The Cost To Play (Slivers of Love)

by Gaines, Oliva

  “Thanks Bri. Did you come all the way over here to tell me this?”

  “No girl. I came to bring you this.” She opened her large purse and removed a love basket, filled with flavored condoms, a penis ring, a vibrating egg, gels, rubs, and some other items that made Jayne blush.

  “I don’t need any of that stuff! We are just having dinner and watching the ball drop. Take that freaky shit back to your house!”

  “Girl you never know. Those Asian men like this kind of shit.” She headed toward the master bath. “I will just leave this under the sink for future use.”

  “No, Brionna! Get out!” She was laughing as she shoved her friend out the door.

  At 5:45, she dropped the asparagus in the pot, seared the sea bass, and covered the finished plates with cloches and sat them in the warm oven. The dishes used to cook the meal were washed and put away. She even made Toshi a container to go. At 6:10, he knocked at the door.

  Her heart beat sped up as she checked her slacks, patted her hair, and opened the door to welcome him in. She could barely see him behind the gigantic bouquet of flowers.

  “Champagne, flowers, and…” He handed her a golden box. “…of course, chocolates.” Jayne placed the flowers in a vase and added them to the table. “I hope you are hungry, because dinner is ready.”

  “It smells delicious. Is that sea bass?”

  “Yes.” She had not seen him eat anything other than chicken and fish, so she had hoped that the bass was a good choice. “The guest bath is here when you are ready to wash your hands.”

  Out of habit, Toshi removed his shoes and stepped into the bathroom. One wall was painted orange, adorned with abstract paintings. The shower curtain was an unusual pattern that had matching hand towels. The bathroom even had orange balls of soap and tangerine liquid soap. He was curious and opened the second adjoining door to the bathroom which led into her home office. One wall was painted candy apple red and the other was granny smith green. What was with the fruit theme?

  It did not take Toshi long before he noticed the sewing machine and the fabric from Joann’s. She had gone back to purchase it. Jayne called out to him, “get out of my office Toshi Yamaguchi! Stop being nosey!”

  He could not help but laugh, because she had caught him dead to rights. “Get over here so I can feed you this lovely dinner that I have been slaving over all day!”

  As he walked to the table, she took him all in. The navy slacks and soft cream colored shirt with a navy zippered sweater with a hood. His cologne was faint, but smelled fresh like an ocean. His hair was a bit spiky on top, with the rest in a ponytail. The goatee that surrounded those luscious lips, had been trimmed since yesterday. Through the sweater, she could see the muscle definition of his arms. As he took his seat, she could see the muscles in his thighs. Damn, he was fine! Covered in sexy and wrapped up in a blanket filled with a mouthful of “oh yeah”.

  She removed the cloches from the plates and poured the wine. “Bon appetit.”

  Toshi eyed the plate and everything looked wonderful. “Itadakimasu, Jayne.” She strained her mind, remembering the words, “Dou itashimashite,” as she watched him sink his fork into the bass. It flaked apart. When he put a fork full in his mouth, his eyes rolled up in his head. He moved on to the potatoes, then the asparagus, saying nothing as he cleared the plate. Suddenly, as if he remembered he was not alone, he looked up and started to laugh. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was, and it was so delicious, I got lost in the food.”

  “I will take that as a compliment.” The kettle sang as she prepared the water for his tea.

  “Jayne,” he said as she poured his tea and removed his plate. “You are so talented and warm. Why are you single?”

  She kowtowed and served his tea. “Most men don’t want what I want. They want what I represent, but not who I am or what I am.”

  “What would that be?” he asked as he sipped on the perfectly steeped tea.

  “Independent, free thinking, and an artist,” she told him as she cleared her plate and returned to the table with dessert. He watched her spoon the warm apples over the pound cake, pressing the whipped topping just enough to make the perfect white, sweet flower. The plate of dessert looked restaurant quality. It tasted that way as well.

  “Jayne. Can I take a few slices of this cake with me?”

  “Of course. I made you a to go plate of everything I cooked tonight.”

  “Gochisosama,” he told her.

  Jayne replied, “Deshita.”

  This woman, in Toshi’s opinion was incredible. There had to be something wrong, or weird about her that he had yet to spot. “If you keep cooking meals like this, you are going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

  “Don’t worry. My cousin is a cop and I have pepper spray and a gun.” It was said as nonchalantly as if she had just gotten two loaves of bread on sale at the store. He really liked her dry sense of humor.

  On the dining room wall was a painting that covered the entire space. Toshi was entranced by the detail and colors of the abstract rendering. When he stood, it was like looking at different painting altogether. He moved to the living room to look at it from far away and was still able to see something he had not spotted earlier. ‘This painting is amazing!” He moved closer to examine the brush strokes.

  ‘Thank you,” she said shyly.

  “You did this?”

  “Yes. The one above the couch as well.”

  The painting above the couch was of a family of four. The sadness in the mother’s eyes was haunting. The distance in the father’s eyes and expression said something was wrong. The picture depicted the all American family. Even the girl in the pretty pink Sunday dress looked as if her smile had been painted on. Well it had been. He shook his head as he tried to understand everything that Jayne was saying in her brush strokes. She stood beside him and his arm slipped around her waist. He was seeing something special and a view into her inner world. He held his words. She had accused him of having no filters, but his new mission with her was to sift everything that came out of his mouth.

  Jane leaned into his strength as his thumb absently rubbed at her hip. His gaze still transfixed on the painting. “Come, Toshi. Have a seat.”

  He eyed her with a new respect. The art spoke volumes about her private pain. The painting spoke of something unsettled which still resided in her and until it was resolved, there would never be a full-time man in her life. The man in the painting had deserted her and let her down. Toshi silently promised he would not add to her pain.

  The remainder of the evening they chatted. She spoke of her job and he talked about his. The subject eased around to dating history and Toshi was honest. He told her that he had been with Ai for nine months, which was probably the longest he had dated anyone.

  Jayne confessed that she had been on three disastrous dates since breaking up with George. “My last date was so horrible, that I refused to go out with anyone soon afterward,” she confessed. Toshi snubbed the idea that the dates had been that bad until Jayne told him about Phillip.

  “The evening started out fine.” She told him about dinner at his place with some Chinese takeout. He had chosen a movie that she wanted to see, but when Phillip was informed about how she liked to Cosplay, he took it to mean something else. “He excused himself to get more comfortable and I understood. He was still in a tie from work.” Toshi asked if he came back in draw string pants and his shirt opened to the waist.

  “That would have been an improvement over what he came back wearing, Toshi.” She sipped at her wine. “That fool walked out of his bedroom in a leopard Zentai suit with the crotch missing! His junk was on the ready and it was pointing at me, like it was saying, “you’re next”!”

  The visual that formed in Toshi’s mind, made him burst into laughter. “He told me that he liked to play dress up too. He said this through the zipper that covered his mouth, as he started prancing about the room, like he was stalking his prey. He even froze in the middle of the
floor and licked at his knuckles like some big old special needs patient who thought he was a cat!” This caused Toshi to fall over on the couch in gut busting guffaws.

  Toshi was choking because he was laughing so hard. When he was able to speak, he said, “what did you do Jayne?”

  “I told him to hang on. I have my suit in the car. Let me go grab it and we can play together.”

  Toshi was still chuckling, mainly at the expression on her face. She was scowling like she had smelled something horrible. “Did you come back Jayne?”

  “Hell no! I got in my car and drove my happy ass home!” Toshi laughed harder. “I saw that jackass last week in Macy’s, He spotted me and tried to dart out of my way so I wouldn’t see him. He ran into the pillar, nearly knocking his silly butt out.” Toshi was holding his stomach asking her to stop. He was worried he was going to lose his dinner from laughing so hard.

  “It’s not funny Toshi. When men find out I like to draw comics and Cosplay, they automatically think I like to dress up and play kinky sex games.”

  “I wondered as much myself, especially when I saw that basket under the bathroom sink.”

  Jayne gasped. “I can’t believe Brionna left that shit here! And why are you snooping under my sink?” She jumped up and ran to the bathroom, grabbing the basket and throwing the items in the trash. This only made him laugh harder. It took almost an hour for him to stop cracking a smile every time he looked at her.

  The time had sped by. It was 11:55. Where had six hours gone? He was still chuckling as she gathered the champagne glasses and handed him the bottle. She turned on the television to see Ryan Seacrest prepping the crowd. Jayne handed him his coat, grabbed her pistol from the closet, and drug him out to the balcony. Toshi’s eyes were glued to the gun. She really had a gun!

  The countdown began. At the stroke of midnight Toshi popped the cork, poured them both a glass, and watched Jayne shoot into the wood line. “Would you like to shoot it as well?”

  He shook his head no and handed her the glass. Jayne intertwined her left arm into his like a wedding toast with the right hand still holding the revolver. “Happy New year Toshi!”

  “Happy New Year Jayne,” he said as he lowered his head and kissed her tenderly.

  He placed his free hand on her waist and was careful not to stand too close. He deepened the kiss just a bit and then pulled away. She was still holding a gun.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening Jayne. Is there anything I can do to help you clean up?” He rinsed the glasses and collected the bag of his to go plates.

  Disappointment covered her face. What had you expected? You are still holding a gun.

  Toshi saw the look on her face, allowing his eyes to trail to the gun. She sat down the weapon. He used both hands to pull her in close, pressing her back to the fridge. He laid one on her that made her right leg shake like a dog having his belly stroked. She accidently pressed the ice dispenser, causing ice cubes to shoot everywhere.

  “Good night Jayne,” he said as he released her to let himself out of the front door with his to go plates in hand. “Call me.”

  Toshi was grinning as he walked away.

  Yep. He is using a new tactic. Unfortunately for Jayne, this one was working much better. She even liked the new approach. He just upped the ante. Her next move was going to cost a few more chips.

  Chapter 13

  The grinning had not stopped when he went by his parent’s home on Thursday. The lawn care company hadn’t done a very good job and the gutters were brimming over with pine straw. He parked his car, using his house keys to let himself in the back door. His old bedroom hadn’t changed very much and spare sets of clothing were still in the closet. Toshi made a quick change into a long sleeved work shirt, a pair of faded sweats, and some old sneaks, then he put his ear buds in his ears and headed to the shed. Gloved up and on a ladder, he started on the far corner and worked his way toward the back door, singing along with tunes from his iPod.

  Hirishito Yamaguchi arrived home after a grueling day of irrelevant meetings which had accomplished nothing more than increase his desire to retire. It angered him that the staff wanted to corporatize his operation. They suggested that he place tablets on each Hibachi station so that the patrons could place their orders. Bah! The pleasure of dining at a Japanese steakhouse is the experience, the togetherness, and the joy of watching fresh food being prepared before you. His operations manager also wanted to cut food costs by buying pre-made sauces and precut vegetables. Hirishito’s was built on his blood, sweat, and precise knife cuts. He nearly fired the punk on the spot. A sigh escaped his lips as he shuffled through the front door on legs with broken veins and swollen knees. He suffered pains of the trade of a chef, who stood on his feet for too many hours a day. He would soon retire. Soon Kunio would be finished with medical school, married and starting a family of her own. Then he could sell the whole chain, move to Florida, and spend weekends with his grandchildren. Another sigh escaped tired lips. Kunio would be their only hope. He wasn’t sure what was going on with his son.

  As he entered the kitchen, he heard an odd sound as his wife and daughter stared out the kitchen window. “Eri,” he asked. “What is that dreadful sound?”

  Kunio answered, “It is Toshi. Otousan, he is singing.”

  “And cleaning out the gutters,” Eri added.

  Hirishito stepped up to the window and stared out as well. His son was singing and dancing in a way that was not proper with women watching, or for cleaning out the gutters! At the age of sixteen, Toshi had used his allowance to pay his friends to clean out the gutters. Even when he started his job at the university, he hired a lawn care company to come by and handle the yard work. Hirishito was shocked to see him on the ladder.

  “What is all of this about, Eri?” he asked his wife.

  “I don’t know, but he looks…” she paused, exhaling in disbelief. “…happy.”

  On cue, Toshi turned and spotted his family in the window. He gave them an ear to ear grin and waved. All three onlookers shrank back as if watching a 3-D movie with an axe flying at their faces. In between bagging damp pine straw, he would stop, freestyle dance, then get back to the task at hand.

  Eri understood what was going on and did not hesitate to speak her mind. “He is having weird sex with the black woman.”

  Kunio shook her head. “I don’t think so Okaachan. If they have, it was recent, because last week she averted her eyes when he came out of his room partially dressed. I don’t think she has seen him naked.”

  Hirishito was shocked at the conversation between his wife and daughter. “Kunio! You have met this woman that Toshi is seeing?”

  “I have, Otousan. She is nice, pretty, and he really likes her. She makes him smile.”

  Hirishito tried not to be prideful at the cordiality and warmth of his wife and daughter. Toshi was completely the opposite. He trusted few, spoke to even less, and rarely cracked a smile. In elementary school, the principal wanted him tested to make sure he wasn’t suffering with a form of Autism. The battery of tests proved the opposite. His son had an extremely high I.Q.

  When Hirishito enrolled him in martial arts classes, he would win tournaments because his unwavering gaze intimidated the other opponents, resulting in forfeitures. He and Eri spent many nights worrying if he would ever be successful or find a wife, since he went through women like wine. He was bored of them after only a few months. Even when he broke his wrist and had to leave medical school, his face registered no emotion. Toshi shifted his focus and trudged on, never discussing the issue with any of them. There were still days when, as his parents, they felt they did not know their own son. Hirishito looked out the window again, just to be certain of what he had seen.

  He was still singing and dancing. Eri opened the back door. “Toshi, are you staying for dinner?”

  “I would love to! Haha! Are you making my favorites?” He flashed her a wide grin.

  Eri nodded and closed the back door, then looked at he
r husband. “What are his favorites?” She then burst into tears. Her son was 30 years old and she did not know what he liked to eat, because anything you put in front of him, he would devour.

  Hirishito took her in his arms. “Whatever you cook will be fine.” One thing was certain. They had to meet this woman in Toshi’s life.

  Chapter 14

  “Grammy, it’s me!” Jayne called out as she entered the front door of her family home. The pound cake she had baked for dinner the other day was taunting her and she felt it best if it found a new home. Grandpa Joe loved her pound cake, mainly because she only made it on special occasions. When Grandma Pearl saw the cake, she went into the closet and started praying.

  Jayne knew better than be disrespectful and interrupt a woman conversing with the Man upstairs, but she wasn’t certain what had inspired the sudden need to open the line of communication. She refused to eavesdrop and set about slicing a piece of cake for Grandpa Joe to go with his afternoon cup of decaf. She even heated the apples adding a smidgen of the whipped cream.

  Her grandfather was not really a man who watched television with the exception of an UGA football game or some really good fly fishing. This evening he was watching Duck Dynasty and laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. “Grandpa?” she asked. “What has Grammy so upset that she is praying? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  Grandpa took a big slice of cake and shoved it between his bushy mustache and grey beard. Somewhere, in betwixt the scraggly hair resided his lips and mouth. “Chile, she’s praying for you!”

  Jayne’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? What did I do?”

  Grandpa waited for the commercial before answering. “It is not what you have done, but what you are thinking about doing girl.”

  She closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer herself. “What is it she believes I am about to do Grandpa Joe?”

  This question caused a roar of laughter from the old man. “She thinks you are about to do the young man you cooked this cake for, Chile.” He started to laugh again.