In Deep Kimchi (14 page)

“I bet it’s hard on them not being able to walk the streets or go to the movies without getting mobbed.”

“That’s the worse part. Darn fan girls hop up on the car and try to attack them in hotel rooms.”

Shaundra giggled at the image and then faced forward to admire the scenery. Tokyo was really very pretty in the daylight.

Kenshin continued to talk to her as he drove, telling her about where he grew up and about the young woman he was going to marry after he completed his military duty.

“Are you enlisting in the military?”

“Not exactly. All young men have to serve at least two years before they turn thirty.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Even Aomori?”

“Even them. We’ll probably all go in at the same time.”

Kenshin drove the limousine into the parking lot of a white building with an oriental styled roof and awnings. It was an older place and, thankfully, not a high rise. He got out and helped her out.

“I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Any time,” Kenshin said as Masaaki came out of the door.

“You’re here,” Masaaki said, coming over and bowing to her. “Where is Miss Brown?”

“Back at the hotel sleeping. She is exhausted from the photo shoot, so you’re stuck with just me.”

“Very well.” He turned to Kenshin. “Are you coming up?”

“Later, Mr. Masaaki. I have to wash the limousine.”

“Okay.” He waved good-bye to Kenshin and led her up the stairs. “The boys are expecting you. They are in the rehearsal room with their music arranger.”

Shaundra looked around the lobby as they entered. “This is nice and cozy.” There was a fireplace, sofa and a television in the waiting room.

“Mr. Niigata wants them to feel at home when they come to Tokyo. This place is similar to the one they use in Osaka.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot that they’re not from Tokyo.” She admired the pictures along the walls as they walked down a hall. “What is that delicious smell?”

“A feast,” Masaaki answered. “Ichiro has prepared dinner for us.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he wants to impress you with his culinary skills.”

“I’m impressed that he even tried. Where is he?”

Masaaki led her down another hall and then stop. “He’s inside rehearsing.” He opened the door.

All eyes turned in their direction. The smile on Ichiro’s face was worth the trip there. Yori looked at her and quickly looked back down at the sheet music in his hand. The rest continued to practice with the arranger. Masaaki escorted her over and the music ended as a man stood up.

“Ms. Morrison, this is John Sampson, Aomori’s music arranger.” John Sampson was in his early forties, with short brown hair and deep blue eyes. He was also an American.

Shaundra bowed. “Konnichi wa.”

John bowed to her. “Konnichi wa. You said that perfectly.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Shaundra confessed.

“She’s kawaii,” he told Masaaki.

“Kawaii?” Shaundra asked.

“That means, cute,” Satoshi replied.

Shaundra blushed. “Thank you.”

“Another American. Where are you from?” John asked.

“New York, but originally from New Orleans, Louisiana.”

“I’ve been there a couple of times during my career. I’m originally from Florida.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

He laughed. “I came here on vacation many years ago and fell in love with the place. I never went back.”

“Wow. What did your family think about that?”

“I don’t have any family. That’s what made it so easy.”

“My daughter would have a fit.”

John looked her over. “You have a daughter? You look like a young girl yourself.”

“I have four children. My youngest is about to graduate from college.”

“That means she’s our age,” Takumijo said. “Maybe you can arrange a date between her and Yori when we come to America on tour.”

Shaundra knew a slight when she heard one. “He’s not her type,” Shaundra replied. “She’s into basketball players.”

“Why would you want her to fix her daughter up with Yori?” Masaaki asked. “You know he’s engaged.”

The look on Yori’s face when Masaaki spilled the beans was priceless.

“I didn’t know you were engaged. Congratulations. I hope you send me in invitation. It will give me an excuse to return to Japan.”

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Yori replied, throwing Masaaki a heated look.

“He plans to do it after the American tour,” Takumijo added. “You’ll like Amaya. Her family runs a very successful fashion design company in Osaka.”

“Enough with the small talk you guys,” Masaaki replied. “Time to get back to work.”

“I was just finishing up,” John said to Masaaki. “Ichiro was just about to introduce a new song he’s written.”

“Then let’s leave them alone while we have tea.”

John bowed to Shaundra again. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“Yes, she will,” Ichiro answered.

John laughed. “He talked.”

“She has that affect on him,” Masaaki replied happily.

“Oh, I can see why.”

He left the room with Masaaki, leaving her at the mercy of the band. Ichiro walked over to the piano and sat down. He beckoned her over.

Shaundra ignored the stares from the rest of the group, walked over and sat down next to Ichiro on the bench. He handed them a sheet of music. “It is called
Romanticism
.”

* * * *

“What is that smell?” Takumijo asked as all of them left the rehearsal studio and headed toward the dining room. Ichiro had gone ahead to reheat the food.

Satoshi sniffed the air. “Hayashi Raisu and Tempura,” Satoshi answered.

“Ichiro hasn’t prepared Hayashi Raisu for us in a long time. He must be in a good mood.”

John entered the dining room before them along with Masaaki. John smiled and waved to her before he disappeared behind the door.

Shaundra ignored him and put her mind off the delightful aromas filtering out in the hall. She never heard of either of those dishes, but she was game to try it if Ichiro had gone to so much trouble.

Satoshi opened the door and allowed her to enter before him. The rest of the members followed. The dining room matched the rest of the place…traditional except for the American-styled dining table and brown upholstered chairs. The walls were decorated with sunny pictures of fields and forests, and there was one near the window with a babbling mountain brook. Kenshin entered just as they were about to be seated.

Masaaki helped her into a seat, placing her exactly like she had been in the Japanese restaurant he’d taken them to with Yori at her right and an empty seat at her left reserved for Ichiro. Right on cue, Ichiro entered wearing a white apron with pot holders on both hands. He pushed a silver cart laden with bowls and platters. He unloaded the bowls one after the other. Shaundra took a little peep at the rice, soup, fish and vegetables. He next took a huge tureen from the cart and placed it on the table in front of his seat and then placed the platter at the other end. He took his place and began ladling into bowls and handing them to her to pass around the table.

“It is Ramen soup,” he explained.

“It does not look like the Ramen soup I’m used to. They sell in stores back home for a quarter a pack and the kids boil it in a bowl in the microwave until they noodles get soggy and then they add this package of salty seasoning on it.”

Ichiro made a face.

“I agree with you. I never touch the stuff.”

“Then you’re in for a treat.”

The soup contained huge Chinese noodles, a variety of vegetables and tiny pieces of pork. There were also pieces of boiled eggs floating in the brown liquid mixture.

Ichiro removed the oven mitts and said a prayer to bless the food.

He’s Christian
, she noticed, wondering if all of them were. Did the Christians in this country practice abstinence until marriage?
Clear your mind girl
. She sampled the soup. Heavenly. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you,” Ichiro said.

Hayashi Raisu, she discovered, was a hash style stew made with thinly sliced beef and onions in a demi-glaze sauce. Also delicious. Okay, she wasn’t going to starve with them. And being the only girl at the table did have its advantages. Each man tried to entertain her with conversation, except for Yori, who sat quietly at her right, eating. The only time they had any contact was when he passed her the Yakitori—grilled chicken on skewers and the seafood Tempura that was fried with a golden crispy batter. Ichiro was nice enough to explain what was in each dish, describing the ingredients and why each was so important to the meal. Of course, there was rice, which she managed to eat without wasting on herself. After dinner, Ichiro served them tea in little porcelain cups, and briefly filled her in on the history of the ancient custom.

“My grandmother instructed me on the proper way to prepare tea,” he explained. “By the time I was six, I could perform a tea ceremony to perfection.”

If any other man would have told her that, she would have had to struggle to keep a straight face. But not with Ichiro because watching him was like watching a piece of precious art in motion. His long, slender fingers moved gracefully as he handled the delicate, fragile porcelain. Their hands touched as he handed the cup to her. It was all quite sexy and not going unnoticed by the others at the table. She caught Masaaki smiling from behind his tea cup as he talked to John.

A good thing about being alive for fifty years was being able to recognize a set up when she saw one. From what she could gather, Ichiro rarely talked to anyone except her and he was being especially candid today. So if she could get Ichiro out of his shell, then he’d compose better songs for them, which would make everyone happy and sell records. Hum, a good strategy, but what was in for her? Not that she couldn’t get use to looking into that beautiful face or feeling her skin sizzle when he touched her hand. For some reason, her heart was also doing that funny pump the way it had last night when Yori kissed her hand.

After tea, Masaaki took her on a tour of the rest of the place and the grounds while Aomori finished with the rest of the rehearsal. John had left right after tea, but promised to talk with her about the United States when they met again.

“Ichiro has taken quite a liking to you,” he said as they passed a well-maintained garden and some shrubbery.

“I like him, too. He’s a really nice young man and a very good cook.”

“No, I mean he really likes you. How do I say it? He is fond of you like a man is to a very special woman.”

Shaundra stopped walking. “You do realize that I am much older than he is?”

Masaaki stopped beside her. “What does age have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I was a man, I would say my age would not be a problem. But I’m an older woman and that might not set well with your society.”

Masaaki shook his head and chuckled. “Would it matter if I told you that Ichiro does not care how old you are?”