by Amara Kent
I shrug again. “I don’t know what to tell you, he managed to make me look at the whole thing in a different light.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this when I picked you up from the airport?” Sara asks with disapproval.
“What? And miss seeing the expression on Tay’s face? I had to wait until I could ConneKT call with her,” I explain, giving Sara a pat on the shoulder.
“So who was he?” Sara continues on.
“I have no idea.”
“You don’t even know his name?” she asks. Taylor confirms my answer with a quick nod, not the slightest bit shocked. She is well aware of my thoughts on sex and relationships. Clinginess is not attractive, neither is “instant love,” or as I like to put it… instant obsession. In my experience, it’s not something that looks good on anyone, because you know what shows? Insecurity. I can’t be dealing with the pressure of figuring out when is the best time to call or message someone. Leaving it strictly at one-night stands ensures that these pressures don’t exist. It’s the very reason no numbers or names are exchanged and I screw in a hotel. It’s a lot of effort, I know, but it’s much easier than the alternative.
“Nope. Didn’t need to,” I respond.
“Wow,” she breathes out. “Does it not bother you that you have no idea who you were that intimate with?” Sara asks.
I scrunch up my nose. I hate phrases like being intimate and lovemaking when in reference to sex. It’s either sex, boning, fucking or screwing. Who “makes love”? “No, Grandma, it doesn’t,” I retort, earning a slap from her.
We haven’t been friends for as long as Taylor and I have. Taylor knows and understands my stance on sex and men in general. She’s been through the same kind of issues I have in the past, so she gets it. Sara and I have only been friends for the past few years. She’s seen some of my dazzling and crazy personality, but not all of it. Especially not my casual behavior toward sex. I’m not some crazed sex bitch going around screwing everything with a pulse, but my sex count also can’t be counted on two hands.
“Nope. Sex is sex. We don’t need to exchange anything to fuck. Unless we’re going to be friends, I don’t care who you are or what you do.”
“So how do you even get them to leave with you? There has to be some kind of conversation, right?”
“Of course there is. Some guys need to know that they have what it takes, and that requires charming women. Other times, I hold a conversation long enough to know if they’re going to be a good enough root for me.”
“So how do you have a conversation without knowing their names?”
“I advise them in the beginning that that’s how it’s going to go down. If they don’t like it, then they leave.”
“How do you know a guy is good for you by very little conversation?” Sara asks, utterly fascinated.
“I can just tell. The way they hold themselves. If they come straight out with this cocky attitude, then I know that they’re all talk and no action. I don’t always get it right, but for the most part, I do.”
“Wow,” Sara says again, and I smile at her.
“So what does he look like?” Taylor asks.
“Baby, come back to bed.” Dean groans, leaning in from the doorway.
“Hey, Dean.” I wave at the computer screen.
His shoulders sink and he releases a groan. “Hey, Kerri,” he says with a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention back to Taylor. “What are you still doing up? We have an early meeting with the wedding planner.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Taylor advises.
“You better. I don’t want to have to tell you again,” he warns.
“Oh really? What will you do if yo—”
My eyes grow wide at the instant erection tenting Dean’s boxers. “Seriously? Please take your hard-on out of here, Dean. Sara and I don’t need to see that.”
With no apology—not that I was expecting one—he throws Taylor one last warning glare before walking off.
“So that’s Dean Lukas, huh?” Sara giggles.
“Sure is. That’s my fiancé.” Taylor beams with pride. “So yeah, what does he look like, Kerr?”
I lean back in my chair with a smile on my face. His gorgeous tanned features come into view in my mind, as clear as if he were standing in front of me. Remembering how he made me feel. How intense my orgasm was. The way his full plump lips cracked open into a beautiful smile that reached his eyes. His undivided attention on my nipple as he worked my clit. I can almost feel him touching those parts of me all over again, making my panties dampen and nipples pebble from the memory.
“If I’m not mistaken, I’d say she’s smitten,” Sara comments with a slight smile.
“That’s not smitten,” Taylor corrects. “That’s her reliving the moment. If you hear some moans and screams coming from her room, just ignore it, she’ll be masturbating. Sometimes she sounds as if she’s getting murdered.”
Smitten. The last time that happened was when I was with Garrett. The man I thought was my whole world. The man I thought had the answers to life and everything in it. As a lawyer, he seemed like he knew everything, and I was so drawn to his confidence and arrogance I thought was only an act. In reality, everything I had found sexy about him twisted into something I feared most. In the end, I had to leave to get my life back on track. That was the young, stupid, and naïve me. The one that thought princes who slew the dragon and rescued you from a deep sleep, actually existed. It was from being with Garrett that I realized that all the men in the fairy tales were fake. That they end the book at them getting married because they don’t want the reader to know what comes after.
Where the fairy tale ends and the horror movie begins.
I shake my head. “This look is not someone who is smitten. I don’t do smitten,” I agree with Taylor.
“Did you get his—”
“Bed. Now.” Dean stomps in. “Sorry, ladies, but I need to take her to bed.” He gives us a quick wave and hangs up on us.
“Is he always like this?” Sara asks.
“Unfortunately, yes. He gets very grumpy when he’s sleepy and Taylor has gone against his wishes.”
Sara looks at me with concern flooding her eyes.
“Don’t worry. He usually just punishes her sexually. He would never lay a hand on her that way,” I explain. She visibly relaxes and I smile at the misunderstanding.
“I’m so glad to hear. I would hate for a nice girl like Taylor to be involved with an asshole.”
“Oh, such cruel words coming from you,” I tease. “No chance of that happening. Taylor’s been around enough soft pricks pretending to be hard ones, to ever put herself in that position ever again.”
“And you?” she asks softly.
“What about me?”
“There’s a story there,” she murmurs.
I laugh. “There’s no story with me that’s interesting. Got cheated on one too many times. That’s it.” I shrug to emphasize just how menial my experience was. In reality, it was so much more than I’m making it out to be, but she doesn’t need to know the true story of how things came to be. Nobody does.
With an uncertain look, she sighs and shrugs, changing the topic. “So, I’ve allowed you to rest for the remainder of the day. Make yourself comfortable. In two days we will head down to Kitanomaru Park in Chiyoda. It’s one of the best places to view the cherry blossoms. I’ll prepare a nice picnic and we can take a little boat out on the river and eat lunch while we look at the trees.”
“How very romantic of you.” I waggle my brows.
She lets out a light laugh. “You never know, you may just get lucky if you play your cards right,” she teases back in return.
“Oh, I know I will. I always get what I want,” I say seductively, edging closer to her and placing my hand on her lap, inching it farther up her leg. An audible gulp can be heard as I brush my lips along her cheek. With a quick jerk of her body, she jumps up and shakes herself off.
“Damn you!�
�� she exclaims in exasperation.
“Yes!” I fist pump the air.
Gay chicken. Can’t be one hundred percent certain when or how it came about, but I’m pretty sure we were drunk when we did. We’ve been playing it randomly ever since. So far, I’ve won every single time. She’s so easy to get all panicky.
“That was way too easy. Never go up against a chick who’s fucked women before,” I tell her.
“How do I keep forgetting that you’ve had multiple threesomes with women?” She shakes her head in defeat.
“I’d be weirded out if you remembered. I shouldn’t be taking up so much space in your head. That compartment should be reserved for that fine-ass boyfriend of yours.”
She stares off dreamily and I don’t stop the eye roll. “Hey, I saw that,” Sara grumbles.
“Of course you did. It’s not like I tried to hide it.” I roll my eyes again, mockingly this time. “So how is Satoru?”
“He’s really good. He’s in America at the moment, working on a movie.” Her eyes light up with pride and I think back to the moments where I used to be this loved up. Sara’s boyfriend is a famous actor here in Japan. The two have known each other for some time now—family friends—and it wasn’t until recently that they fell for each other. Now they are pretty much inseparable; that is, when she’s not touring or in lavish places on photo shoots, and when he’s not filming his next big movie. He used to be one of the most prominent Japanese actors in America before him and Sara got together. Now, he’s basing himself more locally, so he has more time with her. It’s rather sickening if you ask me, but I will admit that it is cute and endearing seeing the two of them together.
“I thought he was going to stay here from now on.”
“He was, but this was an opportunity he kind of couldn’t pass up,” she explains.
“What’s the film?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. It’s completely hush-hush. Not even the cast knows what they’re working on.”
“Wow.” I breathe. “It must be a pretty huge project if not even the cast know what they are acting in. They usually do this for highly anticipated movies and film adaptations of books. How are you going to deal with him gone?”
“I don’t know.” Her head falls slightly, a pout on her lips. “Even though I have you here with me for three weeks and I’m flat-out with work, I’ll still really miss him.” I make barfing noises and she picks up a cushion and playfully hits me with it. “Stop it!” She giggles. “I can’t wait for the day you fall so hard you end up a walking glob of goo.”
I shake my head. “That will never happen to me.”
“Never say never,” she singsongs as she exits the bedroom. I follow her out into the kitchen where she collects two wineglasses and a bottle of a fruity red from the fridge. She gestures to the bottle with her head and I nod.
I take a sip, sinking into my seat before I answer. “I assure you, there is no chance of this gal,” I point to myself, “falling for anybody. I don’t have a heart, remember?”
“You have a heart, it’s just locked behind a thick wall of ice. But you know what happens to ice when there’s heat?” Ugh, rhetorical questions. I loathe them so much. “It melts. Being cheated on multiple times has that effect on people, but sooner or later, you’re going to find someone warm enough to melt those walls and strike you straight in the heart.”
“You’re such a sad sap,” I grumble.
The thought of this heart of mine beating for someone is preposterous. It’s so absurd it’s borderline fantasy. I promised that nobody would ever come close to it to ever use me the way Garrett had, ever again. It’s been about seven years since I allowed someone to crush me physically, mentally, and emotionally. Since I made that promise to myself, I’ve never been happier.
“And your experience has made you cynical, but there’s no need to throw insults.” She smiles at me warmly before taking a sip of her wine.
“It’s not like I don’t believe in the concept of love. I do, otherwise, I wouldn’t be in the business I’m in. I just know that that’s not the kind of life for me.” There’s so much sadness and pity in her eyes it makes me frown. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”
“I can’t help it. The fact that you don’t believe you are deserving of it is sad,” she says quietly.
“I never said I wasn’t deserving, just that it’s not in the cards for me,” I chide.
“Same thing, Kerr. Same thing.”
Chapter Four
Kerri
When I was in junior high, our history teacher took us to the Smithsonian. It was spring and the cherry blossoms were on full display. I think it’s a requisite for every history teacher within the state and surrounding areas to go to the nation’s capital and visit the museum. The disinterest that surged through me was strong. I’ve never been into history, it bores the fuck out of me. Computers and physical education were more my thing. I loved getting physical and dirty playing all types of sports, and when I was old enough, I loved getting physical and dirty in other ways… You know what I’m talking about. I had just arrived at this school and I hadn’t made any friends yet. It wouldn’t be until the bus ride home that Taylor and I would meet and become lifelong friends.
It was seeing the cherry blossoms that made the trip worthwhile. We didn’t have them where I grew up, and this had been the first time I had seen them in person. Not wanting to be bored shitless, I snuck away from our group and sat along the edge of the Tidal Basin, under the cherry blossom trees. Things hadn’t been the best at home, with my mother catching my father cheating on her, effectively throwing their marriage down the drain. You would think this would have been the pinnacle moment where my fucked-up views on relationships would have stemmed from, but no, it wasn’t. I still had hopes, despite my parents’ shattered marriage. They tried to keep the household together for the sake of me, but it didn’t work, and I would find my mom crying in her bedroom and my dad drinking in the living room a lot of nights. It had been a month since my dad had left us for good. I got the typical spiel from them. “We still love you, sweetheart. We still love each other, but we love each other more as friends. What has happened to us will not affect how we are with you.” You know, the usual bullshit parents feed you when they think you’re not smart or mature enough to handle the truth.
Things were tense, and I carried my mom through each day while she attempted to piece herself back together to form a semblance of an adult. It was something no teen should have had to deal with, but it was my life. In the end, I was tired and fed up and unable to give a shit about anything, especially school. When I saw the various shades of pink flowers that colored the trees, giving it the most tranquil feel, it was as if those last few months hadn’t even happened. It was as if my parents’ problems weren’t mine. It was as if my parents were back together and we all lived under the same roof. They had this strange calming effect on me, drawing me into a state of inner peace. The troubles of the world and the people in it washed away with the simple smell and sight of the cherry blossoms.
Ever since, they’ve been my go-to. My way to ease the demons that sometimes raged within me, or when I need a moment to refuel. I’ve always said that when I can afford it, I’ll buy a small piece of property, maybe a few acres, and plant some cherry blossom trees and hang a hammock from them so I can lie underneath. When I returned home later that day, I ran to my room and researched everything about the wonderful trees that could elicit such a visceral and spiritual feeling within me, needing to know what it was about them that was so magical, which led me to Japan. I looked up videos of the multiple festivals held there and everything there was to know. It was immediately put on my bucket list.
I sigh as I look out at the cherry blossoms. The way they sway in the light spring breeze. The variants in colors that range from a bright pink to white with a splash of pink. Seeing these for the first time in Washington, DC was one thing, but being here in Japan is an entirely different experience altogether.
I feel at home; at peace, both mind and soul, as we float along the river. The quiet laps of the water as it moves us along, lingering in with the sounds of the people that have come here.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy,” Sara states, amused.
“What can I say, they do something to me. You know the way you look and feel when you think about and see Satoru? It’s the same thing I get when I’m in with the cherry blossoms. Now that is a love I can get behind.”
She chuckles. “It really is something. You’re going to love it here at night. They put little lights in amongst the trees and the way they illuminate the flowers, it’s breathtaking. I’ll have to take you to Nakameguro Cherry Blossom Festival, where we can walk along the river and get some food. It’s quite pretty at night and I think you’ll love it. It gets really busy, but I’m sure you can handle it, being a New Yorker.”
“New York has prepared me for every type of busy there is in the world,” I say earnestly.
“I don’t know how you do it. I always thought Tokyo was busy, but New York is something else entirely. And all the blaring horns and sirens. I don’t know if I could ever live there.”
“You get used to it. It’s not my favorite place in the world, but it’s pretty great.” I smile.
“Are you hungry?” Sara asks.
I nod with excitement. I’ve been hungry since we got here.
She reaches over and places the picnic basket on her lap. “When you were getting ready, I went down to my favorite sushi place and got us some nigiri. I also went across the road and got us some sparkling strawberry drinks. It’s non-alcoholic. I figured these were the best things to take on a boat picnic.”
She hands me a small bento box full of salmon and tuna nigiri with a little compartment for soy sauce and wasabi. I pull off the lid and take a whiff of the best food to have graced our planet. “I can’t wait to eat nigiri in Japan.”
“It’s not that different from eating it in America,” Sara states with a giggle.