After a robust breakfast of steak and eggs, Daichi and Deena retreated not to the study as she’d expected, but to the terrace to work. Donning a floppy straw hat, sundress and sandals, she followed Daichi out, amused once again by his casual attire. On this day, it was a crisp oxford, sleeves rolled up, tan chinos and a pair of Italian leather loafers. Daichi minus a jacket still looked strange.
He led her to what was undoubtedly the most impressive patio furniture she’d ever seen. Curved wicker benches of a deep espresso, padded with thick couture cushions, surrounded a round glass table adorned with bone china settings for four. An oversized umbrella in a soft cream shaded them. They had prime viewing of the private stretch of beach and the volleyball game Tak and John, Kenji and Mike were about to start.
Tak was shirtless, his bronzed, sturdy chest glistening under the morning sun. He ran a hand through his hair, damp with sweat and falling into his eyes. Deena exhaled.
“Are you a fan?”
She blinked. “A what?”
“A fan. Are you a fan of volleyball?”
He opened his briefcase, never taking his eyes off her.
“No. Well, not really.”
“Yet they seem to have your attention.”
“No, I was just—I was just thinking that someone should tell them not to play so soon after eating.”
“I see. Would you like to take a moment to do so?”
Deena blushed. “No. Of course not. We have work to do. And in any case, they should know better.”
Daichi nodded. “Agreed. Now let us get to work.”
They labored through lunch, triple checking their work as they snacked on finger sandwiches and sipped iced tea. Deena ignored her cell phone as it vibrated, certain it was her grandmother calling yet again. She had this annoying habit of making frantic calls when Deena was out of town. She turned her phone off and pushed through the sludge that was their work. And when Daichi set aside their stacks of paper and eyed Deena with interest, she stared back warily.
“Something on your mind, Daichi?”
“A curiosity. Unrelated to work.”
Now she was really nervous. “Okay.”
He cleared his throat. “I find you to be a capable architect, Deena—more than capable even. Talented, astute, driven. So my question to you is…what has consumed you so singularly?”
“Sir?”
Daichi nodded as if anticipating her confusion. “I should hardly expect your candor without offering you such accessibility.” He leaned back in his seat.
“My success as an architect was at the expense of my wife and children. There are times when the reality of that consumes me. It prompts me to toil, to accomplish more, as if said accomplishments can assuage the bitterness of my sacrifice. Therefore, I’ll ask you again. What has consumed you? What sacrifice have you made in the name of architecture that now requires such relentless commitment?”
She lowered her gaze. “Maybe I’m just ambitious.”
“You are. But you’re burdened as well.”
She swallowed. When she spoke, her eyes were on the crumb-laden dish before her, and not on her boss.
“When I went away to college my brother Anthony was eleven and my sister Lizzie, eight. They did all the things kids at that age liked to do. Anthony would draw and do puzzles, and Lizzie, well, Lizzie was content with finger painting and dolls.”
Deena shifted, paused.
“When I returned from MIT my brother was a drug dealer with two years left to live and my sister—my sister was already adept at giving out sexual favors.”
The words didn’t shock him the way she thought they would. Instead, he nodded, as if this were precisely what he suspected. “And your parents? What of them?”
“My father’s dead and my mother’s in prison.”
“Am I to presume those situations are related?”
Deena nodded, suddenly feeling tired.
“And…you blame her? For the fate of your brother and sister?”
Deena sighed. “I blame her. I blame me. I don’t know.”
“It is—the burden of an oldest child to accept responsibility for all things. I too am guilty of this.” He paused. “Have you ever—inquired as to her motivations for murder?”
“No.” Deena lowered her gaze. “No.”
“I see.”
She looked up suddenly. “Plenty of people have made a success of their lives without having a mother. I’ll do the same.”
“I suspect that you will.”
Their eyes met and he looked sincere. Deena smiled.
Daichi swallowed the last of his tea and began to stack papers. He placed them in his briefcase.
“Are we done so soon?”
“Yes. Perhaps a stroll might do us some good.”
Deena looked up and spotted Kenji, the lone straggler from that morning’s volleyball game, sitting on the beach, watching waves.
“Maybe Kenji could use some company,” she said softly.
Daichi glanced at the boy, and, for a second, a look of uncertainty crossed his face.
“On second thought, I believe there’s some unfinished business that requires my attention.”
Deena hesitated.
“I see.” She watched him turn to leave. “You know Daichi,” she said.
He turned. “Yes?”
She had no idea what to say. She glanced over at Kenji and couldn’t help but feel that, in her silence, she was betraying him.
“You have to confront it,” she said. Instantly, she wanted the words back.
“What?”
She looked at Kenji again. “The thing that consumes you. I think you—I think we have to confront it.”
He stared at her, then offered a short nod. “Perhaps,” he said softly. “Perhaps.”
Daichi headed for the door again, stopped, and then turned to face her. “You should know that I haven’t been completely honest about my requiring your presence here, at this time.”
Deena froze.
“Claudia Oppenheimer has a home about an hour north of here in Beverly Hills. She’s considering coming on board as the interior decorator for Skylife. But she would like to meet you first. On Thursday.”
He disappeared indoors.
JOHN AND TAK stood on the terrace, their eyes on Deena as they spoke. Hours after their volleyball game, she lay poolside, a book in her hand, and a red two-piece on her body. The fit was like wet latex on curves.
John wondered how his brother could ever miss the signals between Tak and Deena. The gazes and lingering smiles, the innuendo and “accidental” touching. Just the day before Tak inadvertently called her ‘muffin’ or ‘cinnamon’ or some other kind of digestible nonsense. It was enough to nauseate a man.
“So, why didn’t you bring Allison?” Tak asked.
John glanced at him. “You kidding me? Allison and Daichi? I want no part of that.”
“It’s inevitable though.”
“Yeah. This from the guy who was just introduced to his girlfriend for the last three years.”
Tak laughed. “Don’t remind me.”
“Of course I will. I’ll remind you every time I’m feeling self-righteous.” John paused at the sight of the glass doors sliding open and Mike stepping out of the house.
“John, I swear to God—”
“Be cool. Besides, you don’t believe in God, remember?”
Tak shot him a warning look as Michael joined them.
“Admiring the view, boys?” He nodded towards Deena, who shifted in her lounge chair and adjusted the top on her bikini.
John sighed. “We’re just…talking, Mike. That’s all.”
“Well, me too, fellas.”
Mike looked from John to Tak in exaggerated innocence. It had always been that way with him, Mike with this perpetual need to prove he was one of the guys. Gawking at a girl when a simple glance would do, or harping on things other guys barely mentioned: watching a game, drinking a brew, or a prime piece of ass he saw the week before. And always, all of it rang false.
“Let’s talk about the view here. I mean, that rack is phenomenal.”
Tak shot John a single, lethal look.
“How about taking the edge off that enthusiasm, huh?” John said.
Mike shook his head. “You’re spoken for, John. But me and Tak, we’re free to roam.”
The men fell silent, watching as Deena stood, set aside her book and shades, and dove into the pool. She swam a few laps under the sun, a web of chocolate hair plastered to her neck and shoulders and when she climbed out, water ran down her body in rivulets. The shine from her swimsuit complemented the curves of her breasts and backside.
“Now that’s a woman,” Mike said.
“Oh fuck this.” Tak snatched and dragged him across the terrace before hurdling him under the shade of a palm tree. “Get a fucking clue, Mike. Get a fucking clue.”
His nostrils flared. His teeth clenched. His fist wanted Mike’s mouth so bad. He took a deep breath and tried again.
“Listen. I need you to cool it. This infatuation you have with my—with Deena, I need you to stop it.”
“What? Why?”
“Because she’s with me, Mike. She-is-with-me.”
“Well, she certainly doesn’t appear to be with anyone.”
Tak hesitated, the words biting like hell.
“Just trust me, Mike. This isn’t going where you think it is.”
Michael shrugged free of his grip.
“You like her too, Tak? Fine. So be it. But you’re not going to tell me to back off.”
Mike began to pace.
“Our whole lives I’ve sat back and watched you and John take girl after girl that I’ve wanted. You’re like the golden boys of the family. Everyone’s favorite, anything you want, it’s yours. Well, no more! I’m putting up a fight.”
“Mike, you don’t know what you’re saying. Just listen to me for a minute.”
“I’m tired of listening. You want her? Then do something about it. But you’re not going to intimidate me. No matter how strong you are.”
He started for the house, paused, and then turned. “We can both pursue her, Tak, and the better man will win.”
Michael turned and strode off, head high, leaving Tak to stare behind him in disbelief.
“YOU DIDN’T WANT to help me because your brother’s interested in her!”
Michael stormed into Kenji’s room.
“What?” Kenji sat up. He was getting so confused. He just wanted to go back to Miami, where keeping this farce up was easy.
“Your brother tells me that he’s interested in her, too. And that’s fine. I know where your allegiances are now.” Michael paused. “Please promise me you won’t help him. He doesn’t need help.”
“Help with what?” Kenji said.
“With her. Help pursuing her. A guy like Tak doesn’t need help.”
Kenji frowned. “I think you should sit down and talk to Tak about all this. He can help you understand. And keep me out of it. This is between you guys.”
Mike paused. “Is he in his room?”
Kenji breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah. He should be.”
Michael padded down the dark hall towards Tak’s room. As he walked, he thought about what he would say. He would reason with him. Make Tak see that there were plenty of girls that he could have, plenty that he had had. Why not leave this one to Mike? For Tak, it was all the same anyway.
Mike raised a hand to knock on the door and froze mid-motion.
The sounds were muted, but distinct. He’d know them anywhere. He had a monstrous pay-per-view bill that could attest to his intimate knowledge of those sounds. He cracked the door slightly, praying that it didn’t squeak. It didn’t and he peeked in. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, the heavens blessed him. The faint spring of coils, the moaning, and then two bodies coming into focus. He could see them, and it was incredible.
She was beautiful, even from that side view—especially from that side view. Her hair curled like a waterfall and her breasts swayed as though they were heavy. Mike was certain they were heavy. Tak’s hands were at her waist and he was guiding her, balancing her, heaving the full weight of her atop him. And she was begging for him. God, she was begging for him.
Tak and Deena. Tak and Deena. Mike bit on his fist, struggling to understand what this meant. But he could hardly think clearly. Not with her before him, and naked.
But what did it all mean? They’d met days ago, and yet Tak, ever the ladies’ man, was here making love to her.
Maybe she was one of those new age girls, free and in tune with her body, who sought sexual gratification constantly and made a practice of exploring their sexuality. He wondered if she’d been with a woman, or if she’d had multiple partners at once.
Mike looked down at his erection, then back and forth down the hall. Much as he wanted to, he dared not nurse it. There were about half a dozen things wrong with this situation, and him doing something about his arousal would add a dozen more. He turned his attention back to them.
He had to rethink his approach to her. And he should’ve known better. She was an intelligent woman, and beautiful, painfully beautiful. What made him think that she would want what every other woman wanted, when she was clearly like no other woman? A woman as brilliant as this must have boundless desires and an open and progressive attitude. The thought excited him. He’d approached her time and again, appealing to her intellect, to her interests. But his cousin had shown him the way. He would appeal to her appetite.