I wobbled into the office at eight on the dot, still breathing hard from my dash here from the bus stop. Thanks to the work Nobuki had done to my body, I had been sluggish and ended up half an hour later than usual.
Nobuki's door was open and as always, he was already hard at work. He had probably been sitting at his desk while I spent time blinking at the bedroom ceiling. His voice was low, confident as he talked to someone and meanwhile, I was trying not to keep yawns from splitting my face open every few minutes. Then again, he hadn't been the one to wake up at three AM.
I drew in a deep, bracing breath and then turned on my computer, settling into the average day of being the Executive assistant to the Foreign Marketing Manager.
Answering emails took up the majority of the morning, most of them banal, formulaic, the usual requests for information and clarification from other departments. My eyes glazed over as I sent off per diem info to HR.
The next email was from Julian Lambert.
Chest heavy, I opened it reluctantly, wondering if it was another plea for me to join him in LA. Julian was one of Shokogan's overseas publishing liaisons, and there had been something between us from the moment I first met him. I found him gentle, tender and amazingly attractive, and when he asked me to stay in America, I thought about it for a more than a second or two. It had been a tantalizing offer, but then I started this rather disastrous "arrangement" with Nobuki.
Don't ask me why I chose a haughty, cold man over someone as wonderful and kind as Julian; I'm still trying to figure that out.
Luckily, the email was friendly, asking if I'd send him the contact info to one of our science-fiction writers who had seen a surge of popularity in America after his book was turned into an anime series.
I came upon the post script.
I can't forget you.
Those four words made my breath come up short, and I had to look away from the monitor as I concentrated on breathing.
What was I supposed to say? Was I even supposed to reply to it at all?
Well, I had to do something. Just not…now.
Making a mental note to send Julian a personal email rather than shoving a note into his work email, I sent him the information he requested, and pushed back my chair.
It was past noon and Ayaka was waiting for me. My stomach grumbled from the lack of breakfast and no amount of little snacks kept me from gazing longingly at the Tupperware in my bag.
Yeah, it was kind of embarrassing to have my mom pack my lunch for me, but it was better than waking up early to make it myself. Besides, cooking was not one of my stronger points and my mother cooked like a Michelin chef. How could anyone not say yes to that? I could take a little shame if it meant I ate better than anyone one else in the entire building.
Tupperware in my hand, I took the elevator down to the second floor and met Ayaka standing in the canteen line.
Dark circles ringed her eyes and her wavy hair she usually left loose about her shoulders was tied back into a severe knot at the base of her neck. Her skin was almost too white, lipstick a little too red.
"You look like hell," I remarked.
She winced and brushed a stray lock of hair behind one pearly ear. "I feel like it. Sorry about last night. Did you get me home?"
"Yep."
She slipped the lunch lady her food ticket and got back a steaming bowl of kitsune udon on a black tray. And even though I had my packed food, my mouth still watered at the aroma of the hot, salty broth.
We took seats across from each other at the end of a bench, close to the windows showing a light blue sky with little puffs of white clouds that looked like delicious cotton candy.
I must've been starving if even the scenery was making me drool, and I opened the Tupperware and dug in enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, Ayaka half-heartedly dipped her chopsticks into the noodles, taking a few sips of the broth before putting her spoon down.
Mouth full, I looked at her. "Mmm?"
She sighed and shook her head. "Thanks for getting me back home. Did you get home okay after that?"
I turned my gaze back to my food and nodded. I couldn't tell her about Nobuki; I couldn't tell anyone about Nobuki.
If they even believed me.
"That's good," she said, swishing her chopsticks through the thick white noodles. "God, I haven't gotten that drunk since college. I didn't think Shuichiro would dump me like that."
"He's an idiot," I replied.
"Damn straight," she agreed. "I wish I hadn't wasted so much time on him."
I reached over and patted her cold hands. "It's okay. You're way too good for him anyways. There's a million other guys out there who'd thank their lucky stars to have you. If Shuichiro wants to get married to a kindergarten teacher, let him. You need someone who'll treat you like a goddess."
She sighed and took another sip of the broth. "I'll go for anyone who won't dump me because I don't want to get married right away. I mean, I'm twenty-eight years old. There's still so much I want to do, so much I want to see. You know what happens once you get married and have kids. Your life isn't your own anymore. You're basically living for your child, and I'm too selfish for that now."
I understood the sentiment all too well. "My sister set up a meeting on Saturday for me. To meet her friend."
Ayaka's eyes widened. I guess she remembered little of last night, considering I had told her this before. "Are you going? Have you met him before?"
I shrugged, already scrapping the bottom of the lunch box. Damn. Maybe Ayaka would give me her udon if she didn't want it. "I barely remember him. I said I wasn't interested, but my parents told me to go."
Her mouth thinned. "At least they're not bugging you about kids. That's all my folks talk about lately. Who's this friend of hers?"
"Some classmate from high school."
Ayaka blinked. "Didn't you go to the same school?"
"Uh-huh."
"But you don't know him?"
I closed the lid of the now-empty Tupperware container with a sigh. "Honestly, I can hardly remember my classmates. How can I remember someone in my sister's class? Besides, the upperclassmen never mingled with the underclassmen. They might catch cooties or something."
"Guess so." Ayaka slid over her tray. "Here. Still hungry, aren't you?"
"You're a peach." I shot her a grateful grin, and she answered in kind.
I was half way through the udon when a clatter of sharp stiletto heels drew close to our table.
Ayaka's lips curled in disgust.
"Ugh, bitch alert," she muttered. "Ignore them, Rika."
Easier said than done, but I'd give it my best effort.
"Oh my God, look at that giant," someone snickered. "She's so hungry, she has to eat other people's food too!"
Haru laughed derisively as she and her circle of fangirls walked past us. "Well, she's gigantic, can you blame her?"
Eyes flashing, Ayaka pushed her chair back. "That's it. I'm ending this now."
Quickly, I put a hand on Ayaka's wrist, pinioning her in place. "Forget it. Besides, they're leaving. Are you going to chase them down? It's not worth the effort."
She stared at me in frustration. "Don't you care? They're picking on you because you won't retaliate."
I lifted the bowl up to my mouth and took a big swallow of the broth. "So what? Words can't hurt me. I'm used to hearing stuff like that."
Her facial muscles flickered. "And you're okay with it?"
I shrugged and hid a discreet little burp in the folds of my napkin. "Whatever. If people weren't making fun of my height, they'd find something else to make fun of," I said, patting my mouth primly as I moved the tray with the empty bowl aside.
Ayaka stared at me. "What is that, the Tao of you?"
I grinned. "It helps."
She nodded. "Uh-huh. Incidentally, you have green onion in your teeth."
While I checked my reflection in a metal water cup, Ayaka laughed. It was a pretty sound, almost bell-like in its clarity, no artifices whatsoever.
"I'm glad you're laughing," I said, after removing the offending piece of food. "You look better too."
The color had returned to her cheeks, and the dark circles had disappeared from her eyes. Her face had a youthful glow about her, and even though she wasn't wearing much makeup that day, I found I preferred it more.
Judging from the surreptitious glances from the male coworkers around us, I thought Ayaka wouldn't be mourning her breakup with Shuichiro for long. With a quick goodbye and another pat on her shoulder, I grabbed her food tray—seeing as how I had been the one to empty it—and my Tupperware and took it to the dishwashing section.
After arranging it somewhat precariously on a pile of other trays that looked like they would spill all over the floors if you so much as sneezed on them, I tucked the Tupperware under one arm and made a detour to the bathrooms.
As I leaned over the sink, inspecting my pallid appearance, I heard a strident voice that sounded like Haru's fangirl. It was approaching, and I knew Haru wouldn't be far from it.
And no matter what I told Ayaka about not caring about Haru said, that didn't mean I wanted to be caught in an empty room with just her and her friend.
I looked around frantically, knowing there was no escape.
Except for a bathroom stall.
I sat down on the closed toilet set and drew my feet up, hugging them close to my chest while I watched Haru and one of her minions through the tiny slit between the door and the wall.
"Can you believe it? The gall of that guy," muttered Haru as she leaned toward the mirror, to reapply her lipstick. "He thinks he can ask me out and then tell me to pay for half of the bill? That jackass is lucky I didn't upend my drink on him. God, the men these days."
Her friend giggled and powdered her narrow, thin nose with a white powder that made her face even more garishly pale. Coupled with her bright red eyeshadow and lipstick, she looked like a ghost. "What a moron. Speaking of which, did you see who came to work this morning? The hulking giraffe is back in town."
Ten guesses as to which hulking giraffe they were referring to and the first nine don't count.
Haru snorted as she pulled out a compact from her handbag. "Yeah. I saw her stuffing her face in the canteen. Good thing she's a giraffe; otherwise, she'd be a hippo from all the food she eats."
"And that nasty twat, Ayaka, hovering over the giantess like she thinks she can protect her," continued Haru with another snort. "God, it makes me sick. Do you remember the way she screamed at me over that stupid spilled cup of grade soda? What a bitch."
"Pomegranate," I muttered under my breath, my face practically smashed against the gap between the door and the frame. "It was pomegranate soda, you horrid woman."
Her friend shot her a sideways glance through the mirror. "Are you sure you didn't mean to pour the soda all over that walking tree?"
Ouch, walking tree. Like I haven't heard that one about a million times before.
With a sudden snap that made me jump, Haru slapped her compact shut and turned to lean a hip against the sink, her arms crossed. "Will you quit asking me that? I keep telling you guys I didn't mean to do it. Someone jostled me from the side, and I almost fell over her. Trust me, that sweater getting ruined was the best possible solution." Her face darkened. "Although you wouldn't know it by how they yelled at me. They made me the bad guy. Wonder what they would've said if I face planted into her chest."
Her friend giggled. "A lesbian?"
Haru sighed and rolled her eyes before turning to the mirror to inspect her perfectly plucked brows. "If I'm going to turn into a lesbian, trust me, it's not going to be for that giraffe."
Right back at you, sister.
They clomped out of the bathroom in their mile-high stilettos, and I finally relaxed, breathing again.
I waited a few more heartbeats to make sure they weren't going to come back in before I eased myself off the toilet seat, my legs cramped from staying in one position for too long.
It had been an interesting conversation, a very interesting one, as far as Haru's motives went.
Was she all bark and no bite?
The sweater in question was ruined, but if everything had turned out to be an accident…
I walked back to the office in a state of confusion, wondering if all the rumors I heard about Haru were just that; rumors, concocted by people who didn't like her. Admittedly, she made it easy to dislike her, with her caustic nature and almost too promiscuous clothing for the workplace, but if she wasn't a bad person in reality…
I shook my head as I sat back at my computer, the sounds of Nobuki typing and talking on his Bluetooth earpiece echoing in my mind.
I didn't have the mind space to worry whether Haru was evil or not. All I needed to do was get through the next four hours. Unfortunately, those four hours seemed more like twenty, as my eyelids fluttered from such a big lunch.
After slapping myself on the cheek a few times, hard enough to make my skin tingle, I turned back to getting through the rest of the day without passing out in a carb induced coma.
With a bag of melon-flavored koala snacks by my keyboard, I managed to get through the next few hours.
At four, the phone rang, and I answered it automatically, cradling the receiver between my neck and shoulder as I went over a print-out of Nobuki's schedule for the remainder of the day.
"Foreign Marketing Office. Rika speaking. How may I help you?" I didn't even have to think about the words; I had said them about a couple thousand times since I started working here.
"I'm looking for Nobuki Miyano," cooed a soft, sultry voice that, for some reason, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand stiff at attention. "Would you transfer me to him?"
"May I ask who's speaking?"
She laughed softly. "Can't you just send me over to him, please?"
Hah, yeah right. Even if she wasn't an extremely sexy-sounding woman trying to talk to my very handsome boss, I didn't send everyone over who asked for Nobuki. "I'm sorry, but that is against company policy. May I ask your name so I can let him know who's calling?"
She sighed and clicked her tongue. "I suppose there's no use in saying he'd be interested in talking to me?"
"Not if he doesn't know who you are, ma'am."
She sighed again. "Oh, very well. Tell him we last met under the moon of the seventh month."
I blinked and stared at the phone receiver. "Sorry, is this some kind of joke?"
"I assure you, this is no joke. Relay that message to him."
I shook my head, impressed at her audacity. "Is there some reason why you can't give me your name? Otherwise, I can't send you over to Mr. Miyano."
"Privacy reasons," she said and the feminine voice took on an edge. She was getting impatient, which was fine by me. I was impatient three minutes ago when she first refused to give her name.
Massaging my temples, I decided the least I could do was propose Nobuki speak with this woman. At best, he'd tell me to hang up on her and if that happened, well, it was no one's fault but this mysterious woman who refused to share her name.
Or didn't want Nobuki to know who it was.
"Please stay on the line," I said, wishing I could put her on hold forever until she gave up.
I walked over to Nobuki's open door and knocked briefly on the frame, pulling his gaze away from the computer monitor.
"What is it?" he asked curtly. "I'm busy."
I licked my lips, feeling a twinge between my legs where he had been less than twenty-four hours ago.
It was hard to believe from our interaction, from his tone that we were lovers. Which was probably just as well. "There's a woman on the other line for you."
"What's her name?"
"She wouldn't give it. She said something about meeting you under the moon in…the seventh month? July? She met you at night in July?"
Nobuki's gaze met mine over the computer monitor. There was no change in his face, nor his eyes.
Just a slight stiffening of his shoulders and his hands curled into fists.
"I see," he said and picked up his phone. "Send her over. And close the door."
"Of course, Mr. Miyano."
I nodded and closed the door behind me with a faint click.
As I sent the call over to his phone, I glanced at the closed door, more than a little alarmed.
The first and only time he had done such a thing was when he first started working here although it had been obvious that he had slammed the door in my face to make a point.
After all, I did call security on him, because I couldn't believe someone who looked like an angel could take a job that had traditionally been filled by aging, balding men with obsessions for their executive assistants.
Wait a second.
He was the Foreign Marketing Manager now.
And I was the executive assistant.
And we were doing exactly the same thing I used to revile in those who had been in our positions.
With that unsettling thought bouncing around in my mind, I stared at the phone, wondering who the woman was and what she wanted with Nobuki.
If I lifted the receiver and put it to my ear…
No, it would be a bad idea to eavesdrop. I sat on my left hand long enough for the urge to go away.
I ended up sitting on that hand while I typed awkwardly with the other, all the while studiously avoiding looking at the phone and that almost irrepressible urge to press one little button and hear the entirety of their conversation.
But I didn't. I was a professional, regardless of what the heck I was doing with my boss, and if I couldn't show my professionalism in a situation like this, what good was I?
Besides, it didn't matter, right?
I mean, it's not like Nobuki and I were going out. And even if we were, if I couldn't respect or trust a man enough to get suspicious every time a mysterious woman called, I had no right being with him anyways.
Fifteen minutes later, I spotted a flurry of movement in the frosted glass windows of his office and he opened the door, pulling on his black blazer.
I stood up so fast, I almost upset my canned coffee into my lap. "Is everything all right, Mr. Miyano?"
"I'm going out."
I tried to smile. "I see no indication in your schedule that says you have a meeting tonight."
He paused by my desk, and I struggled not to take a step back in the face of the arrogant chill that emanated from his dark eyes. "Miss Hasegawa?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes, sir."
"This has nothing to do with you," he said, going through the letters in my in-box. "Mind your own business, hmm?"
My face heated and my mouth numbed at his sharp tone. All I could do was watch him stride out, his steps sure and confident on the marble outside.
I leaned over my desk and watched him walk down to the elevators and turn a sharp right to the emergency stairs.
Seriously? He wasn't going to wait for the elevator, and would rather use the stairs instead? How much of a rush was he in if he'd rather walk down thirteen flights?
After the emergency staircase door slammed shut, I fell into my seat, the wheels rolling back from the sudden weight of my body.
Mind your own business.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, unable to stop trembling.
Had it been my fault?
Was I not supposed to ask him?
Had I overstepped the professional boundaries by asking him where he was going?
Maybe it was none of my business, but as I went through his daily schedule book and saw there was nothing planned for this afternoon, I knew with growing certainty the mysterious woman on the phone and his abrupt departure was connected.
And he had closed his door…something so damn unusual that I found myself staring at the open doorway, the lights dark. The office seemed strangely quiet and lonely without his constant presence. I sighed, trying to tell myself that everything was okay, that I still had another two hours to go before I could bury my shame in a convenient pillow.
The two hours could not come soon enough.