by Camy Tang
“Oh . . .”
“In Mom’s memory, maybe?” Yeah, she’d get his sentimental side.
“I’m sure I could do something. Let me get back to you, is that okay?”
“Oh, yes! Thanks, Mr. Tomoyoshi.” In her mind’s eye, Grandma’s dragon claws receded into the milky mist . . .
“Should I plan to make the check out to your dad for you?”
“Uh . . . no, why?”
“Oh, well, so you don’t have to take care of the more complicated money stuff.”
That was the problem with growing up in the Japanese American community, where everyone knew Grandma and Lex’s family. The older people still tended to think of Lex as, say, eight years old. “I take care of all the team’s finances, Mr. Tomoyoshi. You can make the check out to the volleyball club.”
“Okay. I’ll call you in a few days about it.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Tomoyoshi.” Lex dropped the handset into the cradle. “Take that, Grandma!”
Trish yawned. “Yeah, yeah. So what about Kin-Mun?”
Lex held her hand out to her. “Pass the remote.”
Trish grabbed it and clasped it to her chest like the Holy Grail.
“No way. I want to actually have a conversation with you.”
“I can talk and watch TV at the same time.” Lex reached over and scrabbled at her clenched fingers.
Trish turned away. “Answer my question first.”
“What question?”
Trish gave her a Tell me you’re not that stupid look. “Kin-Mun?”
“Oh.” Lex folded her arms. “What about him?”
“It sounds like you bullied him into going out with you. You never consider other people’s feelings.”
“Do too. I just know what’s best for them.”
“So Kin-Mun reluctantly going on a date with you is what’s best for him? Or for you?”
“Both. Now gimme the remote.”
Trish jerked it out of Lex’s reach and sat on it. “You’re not even a little concerned?”
Well, it wasn’t very flattering to learn he thought of her like a broth — sister, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Trish. “He’s just never thought of me that way. Besides, I have a plan.”
“Another one?”
Lex playfully smacked Trish upside the head. “This is a good one.
You’re going to take me shopping.”
Mention of her favorite — and only — sport made Trish sit up straighter. The TV blinked on, then off.
“Gimme the remote. You’re going to break it.”
“Tell me why you’re actually volunteering to go shopping.”
“I need you to help me wow Kin-Mun.”
“Do you mean a makeover?” Trish’s mouth dropped to her lap.
“You’re drooling.”
“Am not.” Trish swiped at the corner of her mouth. “You must be desperate to agree to a makeover.”
“I’m not desperate. I’m being practical. He’s never seen me in anything other than casual clothes. He needs to see me as sexy and attractive.” Non-sister-like.
“Is it really going to work?” Trish’s face oozed skepticism.
“Gee, thanks for letting me know I’m such a hopeless case.”
“If he isn’t already attracted by your personality, how is a new skin going to do it?”
“You of all people know how visual guys are. I mean, what did my brother look at while we watched SportsCenter? The Axe commercials with all those half-naked girls shaking bootay.”
Trish’s mouth formed a giant O. “You’re not going to go half-naked — ?”
“What? No. It’s not like I’d have anything to shake.” Lex smacked her nonexistent butt. Her athletic but sadly flat body in a bikini would send Kin-Mun screaming for the funny farm.
“So . . .” Trish scrutinized Lex’s body with that “fix-it” look she usually wore when working on a new biology experiment at work.
Yup, Lex had her hooked.
“Can you do it?”
“If I can’t, no one can.”
Trish with a license to shop was a frightening sight.
Trish with a license to shop for someone else was like Godzilla ripping apart Tokyo.
Lex drank in the smell of roasted coffee as they entered Tran’s Nuclear Coffee Shop, but it failed to stimulate her tired muscles. The shop was empty for a Tuesday early evening. She sank into a cold metal chair and propped her elbows on the glass tabletop. “Get me a soy latte. Double shot.”
Trish dug in her purse for her wallet. “Going hard-core today, eh?”
“I’m going to need a week to recover.”
“You don’t have a week, you have three days. But that’s okay, because you’ll floor him in that dress even if you look like Frankenstein’s bride.”
“You’re just a fount of encouragement.”
“I try.” Trish tossed a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she flounced to the counter to order their drinks.
Lex rubbed her side and lower back where the pins had stuck her earlier. She’d never before tried on clothes that had pins in them.
Shouldn’t duds with that many numbers on the price tag have the pins already removed? And even her finely tuned balance couldn’t teeter on those stiletto heels for more than a millisecond. Hundreds of dollars for the privilege of twisting her ankle.
This better be worth it. She had created a monster. The only thing Trish would love more would be if she could spend someone else’s money on herself.
“Here you go, Lex — ”
“Eeeek!”
She’d know that squeal anywhere.
Paper cups don’t make much noise when they splatter double-shot soy latte all over the tile floor. But Mimi’s piercing voice made up for the lack of shattering glass.
“Did you have to spill my coffee?” Lex eyed the brown soy lake with sorrow.
Trish wasn’t paying attention. Her basilisk glare tried to turn Mimi into stone. “What are you doing here?”
“Getting coffee. Duh.” Mimi swung her long ponytail in a sulky arc.
“You bumped into me on purpose.”
“As if. You ran into me when you turned.”
“Lying little pipsqueak.”
“That the best you got? Bring it on, sister.” Mimi did a head-wagging thing, making her ponytail tick like a rapid metronome.
Time to intercede. “Can you not have women’s mud wrestling in the middle of Tran’s?”
Trish opened her mouth, but Lex thrust a palm in her face. “You. Quiet. You.” She shoved a finger between Mimi’s eyes. “Buy me another latte.”
Mimi’s eyes sparked black fire.
“Or I can loose Trish on you. You’ve got a disadvantage with that ponytail.”
Mimi’s pink cupid-bow mouth disappeared, but she whirled and stomped toward the counter. Lex followed.
“Double-shot soy latte.” Lex leaned against the counter and looked around while Mimi ordered her own drink. A coffee shop employee came out front to clean up the mess.
By the window, an Indian couple chatted away, and in the corner, a guy ducked under his table. He must have dropped something. Back at their table, Trish looked hot enough to steam milk with her finger.
Standing next to Mimi, even leaning against the counter, Lex felt gargantuan at five-foot-seven.
Mimi fingered the Tiffany heart pendant at her throat — a gift from one of her numerous boyfriends, probably — and slid it back and forth on the chain. “Been working out, Lex?”
She asked the question with a little too much innocence. Despite her honeyed voice, the question had peeved undertones. Most likely at forking out four dollars for Lex’s latte, straining Mimi’s college-student budget. “No.”
“Oh. Well, you just seemed larger than usual.”
Two could play at that game. “Still shopping in the children’s section?”
The old dig got the same old response. Mimi’s button nose scrunched up and she puffed out her cheeks.
“Better than shopping in the boys’ section.”
“I’m not as sensitive about my washboard figure as you are about your vertically challenged state.”
“At least I’m not — ”
“This has been such a refreshing conversation, Mimi — ” Lex nabbed her latte as the barista slid it onto the pick-up shelf. “But we do have that mutual avoidance clause in our relationship. We’d better abide by it.” Lex lumbered away.
No, she didn’t lumber, she walked with athletic grace . And her height usually did her a bit of good on her Asian coed volleyball team. She wouldn’t let Mimi bring out that childish insecurity again.
Back at the table, Trish didn’t even turn her laser-beam gaze from Mimi, who still waited on her mocha freeze — which wouldn’t add an inch to her little curvy body . . .
Stop it, stop it, stop it. “Trish, why are you and Mimi like Sugar Ray Leonard and Roberto Duran?”
“Huh?”
She’d descended into SportsCenter cant again. “Never mind. Oil and water. You and Mimi are like oil and water.” Not that Lex got along any better with Mimi, but Lex didn’t have the burning desire to tackle her every time she came into sight.
“She’s a cat.” Trish hissed like one.
“She’s beneath you. You’re being juvenile.”
“I’m being bitter. There’s a difference.”
“So she dated one of your numerous boyfriends. Get over it.”
“Not just one of my boyfriends. It’s become her personal mission to steal every boyfriend away from me. Every time I bring a guy to family events, she’s all over him.”
“Oh, come on. Not every guy.”
“I can list at least six who dumped me as soon as they met her, and then dated her within two weeks of our breakup.” Trish pinned Lex with a challenging glare.
Lex couldn’t really argue against stats. “Well, you forget one small detail. They all dump Mimi too. She still bothers you, why?”
“It’s the principle.”
“It’s your inflated ego. Go lead on yet another boy, revel in your seductive muse power, and move on, sister.”
“Your powers of empathy astound me.”
“Heads up. The brat’s coming back for more.” Why was Mimi approaching them again? Idiot. This time, Lex wouldn’t break up the catfight. Her money was on Trish.
Mimi sauntered close to the glass table and leaned in between the two of them. “So Lex, why does that guy keep staring at you?”
“What?”
Mimi nodded her head toward the other end of the shop.
“The guy with the newspaper?” Trish didn’t bother to keep her voice down. “That’s silly.”
“His newspaper is upside down.” Mimi shifted onto one hip and buffed her glittering extensions against her sparkly top.
Lex squinted. “Are you sure?”
Trish squinted too. “You can see better.”
Mimi exhaled a frustrated sigh. “Trust me, it’s upside down.”
“Well, I can’t see his face.” Lex leaned left and right but couldn’t see around the newspaper.
“If we stare at him long enough, maybe he’ll drop the paper.”
The three of them bored holes into the paper for a whole minute. They probably looked like idiots. Or actors trying out for Cyclops in the new X-Men Broadway play.
“This is stupid.” Lex blinked her burning eyes.
“I agree.” Trish swiveled away. “Mimi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Like Timbuktu?”
Mimi’s tinkling laughter rang out. “Oh, you’re so original, Trish. By the way, I saw your mom putting flowers on Grandpa’s grave yesterday. She came all by herself, poor Aunty.” To belie the dig about Trish’s lack of filial duty, Mimi’s mouth pulled down into a puckering frown.
Trish bristled. “I was working. Not all of us are still in school. Some of us graduated in four years.”
Mimi tossed that annoying ponytail. “Oh, well. That’s good. I mean, after all, unlike you guys, I have plenty of time.”
Trish’s face turned into a persimmon.
An electronic trill broke through the tension. Lex dove for her cell phone like a lifeline. She glanced at the caller ID. “Hi, Kin-Mun!” Lex noticed Trish’s face cooled down a bit as she listened. Except stupid Mimi didn’t move away.
“Lex, I have to cancel for Saturday night. Something else came up.”
Lex could have sworn she smelled something like day-old sushi. “What something?”
“Work stuff.”
“Oh.” Her heartbeat slowed down from frantic to disappointed. “Maybe next week — ?”
“Sure. I gotta go.”
“Okay. See y — ”
“Oh, wait, can I talk to Kin-Mun?” Mimi snatched the phone out of Lex’s slack grip.
“Hey!” Lex clawed at her phone.
Mimi danced out of the way. “Just a sec.”
“You don’t even know Kin-Mun.”
“Sure I do. We met a couple weeks ago.” Mimi spoke into the phone. “Hi, Kin-Mun?”
Lex took an angry sip of latte. If she didn’t keep her hand occupied, she might slap her cousin.
“Yeah, it’s Mimi. Are we still on for Saturday night?”
FIVE
Aiden Young peeked over the edge of the newspaper just in time to see the thin girl spew coffee all over Trish.
“Aaack!” Trish leaped up and flapped her hands. “This is new! That was coffee! Leeex!”
Aiden hid behind the paper again. Trish, the drama queen.
“Trish, you’re such a drama queen.” The tall, slender girl — Lex? —had a deeper voice than Trish, but he heard an uncertain quaver in it that hadn’t been there before. He peeked over the newspaper.
Lex thrust out her hand at the junior high girl. “Phone.”
“But I’m — ”
“Now.”
The young girl jumped at Lex’s bark, but then rolled her eyes as she finished her conversation on the phone. “Sorry, Kin-Mun — ”
Lex snatched the phone away and snapped it shut. Her face was as gray as a thundercloud. With the other hand, she propelled Trish toward the restroom at the far end of the coffee shop.
Now was his chance. Aiden flapped the paper shut, picked up his coffee, and hustled out the door.
From the parking lot, Spenser waved as he activated his car alarm.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Talk about rotten luck. Aiden intercepted him in the middle of a parking stall. “Let’s go to Peet’s Coffee instead.”
“No, I did an extra hard workout today just so I could have a caramel mocha freeze.” Spenser flashed his toothy, little-boy grin as he walked past Aiden and yanked open the glass door.
Maybe Trish would stay in the bathroom with that girl while Spenser ordered.
The junior high girl with the long ponytail passed him as he headed back into the shop, her eyes smoky beneath half-closed lids. Up close, he realized she wasn’t as young as he first thought — she looked about college-age. Her mature gaze seemed appraising, and she looked like she might stop and speak to him. He brushed past her and followed Spenser to the counter.
“Caramel mocha freeze with extra whipped cream.” Spenser rolled the syllables with relish.
Aiden lounged against the drink pickup counter with his back to the restrooms. Hopefully they wouldn’t come out soon, and if they did, he hoped Trish wouldn’t recognize him.
Spenser approached the pickup counter, stuffing bills into his wallet. “So, how ya been?”
“I’m good.” He was still too flustered to spill the news — that he’d seen that spoiled flirt Trish, months after they’d finished physical therapy for her shoulder, and that he’d been instantly floored by the gorgeous girl with her.
He could still see her in his mind’s eye — Trish’s sister? Cousin? With her smooth, athletic grace, that beautiful face. But would she be another hypocritical Christian like Trish?
Spenser gave him a sharp look. “You sure you’re
okay?”
“Yeah. How’s your son?”
Spenser sighed. “At his mom’s house this weekend.” He tapped a quick rhythm on the pickup counter. “So did you read that article I emailed to you?”
“Yeah.”
“Interesting, huh?”
“Sure.” Aiden glanced back at the women’s restroom door. Still no sign of them. Could the barista go any slower?
Spenser looked away. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, I do.” But right this moment, he didn’t feel up to another discussion about God. Not that their conversations weren’t interesting —the Christian and the agnostic — but he’d been distracted.
The restroom door opened. Aiden’s entire body stiffened, but he didn’t turn around.
The Indian man walked past him back to his girlfriend sitting near the window.
“You’re a little tense.” Spenser gave a sidelong look.
How to explain the predicament without looking more like an idiot? His gut reaction had been to avoid Trish. After all, she hadn’t taken it very well when she made that blatant pass at him, forcing him to firmly shut her down and transfer her to another physical therapist.
But then one glance at her cousin made him forget his initial desire to leave the shop, and he’d sat there staring at Lex. Too stupid to leave before Trish had come back to the table with their drinks.
He should just come clean. Of anyone, Spenser wouldn’t judge him — although he might poke a little fun. “Actually — ”
“I said I was sorry.” Lex’s voice coincided with the whoosh of the restroom door opening.
Where was Spenser’s mocha freeze?
“Oh, look, you missed a spot.” Trish’s sulky voice faded as the door closed again. No footsteps. They must have gone back into the restroom.
“Caramel mocha freeze, extra whip.” The barista slid the drink across the counter so hard it almost toppled to the floor before Spenser caught it.
Aiden took a deep breath. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Sure.” Spenser slurped through the straw as he headed out the door.
He’d managed to avoid Trish and Lex. Strange how Lex had frightened him more than Trish. Well, it didn’t matter now. He’d never see her again.