In Deep Kimchi (2 page)

“Younger?” Shaundra asked. “How much younger?”

“Younger that fifty-one,” Charlotte replied. “One that can keep it up without the little blue pill. Maybe someone in his thirties.”

Shaundra gasped. “I have a thirty-year-old son.”

“So. What about Harper?”

“Harper is forty,” Shaundra answered.

“Yes, and he’s a stud muffin. He also has a great ass. Have you seen him at the gym?”

Shaundra smiled. “Harper is my publisher. I don’t think it’s wise to mix business with pleasure, no matter how tempting. I’ll stay out of his bed while in Japan.”

“So you’ve changed your mind about the trip?”

“Maybe. Why is it so important that I go?”

“Well, I don’t know if I should be telling you this or not, but Harper plans to score some brownie points with his new Japanese business partner, Goro Niigata, by using you guys to help promote Niigata’s boy band.”

“You’re losing me here.”

“Goro Niigata runs this big entertainment business in Japan and Korea, and one of his bands, Aomori, will be making their American debut here in New York in a couple of months, and what better way to help them than by pairing them up with Kehoe’s hottest romance authors?”

“Aomori? Never heard of them.”

Charlotte got out of her chair, walked over to a file cabinet and took out a manila folder. She walked over to Shaundra and handed it to her.

Shaundra opened the folder and looked down. “Oh my. They’re beautiful.” Her stomach clenched and her panties dampened. She moved around on her chair and crossed her ankles to stave off the quivering between the legs.

Charlotte chuckled. “Yeah, I had the same reaction the first time I saw that picture. Aren’t they something?”

Shaundra looked down at the picture again. They were four Japanese men, each pleasing to the eye, but very young. Her stomach clenched again. Did that mean she was attracted to them? Hell, she had stretch marks older than them. No, it couldn’t mean that. The one in the center of the picture had very pale skin and his lips were incredibly pink and full.

Charlotte cleared her throat.

Shaundra closed the folder and slid it back on Charlotte’s desk. “Maybe a trip to Japan might not be such a bad idea after all.”

Charlotte smirked at her. “Yes, I kind of thought you’d change your mind once you saw them.”

Shaundra rose from the seat. “Girl, this is silly.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get that doctor’s phone number from Harper.”

Charlotte’s girlish laughter followed her out of the door.

Chapter Two

Yori Morioka played around with a glass paperweight on his manager’s desk while his other three band members, Satoshi Hayashi, Takumijo Yamazaki and Ichiro Yoshida sat haphazardly in chairs around Masaaki Fugimoto’s office while they waited for him to enter. Masaaki had sent them each an email to meet with him to discuss some important matters about their future.

Yori liked Masaaki. He was a bit of a nerd, but he was a very good manager. He hoped Masaaki would discuss their upcoming tour in the United States, which he was very interested in. Satoshi had been teaching all of them English and he had a pretty good grasp on it. Satoshi was the only one of the four of them that had been there and Satoshi always bragged about what a great place it was. His father was an ambassador, which meant he’d gotten to travel with him from time to time when he was growing up. He especially liked Los Angeles and New York, where they were scheduled to perform.

Yori looked over at Satoshi who dozed on and off while he waited. His face was hidden behind thick black hair and a New York Yankee baseball cap. Their hair stylist had him growing his hair longer so he wouldn’t need extensions added for their next video. He’d been wearing it in a ponytail, which allowed a rare glimpse at his handsome face. Yori had no problems considering other men handsome. There was no other way to describe him.

Ichiro noticed Satoshi sleeping and rose to mess with him. He gently ran a finger across Satoshi’s cheek.

Satoshi’s lids slid back as he lifted his head, revealing dark brown eyes. “What?”

“Wake up. Masaaki will be here shortly.” Ichiro walked back to his seat and sat down.

Satoshi yawned, stretched, and tried to be attentive.

Yori smiled. Satoshi still appeared very sleepy.

Their manager entered several minutes later dressed in a dark blue business suit with a matching tie. Masaaki, as he allowed them to call him, was thirty years old and had been their business manager for five years. His father and Goro Niigata were childhood friends. Goro hired Masaaki on as soon as he graduated at the top of his college class.

It was easy to talk with Masaaki since he was only five years older than them. Unfortunate for him, he was also shorter than them, and often ridiculed about his five-foot-six stature. Each member of Aomori stood about six feet tall. Masaaki had a complex about his height, which always drew attention when he accompanied them anywhere. Yori understood his discomfort. Sometimes being taller than the average Japanese citizen had its disadvantages too.

Masaaki sat down at his desk and put his paperweight back on a stack of papers. His feet barely touched the floor. He adjusted his eyeglasses on his nose. “First topic. Mr. Niigata has arranged for you guys to give two nights of concerts at the Tokyo Dome to promote your latest album. “

Some of the band members squawked. Two back-to-back shows were hard on their bodies.

“It’s out of my control, fellows. Both nights are sold out already. Mr. Niigata is a man of his word and will not back out of this deal.”

Yori already knew this. Goro Niigata was a true businessman and he had guided their careers from the beginning. None of them would complain, since it wouldn’t do them any good.

“We’ve done two nights before,” Ichiro replied. He was the youngest of their group and the shortest at six feet tall. His function in the family was to take care of the home and prepare their meals. Ichiro took to his job with relish. He was a great chef, taught by his grandmother and a master chef when he was just a child, and he hoped one day to open restaurants all over Asia when he retired from Aomori.

He brushed his long bangs back away from his eyes. “I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Usually Ichiro never uttered a sound in meetings except when he was spoken to. He was the same way around the apartment that they shared. The only time he wasn’t silent was on stage. Yori felt comfortable having Ichiro at his left when they performed.

Member number four, Takumijo Yamazaki, had yet to utter a sound. He just sat there like a beautiful statue listening to the conversation going on around him. Takumijo’s main concern in life was himself. His unique characteristics was that he was vain, spent money as fast as he earned it on cars or the latest electronics, and he never bought clothes off the rack. Takumijo had grown up poor and swore never to be in that predicament again.

“So, we all agree?” Masaaki asked.

Four hands flew up in the air to accept the concert dates. Although the four of them had different personalities, they all agreed on one thing—Aomori came first. It took fifteen long years to get them where they were today, at the top of the charts. Their last album,
Motion,
had been nominated as album on the year, and it had made them Japan’s best band.
Motion
changed them from amateurs to professionals and Yori still felt awed by it all.

“Second topic, promotion. Mr. Niigata has lined you up for many television and media appearances in the next few weeks. As you know, he has had formed a partnership with the American publishing mogul, Harper Kehoe, and the grand opening of their new publishing company is slated to open in two weeks in Tokyo.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Takumijo asked.

“Everything,” Masaaki answered. “He plans to use you guys to help promote his new business by having you join forces with four American romance writers.”

Takumijo frowned as if he’d smelt something unpleasant.

Yori raised an eyebrow. “That’s odd. Do they speak Japanese?”

“I doubt it,” Masaaki replied. “And even if they do, it’s only a couple of words.” He paused. “Besides, you guys know enough English to communicate with them. Satoshi can interpret if you run into a problem. ”

Satoshi opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. “Okay.”

“I knew you would agree,” Masaaki replied. “You have a better grasp on the English language than the rest of them. We’re depending on you.”

“What other plans has he made?” Yori asked. He was quite curious where this would lead, especially since Satoshi had agreed so quickly.

Masaaki flipped through some paperwork on his desk until he found what he searched for. “A photo session for a magazine, a couple of personal appearances at stores and on television, followed up by the announcement about the opening of the publishing company. There will be some kind of formal party for this too. So be prepared to be photographed a lot.”

Ichiro cringed. Of the four of them, Ichiro hated to be photographed. Yori never understood why. Ichiro was beautiful with small, delicate features and amazing, rare blue eyes. The stylist insisted that he keep it in a ponytail until he performed, at which time he would release it, much to the delight of the female fans. The fan girls loved Ichiro and they sent him lots of gifts and made him the topic of a lot of YouTube videos. Ichiro’s main problem was that he was very shy.

“Mr. Niigata wants you to be on your best behavior during this time and you’re not to embarrass this company in any way, shape or form.”

Takumijo muttered something under his breath.

“Yes, I’m talking about you, demon boy,” Masaaki said to Takumijo. Try to keep your clothes on during the performances, and try not to get hooked up with some empty-headed starlet while the Americans are in town.”

Yori stifled a grin. Takumijo always got them in trouble with his antics.

“Boy, do one thing and you get permanently known as a trouble-maker.”

“If it was only one thing, we wouldn’t have a problem. Photographers love you and cavorting around with a bevy of beauties in a pool in the buff draws their attention.”

Satoshi and Ichiro did not try to hide their chagrin. They outright laughed, which made Takumijo angry.

“You guys aren’t innocent either. You get into just as much shit as I do, but Mr. Niigata does not ban you to your room or take away your privileges.”

“You could have drowned in that pool,” Masaaki replied. “You were very drunk at the time of the incident.”

Yori agreed. The media had a field day with that little fiasco. Takumijo craved attention and sometimes went out of the way to get it. One of these days, he was going to get his ass in a whole lot of trouble that Mr. Niigata couldn’t buy him out of. He just wasn’t satisfied that his face donned the cover of most of all the magazines since his debut. His calendar was filled with requests for personal appearance appointments and more photo sessions. It surprised him that Takumijo wasn’t more enthusiastic about the situation.

Niigata Enterprises played up their looks and bodies, sparing no expense to transform them into a desirable package. It had been fun at first until the first time he was mistaken for a girl. Till this day, people questioned his sexuality. Yori frowned. He couldn’t help it if he was born that way…more feminine looking than male. He had a penis. That had to count for something.