THE NEXT AFTERNOON Tak and Deena began the thirteen-hour trek to New York. They spent the evening in Cleveland, grabbing a late-night meal of pierogies, boiled dumplings stuffed with jalapenos and chicken, before passing out for the night. They woke before checkout, grabbed Dim Sum in Asia Town and continued on their journey. Tak ripped through Pennsylvania and Jersey before arriving in New York at close to nine p.m., some six hours after their Cleveland departure.
The Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building. Times Square. Deena had all the giddiness of a girl stepping into the hub of the cosmopolitan world for the first time. Her heart was palpitating and her palms were sweaty, and more importantly, she felt a constant need to grab Tak’s sleeve to point out one landmark after another. She wanted a show on Broadway. Pizza in Brooklyn. A glimpse of the Apollo Theater. And she refused to wait another minute. At twenty-five, she’d waited long enough.
Tak’s silver Ferrari crawled along the theatre district, stopping and starting on Deena’s whim, as he attempted to find a hotel. Up and down the streets of Manhattan they staggered, until finally, he made a turn on 8th and another on 42nd. Deena screeched for him to stop.
“That one. That one there.” Deena jabbed a finger at a single soaring hotel.
It was the Westin. A towering prism split by a curved beam of light and sheathed in multi-colored glass, the hotel’s mirrored surface shimmered with the reflection of yellow cabs and dashing pedestrians.
She turned to Tak. “Please.”
He killed the engine. Tak rolled down his window, handed the curbside valet his keys, and climbed out of the car. By now, he’d grown used to his automated indulgence.
They were forced to take a suite on one of the lower floors, as the closing of some Broadway show had the hotel inching towards capacity. One look at her face as they entered the room, however, told Tak that Deena was far from disappointed.
The room ran a gamut of earthy tones offset with a splash of red. Thick chocolate carpeting and textured ecru walls complimented two broad platform beds with plush white bedding. A dash of red from an armchair, decorative pillows, and a seascape painting all lent to serenity. But they would have to save their appreciation for another day. Exhausted from the non-stop trek from Cleveland, Tak and Deena skipped dinner and bid each other good night.
When Deena woke in the morning, she was alone. The bedside clock told her it was ten a.m., and briefly, she wondered why Tak would let her sleep in so late. Deena showered and dressed, figured he was at the gym, and decided to wait for his return.
The Weather Channel said it was a pleasant sixty, considerably warmer than a traditional March in New York. Excited by the news, she dug out a flirty blue blouse with a low-scooped neckline and paired it with a linen skirt. They were the latest additions to her newly emerging casual wardrobe, compliments, of course, of Chicago and Michigan Avenue.
Deena waited for an hour, but there was no Tak. Yesterday’s decision to skip dinner was now haunting her. She glanced at the clock and decided to wait a little longer.
At a quarter to noon, she dialed Tak’s cell. Met with his voicemail, she made up her mind that hunger couldn’t wait. Deena rose, slipped her room key and a few dollars into her skirt’s hidden pocket, and made for the door. New York was waiting.
Deena headed east on 42nd towards Broadway and the Times Square building, keeping her eyes peeled for restaurants all the while. She was wary of the overcast sky but certain she’d find something soon.
Wedged between the Bank of America Tower and Conde Nast was the Garden of Eden, an eclectic restaurant that bordered on blasphemous with its claim to be the favorite dining locale of Adam and Eve. She stopped to view the posted menu. An apple pie à la mode that promised to be sinfully sweet. A chocolate cake stacked like the Tower of Babel. Adam’s ribs, slow cooked and braised to buttery perfection. She liked the presumptuousness of such a place. She would save it for later. Save it for Tak. It was just his style.
As Deena turned to leave, she froze at the sight of him. Third table from the back, head lowered, reading a menu. The man who’d made her smile in her grief, who made love to her in her dreams. He was with another woman.
She’d been a fool.
He looked up and their eyes met. Deena backed away from the window, turned, and fled. The tears came hot and fast, faster than she’d ever thought possible. Her breathing was staggered and painful, her heart broken. She barreled down the street and through the crowds, intent on losing him in the press of Times Square.
He’d given her no reason to behave this way. No reason for jealousy. To have laid claim to him. Never in her waking hours had he kissed her or whispered words of love in her ear, and yet, she had felt them all the same. It hurt no less.
She was a fool. Infusing his every word with innuendo, his every touch with fire, all the while believing that it alone could satisfy her.
Raindrops began to fall. Fat and mocking, they pelted her, plastering her toffee coils to her face and her blouse to her body. In an instant, she was drenched.
When Deena reached the Westin, she tore across the lobby in slippery sandals, nearly plummeting in her distress. At the elevator she jabbed the up button, caught sight of Tak, and dashed for the stairs.
“Deena! Deena, please! Would you wait?”
The sound of his voice only fueled her hysteria. She burst into the stairwell, gut-wrenching sobs seizing her like violent gusts of wind. Up three flights they went, as her hair, her nose, her lips dripped with rain and tears. Her vision blurred, as behind her, Tak’s footsteps thundered. She reached their floor, their door, and fumbled to unlock it.
“Deena, please. Listen to me.”
He was there, beside her, as she trembled with hysteria. He reached for her and she recoiled.
“Don’t. Don’t make it any worse.”
She returned to the door, fumbling.
“God, would you listen—”
“I’m so stupid. I had no reason to think you loved me. No reason to hope. I just—”
She dashed away tears.
“She’s my agent, Deena. That’s all.” He reached for her face and she went still. “Now, are we done playing games?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Something in her burned with the lie.
“No?”
Tak snatched her and brought his mouth down hard on hers. She opened to meet him, willing, and let a moan escape. When he finally withdrew, he was smiling.
“That’s what I mean.”
He returned to her mouth, his kisses demanding, impatient. His hands found her back, her waist, her ass in greed. Deena was breathless with fear, anticipation and arousal as her body told her what her mind had feared—that it was his. That it always had been his.
Blindly, he opened the door and backed her into the suite. She clung to him, whimpering as his tongue ravished her mouth.
He ripped away her blouse, exposing two bronzed breasts, clad in frilly white.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
His mouth came down on hers again, swallowing, consuming her whole.
He fumbled with her skirt and tossed it to the floor before undressing himself. She helped him, trembling fingers at the button of his shirt, near desperate to feel him despite the nervousness.
When Tak lifted her, instinctively Deena’s legs wrapped his waist. Their mouths met with abandon as he lowered her onto the bed.
“You want this?” he whispered.
She brought a hand to his cheek and nodded. He kissed her, a soft kiss, before lowering his mouth to her body. He trailed kisses to her thighs, parted them, and licked. Deena yelped, gripping the sheets as she thrashed beneath him. Hot waves swept her, drowning her, consuming her in heat. With a flick of the tongue, he’d humbled even her most impassioned dreams, relegating them to mediocrity.
Tak climbed atop her. Her breasts crushed beneath him, soft and round, supple and yielding under hardness. His lips found her mouth again for a soft and sweet kiss, lingering. Deena closed her eyes, relishing maybe, and was met with a thrust. White hot and searing, she let out a sob, as a gush of crimson rushed to meet him.
TAK GASPED. HE was poised above Deena, inserted in her and overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the tightness of her opening and the value of her gift. Never more had he felt the limitations of manhood. He was weakened by her, completely and utterly, by the sight of her silky, undulating body, by the sound of his name on her lips, and by her sensitivity as he eased into the tightest bliss imaginable.
She was whimpering, and God, the sound was driving him mad. He moved against her in slow and staggered strokes, working to forge an opening where none existed. He throbbed in her, pulsing and stirring with the compact fit. He needed her, and yet, he fought to temper his thrusts with tenderness.
Tak was on fire. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, sinking and gripping. Her words were frenzied and incoherent, as frenzied as his strokes wanted to be. She was meeting them now, each one, with an ardor that sent blazes through his body. She said his name until he begged her to stop, certain she’d kill him. And when her body began to quiver and he could hold on no longer, he forged ahead, an apology for his abandon on his lips. Together, they found harmony, fed passion and fueled lust. Together, they found a perfect, yet powerful finish.
DEENA’S BODY WAS damp and her pulse still staggered. She brought a hand to the window. It felt cool to the touch. Her view from the third floor was unimpressive—a pharmacy, a few pedestrians, a billboard for Lion King the Musical. The sky was silver and the ground slate. The rain came in melancholy bursts, sprinkling her windowpane and soaking the earth.
Mid-intersection an umbrella unfolded, looming and bright red in a gray day. It made her think of Tak. He’d slipped into her life like that red umbrella, bursting open in her storm of gray.
Behind her, Tak’s arms slid around her midsection. He found her neck and kissed it. Silently, they stood there, watching the rain fall. And when Deena brought a hand to the window this time, Tak reached for it, covering it with his own.
THEY HAD SEX again before ordering out. Yet, ‘sex’ hadn’t felt like the right word, a sufficient word, for the soul-deep kisses they’d shared and the way their bodies had fused, nor for the glistening glide of skin on skin and how she simply knew this age-old dance. There was soreness and pleasure over and again. His size took some getting used to.
Sitting across from each other on the hotel bed, Tak and Deena dug into cartons of Moo Shu pork with chopsticks. Deena, donned in Tak’s gray UCLA tee, frowned at the food as she picked through it.
“There aren’t any peanuts, Dee,” Tak said, scooping out a thick wad of pork and noodles before dropping it into his mouth.
“Are you sure? I thought I saw one.”
“You didn’t. Now eat. You must be starving.”
A shadow passed over Deena’s face and Tak sighed.
“You can meet her, you know.”
Deena’s gaze found her lap. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Tak smiled. “The last time you said that, it turned out you did.”
He grinned at the rush of color to her cheeks.
“Come on,” he placed a hand over her knee. “I’ll call Bridget, my agent, and you can meet her.”
Deena withdrew her hand. “I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you.”
He returned to his food. “How about we don’t even go down that road? How about you meet her, find out for yourself that she has absolutely no interest in me, nor any other man, and then we get on with our lives?”
Deena’s eyes widened. “What do you mean ‘no interest’? Did something happen to her?”
Tak grinned. “She’s a lesbian. So, she might like you.” He winked.
“I don’t need to meet her.”
He shrugged. “The more I think about it, the more I like it. In fact, I insist the two of you meet.”
This time his grin was met with a pillow to the face.
“You’re such a pig!”
“Your pig now.”
She met his gaze with a shy smile.
Deena stood and went to the cherry wood desk at the rear of the suite. She returned a Fodor’s guide. “I don’t know what we’ll do about our itinerary. We’ve wasted a whole day.”
Tak’s eyebrow lifted comically. “And here I was ready to declare New York the best city ever.”
Deena blushed. “But we haven’t seen anything.”
“Oh, but I’ve seen it all.” He blew her a kiss.
She hurled the book at him and Tak ducked. “You’re getting violent, Dee. Can’t say I approve.” He returned to his Moo Shu pork.
“Tak! We’ve only got two days here. We need to make plans.”
He turned his carton upside down and shoveled the last of the food into his mouth. “How’s this?” He stood, tossed the white box into a wastebasket, and headed for the bathroom to wash his hands. “How about we stay here a few more days. Two, three, five, I don’t care. Then afterwards, if we can, we squeeze in one or two more places on the way home.”
Deena frowned. “If that’s what you want.”
“No,” Tak said, returning to the bed. “We’ll stay longer if that’s what you want. Whatever makes you happy.”
They were the first time she’d ever heard the words. She found they fell oddly on her ears, like the sound of her name being pronounced as though it had a short “e” instead of the long. She understood what they meant, but still, it was bizarre.
“Let’s see how it goes,” Deena murmured.
Tak nodded, stood again. “Great. Anyway, tomorrow night my cousin’s dropping by.”
“Cousin? What cousin?”
Tak laughed. “Why? Is there one you know?”
“No. It’s just—” Deena fell silent.
“My cousin, John. The one I’m always telling you about? He’s at Columbia.”
Deena stared at the bedspread. His cousin. His family. She raised her gaze. “What about Daichi?”
“What about him?”
“Won’t he find out that we were here? Together?”
Tak shook his head. “No. He and John aren’t exactly text message buddies.”
Deena watched him as he pulled on a close-fitting chocolate tee and a pair of relaxed jeans. “But still. You told me a long time ago that your father was like my family in some ways. That he wouldn’t approve of you dating a girl who wasn’t Japanese.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not Japanese.”
Tak sighed. “It’ll be fine. Trust me. When you meet John, you’ll understand.”
“What in the world does that mean?”
“Well,” Tak said. “He’d be a fine one to talk. Considering he’s only half Japanese.”
DEENA DIDN’T NEED to be told that the tall and sinewy man with silky black hair was John Tanaka. The square face, heavy-lidded eyes and broad mouth all gave him away. They were mirror images, Tak and John, albeit with subtle differences. John’s eyes were a honey brown, whereas Tak’s were near black. John’s skin was like porcelain, Tak’s soft wheat. And where John wore his hair in a short and conservative comb-back, Tak’s was blunted with a razor and constantly in his eyes.
Tak swept John into a hearty embrace before holding him out at arm’s length.
“You’re looking more and more like your father,” Tak said.
John grinned. “Those late-night pan pizzas must be showing.” He patted his washboard stomach.
“I’m thinking it’s the receding hairline.”
“What!” John cried.
He pounced, but Tak was ready and swept him into a headlock. The two laughed as they tumbled about the suite, as John tried his damnedest to get free.
Deena rolled her eyes and turned to the blonde near the door. She was a saucer-faced girl with gooseberry eyes, short with slight curves. Once it became clear that no introductions were forthcoming, Deena strode over to the woman.
“I’m guessing you’re Allison.” She extended a hand. “John’s girlfriend?”
The girl nodded.
“And you’re Deena? Tak’s girlfriend?”
It was news to her. But she liked the sound of it.
“Are they always like this?” Deena asked, peering at the two men, their wrestling match now down to the carpet.
Allison sighed. “John’s rowdy, but—Tak brings out the worst in him.”
“So, I should expect more of this?”
“Basically,” Allison said.
The two men stood and dusted themselves off.
Tak clapped his younger cousin on the back. “John, I swear, you never get tired of getting your ass kicked.”
“What? I’m guessing you need medical attention right now. Don’t be too proud to seek it out.”
John turned to Deena and smoothed out the white polo shirt he wore. “John Tanaka,” he extended a hand.
Deena took it. “Deena Hammond. Pleased to meet you.”
John shook his head. “The pleasure is all mine. Finally, I meet the great warrior that has conquered Takumi Tanaka,” he lowered his head. “I am honored.”
Deena giggled. “I don’t know if ‘conquered’ is the right word.”
“Trust me. It is.”
Tak sighed. “And if you ever wondered whether John could keep a secret,” he nodded towards Allison, “here’s your answer.”
“What! With all the secrets I’ve kept for you? You ungrateful louse.” John grabbed him and the two tumbled to the floor.
ALLISON, WHOSE FATHER taught international law at Columbia and her mother economics at NYU, was a pert and saucy blonde with Jersey panache. John, on the other hand, had Tak’s predisposition towards silliness, and, seemingly, Daichi’s hunger for success. Deena decided that she liked them both. She liked them a lot.
It was past noon, and the two should’ve been out in the city, seizing the day. Instead, they were in bed, having risen only to accept room service, with no more than a passing desire to leave. They were like two colts at play, him nuzzling her, teasing her with exaggerated kisses, her squealing, pretending not to enjoy it. When he stopped, it was only because her phone rang.
“My grandmother,” she said.
Tak collapsed on the bed with a groan. “Don’t answer,” he said even as she opened the phone. Emma Hammond never had good news. Never.
“Chile, where you been?” Emma cried. “I’ve been calling you since yesterday!”
Deena sighed. “I’m in New York. Is everything okay?”
“No! Everything ain’t okay! That sister of yours was around here tussling with Keisha behind something, and that’s on top of the fact that there ain’t no food in the house.”
No food? Her grandmother received welfare, food stamps, income from the VA and four hundred dollars a month from Deena. All that to support her and a girl who was never there.
Deena glanced at her watch, noting the date. “Didn’t your check from the VA come? Grandpa’s pension?”
“Girl, who do you think you are, asking me about that? And if it did come, it ain’t for me to be spending on that fast ass sister of yours.”
No, that’s what the welfare, food stamps and everything else is for, Deena thought. She sighed.
“You should have something, Grandma. Did you use up all the emergency money, too?”
Emma sucked her teeth. “Chile, that money been gone. Two Sunday dinners ate through dat.”
“Sunday dinner! You weren’t supposed to treat the whole family with that. It was supposed to be for necessities for you and Lizzie.”
“Chile, you act like you left some big-time money.”
“I left four hundred dollars extra. That’s eight hundred this month. It’s not a lot, but it was all I could afford.”
“Yet you got money for New York.”
Deena sat up with a sigh. “So basically, you’re calling for more money? Right?”
“That’s it. I need you to bring more money over.”
“Grandma, I can’t bring it. I’m in New York.”
“Well, how the hell am I supposed to get it?”
Deena shook her head. “See, this is why I tell you to get a bank account. You listen to Caroline, who’s always going to these predatory lenders. How do you function like this?”
“I don’t need no bank account! Mr. Evans up at the liquor store cash whatever kinda check you got. Been cashing my checks for thirty-something years. So don’t tell me about no bank.”
“I bet Mr. Evans has a bank account.”
“How I’m supposed know what Mr. Evans got?”
“Well anyway, I can’t wire money to Mr. Evans at the liquor store.”
“Then you just gonna have to come back then. Cause we out of money.”
Deena thought about the cities that lay ahead—Philadelphia, Baltimore, D.C. She thought about all the moments they’d shared—the Waffle House in Atlanta, the Arch and Screamin’ Eagle in St. Louis, Lake Michigan in Chicago, and of course, him making love to her in New York. And as her grandmother shouted, her eyes began to water even as her veins turned to steel.
“Grandma, I’m nowhere near Miami. I could wire you some money, but—” Deena brought a hand to her face.
“Listen. I don’t deal with nobody but Mr. Evans. Now, unless you gone get this money to him, you need to find yourself another idea.”
Deena wiped her face. She was forever tethered to this family, forever a Hammond. She should’ve known that she could never get away with such freedom; that she could never get away with happiness.
Tak touched her shoulder. “Call her back, Dee.”
She looked at him and turned away. He repeated himself, sterner. “Call her back.”
“You want to ask me about this little bit of money I got. You wouldn’t even have nothing if it wasn’t for me! You want to be selfish and talk about what you are and ain’t gonna do?”
Tak took the phone from Deena and hung up.
She stared at him, eyes shimmering.
“She wants me to come home now.” Deena swallowed. “She needs more money but she won’t let me wire it because she doesn’t trusts banks and—and—”
“And do you want to go home?”
She drew back, horrified. How could he even ask her that? After all this? All that’s happened?
“No. Of course not.”
“Then stay.” He tossed the phone onto the bed.
“But she needs money. She needs me.”
“She doesn’t need you. What she needs is a lesson.” He swung his legs out from the bed and stood. “Show her how valuable you are. That you’re not at her beck and call.”
Deena lowered her gaze. Lowered it because she knew that she was.
“All right, have it your way. If she really needs money, then we’ll wire her some.”
“But my grandmother doesn’t have a bank account! And—and she’d never go to Western Union. She only deals with Mr. Evans at the liquor store.”
Tak’s gaze narrowed. “No one who needs money would put so many stipulations on how they get it.”
Deena sighed. “Well, it’s not like I want to go. I want to stay here. With you.”
His face hardened. “Then do that. Call her back and tell her we’re wiring money to a Western Union. She can pick it up if she wants to, or not.”
Deena looked at him doubtfully. Sure, it made sense, but, well…she just didn’t know.
“Tak, please. I’m not strong like you. It’s hard for me to stand up to people.”
He sighed. “What’re you talking about, Dee? You’re as strong as they come. Just look at all that you’ve done with the little you’ve had.”
She shook her head, slowly. He just didn’t understand. This was Grandma Emma. Telling her no meant…well, she didn’t know what it meant.
Tak stood. “Listen to me. Life’s not fair, believe me, I get that. And I know a lot of things have been beyond your control,” He rounded the bed to her. “But not this. You decide how this turns out. For better or worse.”