Grannie Panties Are UnderRated

by Gayle Erickson

  Chapter Twenty

  Sum 41: “Over My Head (Better Off Dead)”

  April 28, 1994

  9:34 p.m.

  As Sato’s town car slowly wound itself like a deliberate snake back into the crowded Roppongi traffic, Elle double-checked her nose in a compact mirror for any stray white-powder residue. To stop the harrowing images of her dead mom and brother, Elle had done two more lines before getting out of the limo. It had been successful. She felt better already.

  Elle couldn’t accept what had just taken place. She wouldn’t. It hadn’t been real. Nothing happened in the limo. Absolutely nothing. She would never think about it again.

  Elle considered the stash of yen notes stuffed in her purse. They were certainly real. She wasn’t sure of the exact amount, but figured she must have at least the equivalent of $7,000. So much money. . .

  It’s all from Mae-san. Yes, that was it. The money was her severance package.

  Fuck Mae-san. Fuck the Big YAC. Fuck it all.

  None of it meant anything to Elle. All that mattered was her trip to Europe with Mitch, and she now had more than enough money to pay for plane tickets and a room at a nice hotel for them both. Getting fired was for the best. She would be able to spend more time with Tak. And Mitch.

  Mitch . . . What would he think? Elle wouldn’t tell him the truth about getting fired. Or Tak, for that matter. Instead, she would tell them both she had quit. That was reasonable. They knew she was tiring of the job.

  Satisfied with her story, Elle put the compact back in her purse, pulled her strapless gown up, and entered Samantha’s. The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” was playing in the background. Elle didn’t give a second thought to the song’s meaning or what it could symbolize. Over the course of the last two years, though her love of music hadn’t waned, Elle had stopped using songs as signs altogether. It no longer seemed important.

  “Blondie!” Elle was greeted with enthusiasm by members of the band Sugar Puss, who were sitting at the bar with their girlfriends. She could forgive members of the band for calling her Blondie—she had fun partying with this group. They were cool. Elle was looking forward to joining them on their private jet for a scuba diving vacation the upcoming weekend.

  “You want drink?” Kenji was behind the bar. Elle had finally gained his full confidence and he had admitted to being very interested in Mitch. The two had recently finalized her plan to surprise Mitch on his birthday by gifting him a very willing Kenji. It would be perfect. She couldn’t wait.

  “Sure. I’ll have a Kirin.” Elle went behind the bar and furiously washed her hands in the sink. Three times. Then once more. She looked around for Tak but didn’t see him. “Is Tak in his office?”

  Kenji nodded as he handed Elle a beer.

  “Thanks.” Elle took the drink and smiled at Kenji. She was glad she had done the extra lines. She was amped up in a good way. “Is everything all set for Mitch’s birthday next week? We’ll get here from dinner around eleven o’clock.”

  Kenji’s face reddened as he bowed enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. I be here and off work midnight”

  “Excellent!” Elle was pleased. Mitch was absolutely going to die. She put her finger to her lips as she turned to go find Tak. “And don’t worry; it will be our little secret.” Kenji was terrified of Tak or anyone else at the club finding out he preferred the company of men. She would honor his desire to keep it quiet.

  Elle drank her beer as she glided up the stairs to Tak’s office. The blow had really kicked in now. She was practically floating. Whereas only a few hours ago she hadn’t been able to feel a thing, she now felt incredible. What a difference the cocaine made.

  Elle walked into Tak’s office feeling hopeful. Yes, her day had absolutely sucked, but that was all behind her. She was finally going to get her best friend laid. She could pay for their trip to Europe. All was well.

  Tak stood when Elle entered his office. She loved how he did this unfailingly. How it meant he was always eager to see her. It made her feel special and appreciated. As usual, Johnny and Mike were also in the room. Elle wanted them to leave. She wanted to be alone with Tak. She was safe with him. Tak would gently run his fingers through her hair and protectively cup her chin in his hands. Elle had a sudden and desperate need to be kissed.

  She turned toward Johnny and Mike and demanded, more rudely than was necessary, “Go!”

  The two men abruptly turned to leave. By now, they were accustomed to taking orders from Elle. Johnny exited, turning back to look at her. Was that a sneer on his face? Asshole. Elle ignore him and started to kiss Tak longingly.

  He pulled away. “Wait. First, I have something show you. Something you take with us on airplane this weekend.” Tak reached into his desk drawer and pulled out two small, clear containers. They looked like tampons made of glass or plastic.

  “What are those?” Elle was hurt. This was the second time Tak had rejected her advances.

  “They for you to bring on airplane for scuba trip. You put cocaine inside, take with you, we have cocaine for party.”

  “What do you mean?” Elle was confused. Maybe she had done too much blow. She couldn’t think clearly and her heart was pounding.

  Tak motioned to her crotch. “So, you put in there, take inside you. Sugar Puss girlfriends do many time.”

  What? What was he thinking? “No way. That’s gross! And dangerous. What about security?” Elle wished her heart would stop beating so fast. Was she going to have a heart attack?

  “No worry, we on private airplane, no one check. You do this, Blondie. You see, it good.”

  “No, that’s too much.” Elle needed to sit down. Drink some water.

  Tak ran his fingers through her hair. “It fine. I promise.” He kissed Elle behind the ear, a little roughly. He hadn’t shaved—he was trying to grow a goatee—and the stubble scratched at her skin and hurt.

  Tak pulled Elle’s arms above her head and held them together tightly with one hand while his other hand reached between her legs. She usually loved it when Tak took her in this way, the same way he took everything he wanted. But it didn’t feel right. Not now. Elle couldn’t enjoy nor return Tak’s passion. His grip was too tight. Her head was spinning. Her heart was racing. She couldn’t breathe.

  Tak pushed Elle toward the wall, fumbling to get his pants off. As he forcefully entered her, Elle closed her eyes and resisted the urge to cry. For only the second time since arriving in Japan—the first time being her encounter with the pervert while showering at the Zen House—Elle was scared. Terrified, actually.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Imagine Dragons: “Roots”

  June 1, 2017

  11:40 a.m.

  Within moments of sitting down in an espresso-brown leather recliner on the Martin Global private jet, a steward approached Elle asking if she would care for anything to drink. She ordered a sparkling water and took in her luxurious surroundings. It was remarkable just how far she had come from being the girl with the government-issued lunch card, the one who scoured thrift stores for Izod socks. Sure, like generations before them, Elle and Win had wanted more for their children than they themselves had had growing up, but not necessarily All This.

  A private jet hadn’t really been a part of their master plan; they had been happy in their simple life. After leaving the Navy, Win had become enormously successful as a pharmaceutical sales rep, the kind doctors trusted and nurses and office workers looked forward to flirting with. Elle went back to school, got her master’s degree in social work, started volunteering with the SIDS Alliance, and took a job at a women’s shelter. The work was meaningful and fulfilling, and she was good at it. Unlike most of her coworkers—earnest trust-funders whose biggest mistake from their teen years had been weekly trips to tanning booths—Elle could relate to her clients. She understood regret. She was personally acquainted with shame.

  After a few years, Win and Elle had saved up enough to buy their first home, a modest brick ranch in
an up-and-coming neighborhood. Soon after moving in, Elle had become pregnant with Brynnie. They were thrilled. They had it made.

  Then Win had come up with his first Big Idea. During sales calls to doctors’ offices, he noticed how inefficient the ordering process was. To make his job easier, he developed a software program to streamline the tracking of pharmaceutical products. It was a genius solution, and Win had an offer to buy his program around the time Brynnie was born.

  Overwhelmed with caring for a new baby and terrified she would find Brynnie unresponsive and cold like she had her brother, Elle never knew how much Win had profited from the deal. She only understood that she would never again need to worry about money. Jackpot!

  At first, not much changed. Elle upgraded Brynnie’s wardrobe from Target’s Circo brand to Baby Gap. She started treating herself to regular manicures and pedicures and bought some furniture for their house from Pottery Barn, astonished and delighted by her good fortune.

  Over time, one seemingly small decision after another, their lives began to change. Four was born, and they decided to buy a larger home. That it was in a more exclusive neighborhood didn’t seem to be that big of a deal. Joining the nearby country club followed—Brynnie and Four needed a place to take swim lessons and Elle could learn how to play tennis. Private school? Why not? It’s what everyone else was doing. A second home on the lake followed; it was cheaper and more convenient than renting a place in the summer.

  Not one to stay idle, Win continued working on new innovations, each more successful than the last. He started Martin Global, and on and on it went, until they found themselves at the place they were now: in a private jet headed to Tokyo for one of the largest international deals ever.

  Were they Greenwich-hedge-fund-director, Silicon-Valley-dot-com, or Hollywood-movie-star rich? No, they were more your standard Middle America new money, the opposite of old and unassuming wealth. The loud, proud type who bought all the requisite toys associated with their new status: the convertible Porsche, and the boat, and the house in Vail. Still, it had been a mind-numbingly quick hop, skip, and jump from T.J. Maxx to Ann Taylor to boutiques with exposed brick walls where someone with a name like Chandra offered you cucumber water or champagne, whichever you preferred.

  As Elle’s children boarded the plane and took seats in leather recliners of their own, she wondered if they realized how lucky they were. Brynnie, yes; she had spent every summer since ninth grade volunteering in a Third World country. But Four? Did he realize this was not the way most people lived?

  Probably not. How could he? Sure, Country Day required all its students to complete service work, but did picking up litter on the campus of your private school for three hours really count? As much as Elle tried to instill a sense of gratitude in Four, he had still learned how to drive in a $90,000 car. He had tutors, trainers, and every other sort of professional at his disposal to ensure his success. Could her son understand anything less?

  Maybe, but certainly not at that moment. Four was too busy feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t want to go to Tokyo. It meant he couldn’t play in two lacrosse tournaments, and he didn’t want to be away from Tabby. He had asked if his girlfriend could accompany them on the trip, but Elle didn’t think it was a good idea. As much as she approved of Tabby, she was concerned that Four was getting too serious about her. Although certain the teens were not yet having sex, Elle wasn’t prepared to add that headache to her already long list of worries.

  Sulking, Four sat down then stood up again abruptly. “Wait, do they have Ebola in Japan?”

  Brynnie was incredulous. “Are you kidding me? Seriously?”

  “What? Is it so wrong of me to want to know if I’m headed to a country where I might catch a disease that makes blood come out of my butthole? I think that’s some preeetty important information.”

  Elle sighed. How could her children be so different? Hadn’t she raised them in the same way? Perhaps she had been easier on Four. But why? Was she that afraid of having to shut the eyes of another dead little boy?

  Elle tried to be patient, explaining, “There is no Ebola in Japan.”

  Four tilted his head. “What about that Zika thing?”

  Brynnie shook her head in disbelief. “That’s South America. When’s the last time you read the news, genius?”

  Four pulled an issue of Inside Lacrosse out of his jacket. “Cover to cover, baby!” He tapped on the magazine with pride. “That’s forty-eight pages!”

  “Congratulations. I’ll be sure to come visit you when you’re thirty and living in Mom and Dad’s basement, making $10 an hour stringing sticks at Lax World.”

  “Savage!” Four flopped down in a recliner and leaned back lazily. “What you don’t realize is that people pay top dollar for my stringing.”

  To Elle’s relief, Win stepped in. “All right, you two. Simmer down—”

  “Konnichiwa!” Win was interrupted by an astonishingly glamorous woman in her twenties waving to them as she entered the jet. She was tall—of course she would be—and looked like an advertisement for Prada in her black leather pencil skirt, open-toed booties, and crepe bodysuit, which exposed the outline of two incredibly perky breasts. She had blonde hair, the same shade as Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, and it was up in a messy bun, the kind meant to imply it had been casually thrown together, when in fact, it had taken twenty minutes to achieve. She had full lips and a toothy smile. She was the type of person who took lifestyle advice from Gwyneth Paltrow: she ate only raw foods and had her vagina steamed regularly. Elle immediately disliked her.

  “Oh, hello, Ainsley!” Win smiled and introduced the Prada model to his family. All Elle could manage was an icy, distrustful nod. Ainsley? She would have a name like that.

  Brynnie was only slightly more enthusiastic, offering a skeptical smile. Four seemed the most pleased to meet Ainsley. His eyes widened in surprised delight, like he had discovered it was a snow day and school was cancelled.

  Ainsley’s toothy smile made a repeat appearance. “It’s lovely to meet you all.”

  Lovely. That’s just the sort of thing someone named Ainsley would say.

  Perhaps sensing everyone’s confusion over her sudden appearance, Win explained, “Ainsley is the producer of the documentary team who will be filming our negotiations in Tokyo. There was a problem with her ticket, so I offered to have her join us.”

  A problem with her ticket. Yeah, right.

  Win could be so naïve. Elle really despised Ainsley now and was irritated with her husband. Why did he always have to be so nice? Didn’t he see what was going on? There was not a single reason Ainsley couldn’t have traveled with the rest of her team on a commercial flight.

  As it was, Win had decided to make a documentary covering the deal Martin Global was making with the Japanese company Tsugunai. The technology that his company was funding and that they would be introducing together was groundbreaking. Win believed the deal was an important process to document, not out of arrogance—he didn’t do things to feed his ego. No, Win wanted to provide young business people with tangible insight into the complicated workings of a large international deal.

  Elle could hardly argue with his rationale. Still, she didn’t relish the idea of having a camera crew around. Elle had watched enough reality TV—much to Brynnie’s chagrin, the ones about the housewives were a guilty pleasure of hers—to understand the inherent dangers of letting cameras into your life. She suspected the people in these shows set out creating the persona they wanted to portray: “sweet ingénue,” “hardworking, driven career girl,” “sassy troublemaker.” It always worked initially, but then the cast members inevitably got cocky and faltered, revealing their true nature. One simply couldn’t hide the truth from the cameras for that long.

  Of course, this sort of worry wouldn’t enter Win’s mind; he was completely free of guile. His behavior wouldn’t change one bit, camera or not. Elle was in an entirely different situation. Horrified by the idea of being filmed and somehow exp
osed, she had convinced Win that as the point of the documentary was to detail Martin Global’s deal with Tsugunai, their family didn’t need to be very involved. Win had agreed. The film crew would be with them only for brief periods of time, just enough to get footage giving the documentary some context. The bulk of the filming would be done during the business meetings.

  Introductions made, Ainsley asked, “Win, where would you like me to sit?”

  Elle bristled at Ainsley’s use of her husband’s first name. It seemed too personal.

  “Wherever you like.” Win motioned around the jet with his arm and took a seat next to Elle, who took this as a small victory. She was back in high school and the star quarterback had just sat next to her instead of the head cheerleader. He picked me.

  “There’s a spot here,” Four offered, pointing to the empty seat next to him.

  “Win, is that okay with you?” Ainsley asked.

  There was his first name again. What’s up with that? And why was Ainsley asking his permission? Elle was suspicious and looked at Win, searching for clues that would suggest anything other than a professional interest in the young producer.

  Nothing. In fact, Win seemed genuinely taken aback by the question. “Sure, whatever you like.”

  Elle was temporarily relieved.

  As Ainsley took her seat next to Four, Elle couldn’t help but admire the young producer’s breasts. It was like driving by a car accident—she didn’t want to see it, knew it would only upset her, yet she still looked. Yes, Ainsley had perfect tits. Had Elle’s ever looked that good? She looked down at her chest and took stock. Even in an expensive bra with ample support, her boobs resembled two deflated balloons. They had given up, relegated to the sad realization they were no longer of use—the party was long over.