Whiskey's Redemption (Crown and Anchor)

by Kerri Ann

  Walking into Mioshi’s—this crazy upscale, guarded more than the president kind of restaurant—I find my sisters waiting for me. Mioshi’s has vegan and off the wall delicacies, so of course it attracts seriously posh clientele.

  Noticing the girls’ guards, Hiro and Muki, who I call Dumb and Dumber, I nod my hello. Hiro is an expensive coat hook, but there he is, holding the twins’ purses. Muki smiles at me when I arrive, pulling out my chair with a greeting of, “Obayun.”

  When he says it, I honestly don’t mind. It’s not like Kato, who says it with dirt in his mouth as it disgusts him. Also, Muki and Hiro are nice, not stuck up, pompous assholes.

  Watching all eyes of the restaurant track me as I enter, the formal and totally unnecessary bows are just that—unnecessary.

  I didn’t want this job. I didn’t ask for it. But I’ll damn well make sure it works to our advantage, even if I am leaving the sexiest man I’ve ever met behind.

  Definitely not wanting to think about him today, I turn my attention to my runway model sisters. Yeah, I’m pretty, and I can rock couture, but they have something special about how they swish into a room.

  “Kaori!” Jumping out of her seat, she yells my name so loud, I think even the kitchen staff heard, Kano leaps to give me a hug.

  Wrapping her arms around me, wrinkling any chance I had of my outfit looking freakin’ great today, I hug her back. We’re the same height, but with my blue eyes and thinner framed face, and her chocolate eyes with a rounder look, it’s easy to see that we’re related. But I’m not her twin.

  “Hey, Mono.” Oh yeah, the other part of Kano, she’s deaf in one ear. Everyone saw it as a defect when she was younger, but I think it makes her even more special.

  Letting me go, sitting back in her chair, Kano smiles up at Muki as he ushers her chair back into the table for her. Oh, I’m so working on those two. Matchmaker me is on the hunt. They’re definitely in need of a hook up.

  “So, what’s good today? What’s the special?” I ask my sisters, but before either can answer, a short, middle age waiter pops up like one of those hedgehogs, or whatever those things are in the whack-a-mole game.

  “Today is fresh trout on a bed of toasted kale, with sweet potato ginger mash, Obayun.”

  Fuck. Does everyone in Osaka know I’m the head now?

  “My name is Carli. Please, no boss here, okay?” It exhausts me daily to hear I’m the boss of anything. All I want is for Kato to say he’ll take the job, and I can go back to my real life in LA and Indy. I miss the shit out of it.

  Nodding, and offering an apologetic bow, the waiter shakes. I know my father ruled with an iron fist, and that his bidding was done immediately—hence, why I left—but I’m not my father. I have no care for subservient beings to kiss my feet and wipe my arse. I want respect for being Carli, not some boss of the Ryu Yakuza.

  “If you say it’s good, I’ll give it a go. No fish.” Nodding again, he turns to my sisters. Each of them rhyme off their wants, and I watch them. The way they move, shift, and complement each other in movements is astonishing. They really are mirrors of each other. The worst part, I missed most of their teenage years, running away from our father. I guess the fates have decided I needed to be here now, instead of where I’ve made a home, friends, and finally…

  Yeah, not going there.

  Once the waiter has taken all of our orders, he spins at light speed, flying into the kitchen.

  “Kaori, I heard you might have a way to deal with Chen?” Miori says deadpan.

  Narrowing my gaze, I’m flabbergasted. “And you know this how? I drove straight here after the meeting, so how do you know?”

  My little sisters are sneaky fuckers.

  Lifting her glass of water and taking a sip, Miori is prolonging the suspense of her knowledge. Setting the drink down, she says, “Kato. Who else?”

  Sneaky and underhanded Miori. Color me impressed. I wonder what she’s done to get an answer out of a closed-door meeting from Kato, but I’ll work on that later. For now, she thinks she’s the smart one knowing things, but now I know it means I can leverage her to plant ideas with Kato.

  “You know, I had an idea for one of the shipping channels. Soaking the bamboo hats we transport to Hong Kong, then out to New York for Bustamante. Less stringent inspections that way. Truly high fashion.” I don’t worry about saying anything I shouldn’t here, as we own it, and anyone who enters knows who we are. They’d be idiots to cross or mess with a soul in this place.

  With expedience, our waiter returns laden down with salads, drinks, and an assortment of hors d’œuvres. “With compliments from the chefs. They hope you enjoy your meal, Ms. Carli.” Shaking my head as he’s leaving with the same speed again, I wonder what’s so scary about me? Yeah, I’m a bitch. Yeah, I can put people in their place if it’s deserved, but he hasn’t garnered any reason yet to see my bad side or fear me.

  I want to go home. I want to click my heels, wish on a star, and hope against all hope that I could go back.

  I’ve said that already, dammit.

  Shit, I really want to go back to where I call home.

  Looking over the full table, it all screams to me. Decidedly, I didn’t eat much this morning, and now, with at least a gallon of coffee coursing through me, I better stuff something in this gut of mine. For the past few weeks, my stomach has argued with almost everything, except crackers. Looking at the cucumber sweet salad, I pull a forkful to my mouth. It tastes scrumptious. Honestly, anything would taste five star with the extent of my measly meals lately. And as long as it doesn’t look for a repeat performance, then I’m good. Delving into it further, seeing that nothing feels to be coming back to haunt me, I tear into the mango salad, the wonton wrapped fried pickles, the lime and ginger coated crusty tofu, and the drink the waiter brought.

  “Hungry?” Kano jests.

  “When you throw up for three weeks straight, don’t eat anything other than crackers and finally feel like eating, then come tease me,” I huff, munching down on a warm chunk of tofu. It tastes like heaven.

  Giggling, Kano turns to Miori. Whispering in her ear, both break out in further laughs and stares. At me.

  “What?” I mouth around my meal.

  Smirking devilishly, they say in unison, “Nothing.”

  Swallowing the morsel and dabbing the corners of my mouth, I turn to the two of them. “Don’t leave me out of the joke you two. I still know where you hide your porno mags and dildos. Want me saying it loud enough for everyone to hear?”

  Faking that I’m about to voice it, Miori pipes up.

  “Fine. We think you…” She pauses for dramatics. I’m really starting to hate her habit.

  Frustrated with the wait, I say, “Miori, say it.”

  Opening her mouth first, though, Kano blurts out loudly, “Your pregnant!” Of course, with her half deaf, her voice carries a heck of a lot farther than she thinks. The room silences, and I feel like a two-year-old being tattled on, taking in all the odd stares.

  Ignoring her idea, I get back to my food. “I’m always careful. I love sex as much as the next person, but I don’t strip down for anyone without a plastic-coated hammer.”

  Except Jamieson.

  Forking in another wonton pickle, cutting it in half and chewing it, I mentally count the dates. I flew to Japan that day...that was….that was…

  Shit.

  “Excuse me,” I say, rising from the table.

  Circe

  “Hello, love. I have news for you. Oh, and I miss you.”

  “Circe, I need you,” Carli whispers into the phone.

  “What’s going on, Car? You don’t whisper when you can scream. What’s happened?”

  “Are you alone?” Again, whispering.

  Walking into our hospital room, I’m totally alone. Wyatt is off getting rehab right now, so I shouldn’t be bothered.

  “Yeah, I am. Car?”

  “I’m hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant because I’m scared.”


  Now she’s freaking me out. “Carli, call the cops. Call out for someone to help you. There has to be someone—”

  “No!” she yells, then quiets again. “No. Only you. Can you leave your racer? Would Wyatt let you out of his sight?”

  What the fuck is going on? “Carli, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “Where to start? Fuck.” Going quiet, I hear the door of the bathroom open and someone call out her name. “I’m here. Yep. All peachy. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Thanks, Kano.”

  Well, that makes me feel better. Her sister is with her.

  Coming back on the line, Carli still sounds panicked. “This is one of those times when you need to toss it down with a girl in the hall in an expensive dress. Get me?” Yeah, I do. Smiling to myself, I’m reminded of how great it was.

  “Will you tell me what’s going on? I need more than just a fist fight requirement to get away from Wyatt. You know that.”

  She’s silent for a long time before she huffs out, “Fine. You know I’ve been sick for a few weeks?”

  Wondering where this is going, I say, “Yeah?”

  “Well, I’m eating like a pig today, and my sisters pipe up that I might be...ya know. Carrying something with a crown on it.”

  “OH FUCK!” I yell out, then cover my mouth quickly. Last thing I need is someone coming to see what’s going on.

  “Yeah, that’s about it. Circe, I need you.”

  “Have you talked to Jami—”

  “No! And you are not telling him. Got it?”

  Blowing out a heavy breath, I pace the space. “Carli, Wyatt’s not letting me out of his sight without a reason. There’s gotta be something good to get me to Japan, lover. I mean, shit, we have Marca’s funeral tomorrow.”

  Pushing out a breath and making ticking sounds, I can imagine what Carli is thinking right now. Her life was turned upside down. She’s head of a crime cartel because she had to, to save her sisters from servitude, and now she’s possibly pregnant.

  “Tell him I was kidnapped by trolls. Tell him I was sold into the skin trade for my sexy body.” I can imagine her looking herself over. “Okay, maybe not a sexy body soon if it’s true, but you get the jist. I need you.”

  “Okay, got it. You need help. Let me see what I can work out. I’ll send you the details once I do.”

  “Nope. Not waiting on commercial shit. I’ll send a jet over. They’d be there in, like, fifteen hours at the most. I’ll text you the address, the runway, and the access to get through without that pesky customs stuff. Just get to the plane and get here.”

  “Fine. I’ll get something worked out with Wyatt. But, you know he’s going to want the truth. I have to. And I won’t be able to get out of the funeral at all. So, get ready for Whiskey, too. There’s no way he’d—”

  “Nope. Promise me it’s only you. No Crowns.”

  Without arguing further, I tell her what I can without lying. “I’m on it, Carli.”

  “Thanks, lover. See you soon.”

  I hang up the phone. “Oh, the shit has hit the fan.”

  Jamieson

  Now that we’ve settled the lawyers, switched to the new firm, situated the roles for each of us, and thankfully, mine is only temporary until Wyatt is well, things are getting back to normal in the lives of myself and my remaining family.

  Tomorrow we’re laying our mother to rest. Tonight is her cremation. I don’t mean disrespect, but after Petra, mother gave zero attention to me. I was shunned. They no longer trusted me to take care of anything. Bet it would burn her ass to know it was me that saved us from the evil lawyers they left to care for Crown Industries and us. I’m not bitter, I’m just not sure what other feelings to have toward her.

  Moving out to live with my Aunt Janie, mother never visited. I was basically ignored, and anytime I came home, I felt like a stranger. I wanted her love, like I had before the accident. Lifting my shirt, looking at that tiny scar, it reminds me of all the things that I lost when Petra died. It wasn’t just her, there was my family, the care I felt from them, and a part of me died. The conversations we had, the times we did the things we knew we shouldn’t, and that we were particularly pleased we got away with, it was always together. After? I learned how to be alone.

  I guess that’s why I’m so good at snowboarding; it’s a single sport. I don’t rely on anyone. I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do. It’s me and the snow.

  Fuck, I miss it.

  I’m experiencing the reverse winter blues. I miss the winter, the cold, and the sharp, biting winds. If it weren’t for the air conditioning cranked in my hotel room, the hospital, and the car, I’d have melted like a fucking snowman in June. Speaking of, here I am, back in the cold car, driving to Powder Kings to check on the final inspection from the building department. If all is good, I’ll have the costs of those destroyed boards and merchandise reimbursed by insurance. With Doll at the helm, Wyatt on the mend, and Carli gone, I can’t wait to get back to what truly makes me, me.

  Everything in the hotel, hospital, and even the freckles on my cock remind me of her. For a guy that normally has sex multiple times a week, my hand is definitely strengthening. Carli messed me. I can’t look at another girl without thinking of what’s missing. The long hair, the sass, the fire, the shoes, even. Carli is one of a kind and...I let her go. I didn’t stop her, or go with her. I could have, but I didn’t.

  It’s not like I don’t have the coin to join, what with Powder Kings my board company, sponsors, my own money—that I’ve amassed, thanks to Aunt Janie—and to all the Crown worth that I’ve inherited, I’ve got enough that I should’ve just gone. But I didn’t. I won’t desert them. Wyatt and China deserve more from me.

  And Carli?

  She’s a tick I can’t shake. Not very romantic, but Carli is something that I can’t get out of my system. Try as I might, my cock rises to the occasion unbidden almost hourly. Shaking off the thoughts of her, the feel of her and her voice, I pull up and park at Powder Kings. There’s a steady influx of customers coming and going, and it makes me wonder why. It’s never this fucking busy.

  Locking up and strutting through the crowds, I hear my name a few times. Smiling, I acknowledge a few as I pass. Stepping through the doors, I see the desk kid I met before, and Gruber. The two are selling the damaged boards and merchandise with a massive sign behind their head that says, ‘Cold as Ice Fire Sale.’

  “Hey!” I yell over the din.

  Seeing me, grinning wide, Gruber shouts back, “Hang on, Whiskey.” Watching him hand over the merchandise to someone, he skooches out from behind the counter.

  “You see this? Pretty amazing, huh?”

  “What the fuck is going on?” I ask him, just as a group of teenage girls giggle loudly, attempting to garner my attention. Ignoring them is increasingly hard, as they try to take pictures beside me, like I’m Shaq or something. I move away from them, further into the store, away from the cash desk.

  “The insurance called two days ago, said that the cash was already deposited. I asked what we should be doing with the stuff. You know, boxing it up to send away or something, and he said to sell it, toss it, it didn’t matter. So, I made up the sign with the store next door and did a bunch of quick fire sale promos on Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook. This?” He waves his hands around the crowd. “Is all because of that. Pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.”

  He’s pleased as punch, and I can’t see any reason not to love it. “Fuckin’ smart, Gruber. How’re the sales going?”

  “Actually, that’s the best part. Most of the damaged goods were gone yesterday. All these people are buying new equipment. I’ve already gone to deposit close to fifteen grand, and it’s only two o’clock.”

  Holy shit! “You’re fucking with me?”

  He laughs. “Nah, not a lie. This is all just fucking gravy.”

  Now I’m smiling. “Wow. Nice marketing, man. Keep up the good work.” As I’m saying this, my phone vibrates. “Hang on,” I tell Gru
, grabbing my phone out. It’s not a number I know so I answer. “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “Mr. Crown? Mr. Jamieson Crown?”

  That’s never a good sign. “Yeah, this is he. Who is this?”

  “This is Mr. Johns from Weber Crematorium. We’ve had a…well, I’m not quite sure how to tell you this?”

  “Spit it out. It’s not like she can get up and walk away. What’s wrong?”

  Huffing into the phone, he sounds stressed. “Mr. Crown, we’ve had an accident here.”

  “What kind of accident could you have at a crematorium, Mr. Johns?” I’m thinking he’s mixed her ashes with someone’s dog, or that they burned her wrong.

  “Well, sir, she was the last into the system. And, um, the crematorium is now...on fire.”

  “Isn’t that the whole point of a place that burns things? A fire?”

  “Yes, sir. That would be true, but normally, we don’t set the building on fire and burn the remaining clients at the same time.”

  Fuck me! My mother couldn’t just go, could she? Had to take a building with her.

  Now, I’m the one huffing.

  “I guess Marca Crown just had to have one last hurrah. Nothing like a party to send you off, Mother, right?”

  Jamieson

  “This is shit even I couldn’t think up.” Telling Wyatt that our mother’s ashes we’re now mixed in with other various people, pets, and vagrants, was not an easy task. The last thing I wanted to do was add stress to his life. He’s just getting his shit right, and telling Doll? Shit, I’m scared to see how she’s going to react.

  Watching Wyatt use his opposite hand, trying to pack his bags up, is downright painful. I offered to help him, but he’s a stubborn brute and won’t even accept help with the simplest shit. He’s stressed today, and I have no idea why. Fuck, he was this way before I even told him about the crematorium. Something’s off. Something’s definitely off.