by Vivian Wood
Whenever she found something that felt as good as kissing him did, life found a way to take it back. She and Smith had been going at it every chance they had for weeks now. She had the feeling that life wanted to take him away, ruin her happiness soon.
She didn’t want to be the one that was disappointed. She wanted to be on the same page as he was. So she would have to take a shot in the dark, try to think like Smith might be.
The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“We should get back to the hotel,” she said, shoulders sagging.
“Really?” he asked, looking at her. “I was thinking that we have one more stop to make.”
Her brows rose. “What? Where?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said, flashing that smile that made her knees weak. “Let’s go.”
They walked out of the garden, back to the city streets of Tokyo. Cam was quiet as Smith hailed a cab, riding along, lost in thought. When they arrived, Cam and Smith got out in a grungy, industrial area. It was all cement warehouses and piles of broken pallets.
An extreme-looking punk rocker walked by, his hair in a purple leopard print Mohawk, his face covered in piercings. He wore pink leather pants that were skintight, and a t-shirt that said The Kinks.
“Reminds me of home,” she said with a small smile. “You know, if I spoke Japanese.”
“Yeah?” he said, smiling. “Well, I think we’re going to the same place he’s going.”
Looking around at the unmarked warehouses, she followed the punk kid to a seemingly random door. The kid didn’t seem surprised or alarmed that they were going to the same place, and when he pounded on the door, Cam found out why.
The door opened to admit them. Cam heard loud punk rock music playing. She got a step closer and saw blue lights flashing over a crowd of a couple hundred people, all dressed in mind-boggling displays of punk rock chic.
She looked up at Smith, who flashed his dimples.
“Go in,” he urged.
She went inside, in awe of not just the people, but the space. It was an abandoned, cleaned out factory floor, with a stage built at one end. Everywhere she looked there was something to see.
A girl with long mauve hair wearing what looked like caution tape over her breasts. A guy on stage dressed like an extra from The Matrix, twirling chains with fire on the ends. A tall, androgynous person wearing a lab coat and underwear, dancing on top of the pile of pallets that appeared to be a bar.
The two bartenders paid the dancer no mind, serving drinks atop the crumbling pile of pallets, nodding their heads to the beat of the music.
“Drink?” Smith said in her ear.
She shivered at his closeness and nodded. He took her by the hand and led her to the bar. While she looked around, he ordered drinks.
“Whiskey, on the rocks,” he said, sliding her drink over.
She saw that he had the same drink as her, and smiled. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe to tell him how much she liked him, but the lights dimmed.
She turned toward the stage. The crowd started going crazy, cheering and screaming. The band came out, and Cameron couldn’t help but notice that the lead singer had green hair, pulled out into spikes all over his head.
The band launched into a song in English, and something clicked. Cam looked at Smith.
“Is this the band from the first night we were together?” she yelled into his ear.
“Yep!” he yelled back.
Cam was overcome with emotion. She didn’t know if they just happened to be on tour here, or if he’d brought the band here on purpose… he certainly had the money to do that.
Right now, though, she stared up at him with awe. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at the stage and sipping his whiskey. But her heart felt suddenly full.
She was falling in love. Oh god, but it was true… She was stupidly in love with the man before her.
He looked back at her with a grin. She pulled him down for a kiss, and he complied, tasting of whiskey.
She knew there were problems. She knew she couldn’t be in love with Smith Calloway.
But those were problems for another time. Right now, all that existed was this moment, this man.
Everything else faded away.
24
While Cameron was still sleeping, Smith slipped out of the hotel room. After the day they’d had together yesterday, he and Cameron had come back to the hotel and had a night of passionate sex.
She'd let him blindfold her, trusting him to take control of her pleasure. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he thought about how she’d moaned and begged him to let her cum.
He took her in every conceivable position, taking his time. Before all was said and done, she was hoarse from screaming his name. He left her in the early hours of the morning, the sun just coming in through the windows and falling on her as she slept.
Smith wouldn’t have left her, but he had it in his mind to get something to mark the occasion. A physical reminder that they had spent the week in Tokyo, something to mark the time by once—
Once we’re through, said a small voice in the back of his head.
He shook his head, unwilling to think about it. He frowned as he walked down the street, the address of his destination in mind. He almost passed it, but for the street number.
It was a plain-looking building, no shiny display window like most places would have showcased. He approached the front door, and saw a single white button attached to the intercom to the right of the doorway. He pressed it.
“Konnichiwa,” a pleasant female voice said.
“I’m here to see Mr. Liu,” he said, leaning down close to the intercom.
“Please step back so that our camera may take you in.”
He stepped back and looked up. Sure enough, a small camera recorded his every move. He must have passed muster, because a few seconds later the locks buzzed.
Smith headed inside, through another security door, and then entered the real jewelry store. The place was odd, the walls lined with boring metal drawers and only one place for displaying jewelry, a plain counter right in the middle of the store.
There were two large security guards on each side of the store, just standing there. A man entered through the only other entrance, looking harried.
“I am Mr. Liu,” he said, executing a perfunctory bow.
“Hi Mr. Liu. I’m Smith Calloway,” Smith said, returning the bow. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Of course. Can you tell me what you would like to see?” he said in halting English.
“Something for a young woman. Perhaps a necklace?”
“What type of stone?”
“Sapphire,” he said, thinking of the color of Cameron’s eyes.
“Please wait,” Mr. Liu said, indicating the counter.
Mr. Liu opened several drawers, and brought a few trays over to the counter. Each tray was loaded with sapphire jewelry, arranged by style. When Smith was given the go-ahead to look, his gaze tripped over a sapphire ring. Elegant and simple, it made him think of Cameron.
You’re not shopping for rings, he reminded himself. No matter what Charles says, marriage is far in the future. This is just… a gift for right now.
He wasn’t so sure that was true, but it was easier to ignore the thought at the moment.
He moved on, his eyes landing on a beautiful pendant necklace. The metal was rose gold, and the pendant a delicate orb of sapphire.
“This one,” Smith said, lifting it. “The coloring reminds me of her.”
“Very good, sir,” Mr. Liu said, lifting it from the tray. “Would you like it wrapped?”
“Yes, please.” He opened his wallet and gave Mr. Liu his credit card. “Put it on the card, please.”
“Very good, sir.”
Mr. Liu picked up the trays and carefully replaced them. Then he disappeared with the necklace and the credit card. When he reappeared, he had the card, the receipt, and the wrapped necklace in a
box.
Smith signed the receipt, thanked the jeweler, and let himself back out on the Tokyo street. As he walked back to the hotel, the concept of marriage was on his mind again.
It was a nice fantasy, he’d admit. Him down on one knee, her crying and trying to find words… He didn’t really want to be married, but if he had to be, he thought he would want someone like her. Someone with whom he shared great chemistry, a lot of passion, and…
Well, he could be honest with her. He didn’t let his guard down with just anyone, but around her he found his walls falling down.
Those were the prerequisites, right?
As he let himself into their room, a smile played across his lips. The next time he gave her jewelry, it would be something to talk about.
He headed into the bedroom. She was still in bed, although she stirred when he approached the bed. The thin white sheet covering her form wasn’t enough to keep him from looking her up and down. He was already growing hard, and she hadn’t even done anything yet.
She looked at him and smiled sleepily. His heart gave a squeeze in his chest.
“Mmm, I was wondering where you’d gone,” she said.
“Just around the corner,” he said, sitting down on the bed next to her.
“Yeah?” she said, eyeing him.
“Yes,” he said. “And I got you something while I was out.”
“Really?” she said, curious. She sat up, the sheet slipping dangerously low.
He handed her the box. She arched a brow, then opened it. Cameron gasped when she saw the necklace.
“Smith!” she said, smacking him on the arm. “What the fuck?”
He laughed at her vulgarity. It was charming, in a sense.
“Do you hate it?”
She looked up at him, her eyes welling up. “No. God, no. Thank you, Smith.”
“Can I put it on you, then?”
She seemed to be genuinely trying not to cry. “Y-yes…”
He lifted the necklace from the box, and then undid the clasp. She bit her lip and turned in the bed, giving him access to her nape. He put the necklace on her, and she turned to show him the results.
The pendant nestled just above her breasts, looking breathtaking. Smith thought that companies paid models hundreds of thousands of dollars to look just as Cameron did in that moment, bare but for the necklace and the sheet.
And the look in her eyes… no one had ever looked at him like that.
He leaned in and kissed her, soft but intense. Her mouth was hot and sweet, like honeyed fire. The next words slipped from his lips before he even knew what he was saying.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, then looked surprised.
She laughed at his expression. “Are you sure?”
He kissed her again, then nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”
She grinned.
“Well in that case, yes. I will.”
A knock sounded on the living room door. He gave her a quick kiss, then jumped.
“I ordered breakfast from room service,” he said. “How about you get dressed, and I’ll get things set up in the other room?”
“Alright,” she sighed. “I don’t know what time it is, but after breakfast, we probably have to head to the airport.”
He winked at her, staying for an extra second to look at her as she got up, shedding the sheet. She flushed, but just moved to start to dress.
The knock came again, more insistent.
“Alright, alright,” he called to the front door.
He carefully closed the bedroom door, then went to let the room service cart in. He tipped the server, then moved the whole cart to the small dining room table.
He looked down at the silver-lidded dishes. He opened the first dish, Pan Con Tomato y Huevos, with a smile. Thick slices of toast with tomato jam and poached eggs made for an interesting take on the Spanish breakfast.
It reminded him of his mother. More specifically, it reminded him of breakfasting on the Spanish coast, with his mother across the table from him. He thought that the memory must be one of his very first ones, because he only remembered the food and his mother smiling at him.
He uncovered the other dishes, which turned out to be eggs Benedict and a vegetarian omelette. Not as interesting, but he’d had limited choices in a Japanese hotel. He put two empty plates and two rolls of silverware where they were going to sit.
When she came out of the bedroom, he noticed that she was dressed very sharply, in a frothy cream-colored top and dark gray trousers.
“You look fit,” he said as she came to glance over the feast he’d laid out before them both.
“Thanks,” she said, blushing. “What is that?”
She pointed to the Pan Con Tomato y Huevos.
“It’s toast with tomato jam and eggs,” he said, pulling her chair out for her. “It’s a traditional Spanish breakfast.”
“Ah,” she said, taking her seat and helping herself to some of the vegetarian omelette.
“Try some,” he said, offering her the Pan Con Tomato y Huevos. “I bet it’s good.”
She took a piece of toast and one of the poached eggs. She broke the egg over the toast, then took a bite. “Mmmmm.”
“Good?”
“Delicious,” she said. “I get it, Spain.”
He smiled and took some for himself, copying her actions. He took a bite and moaned, the acidity of tomatoes balancing perfectly with creaminess of the egg and the crunch of the toast.
“I’ve had this one other time,” he said between bites. “On vacation in Spain with my mother.”
She stopped the forkful of omelette that was headed to her mouth.
“Oh?” was all she said, but she looked curious.
“Mhm,” he said, attacking the eggs Benedict.
“What was your mother like?” she asked, taking a small bite of the omelette.
He thought about that, chewing.
“She was… complicated,” he said. “When she was happy, she was the brightest light in the universe. Well, to me anyway. But when she was sad…”
He trailed off. She frowned.
“What?” she asked.
“I don’t know. She had black moods. And sometimes she couldn’t get out of bed for weeks on end.” He shrugged. “Like I said, complicated. I never knew what mood she would be in when I got up.”
“It sounds like…” she started, then bit her lip. “It sounds like a lot for you to handle as a kid.”
Smith took a deep breath. “Her depression was something she could never overcome. So I only knew her when I was young.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
“It was a long time ago,” he said.
“Still.”
She picked up her fork again, but merely pushed the last bits of her omelette around. He realized he had lost his appetite, too. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and tossed it onto his plate.
“We should get a move on if we’re going to make it to the airport on time,” he said, rising.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s not… it’s nothing you did. Let’s just go, okay?”
She hesitated, then nodded. They both took a few minutes to gather their things. Their bags were already packed, and they left them in the room for the bellhops to bring down.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as they got ready to go. He didn’t mean to take out his baggage on her. The subject of his mother’s suicide would always be a sensitive one, but he’d brought it up.
As they rode down the elevator in silence, Smith reached out and snagged Cameron’s waist. He pulled her close, hugging her and placing a kiss on her head.
She didn’t say anything, but she favored him with a smile that let him know things were okay between them. They slid into the limousine that waited for them downstairs, Smith slipping an arm around Cameron’s waist.
She pulled out her cell phone and called ahead to make sure all the deta
ils were perfect for their flight.
“Mmmhmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Make sure that there is plenty of water. And he likes a bourbon during takeoff…”
He watched her distractedly as she negotiated. He thought of Charles’ statement, that if he had realized that he would still be alive and kicking at ninety-six, he would have proposed.
Smith’s lips twitched as she got off the phone.
“They’re afraid of me,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“As anyone in their right mind would be,” he assured her.
She gave him a satisfied smile, then snuggled into his chest. He couldn’t help but smell her hair, that spicy-sweet combination that was uniquely hers.
“I am glad that I have you,” he said. “I’m glad that you exist, because without you I’d be alone.”
She looked at him, a tiny frown puckering her brow.
“You would not,” she said firmly. “You’d just be with someone less awesome than me.”
She smiled at the last remark. He leaned down and kissed her lips. She could think what she wanted. At least he’d told her how he felt. Well, maybe not exactly, but it was as close as he was going to get today.
They pulled up onto the tarmac, and he regretfully let her go. As he slid out of the car, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.
Lindsay Wu.
He silenced the phone. Whatever the investigator had discovered could wait. He had a flight to take halfway around the world before he was ready to re-enter the stream of real life.
“Smith!” Cameron said, walking toward the stairs that led up to the plane.
“Alright, alright,” he said. “”I’m coming.”
Shaking his head, he headed to catch the plane home.
25
The second that Cameron got off the plane from Tokyo and bid Smith goodnight, she got a call from Erika. She made a face at her cell phone, but answered as she slid into her Uber.
“This had better be good,” Cam said, trying to sound as imperious as Smith did when he answered calls. “I’m coming off a thirteen-hour flight.”
“You need to come in,” Erika said, her voice flat and monotone. “We’re here in the main conference room at The Daily News.”