by Lia London
Chapter 2 ~ China Doll
Chieko took one look at Barth and whimpered into her palm. On top of Frank, she had to deal with Barth, a bouncing St. Bernard of a man who made it his life’s mission to flirt her to death. Summoning her most polite tone, she plastered on a smile. “Hi Barth. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Never dreamed you’d be so lucky, huh?” Barth fired two thumbs up at Frank. “Dude! Did you set this up? Sweet! A double date.” He swirled his fingers over the table.
“We didn’t know you were coming,” said Frank.
“Oh, right.” Barth frowned and spun back to look at Chieko. “But there’s four chairs, so … Wait, you got another date?”
Chieko, eying Amaya meaningfully, asked, “Is that an option?”
“What?! You’re killing me, China Doll!”
Chieko resisted stomping her foot only because she feared her spiky heels might pierce the linoleum. “I’m Japanese-American, Barth. For the four-millionth time.”
His beefy paw enveloped one of her hands. “The important thing is you’re a doll, and you’re here, and Frank’s been cooking us up something.” He paused and sniffed. “Well, it smells better than it looks.”
Chieko gave in and smiled at this. Barth’s candor exceeded Amaya’s because he’d never learned to season it with tact. Holding up a finger, Chieko carried the sour cream into the kitchen. “I’ll be right there.”
Barth pantomimed holding back his beating heart and sang quietly, “Waiting for you!”
She rolled her eyes in Frank’s direction, and he pressed his lips together, squashing a grin.
“He’s having work troubles, too,” whispered Frank.
Chieko’s eyes widened. “Really? That stinks.” A penitent corner of her mind urged her to smile kindly at Barth. At least she could show some empathy. Well, maybe not. That required emotions. But she could be nice.
Civil.
From a distance.
Except Barth rounded the counter and squeezed her in a side hug. “So what brings you by? I saw you on TV this week. You looked almost as good as I do.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t let me wear a big number on my chest,” she quipped, trying to squirm free. “But thanks for watching,” she added, when she saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes.
“You enjoy your job?” he asked.
“What’s left of it.”
Barth spun on his heel with a questioning look. “What’s she talking about, Amaya?”
Amaya graciously explained Chieko’s situation while Frank silently ushered everyone toward the table. With a rush of guilt, Chieko realized she and Barth had unwittingly sabotaged a quiet, romantic dinner for two. What a waste, considering her lack of appetite. Before she could apologize to Frank and excuse herself, Barth’s mammoth hand clasped hers tenderly.
“Time for grace,” he said, reaching to Amaya with his free hand.
Chieko tensed and started to pull away, but then Barth’s words brushed her ears. His tone changed, no longer boisterous and loud, but gentle and sincere. He gave thanks that they’d come together as friends, and for Amaya and Frank’s generosity. He even pled for Chieko to find a better job, one that would make her truly happy.
When he finished, he gave her hand a soft squeeze.
“Amen,” she whispered.
Barth let go of Amaya and brushed a lone tear from Chieko’s cheek with his thumb.
Chieko froze at the sweet intimacy of the gesture, realizing he still held her other hand. Both places where his skin touched hers warmed. So did a little spot inside of her. Curse Barth for the way he short-circuited the control board of both her mind and body.
With his eyes locked on Chieko’s, Barth called out cheerfully, “Hey Amaya, what if China Doll and I take our plates over to the couch and get out of your way? I mean, we’re glad to be at Frank’s restaurant, but we didn’t have reservations, so we can…” He shrugged, grinning. “You know. Let you do your thing at the table, all googly-eyed and stuff.”
To Chieko’s horror, Amaya gave a lop-sided grin. “All right. We’ll come back together for dessert.”
Barth shuffled in place as if trying to fake out a charging quarterback. “I got my dessert looking at sweet China Doll over here.”
Chieko closed her eyes. At this rate, she’d end up on the six o’clock news tomorrow night—not as the anchor, but as a suspect in a homicide. Could quiche be turned into a lethal weapon?
Balancing his plate on one knee and a second can of Pepsi on the other, Barth tried to relax into the stuffed recliner. For the first time ever, his flirtations left him uncomfortable. With Amaya and Frank sitting across the room playing footsies and murmuring sweet nothings to each other, the pressure to be romantic with Chieko mounted.
But flirting with Chieko wasn’t the same as romancing her. Barth couldn’t imagine what that would entail. Her quiet nature and dainty features were alien to him after years of jostling with big boys. Though he hoped to fall in love someday, he doubted Chieko would be the right kind of woman for him.
He glanced at the way she studiously scowled at her quiche.
No, she would hate him. She always seemed on edge when he was around, and he didn’t know if it was his presence that caused it, or if she went through life with mild indigestion and a budding migraine.
“Not into egg pie, huh?”
Chieko’s eyes widened as if alarmed he’d spoken to her. Her knees pressed together tightly, giving a precarious perch for her plate as she sliced her dinner into tiny pieces without actually taking a bite.
“Um. I don’t know. I haven’t tasted it yet.”
“Are you chopping it up for a pet or a baby or something?”
Her back stiffened. “I don’t have a baby.”
“No, I didn’t figure you did.” Why had she gotten so defensive about his joke? Did she really have no sense of humor?
Or was he not as funny as he hoped?
Barth chewed for a moment and washed the spinach from his teeth with a few mouthfuls of soda all while trying to think of something to say. He sighed. “So, if you aren’t a China Doll, what should I call you?”
She set her fork and knife down. “There’s this bizarre custom in America of addressing people by their given names.” With a wry grin, she held out her hand. “Hi, my name is Chieko Makiguchi. You can call me Chieko.”
He stared at the hand, blushing before taking it carefully. “Aw now, that isn’t nice. I know your name.”
She wiped her hand after he released it, and he realized his shake must have been cold and clammy from holding the can of Pepsi.
“I’d be delighted if you proved that in all our future interactions,” she said icily.
Stung, he chuckled nervously. “You’re starting to talk like Frank over there.”
Chieko shrugged and picked up her silverware.
Barth leaned forward, trying to lighten the mood. “Future interactions? Is that an invitation?”
She stared at him, her face a mask without emotion.
Why did she hate him?
Insecurity roiled in his stomach, summoning a burp which he tried to muffle by aiming into his pop can, but that amplified the sound instead. His eyes flew open wide with embarrassment as Amaya groaned.
“Bartholomew Jefferson, I swear I can’t take you anywhere without you showing off you’re part rhinoceros. Can’t you behave in a civilized manner in front of my friends?”
Chieko snorted with laughter, then tried to cover her mouth, causing her dish to clatter and almost spill onto her lap.
Barth pointed to Chieko while addressing Amaya. “Your friend is some kind of animal, too. Can’t you hear her snuffling?”
Chieko practically convulsed with laughter, and her plate tipped. The tidbits of quiche slid down onto her pressed navy skirt as the fork flipped and spun, splattering another piece into her hair. Her limbs flailed, trying to prevent the mayhem, but then her hand flew to cover her reddening face, and she let out a choked gasp.
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Barth bolted forward, dropping his own food to the floor in an effort to pound on Chieko’s back. Surely, she had inhaled some crust and would die if he couldn’t dislodge it from her throat.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” She coughed between pounding. In one sharp move, she spun and grabbed his arms, preventing him from continuing his rescue.
Barth studied her face. “You’re not choking?”
Her eyes rimmed with tears. “No.” Her gaze flitted over to the couple at the table who now sat watching the action. She wiped her nose and stared at the mess in her lap. “Just dying of embarrassment.”
Barth sank to his knees in horror at how he’d misread her. Gently picking the egg from her hair, he searched for the right words to apologize. “I’m so sorry, China Doll. I—”
Chieko split the air with a pterodactyl-like screech and stormed into the bathroom.
Barth gaped after her, feeling two feet tall.
When Frank cleared his throat, Barth looked at Amaya with false bravado. “I have a strange effect on women.”
He said it jokingly but knew the truth.
Bartholomew Jefferson didn’t tell jokes. He was a joke.
With quiet consternation, he bent to the task of cleaning up the remnants of food. As he put their plates in the sink, he muttered, “I’m really sorry I ruined your nice dinner, Frank. Thanks for our little talk.” Before Frank or Amaya could say something polite but untrue about Barth’s clumsy efforts, he rushed to the front door. Bowing out, he called, “I’m sorry, Miss Chieko. Good luck on the job search.”
She didn’t answer.
He closed the door behind him.
“Chieko! How’s my favorite amnesiac?”
Furrowing her brows, Chieko searched her scrambled brain for a hint of recognition. The female voice on the phone did not ring any bells.
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
The voice cackled like a cartoon witch. “For the love of peanut butter, Chieko. You nail that act!”
Chieko’s brain did a somersault, and she sat up in bed. “Parker?” The director of Team Northwest from Who Wants to Be a Soap Star? “What—why are you calling?”
“Yeah, great to hear from you, too,” said Parker with her familiar executive snark. “Hey, I understand you’re doing some quality work with the Portland news station.”
“Yeah,” said Chieko dully. “Not enough to keep me full-time, though.”
“I heard that, too.” Parker’s unexpected cheerfulness irked her.
“Bad news travels all the way to California that fast, huh?”
“Oh, I’m up in Puget Sound now,” explained Parker. “And it isn’t bad news if it means we can help each other.”
Chieko perked up, swinging her feet to the floor and blinking at her illuminated clock on the nightstand. 12:25. “It’s kind of late. Is there an emergency?”
“Oh, for crying—it’s after midnight! I am so sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I talked too long with Amaya.”
“Amaya?” Chieko yawned and sagged back onto her pillow, flashbacks of her earlier display of clutzery weighing her down.
“Yes, she called me tonight—or, I guess last night since it’s this morning now—and told me about the crappy situation you’re in. Do you still want to stay on there?”
Chieko rubbed her eyes. Did she really want to talk about her job with this woman? The reality show had been a mixed bag of successes and failures, most of which Chieko wanted to leave behind. It wasn’t as if she and Parker had grown close during their brief time working together.
“For the love of opportunity knocking, Chieko, stay awake for ten more minutes.”
“What? Huh? Oh.” Chieko yawned one more time, stalling. “Yeah, I mean. I don’t know. I enjoy the job okay, but if I can only do the weekend anchor stuff, it’s not enough to pay the bills. But part of me is afraid to quit because they might take me back on for the roving reporter stuff, and—”
“Do you prefer the field work?” pressed Parker. How did she sound so alert?
“Um, yeah. Better than the anchor stuff. It’s more interesting.”
“Can you put together a feature a week—research to editing—with my help?”
A shiver of excitement woke Chieko up completely. “If you’re helping, I can probably do anything.” Chieko knew Daisy Parker had extraordinary talent when it came to directing film features.
“My goal would be to train you to fly solo, but here’s the scoop.” Parker spent the next five minutes speaking faster than a prescription med commercial listing side effects, but Chieko absorbed the gist: Parker needed her to do reports as part of a cable TV show featuring unsung Northwest community heroes.
Chieko’s mouth dropped open. She’d just done such a report which proved astonishingly effective, helping to garner additional support for a homeless shelter annex and advancing the career of the man she had featured, Crawford Andrews. The man she’d met on Who Wants to Be a Soap Star and made a fool of herself with.
Small world.
Freakishly so.
Maybe Crawford somehow returned the favor and sent Parker her way? But no. Parker said she’d been talking to Amaya.
“Chieko, I swear to Sasquatch, if you fall asleep on me, I will rescind the offer.”
“Oh!” Chieko squeaked. Lost in her thoughts, she’d forgotten to answer. “Of course I’m interested! This is amazing!”
“If you can stay with me for the three segments I have in mind, we might be able to pitch this wider than regional cable. We’ve been growing this for almost a year now and have a steady viewership. This is my dream, you know: featuring the little guy in big ways. I’d love to have you in the project.”
“But what if I’m not good enough for—?”
“Chieko Makiguchi, don’t even go there. You’re the one with the platinum performance on the yacht. You can think on your feet, and you don’t let powerful people push you around. You’re a Japanese dragon.”
Despite her self-doubt, Chieko smiled. “You know the Japanese don’t see dragons as ferocious, right? They are symbols of wisdom—a force for good.”
“Even better,” cheered Parker. “Okay, I’ll let you sleep and do your show tomorrow—or later today. Call me Monday morning, and we’ll get the details ironed out for the next few weeks.”
Chieko gushed with gratitude, both for a chance to redeem herself professionally and for the adequate income that would keep her from having to crawl to her parents for help. “I promise I’ll do my very best, Parker.”
“I know you will. This is going to be great. Oh, and guess what? I snagged a second cameraman to help, too. My fiancé, Guy, will be training him up with some of the best skills on the planet. All bias aside, my Guy’s amazing.”
Chieko’s throat curdled. Parker had a fiancé? How could a woman that domineering and career-driven find time or inclination for love? “That’s nice,” said Chieko weakly.
“I think you know him,” said Parker. “It’s Amaya’s cousin, Bartholomew Jefferson.”
Parker disconnected the call before Chieko found the voice to scream.
Chapter 3 ~ Parker’s Project
Barth suspected God enjoyed a good prank. Why else would He answer Barth’s petitions but add such a humbling twist? He now had a job opportunity that would provide the field experience he needed, but it required working with Chieko Makiguchi.
Of course, three days ago, that would have seemed like an answer to prayer, also, but since he’d made a complete idiot of himself in front of her and offended her one too many times, the idea of seeing her again made his stomach feel like a pile-up of defensive linemen crushing a running back two feet from the goal line. Why was she the only girl who got cranky about his joking around? And why did it bother him so much?
Still, he couldn’t blow this chance. Amaya’s connections deserved respect, and Grammy and Pappy wouldn’t host him on their sofa forever.
Squaring his shoulders but tempering his usual swagge
r, he shoved open the door to the Mo’s Chowder PDX and strode in. He spotted Chieko almost immediately, browsing a rack of keychains and postcards in the foyer near the cash register.
He gave her a half wave. “Hey, Chieko.”
She looked up, her eyes wide. “You remembered my name.”
Barth tapped the side of his head. “Sometimes stuff sticks.”
Her lips blended into a cute smile, and a grin bloomed on his own face, too.
“Who knew there was a Mo’s here in Portland? I thought that was a Coast thing,” he said.
Chieko nodded. “Yeah, maybe it’s new.” She drew a breath and scanned the room in a wide arc as if looking for someone.
Barth took the moment to appreciate the paradox of her prettiness. Though petite and poised, Chieko was no wilting flower. An inner fire sparked in her dark eyes, and she kept great energy harnessed and locked, usually within the confines of a buttoned business jacket.
Well, except when he made her blow up by playing the proverbial bull in a china shop.
At the image, he flinched. Not China Doll. Japanese descent and proud of it. Shouldn’t he understand the importance of honoring ethnicity and heritage?
By the time her gaze circled back to him, he’d struck a casual pose. “Is the lady, Daisy Parker here yet?”
Chieko’s eyebrows crept higher. “Not yet. And don’t call her Daisy or she might tear your head off.”
“No joke?” Barth hesitated. “Really?”
“Really.” Chieko smiled. “She’s super smart and super to-the-point. No goofing around, okay?”
Barth chuckled self-consciously. Was Chieko giving him real advice about Parker, or voicing her own frustration with his playfulness?
It didn’t matter. He’d be on his best behavior either way. No more flirting and clowning. This job could help his future, and he didn’t need to go upsetting Chieko with his antics and getting himself fired.
“Oh, there she is now.” Chieko pointed past his shoulder.
An unassuming white woman in jeans and a blue jacket rushed towards Chieko with her arms outstretched. “Chieko! Oh my gosh, your hair is so long! It’s great to see you!”