In Deep Kimchi (6 page)

“Come on in and meet everyone,” Goro told the young men.

Masaaki looked them over as they entered. Luckily, they had taken the time to dress appropriately. Normally, they would just toss on some jeans and T-shirts, even though they had fancy clothes at their disposal. Today, each was dressed in suits with their hair combed, and in dress shoes no less. He wondered what was up and whose idea it was.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Aomori. From the front, the group leader, Yori Morioka and lead vocalist; Satoshi Hayashi, piano player and tenor; Takumijo Yamazaki, bass-baritone and lead choreographer, and last but not least, Ichiro Yoshida, tenor and music composer.”

The band members bowed to their guests.

“Have a seat,” Goro told them. “I’ll introduce the others.”

Yori sat down in a vacant seat next to Shaundra Morrison while the others sat on the opposite side of the table as Goro introduced the authors to the singers. Once Goro finished, he caught the singers up on what they’d missed.

“So, what’s on the agenda for tonight and tomorrow?” Harper asked.

“Mr. Niigata has arranged for you to see Tokyo’s nightspots, and tomorrow, a tour of the city,” Masaaki explained.

“Clubbing?” Izanami Kudo asked. It was the first time she’d spoken.

“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” Masaaki asked.

“No, it’s just that, well, won’t Aomori be mobbed when someone recognizes them?”

“We’ve already taken care of this, and they never travel anywhere without guards.”

Dorothy looked around the room like she expected to see some guards hovering nearby.

“They’re positioned outside in the lobby. We have to protect them from our other employees as well. You’d be surprised how many, male and female, want to get next to these young men.”

“Can’t say that I blame them,” Dorothy admitted. “They’re gorgeous.”

Satoshi stifled a chuckle and Ichiro blushed. The other two singers didn’t respond because they were smart enough to know better, but Masaaki could imagine what they were thinking. He’d have to protect them from this one too.
Make a note to self—don’t allow band members to be smothered by old cougar
.

* * * *

“Clubbing? What the hell am I going to wear?” Shaundra asked as she went through the dresses she had brought along for the trip.

Someone knocked at her door. Shaundra left her bedroom to answer it. The bell boy who had assisted her with her luggage stood on the other side carrying two large boxes.

“What’s this?”

“Mr. Kehoe sent these,” the young man explained. “He said it’s for you to wear tonight.”

Shaundra took the boxes from him and placed them on a table in the suite’s living room, got her purse to tip him, and then closed the door behind him when he left. She picked up the boxes and carried them into the bedroom “What in the world?” she asked, staring down at them. “What did he go and do?” She opened the first box and gasped. Inside was a black mini dress, matching black underwear, and stockings. “Oh no, he didn’t.” She held the dress up to her and walked over to the mirror. “This is positively shocking. I’m going to be run out of town in this.” She twirled around, still holding the dress up to her. “It’s cute…for a twenty-year-old.” She laid the dress out on the bed so it wouldn’t wrinkle and then examined the underwear. “French cut and just the correct size. Deviant.”

The other box contained a pair of high heeled, black, strappy pumps, size eight and a half, and a matching black clutch. There were also silver earrings, bracelets and a necklace. “Hmm, he’s going out of his way to impress someone.”

A card fell out of the tissue as she pulled it out of the box. “I expect to see you in this tonight and I don’t want any of your sass about being fifty,” signed Harper.

Shaundra cracked a smile. Her publisher knew her very well. “Oh, I guess I don’t have any other choice.” She wondered if he supplied clothes for the other writers as well. Hopefully, he allowed someone else to choose Dorothy’s clothes.

The telephone rang.

Shaundra moved away from the bed to answer it. “Hello.”

“Hey, Mama.”

It was Tricia, her youngest daughter.

“Hey baby, what’s up?”

“How’s Japan?”

“I don’t really know. I haven’t seen much of it yet. We arrived late last night and I’m still out of sorts from the time change.” She paused. “So how are things back home?”

“Pretty much how you left it. Juanda is still upset that you left town and left her with the twins, and of course, Donald called.”

“What did he want?” It irked her to no end how he called behind her.

“He just wanted to know if you arrived safely.”

“I left him a message when I arrived, just like I left one for you, Juanda, and the boys. It’s not my fault he didn’t return the call.”

“When are you going to end it with him? It’s obvious even to me that it’s been over between the two of you for quite some time.”

Shaundra sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’ll do it when I get back. In the meantime, don’t feed him any unnecessary information.”

“You mean about you and Harper?”

“There’s no me and Harper.”

“Um hmm,” Tricia replied like she was older and wiser than her twenty-four years. “You’re just saying that because you think we’ll go all militant because he’s a white man.”

“No I’m not. Besides, I brought all of you up not to let something like that be an issue. Harper’s my boss and nothing else.”

“But you’d like it to be something else?”

“No, I mean, I don’t know. He’s handsome, rich and he picks out nice dresses.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“You’re going to fill me in later, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but right now, I have to get off this phone and get dressed.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out clubbing.”

Tricia giggled. “Don’t break anything and don’t get drunk.”

“Who is the parent here?”

Tricia giggled again. “Who are you going clubbing with?”

“A bunch of authors. We’ll be lucky if they don’t toss our old butts out.”

“Have fun.”

“I’ll try to call you when I get back if it’s not too late.”

“Bye, Mama.”

“Bye, baby.” Shaundra hung up the phone and trotted off to the bathroom for a bath in the luxurious sunken tub. Sometimes being a writer really did have some cool perks.

Chapter Five

Shaundra guessed Harper liked the way the dress fit her from the way he stopped talking in midsentence the moment she exited the elevator and walked into the lobby to meet him and the others. Even Jackson smiled wickedly at her.

Shaundra pulled at the hem, which didn’t do any good since there wasn’t much dress. The high heels probably made it look shorter and she was thankful for the hose. She hated to be all dressed up with bare legs.

“Ooh, look at you,” Riley commented. “Who would have thought you were hiding that killer body beneath those business suits?”

Shaundra rolled her eyes at him. “Let’s get this over with before I get arrested.”

Dorothy walked up to her. “Honey, if I had your body, I’d be exposing more than that.”

Of course, she could say that. Dorothy was nicely dressed in a blue pants suit, tan pumps and accessories. The men looked sleek in their lightweight suits and matching ties. She had to give it to Harper. He did have excellent taste in clothing.

The limousine driver waited. They entered the car and the driver drove away from the curb. He turned on the stereo and Japanese pop music filtered out of all the speakers. Shaundra had to admit that some of the songs sounded pretty good. Not understanding the words wasn’t a problem as long as she could move to the rhythm of the music.

The driver drove them to a club located in Shibuya. They exited the car and gathered stares from a line of young people curious to see who was arriving in the limousine. Some of them seemed disappointed not to recognize them.

Japanese youngsters with ages ranging from early twenties to early thirties stood in line waiting to enter. Jackson and Riley would fit right in, she thought as they walked to the back of the line. The young people were dressed in popular club clothes. The women had on short dresses and high heels while the men donned suits or casual clothes they could dance in. Most of them had cell phones up to their ears or in their hands, texting. The line moved swiftly despite their dawdling and preoccupation with technology.

The music filtered out through the door each time it opened. It was loud, but she guessed it had to be that way. Inside, the place looked like most clubs back home, except most of the patrons were Asian. The disk jockey was tearing up the place, spinning records and talking to the crowd. Dancers were on the floor, sweating and shaking with delight. Harper found them a couple of tables and they sat down, leaving enough room for the other singers and Aomori.

A waitress appeared to get their drink order. Shaundra wasn’t much of a drinker. She ordered a soda while the others ordered alcohol.

“There are the other authors,” Harper told then over the din of the music and the noise. He waved them over.

The young women wore mini dresses and high heels and the men dressed similarly to the male writers in suits, minus the ties. They sat down at the table and ordered drinks when the waitress returned with their order. That only left Aomori. Shaundra wondered how they were going to pull this off and not draw attention to themselves.

Masaaki Fugimoto entered the lounge and looked around the room until he spotted them. He joined them at the table. “I’m glad you made it. What do you think of the place?”

“It’s nice,” Dorothy answered for the group. “Lot of young people who like to party.”

Masaaki nodded. “We come here sometimes when we are in Tokyo and Mr. Niigata gives us time off.”

The waitress returned with the Asian authors’ drinks and then went off again to get a beer for Masaaki.

“Where’s Aomori?” Riley asked after he drew his eyes off a young woman near the bar he’d been watching since they arrived.

“They are on their way,” Masaaki replied.

Aomori entered a few minutes later, accompanied by their bodyguards, and made a beeline for a table across from the authors. They were still recognizable even under the disguises. There was just no way to hide perfection. Shaundra sighed. One of them even waved at the disk jockey, a Japanese man with a blond Mohawk haircut. The disk jockey waved back, but did not call out Takumijo’s name.

Satoshi, Yori and Takumijo were quickly set upon by three young women who persuaded them to join them on the dance floor. A fourth approached Ichiro, but he turned her down, which Shaundra thought odd. In her day, there’d be this one girl…a plain Jane or a wallflower who would be left behind at the table guarding purses and watching drinks. There was nothing plain about Ichiro. Even from where she sat, she could see how handsome he was behind his disguise. She’d noticed it a little too much during their meeting with Mr. Niigata.