"We can go up to Berkeley and fuck with the bosozoku gangs up there. I hear they have a new girl group. We could get some dragging on and make some extra cash. You guys figure it out. I've got to head to class." Stacey Jones gave us a wave that we returned. Then she walked away from the table.
"Sue Zay, you have a voicemail from your mother," Hogan spoke from my watch because I'd left my ear piece in my suit pocket.
"Uh oh. That's my cue to exit." Xiu Mei stood and shook the ribbons free of her face.
"Mine too. I need to pray before classes anyways, annnnndddddd I don't want to be here when you talk to your mom," Kate Tee smirked at me.
"I don't need to call her now. It can wait!"
"Surrrrreeee," they both said at the same time while they rolled their pretty eyes.
"Let us know what we are doing this weekend, boss. I'm gonna go hit the mosque so that my parents don't want to chew half my ass off." Kate Tee waved a finger at me and then pushed it onto the butt of her leather riding suit. She made a hissing noise and then stood up surprised. "Damn, that is a hot ass. I don't think anyone could handle a piece of it." She grabbed her prayer rug bag and turned in the direction of the university mosque.
"Haha. Get out of here then, bitches. But I'll remind you that the real fucking samurai never left their daimyo in times of need!" The three of us laughed, and they waved before leaving.
"Alright, what does she want?" I said once my friends walked away. I grabbed the earpiece from my pocket and attached it to my lobe.
"Play the message, Hogan," I commanded, and then I heard a beep in my ear.
"Hello, Suzanne, this is your mother."
"No shit, Mom. Fucking genius."
"It is my birthday this Saturday, and I'd like for you to join me for dinner that night or the night before. I have business on Sunday, so I will not be free on that date. Let me know which night works best for you and I will make reservations."
"Ugh. She is killing my weekend. Delete the message."
"Message deleted, Sue Zay." Hogan's accent made it sound much more pleasant than a normal AI.
"Call Mom for me." I heard the ear piece ring and saw the display of her phone number on my watch.
"Don't pick up. Don't pick up," I pleaded after the second ring. I got lucky, and it went to voicemail after the fourth ring. My mother's bigwig-corporate-president bullshit message played, and I took a controlled breath when the beep sounded for me to leave my voice mail.
"Hi, Mom. Got your message. Friday works best for me. Just let me know where we are having dinner. You can send me a text, or email, or whatever. Ummm. Yeah, so I'll see you then."
"Ugh, why do I sound like an idiot when I talk to her?" I asked no one in particular, but I knew Hogan would try to give me a stupid machine answer.
"It is often the case in Asian cultures that children have problems living up to the expectations of their parents. It is especially true when those parents are already very successful in their own careers."
"Ahh go fuck yourself, Freud. Besides, I'm half Asian. I shouldn't have those hang-ups."
"But you do, Sue Zay. It is human." I stared down Hogan's handsome face on the screen, and he tipped his hat as if he'd just complimented my shoes.
"You are obviously under the influence of a virus, and I seriously need to consider reformatting you." Hogan's smile vanished from his face and turned into a painful frown.
"I'm just fucking with you, you handsome bastard. I could never get rid of you."
"If I had emotions, I might cry." The image raised a finger to his eye and wiped a fake tear away like Kate Tee had a few moments ago.
"Save your sympathy for Friday night. I'm gonna need a pint of ice cream and a bottle of tequila to recover from dinner with Mom."
Chapter 3
"Wow. Is that a gasoline engine?" The valet's mouth hung wide open, and his face looked all sorts of stupid.
"Yeah," I pushed Funakoshi's kick stand down and leaned the bike into the upright position.
"Can you even buy gas now?"
"Can you buy some pubic hair?" I gave him a glare and flipped my leather-clad leg off the saddle.
"I'm s-s-s-upposed to park it in the back." The kid was sixteen, and he stuttered the rules to me.
"Naw. I'm allowed to leave him here." I was parked right in the front of the restaurant.
The place was the latest Chinese, Japanese, and American fusion. The chef was supposed to be this genius Michelin jerk-off who thought he could charge five hundred bucks a plate. There were a handful of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and even a McLaren parked in the slots. Funakoshi fit in just fine crouching next to them. He looked like a big, burly dark-purple and pink striped tiger poised to strike.
I sauntered into the restaurant and made a quick right where I guessed the bathrooms would be. The dress code for this place wasn't black tie, but I didn't want my mother to make comments about my riding leathers, or even my motorcycle, while we ate. I soon found the bathroom and used a nice big handicap stall to change.
The stalls here reeked of extravagance. Each one had its own bamboo-paneled door, bidet, and sink. It even had a full-length mirror, and I could inspect my black and gray-speckled cocktail dress from most of the angles after I'd put it on. It was wrinkly in a few spots from being in my riding bag, but I doubted that my mother would notice them because of the dark material. Next, I strapped on my black dress heels and then unpacked a few pieces of jewelry that my grandmother had given me when I graduated high school.
Once I had my clothes on, I brushed my helmet hair down, put a bit of powder on my nose, and touched up my lipstick. The weird forest nightmare had plagued my dreams again last night, and I had dark circles under my eyes that two smears of concealer fixed. Once I finished, I glanced in the mirror and smirked. Okay, maybe I looked too sexy for a dinner date with my mom, but there was no reason she shouldn't think that I was a woman now.
I packed my riding bag up with the leathers, boots, brush, and makeup kit before walking out of the bathroom and into the front room of the restaurant. The maître d's podium was easy to spot, and I forced my smile to be less nervous.
"I am early for my reservation. It is under Zato."
"I have a table for two for Katsumi Zato." The man looked to be in his late forties. He had a touch of gray at his temples and a fully gray mustache. What the fuck was with all the men wearing mustaches?
"Yeah, that's ours. I'm like fifteen minutes early. If it isn't ready yet...."
"I can seat you immediately. We are honored that Ms. Zato is willing to try our new restaurant." The man made a slight bow, and I glanced around to make sure that no one noticed how big of a fuss he made. There wasn't anyone else in the foyer, and I sighed with relief.
"Right this way please." He bowed again and gestured for me to follow. The seating area was decorated with more bamboo, various jade sculptures, and Japanese-flavored lanterns that hung from the ceiling. After a few steps inside, I noticed that there was something wrong with the ground. The entire floor was made of glass, and a pool flowed underneath the area. There were lights at the edges of the water that illuminated hundreds of brightly colored koi fish.
"Allow me." The host pulled out a chair that faced the wall. I shook my head at him and pointed to the one that would give me a wider view of the restaurant. He smiled and then pulled that one away from the table so I could sit.
"Might I take your bag?"
"Ummm." I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I realized that this place was supposed to be classy. My black skull and pink kitty cat-covered leather riding bag wasn't fitting with the decor. "Sure." I handed it to him, and he held it like I'd just given him a fish bowl filled with piranhas.
"I'll store this in our safe and bring it back to you before you leave."
"Thank you." He nodded again and walked away.
"Do you see this place, Hogan?"
"Yes, Sue Zay," Hogan said. There were about forty tables in the restaurant, but only a quarter o
f them were occupied by diners. None of the current customers were close enough to overhear me speaking to my watch, but then again, a lot of people had personal AI units, so it wasn't uncommon to see someone giving orders to their watch, ear piece, or neck computer. "The almond-crusted Bluefin tuna on the bed of buttered pink abalone has the highest nutritional value per calorie intake."
"I'll keep that in mind. Holy shit. Who in sweet Muhammad is that guy?" Two men in expensive looking three-piece suits walked into the restaurant behind the maître d'. The guy on the right was a monster. He must have been six foot four and two hundred twenty pounds of muscle mated to sinew. The man had blond hair, blue eyes, and a face covered in the scars of twenty abandoned tic-tac-toe games. His whole persona reeked of ex-USSR-Eastern European- Aryan poster-ness. I wondered if the man was half human and half polar bear with a peppering of badger thrown in there for good measure. He looked mean as fuck; if Fuck had sex with Fury and made a bastard love child.
But I wasn't talking to Hogan about him.
The man on the left held my fascination. He was tall, three inches shorter than the beefcake next to him, but this man had perfect proportions to his broad shoulders, slim waist, long legs, and toned arms. He was Asian, or maybe half Asian, or a quarter. Or whatever it fucking took to give him beautiful, thick black hair, perfectly smooth white skin, a chiseled chin, and high, round cheekbones. To top it all off, his eyes were a bright, piercing blue, and I felt my stomach leave my body and go dancing on the table. That fucking slut.
Mr. Mustache, the maître d', pointed to the table right-fucking-next-to-mine with a theatrical gesture. The beautiful somewhat-Asian man who had stolen my vagina with his presence gave the creepy waiter a glowing smile and bowed his head. Then both men sat on the same side of the four-person table facing me.
I tried not to stare at them, but they sat not even ten feet away, and both of the men could only look in my direction. I felt my gaze pull like a magnet to the sexy man's face, and our eyes met across the distance. The restaurant started to spin like a flushed toilet, and I felt as if I would descend into the depths.
They were weird. For sure. There is no way a guy that hot would be walking around with a guy that scary looking and sitting on the same side of a table in such a fancy restaurant. Unless.... Ugh. That would be my luck. I'd finally met my soul mate, and the dude was gay with a Russian polar bear.
I hadn't broken eye contact with the Asian man, and the room's spin was beginning to pick up speed. It was probably a few seconds past the awkward phase of my stalker stare, but I couldn't seem to turn my head or look at anything else. Holy fucking Joseph Smith, I felt myself get past the dripping-wet stage, and I switched the legs I had crossed under the table.
"I'm surprised you are early." I hadn't even noticed my mother walk to my table with McCreep the Mustache, and I almost jumped with surprise.
He pulled the chair out for Katsumi, and she moved to sit. Then he mumbled something about how honored they were to have her dine with them. He mentioned getting the chef to come out and greet her, but the woman waved her hand at the groveling man and he shrunk away.
My mother was dressed in a tight, black business suit with a long pencil skirt. She wore a red shirt underneath the jacket, and I guessed it was made of a stupidly expensive silk. Hell, I bet her shoes probably cost more than the yearly rent on my shithole garage.
"I'm trying to be more responsible." I forced a smile to my face and prepared for her next backhanded remark. I kind of wished her face would block the view of the hunk sitting behind her so I wouldn't be distracted, but instead she blocked the giant, scarred man from my sight.
Oh, darn.
"You and 'responsible' are not words I would think to use together." My mother looked at the table, and her perfectly shaped eyebrows lowered. "Why isn't there water?" her voice rose, and there was suddenly a waiter at our side with tall glasses of clear liquid.
"I just got here; they hadn't put them on the table yet." The waiter was in his mid-thirties, and his hands shook slightly when he placed the water on the tablecloth. He had a wedding ring on his hand, and it accidentally hit my glass with a sound that seemed to resonate through my ears like a siren. I noticed that the restaurant was now packed to full capacity, and a quick scan of the diners was telling; they were all bodyguards attempting to look as if they were just casually reading the menus instead of waiting for someone to assassinate my mother.
"Thank you both for dining with us this evening. The specials tonight are-"
"We don't need to hear your fucking specials." My mother sighed and picked up the menu off the table. "Bring us some raw oysters and return when I signal for you."
"Yes Ms. Zato." The man seemed relieved and retreated. Behind my mother, I noticed two more business-suited men had joined the other table. I could still see Mr. Dreamboat, though, and he greeted the newcomers with a warm, gentle smile.
Ugh. Definitely gay. Straight men weren't that handsome.
"What are you looking at?" My mother peered over the menu like a hunting falcon.
"Nothing." I snatched my own menu up and pretended to look at it instead of the hunk at the other table. "I'm going to get the crusted Bluefin on abalone."
"Very well." She folded the menu closed, and it somehow made a clapping sound. Then she slid it to the edge of the table. The waiter was at her side almost instantly.
"Did you decide?"
"Yes. I'll have the baby eel, and she will have...."
"The Bluefin on abalone," I finished.
"Those are two excellent choices. Might I recommend a wine to complement the entrees?" The guy was sweating a bit, and I felt sorry for him. It wasn't every day that you waited on one of the most powerful women in the United States, perhaps the world.
"Just bring us a bottle of what your chef thinks is appropriate."
"Thank you, Ms. Zato. I will let him know, and I'll be back with your oysters shortly."
"Now that that is out of the way…." My mother turned to me.
"Happy birthday. Thanks for inviting me to dinner." I tried to make my forced smile as big as I dared. I guessed that the invitation was just a ruse. Yeah, it was her birthday tomorrow, but the woman hadn't celebrated one with me in the last four years.
"How is school? They took my money this semester, so I'm assuming that you are still attending."
"School is good. I had midterms a few days ago."
"I should get a progress update from the dean shortly then." She looked at her watch and made a few taps on the skin of her hand to set a reminder. Once she finished, her eyes focused on my own watch.
"Are you still using the AI?"
"Yes," I sighed. Here we go.
"Why?"
"I built him. It is what I am going to school for."
"Yes, but you are also going to school for mechanical engineering. I outsource that drivel to Malaysia now."
"It was what Dad majored in," I tried to speak loudly, but it came out like half a squeak.
"And look where it got him." She shook her head with a sour expression on her pretty mouth. "Are you still riding that fucking motorcycle?"
"It was his motorcycle." I felt something hard squeeze my throat from the inside.
"And I told him a thousand times to get rid of it, to get rid of all of them. He didn't listen to me and got what he deserved." I didn't reply to her comment, partially because of the absurdity of her words and partially because the waiter approached our table. He set down our oysters and proceeded to explain something about how these were caught locally using a vertical-farming-organic-wild-method.
"I don't care. Leave," my mother said without even glancing at the man. He moved to take her napkin and place it in her lap, but she waved him away with a hiss. He bowed and then disappeared from the table.
"You shouldn't be rude to him. They can piss in our food." I saw that Mr. Sexy Face was engaging in a deep looking conversation with the man across the table from him. Our eyes met again, and I f
elt my cheeks redden. Fuck me, I'd never been this attracted to someone. Ugh. I suddenly had a fantasy about meeting him in the bathroom hallway. I wouldn't even ask his name. I'd just pull him into one of the stalls, lift my skirt, and push his face down to my crotch.
"They wouldn't dare. Also, he was interrupting us. It is a failing of most of their kind. What were we speaking about?" Her words ripped my little fantasy away.
"School." I tried not to roll my eyes; I'd done that once when I was fourteen, and she'd smacked me so hard my vision had blurred for five minutes.
"AI is a dead end. There is no getting around the government regulations. Your father spent the last six years of his life lobbying. They've only gotten tighter since then. You are chasing smoke with your major. Bio-nano programming is the future."
"People still use them." This wasn't the first time we'd had this conversation, and it wouldn't be the last. As much as I hated to admit it, the woman was probably correct. This might be the last year that Musk Science University had an Artificial Intelligence department. There were too many legal barriers to growing the industry. Not just in the States, but across the entire world. I might as well have been training to be an oil driller.
Or a motorcycle mechanic.
"I've sold off all of those departments already. But maybe I'm wrong, and you'll have a successful career visiting my employee's homes to service their AI systems along with their plumbing." She chuckled and picked up an oyster. The dish came with tiny forks, and my mother ripped the flesh from the smooth part of the shell and devoured it in one bite.
"It's just undergrad. I can move on to something else for my master's."
"And who will pay for that?" She raised an eyebrow, and a smirk came to her red lips.
"You agreed to pay for school as long as I kept my grades up."
"School means undergrad," she sighed and picked up another oyster. She wasn't even bothering to look at me anymore, and I saw the screen on her watch beep with missed messages. She'd always worked long hours when Dad was alive, but once he passed, I came to believe that she never slept again.
Concrete Chaos Page 3