by Kerri Ann
“In the wake of Sunday’s arrest of Mato, Sho, and Takao at one of the heroine plants, the operation has to be closed temporarily,” Kou states. “NPA officer Chen Chow, that disgusting parasite can’t be bought. I’ve tried everything to pressure her. She has no family, no long-term boyfriends, no pets, and nothing of worth to scare her with.” His sweaty paunch and horrible comb-over, he’s the perfect example of why I don’t find Japanese men sexy. They let themselves go to pot when they find a wife, and concubines. But also, when the sake becomes their favorite thing instead of a gym and haircuts, I draw the line.
While I’m reading a text from Chris, that shows his latest polls, I speak out about Chen Chow. “Maybe she’s gay.”
“What would make you think that, Oya—”
Giving him a stern look, Kou stops before finishing that word I hate. I’m not the boss because I fought my way to the top, killing opponents and torturing young souls. I have this because my father trusted that I wouldn’t screw it up. Well, I’ll screw it up, just not less than he expected my sweet sisters would. But I love them. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.
With their dark chocolate eyes the size of dinner plates, thick eyelashes that I’d kill for, and perfect complexions, it’s easier to tell them apart now. Miori has short hair, and Kano has hair that rivals the best hair models. It courses the length of her back, spun up in lazy buns that make it messy and controlled. They’re the Olsen twins of Japan.
And these old bastards wanted to take them as second wives? Fuck that.
Turning my attention back to Kuo, I say, “If she’s not dating a guy, and I’ve seen photos of Chen—she’s a good-looking lady—then she’s dating her best friend. Trust me, I have expertise in this. She’s tapping Georgia.”
He looks confused. “Georgia? How do you know she’s Georgia?”
Geeze! Stuffing my phone in my pocket, looking as annoyed as I can, I turn to Kuo. “She’s dating a girl. Saying she’s tapping Georgia is like saying girl on girl.” I’m exhausted talking to these stupid criminal minds. Sure, they know how to protect their financial interests in the dark, seedy corners of the business, but they don’t have a fucking clue about the workings of new love in this age.
“Kuo, get one of the idiots you have grabbing your sake, and ask them to tail her. I bet you’ll find her going to clubs with different friends, going to coffee, dinner, the movies. She’s not specific on one girl because she’s not settled on one. You’ll have your blackmail that way.” Rising from the chair and pushing it back, I start away. “I’m bored with this. I’m going to lunch with my sisters. Don’t piss me off further today.”
“Thank you, Obayun,” Kato says. Prick knows how that pisses me off. Fine, I’ll play his game.
“Anytime, Jiji.”
Fucker.
CARLI
As usual, I rise, they rise. I tell them off, they bow and smile.
Fuckers.
Walking out of the room, I don’t have to turn to know that my bodyguard is hot on my heels. I can’t go anywhere without him. He’s always right there! Even at public washrooms.
Entering first, checking that there’s no one hiding in the stall, he then clears the room and stands guard outside the door. A couple times, I’ve tricked his ass. Screaming there was a snake in the toilet, or that there was a ninja descending from the ceiling tiles. That one was fun. Well, it was fun until a whole fucking cadre of men showed up and ushered me out of there like Obama when a car backfires. Then it wasn’t fun. The look on the poor girl who’d waited on me in the Gucci store almost peed herself when he wanted her to strip in the middle of the store. He thought she was wearing the outfit under this season’s sarong. Awful, I tell ya. After that, we set ground rules. He stays his distance unless I expressly state I need him. At least fifty paces back, or I’m allowed to have him castrated with dull spoons.
Walking into Mioshi’s—this crazy upscale, guarded more than the president kind of restaurant—I find my sisters waiting for me. Mioshi’s has vegan and off the wall delicacies, so of course it attracts seriously posh clientele.
Noticing the girls’ guards, Hiro and Muki, who I call Dumb and Dumber, I nod my hello. Hiro is an expensive coat hook, but there he is, holding the twins’ purses. Muki smiles at me when I arrive, pulling out my chair with a greeting of, “Obayun.”
When he says it, I honestly don’t mind. It’s not like Kato, who says it with dirt in his mouth as it disgusts him. Also, Muki and Hiro are nice, not stuck up, pompous assholes.
Watching all eyes of the restaurant track me as I enter, the formal and totally unnecessary bows are just that—unnecessary.
I didn’t want this job. I didn’t ask for it. But I’ll damn well make sure it works to our advantage, even if I am leaving the sexiest man I’ve ever met behind.
Definitely not wanting to think about him today, I turn my attention to my runway model sisters. Yeah, I’m pretty, and I can rock couture, but they have something special about how they swish into a room.
“Kaori!” Jumping out of her seat, she yells my name so loud, I think even the kitchen staff heard, Kano leaps to give me a hug.
Wrapping her arms around me, wrinkling any chance I had of my outfit looking freakin’ great today, I hug her back. We’re the same height, but with my blue eyes and thinner framed face, and her chocolate eyes with a rounder look, it’s easy to see that we’re related. But I’m not her twin.
“Hey, Mono.” Oh yeah, the other part of Kano, she’s deaf in one ear. Everyone saw it as a defect when she was younger, but I think it makes her even more special.
Letting me go, sitting back in her chair, Kano smiles up at Muki as he ushers her chair back into the table for her. Oh, I’m so working on those two. Matchmaker me is on the hunt. They’re definitely in need of a hook up.
“So, what’s good today? What’s the special?” I ask my sisters, but before either can answer, a short, middle age waiter pops up like one of those hedgehogs, or whatever those things are in the whack-a-mole game.
“Today is fresh trout on a bed of toasted kale, with sweet potato ginger mash, Obayun.”
Fuck. Does everyone in Osaka know I’m the head now?
“My name is Carli. Please, no boss here, okay?” It exhausts me daily to hear I’m the boss of anything. All I want is for Kato to say he’ll take the job, and I can go back to my real life in LA and Indy. I miss the shit out of it.
Nodding, and offering an apologetic bow, the waiter shakes. I know my father ruled with an iron fist, and that his bidding was done immediately—hence, why I left—but I’m not my father. I have no care for subservient beings to kiss my feet and wipe my arse. I want respect for being Carli, not some boss of the Ryu Yakuza.
“If you say it’s good, I’ll give it a go. No fish.” Nodding again, he turns to my sisters. Each of them rhyme off their wants, and I watch them. The way they move, shift, and complement each other in movements is astonishing. They really are mirrors of each other. The worst part, I missed most of their teenage years, running away from our father. I guess the fates have decided I needed to be here now, instead of where I’ve made a home, friends, and finally…
Yeah, not going there.
Once the waiter has taken all of our orders, he spins at light speed, flying into the kitchen.
“Kaori, I heard you might have a way to deal with Chen?” Miori says deadpan.
Narrowing my gaze, I’m flabbergasted. “And you know this how? I drove straight here after the meeting, so how do you know?”
My little sisters are sneaky fuckers.
Lifting her glass of water and taking a sip, Miori is prolonging the suspense of her knowledge. Setting the drink down, she says, “Kato. Who else?”
Sneaky and underhanded Miori. Color me impressed. I wonder what she’s done to get an answer out of a closed-door meeting from Kato, but I’ll work on that later. For now, she thinks she’s the smart one knowing things, but now I know it means I can leverage her to plant ideas with Kato.
<
br /> “You know, I had an idea for one of the shipping channels. Soaking the bamboo hats we transport to Hong Kong, then out to New York for Bustamante. Less stringent inspections that way. Truly high fashion.” I don’t worry about saying anything I shouldn’t here, as we own it, and anyone who enters knows who we are. They’d be idiots to cross or mess with a soul in this place.
With expedience, our waiter returns laden down with salads, drinks, and an assortment of hors d’œuvres. “With compliments from the chefs. They hope you enjoy your meal, Ms. Carli.” Shaking my head as he’s leaving with the same speed again, I wonder what’s so scary about me? Yeah, I’m a bitch. Yeah, I can put people in their place if it’s deserved, but he hasn’t garnered any reason yet to see my bad side or fear me.
I want to go home. I want to click my heels, wish on a star, and hope against all hope that I could go back.
I’ve said that already, dammit.
Shit, I really want to go back to where I call home.
Looking over the full table, it all screams to me. Decidedly, I didn’t eat much this morning, and now, with at least a gallon of coffee coursing through me, I better stuff something in this gut of mine. For the past few weeks, my stomach has argued with almost everything, except crackers. Looking at the cucumber sweet salad, I pull a forkful to my mouth. It tastes scrumptious. Honestly, anything would taste five star with the extent of my measly meals lately. And as long as it doesn’t look for a repeat performance, then I’m good. Delving into it further, seeing that nothing feels to be coming back to haunt me, I tear into the mango salad, the wonton wrapped fried pickles, the lime and ginger coated crusty tofu, and the drink the waiter brought.
“Hungry?” Kano jests.
“When you throw up for three weeks straight, don’t eat anything other than crackers and finally feel like eating, then come tease me,” I huff, munching down on a warm chunk of tofu. It tastes like heaven.
Giggling, Kano turns to Miori. Whispering in her ear, both break out in further laughs and stares. At me.
“What?” I mouth around my meal.
Smirking devilishly, they say in unison, “Nothing.”
Swallowing the morsel and dabbing the corners of my mouth, I turn to the two of them. “Don’t leave me out of the joke you two. I still know where you hide your porno mags and dildos. Want me saying it loud enough for everyone to hear?”
Faking that I’m about to voice it, Miori pipes up.
“Fine. We think you…” She pauses for dramatics. I’m really starting to hate her habit.
Frustrated with the wait, I say, “Miori, say it.”
Opening her mouth first, though, Kano blurts out loudly, “Your pregnant!” Of course, with her half deaf, her voice carries a heck of a lot farther than she thinks. The room silences, and I feel like a two-year-old being tattled on, taking in all the odd stares.
Ignoring her idea, I get back to my food. “I’m always careful. I love sex as much as the next person, but I don’t strip down for anyone without a plastic-coated hammer.”
Except Jamieson.
Forking in another wonton pickle, cutting it in half and chewing it, I mentally count the dates. I flew to Japan that day...that was….that was…
Shit.
“Excuse me,” I say, rising from the table.
CIRCE
“Hello, love. I have news for you. Oh, and I miss you.”
“Circe, I need you,” Carli whispers into the phone.
“What’s going on, Car? You don’t whisper when you can scream. What’s happened?”
“Are you alone?” Again, whispering.
Walking into our hospital room, I’m totally alone. Wyatt is off getting rehab right now, so I shouldn’t be bothered.
“Yeah, I am. Car?”
“I’m hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant because I’m scared.”
Now she’s freaking me out. “Carli, call the cops. Call out for someone to help you. There has to be someone—”
“No!” she yells, then quiets again. “No. Only you. Can you leave your racer? Would Wyatt let you out of his sight?”
What the fuck is going on? “Carli, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Where to start? Fuck.” Going quiet, I hear the door of the bathroom open and someone call out her name. “I’m here. Yep. All peachy. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Thanks, Kano.”
Well, that makes me feel better. Her sister is with her.
Coming back on the line, Carli still sounds panicked. “This is one of those times when you need to toss it down with a girl in the hall in an expensive dress. Get me?” Yeah, I do. Smiling to myself, I’m reminded of how great it was.
“Will you tell me what’s going on? I need more than just a fist fight requirement to get away from Wyatt. You know that.”
She’s silent for a long time before she huffs out, “Fine. You know I’ve been sick for a few weeks?”
Wondering where this is going, I say, “Yeah?”
“Well, I’m eating like a pig today, and my sisters pipe up that I might be...ya know. Carrying something with a crown on it.”
“OH FUCK!” I yell out, then cover my mouth quickly. Last thing I need is someone coming to see what’s going on.
“Yeah, that’s about it. Circe, I need you.”
“Have you talked to Jami—”
“No! And you are not telling him. Got it?”
Blowing out a heavy breath, I pace the space. “Carli, Wyatt’s not letting me out of his sight without a reason. There’s gotta be something good to get me to Japan, lover. I mean, shit, we have Marca’s funeral tomorrow.”
Pushing out a breath and making ticking sounds, I can imagine what Carli is thinking right now. Her life was turned upside down. She’s head of a crime cartel because she had to, to save her sisters from servitude, and now she’s possibly pregnant.
“Tell him I was kidnapped by trolls. Tell him I was sold into the skin trade for my sexy body.” I can imagine her looking herself over. “Okay, maybe not a sexy body soon if it’s true, but you get the jist. I need you.”
“Okay, got it. You need help. Let me see what I can work out. I’ll send you the details once I do.”
“Nope. Not waiting on commercial shit. I’ll send a jet over. They’d be there in, like, fifteen hours at the most. I’ll text you the address, the runway, and the access to get through without that pesky customs stuff. Just get to the plane and get here.”
“Fine. I’ll get something worked out with Wyatt. But, you know he’s going to want the truth. I have to. And I won’t be able to get out of the funeral at all. So, get ready for Whiskey, too. There’s no way he’d—”
“Nope. Promise me it’s only you. No Crowns.”
Without arguing further, I tell her what I can without lying. “I’m on it, Carli.”
“Thanks, lover. See you soon.”
I hang up the phone. “Oh, the shit has hit the fan.”
JAMIESON
Now that we’ve settled the lawyers, switched to the new firm, situated the roles for each of us, and thankfully, mine is only temporary until Wyatt is well, things are getting back to normal in the lives of myself and my remaining family.
Tomorrow we’re laying our mother to rest. Tonight is her cremation. I don’t mean disrespect, but after Petra, mother gave zero attention to me. I was shunned. They no longer trusted me to take care of anything. Bet it would burn her ass to know it was me that saved us from the evil lawyers they left to care for Crown Industries and us. I’m not bitter, I’m just not sure what other feelings to have toward her.
Moving out to live with my Aunt Janie, mother never visited. I was basically ignored, and anytime I came home, I felt like a stranger. I wanted her love, like I had before the accident. Lifting my shirt, looking at that tiny scar, it reminds me of all the things that I lost when Petra died. It wasn’t just her, there was my family, the care I felt from them, and a part of me died. The conversations we had, the times we did the things we knew we shouldn’t, an
d that we were particularly pleased we got away with, it was always together. After? I learned how to be alone.
I guess that’s why I’m so good at snowboarding; it’s a single sport. I don’t rely on anyone. I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do. It’s me and the snow.
Fuck, I miss it.
I’m experiencing the reverse winter blues. I miss the winter, the cold, and the sharp, biting winds. If it weren’t for the air conditioning cranked in my hotel room, the hospital, and the car, I’d have melted like a fucking snowman in June. Speaking of, here I am, back in the cold car, driving to Powder Kings to check on the final inspection from the building department. If all is good, I’ll have the costs of those destroyed boards and merchandise reimbursed by insurance. With Doll at the helm, Wyatt on the mend, and Carli gone, I can’t wait to get back to what truly makes me, me.
Everything in the hotel, hospital, and even the freckles on my cock remind me of her. For a guy that normally has sex multiple times a week, my hand is definitely strengthening. Carli messed me. I can’t look at another girl without thinking of what’s missing. The long hair, the sass, the fire, the shoes, even. Carli is one of a kind and...I let her go. I didn’t stop her, or go with her. I could have, but I didn’t.
It’s not like I don’t have the coin to join, what with Powder Kings my board company, sponsors, my own money—that I’ve amassed, thanks to Aunt Janie—and to all the Crown worth that I’ve inherited, I’ve got enough that I should’ve just gone. But I didn’t. I won’t desert them. Wyatt and China deserve more from me.
And Carli?
She’s a tick I can’t shake. Not very romantic, but Carli is something that I can’t get out of my system. Try as I might, my cock rises to the occasion unbidden almost hourly. Shaking off the thoughts of her, the feel of her and her voice, I pull up and park at Powder Kings. There’s a steady influx of customers coming and going, and it makes me wonder why. It’s never this fucking busy.
