Under a Silver Moon

by Barbara Sheridan

  Kim frowned. “No. If I do that, then I’ll sound like some jealous twit.” She sighed and shrugged. “I guess I’ll head home.”

  But did Imai’s house even feel like home anymore? They spent so little time together these days…

  She started to leave, and Koji caught her hand. “But what about your happiness, Kim-san?” he insisted. “You should talk to him.”

  “It’s fine, really.” She patted his hand before slipping out of his hold. “One brush-off from her doesn’t mean anything.”

  Koji called her back. “Jun won’t be back from L.A. till tomorrow. Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight?”

  Kim smiled. “I have plans. Imai and I have plans. It’s my birthday, and he promised me a night on the town.”

  “Well, I’m sure that’s one date he’ll definitely be keeping. I know I would.”

  “You’re an incorrigible flirt, Koji Takasoto.”

  Koji winked, then gave her a wave before heading off in the direction of his record label’s offices.

  Kim made it to Imai’s house with more than enough time to take a bath and change for her night out. Thanks to Michiko handling the costumes, Kim didn’t have to press them or make any alterations, so she used the opportunity to go all out for the evening. Not since the night of the fashion show had she dressed up so fancily, with an off the shoulder, burgundy dress and her hair swept up in a French twist.

  After making it to the restaurant an hour early, she waited for their table and sipped on a light cocktail in the upscale restaurant’s lounge area. She thought of calling Imai when the better part of a half hour passed, but was surprised when the hostess approached her first with a message.

  “Kim Donovan?” the young woman asked, and Kim nodded. “I’m sorry, but your companion won’t be joining you tonight.”

  “Oh.” Kim just stared for a moment as it sunk in. “Was there a message at all?”

  “No. I’m sorry.”

  Kim finished her drink then went outside. It would be easy enough to hail a cab back home. She thought of going to the studio, but if Imai was so busy…She pulled out her cell phone. He hadn’t tried to call her directly, which was kind of odd, but then he was a man and maybe he hadn’t wanted to deal with her disappointment which was sure to have come across.

  Giving in to impulse, she dialed his cell but got no answer. She sent a text message instead. I know you’re busy, but try not to work too hard. Much love, Kim.

  * * * * *

  “Well isn’t that just sickening,” Michiko Izumi muttered to herself as she erased the message and wiped out the traces of that bitch’s missed call. She told Imai she’d handle any incoming calls or messages while he was practicing and she did ‑‑ in her own unique way.

  “Who was that?” Michiko almost jumped when Imai came up next to her chair on the side of the stage.

  “No one important.” Michiko recovered quickly, flashing him a coy smile. “Just an entertainment magazine trying to schedule an interview.”

  “Ah,” he said quietly, not looking the least interested in the possible publicity. “But no other calls from Kim?”

  Michiko hid her scowl. Didn’t he ever stop thinking about that woman? “No, just the one where she cancelled dinner.”

  He took a long drink from the water bottle in his hand, looking distractedly across the stage to where the band was tuning their instruments for another set of songs. “I wonder if everything’s all right…” he asked himself quietly.

  “This business with her daughter has her completely preoccupied.” Michiko shrugged. “She was practically begging me to take over most of these responsibilities for your tour, Imai-san. I hate to suggest this, but her attention isn’t focused on her job right now.”

  “It’s understandable. I don’t know how she’s handling this at all. If Mandy were my daughter I’d go rip Makana’s balls off and shove them up his ass.”

  “Oh, Imai-san, no daughter of yours would behave in such an outlandish way. It’s those Americans and their horrid morals. I tried to talk to the girl, but she hears what she wants to, I’m afraid.”

  He nodded then went back toward the stage when his guitarist called to him. “Give Kim a call for me. Tell her I’ll bring dinner home.”

  “Of course.” She pretended to dial the phone and when he ascended the stage and looked at her she shook her head to indicate that Kim had not answered. The fleeting look of pain in his eyes only served to fuel her hatred of Kim Donovan even more.

  The rest of the evening dwindled away, lost in rehearsal. With the opening concert just around the corner, last minute changes to the choreography and play lists were still being figured out. Exhausted and desperate to spend what was left of the night in Kim’s arms, Imai walked off the stage despite Izumi’s protests.

  “These are important changes, Imai-san.” She followed after him as he headed out of the venue. “And there’s hardly enough time to work them all out ‑‑ I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk out like this.”

  “Michiko, enough,” he said sharply. “I’m tired, and I want to go home and see Kim.”

  “She’s most likely not even there,” the woman said. “She already cancelled dinner tonight to run around Tokyo, following her headstrong daughter.”

  “And how is this any of your business?” Imai glared at her. He saw the crushed look on Michiko’s face and cursed himself for not using more tact. “I’m sorry ‑‑ I appreciate everything you’re doing for the tour, but today is Kim’s birthday and I don’t want to miss that.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-covered jewelry box. “I even have a gift for her.” Imai showed Michiko the ornate white gold ring with pave set diamonds he’d purchased for Kim a week ago.

  “That’s an engagement ring,” Michiko whispered.

  Imai grinned. “It is. Can you believe it? Me finally settling down.”

  “I can’t believe it at all,” she muttered.

  “Neither will anyone else, but I am and I couldn’t be happier.”

  He tucked the ring box back into his trouser pocket then grabbed his leather jacket and hurried out of the rehearsal hall.

  Michiko’s forced smile shifted, her expression soon resembling a mask of rage. You’ll be very, very sorry for this, Kim Donovan. He’s mine!

  * * * * *

  After midnight Kim woke to find Imai lying in bed, propped on one elbow and staring at her. “I did make it home before your birthday officially ended, but I didn’t want to wake you.” He smoothed back the wisps of hair falling into her eyes. “You looked so beautiful, so peaceful.” He breathed a soft sigh and sat up. “I’m sorry. I should have cut the session short.”

  “You did the right thing,” she assured him. She sat up as well, snuggling against him when he put his arm around her. “This tour is very important to you and your career. It needs to be as perfect as it can be.”

  “Such a poor liar you are, kimi.”

  Kim pulled back to look at him. “Okay, so I was a little disappointed.”

  “Perhaps I can make up for it,” he said softly before drawing her into a long, deep kiss.

  Kim’s earlier disappointment faded the moment Imai began to make love to her.

  His touches were like a drug, clouding her brain, racing through her blood, and entering every cell of her body, making her crave as much as he could give and more.

  She shivered when Imai’s lips closed over her nipple, and he teased it with lazy swirls of his tongue while he strummed his fingers along her flesh, grazing them back and forth across her pussy. He dipped his fingers inside, rubbing her natural wetness over her hot outer folds until she whimpered and squirmed beneath him. Imai shifted, coaxed her into a sixty-nine position, letting his tongue continue where his touches had left off.

  Kim rested her cheek against Imai’s taut thigh, her hand gliding along his chiseled hip as she savored the delight of his tongue sliding along her slit. She toyed with the coarse black curls
at the base of his erection before licking his swelling cock from base to tip and back again. She loved the way he grew hard for her, the sound of his rich voice, whispering, “Fuck, yes,” when she licked the precum from his swollen cockhead.

  It drove her into a sweet kind of crazy the way Imai worked both fingers and tongue so near her clit yet far enough away to make the pleasure build without hope of a quick release. She loved teasing him in kind, stroking his cock, taking it deep into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down his length, then pulling back when he arched forward for more.

  She sighed when he nipped her inner thigh, then pulled away to shift positions once more, this time laying atop her. Imai’s kisses were slow and deep, and Kim liked the lingering taste of her own desire upon his tongue. Her body ran both hot and cold when Imai broke away and knelt between her thighs. He lifted her legs and plunged into her with a sure, swift thrust of those lean hips.

  Words couldn’t describe the way he looked at her and how wonderful it felt to see the lustful hunger being with her roused in him, how that hunger grew as he watched her reach down and slowly stroke her clit as he slid in and out of her with a steady, quick rhythm.

  It seemed as though his cock grew even harder and thicker with each deep thrust, and Kim definitely felt her own body respond and swell as her blood rushed hotly through her core. Imai quickened the pace, held her hips fast in his strong hands, and plunged inside as deeply as their bodies would allow.

  Kim’s clit throbbed as the pressure steadily built, and she cried out when it hit, her body quaking and coming hard as Imai continued to thrust in and out, drawing her climax out until he joined her. He stopped dead and went stiff as he spurted inside her, and Kim moved beneath him, rocking against him enough to propel her over the edge a final time.

  When they were done and she thought that she couldn’t feel more wonderful, he reached over to the nightstand and presented her with a small velvet ring box.

  “I think this is where I’m supposed to get down on bended knee, but, kimi, you wore me out.”

  Kim laughed through the tears of joy filling her eyes. Her hands began to tremble, and she couldn’t open the box. Imai did it for her. “The jeweler insisted that a proper engagement ring is a large solitaire, but I preferred this one.” He removed the wide, diamond-encrusted band and slipped it onto her left ring finger.

  “It’s incredible. I ‑‑ I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yes. All you have to do is say yes.” She began to speak, but he pressed his finger to her lips and grinned. “Of course if you’d like to add ‑‑ I adore you, Imai, you are the most wonderful man ever to grace the earth and I will cherish you forever ‑‑ I won’t object.”

  Kim toyed with the ends of his long hair. “How about if I add ‑‑ Imai Shimizu you have a bigger ego than any man I’ve ever seen and you’re a terrible brat, but I adore you anyway?”

  He let out a loud, theatrical sigh. “Oh, I suppose I can live with that, Donovan-san ‑‑ if I must.”

  * * * * *

  “What the hell do you need the keys to the old warehouse for?” Michiko’s uncle asked as he dropped them into her hand.

  “I just do, Uncle Mori. I just do.”

  The old Yakuza stared at her as he took a slow drag on his cigarette. “You don’t have something going with some other family, do you? You’re not cutting your blood out of a big thing, are you? Bootleg CDs? DVDs? Concert goods to sell to the gaijin? Maybe you’re looking to store some dope?”

  Michiko tucked the keys into the pocket of her jacket. “Oh, I’ll be storing something for awhile, but it’s not really anything you need to concern yourself with. By the way, does Tatsu Omura still work for you?”

  Michiko’s uncle pulled down his sunglasses and gave her a questioning look. “Now why do you want to know about Tatsu?”

  “There’s an annoying bug in my life that needs squashed.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The last couple of weeks leading up to the start of the tour were pure chaos. Last minute photo shoots, interviews with magazines, late-night rehearsals ‑‑ Kim sometimes felt she’d been caught in a whirlwind.

  Michiko Izumi was wrapped up in some other assignment for the record label apparently, and Kim stepped in, checking various arrangements and schedules for the tour. Now she understood what Koji meant when he’d talked about living and breathing the music right before the show whenever she saw Imai on stage, completely focused on the performance.

  And in between it all, there were those times when he’d pull her close in the middle of whatever was going on, if only for a moment. When he kissed her deeply and told her how much he needed her, Kim felt more loved than she had in her entire life.

  “I love you,” Kim told him after a long kiss squeezed into the moments before another hectic rehearsal with the entire light and sound crew was about to begin. One of the stage managers shouted for Imai to hurry up on stage, and Kim pulled away.

  But Imai dropped his hands to her hips and held her close. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. The stage manager yelled again, this time with the aid of a megaphone, and Imai rolled his eyes. “And for putting up with all this shit.”

  “Hey, I wouldn’t miss being here with you for the world,” Kim assured him. “How could anyone? This is going to be the biggest concert tour of your career to date; of course I want to be by your side.”

  “Not everyone would think that way.” Imai gave her another quick kiss before joining the rest of the band on stage.

  But soon they just might. Kim slipped outside the stage door and took a small folded envelope from her rear pocket. At lunch time she’d gone home to check on the mail and had stuffed this in her pocket, too busy ‑‑ or was that too nervous ‑‑ to open it. She studied the precise feminine script and took a deep breath before opening the envelope.

  “Please be good news,” she whispered before looking at the inside of the note card.

  Donovan-san,

  I would like to thank you for contacting me. As a mother, I’m sure you know that Imai’s father and I love him very much and want only his happiness. We have not always agreed with the choices he’s made or the life he’s chosen to lead, but he is our only son.

  My husband and I have discussed the matter and have decided that we will accept your invitation to see Imai’s premiere concert at Zepp Tokyo. We do not wish him to know we are there, however, and as you said you would have a special area to observe from, I hope, that means that Imai will not see us unless we wish him to.

  I have made note of your cell phone number and will phone you before we arrive at the concert hall.

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Hiroyuki Shimizu

  “That was certainly…frosty,” Kim muttered as she put the note away. Of course she shouldn’t be surprised. Second thoughts began to nag at her, and she thought of calling the whole thing off. It certainly sounded like Imai’s parents felt forced to go through with this only because she’d asked Nimura-san to help her plead her case.

  No, dammit. Imai’s parents needed to see what an incredible entertainer their son was; they needed to see how his fans responded to him and his music. And she knew with all her heart that Imai wanted that, too.

  If only Mandy wanted her attention the same way.

  * * * * *

  “Yes, that’s it, Mandy-chan.” Miji made a few final adjustments on Mandy’s corset, tightening the black satin cords so she had to suck in her breath. He stepped back and gave her a discriminating look before nodding to himself. “Now you look perfect.”

  She certainly didn’t feel perfect. Mandy sighed under her breath, the photographer snapping a few more shots of her as she posed in front of the stained glass doors of the church they were using as the setting for Miji’s new catalogue. She liked all the attention, including Miji’s open flirtations with her…but being this Goth princess wasn’t entirely her.

  Mandy also hated to admit it,
but she missed her mom. They hadn’t seen each other at all since the afternoon she’d walked out of Imai’s house, and this was the longest she’d ever gone without talking to her.

  “Now let’s change your clothes and move inside for the next few shots.” Miji clapped his hands to catch everyone’s attention. Mandy pulled off the silver cross dangling from her neck.

  “I think I’m done for tonight.” She stepped away from the doors.

  Miji put his hands on his hips. “Mandy-chan, we need these shots for the catalogue tonight.”

  “Then get another model!” she snapped.

  “Women,” Miji muttered under his breath. Kyoru was also at the shoot, and he came up behind Miji, touching him on the shoulder.

  “I’ll talk to her,” the ChildsPrey drummer said.

  “Good.” Miji rubbed his temples and made some other disgruntled comments.

  Mandy didn’t look up when Kyoru joined her on the church steps a few feet away. “Sorry, I’m not thinking straight tonight,” she mumbled.

  “Miji-san can get on anyone’s nerves,” Kyoru said.

  “It’s not that,” Mandy admitted with another sigh. “I like Miji a lot. He's really a nice guy inside.”

  Kyoru gave her such a blank look she thought he hadn’t gotten her English. She repeated it again in Japanese, and he shook his head.

  “I understood what you meant.” He scratched the back of his head. “But it’s a little hard to believe that someone actually likes…” It was her turn to give him a blank look, and Kyoru let his sentence trail off.

  Mandy toyed with the silver bracelets on her wrist. “Like I said, I’m just not thinking straight. I guess I ‑‑” She bit her lower lip. “I might be feeling a little homesick.”

  “You miss your mother?”

  “No! Of course not.” Mandy scowled. “Okay, that’s a bold-faced lie. I haven’t even talked to her in weeks.”

  “She’s getting married to Imai-san,” Kyoru said quietly.

  “Are you serious?” Mandy’s eyes widened. “I thought that was a stupid rumor started because of the pictures I shared online and that dumb ass PV with her in it!”