’d been handed a fat red envelope on New Year’s. “What?”

  He reached into his pocket and removed the earring. “I found this in my car seat after I drove away Friday night.” He’d dropped her off at her SUV, still parked in the church lot, after they’d spent hours in Tran’s Nuclear Coffee shop.

  She held out her hand, but a cluster of people from the Singles Group suddenly walked into the foyer. Before he could give her the earring, her hand whipped behind her back and he straightened, trying to tip away from her so they wouldn’t look like they were standing as close as they were. This thing between them was new and they were taking it slow, so they’d agreed to try and avoid the gossip that would fly around.

  “Hey Trish, Spenser. Trish, great worship set last week.”

  “Thanks.” She gave a lightning-short return wave.

  Move along, people.

  “Spenser, are you still training people to work the sound board?”

  “Sure.” He was glad the post-college grad was interested, but she could have picked a better time to talk to him. “I have another training session Wednesday night at six.”

  “Cool. Thanks.” She flashed a wide smile.

  He wasn’t looking at her, but he could tell that Trish stiffened.

  “Come on, I can see them inside already.” Another girl pulled the brunette away
, and the group of singles moved on.

  He didn’t realize his shoulders had been so tight until they suddenly relaxed. Trish’s expression wasn’t as warm as before, but she wasn’t condemning, either.

  He shielded the space between them with a rolled shoulder and passed her the earring more smoothly than James Bond himself would have. She loosed a short giggle.

  But once she glanced at it, her animated face flatlined. Her spine snapped stiff as a spear, and she held the earring up in her fingers.

  The ninja stars shooting from her eyes thwacked! him right in the forehead. “What’s wrong?”

  “This isn’t mine.” She flicked it from her fingers and walked away.

  Clara’s smile beamed in her wrinkled face as she announced, “We’re having a girl!”

  The other women in the Katsu Towers rec room oohed and aahed. Trish skewered her with a suspicious eye. “I thought your son was single?”

  Clara flapped a hand. “This is my other son.”

  “The responsible one,” Deborah added in a not-quiet-at-all aside.

  Sumiyo shushed her, although not vehemently. “Clara’s hearing is fine, you know. Don’t start another squabble.”

  Trish turned to Deborah with renewed respect. “You fought with Clara?”

  “She accused me of turning up my new hearing aid to overhear what she was whispering to someone else.” Her voice was still pitched a bit loud since her nephew had sprung for the cheapest, and consequently, weakest hearing aid available. Trish was glad Deborah had finally agreed to get one, after she’d gotten her glasses. “How else was I supposed to figure out if her gossip was juicy enough to tell everybody else?” Deborah cackled.

  “You were more fun when you were blind and deaf.” Clara shook a finger at her, but she had a playful tone. She tapped Trish’s wrist. “So, how did your date go? You told us last week you were going to see him again on Friday.”

  The ladies dithered and giggled. She wasn’t getting out of this. Friday had been great, but because of Sunday, she had barely spoken to him the past couple days. She wasn’t quite ready to talk it out. “Um . . . it was nice.”

  Deborah’s gaze narrowed. “Nice isn’t a word for a date — that’s the word for when you’re trying to compliment the cook and the casserole tastes like garbage.”