SUSHI for ONE?

by Camy Tang

  “Hello?”

  Lex paused. The voice sounded sweet and silky — very un-Mariko.

  “Mariko, it’s Lex.”

  “What do you want?” Mariko barked in her normal voice.

  “I can’t make it to the bridal shower tomorrow.”

  “Yes. You. Can.” Each word stabbed like a knife.

  Lex sighed. Mariko had gone hormonal. “Look, you and I both know I’m only a bridesmaid because Grandma dictated the bridal party to you. You don’t want me there messing up your fun with your friends.”

  The pregnant pause cheered her. She could almost see Mariko waffling: Grandma . . . fun with friends . . . Grandma . . . fun with friends . . . “No deal.”

  “Aw, why not?”

  “Grandma will kill me, that’s why.” Mariko’s voice had a pinched tone.

  “She won’t be there. How would Grandma ever find out if I didn’t show? Who would tell her?”

  “Uh . . . Grandma will call and ask me how it went.”

  That was a lame excuse, even for Mariko. Lex trusted her like she trusted Uncle Howard not to tell bad jokes. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” But her snap lacked genuine annoyance.

  Why did Mariko adamantly want Lex to be there? “Did Grandma put you up to something? Did you invite some guy to introduce me to?”

  “N-no! Like I’d go through the effort for you.”

  “You wouldn’t. But you would for Grandma.”

  “You’re so full of yourself. You will show up, and you won’t ruin anything. You’re always ruining things.”

  Lex’s throat tightened. She swallowed painfully. “I do not.” She cleared her throat. “I do not.” There, she’d said that a little stronger.

  Luckily, Mariko wasn’t listening to her. “Why’d you have to be the next OSFC? Then you wouldn’t be in my bridal party at all. Why couldn’t Venus have been next OSFC — she’d at least look good in the pictures. Or Jennifer — she’s always so easygoing. You are not leaving me to explain to Grandma why you couldn’t come.”

  Lex tightened her grip on the phone. “Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?”

  “You were born thirteen months after me, that’s what.”

  Lex exhaled a hot breath. “Take it up with my dad.”

  “You don’t realize how hard I had it all those years, being OSFC.”

  “Wah, wah, wah. It’s all about you.” Lex wanted something to smash. “I am not going to your stupid shower just so that you can shove some guy at me.”

  “It’s not a stupid shower — ”

  “Do you know what kind of a week I’ve had?” Lex started ticking things off on her fingers. “I have to move out in three weeks, I had to divvy up all my stuff so Dad can have a garage sale this weekend, Dad’s moving in with Uncle Howard and they don’t have room for me! How would you like to be homeless and possessionless, all in three days?”

  Mariko’s low, menacing voice carried clearly over the phone. “You will be there tomorrow or I’ll call Grandma personally and tell her you didn’t want to meet Burt.”

  “Ha! You are shoving some guy at me.”

  “You’re so juvenile. Be there at nine.” Click.

  Lex collapsed in her chair. Life was so not fair. A bridal shower with Mariko and all her girly-girly friends, laughing and having a good time, excluding tomboy Lex. Laughing at Lex while some totally uninterested guy tried to pretend he was. Then Grandma on the phone as soon as she leaves: “Well? How did he like her?”

  This couldn’t come at a worse week. Forget about finding a boyfriend — Lex had to find housing. She felt doubly abandoned because it seemed like Dad couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

  No, she shouldn’t think that way. Dad had been distracted lately.

  He loved her. He and Uncle Howard would enjoy their bachelor apartment. She shouldn’t resent him for that. She was such a lousy daughter.

  What — did she expect Dad to take care of her for her entire life?

  May as well look for a few apartments online, since she wouldn’t have Internet access in ten days. She toggled her mouse to take her computer out of sleep mode.

  Oh, she had mail. From Russell.

  Lex, Congratulations! The SPZ Sponsorship fund has selected your junior high school girls’ club team for funding beginning in September . . .

  What? She had to read it again.

  Selected. Not rejected.

  She had funding! Lex unleashed a whoop into her silent office.

  She read the rest of the email. The SPZ Sponsorship fund committee is enthusiastic about the opportunity to encourage more girls to join next year, to build community, to create opportunities for girls, and to influence other children in the area.

  Funding is pending your team’s finishing record in the summer playoffs. This is not to demand perfection from your team, but to evaluate your own coaching skills.

  Well, she supposed they wouldn’t want to back a hopelessly losing team. But oh, man. She’d look so bad if the girls’ team got killed during playoffs.

  A press release has been sent to the newspaper —

  Press release? So, if the girls’ team did badly, she’d not only look like a doofus, she’d make her company look bad to the entire community.

  Lovely. No pressure.

  Now Lex really needed Grandma’s money for playoffs. SPZ funding didn’t start until September. Mariko’s wedding was in May.

  She needed a chump — er, boyfriend, until September. They also needed to actually look like a couple at the wedding.

  Lex chewed on her lip. A niggling burrowed around in her gut.

  She needed to find someone she wouldn’t mind looking lovey-dovey with. Well, that’s what she had the Ephesians List for, right?

  She wouldn’t look like an idiot at the wedding, would she? A picture of Mariko and her posse of Asian Barbie dolls flashed in front of her. So glamorous, so with-it, so charming. Lex wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t glamorous, she was never with-it, and she’d really rather not be charming to anyone.

  No, there was nothing wrong with her. She’d show those girls, her aunties, Grandma. She had appeal. She wouldn’t be pitied, and certainly not by them. She could top those ninnies and their ninny boyfriends —

  Ding! The lightbulb went off.

  She’d wow them with a superstar date. A boyfriend so dazzling they’d bow to her superior man-appeal.

  She had called the A’s new pitcher just yesterday about an event with his old alma mater. They’d hit it off. She wondered if he’d agree to be a date for a wedding with guaranteed good Chinese food?

  Or the new Giants’ shortstop. His best friend, UCLA’s alumni association’s representative, adored Lex for all the scouts she’d sent to the ball game last weekend.

  Lex leaned back in her chair and beamed at the ceiling. This was going to be great.

  They were after her.

  Lex didn’t know how Grandma had found out about the free college game tickets. Maybe she’d bugged Lex’s phone. She wouldn’t put it past her.

  But it didn’t matter how, anymore. The news was out. All of Grandma’s friends’ sons knew about it.

  And they were all after Lex.

  Her cell phone started ringing as she shut off her computer for the night. “Hello?” Oops, she only had fifteen minutes to get to Nikkei.

  “Rreksoo Sakai?” The male voice speaking with a heavy Japanese accent made her pause as she grabbed her purse from her desk drawer.

  “Speaking.”

  “Hajimemashte. Boku wa Akaoki Toya. Anata no obaasan — ”

  “I don’t speak Japanese.” But she knew a few words, and Toya had definitely mentioned Lex’s grandmother. A dark suspicion made her grit her teeth as she made her way outside.

  “Oh . . . you no speak?”

  “Fourth generation, bud.”

  “Ah, no. No ‘Bud.’ Toya — ”

  “Toya, what did you need?”

  “Ah. You grandmother, she fri
ends with my mother.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “She say you pretty girl. You like sports. You get tickets for college games, yes?”

  “What?” Lex dropped her car keys. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Okaasan — ”

  His mother. “No, not interested. Good-bye.”

  “But — ”

  She closed her phone and slid into her car. The phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Rrek Sakkai?”

  Chinese accent this time. Oh, no. Maybe she could throw him a curveball. “Moshi-moshiiii! Otearai e itte mo iidesuka? ”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Ichi, ni, san, shi, go! Hitotsu, futatsu, mitsu, yotsu! ”

  “Er . . . Ni hao ma? ”

  Come on, hang up. Lex didn’t know many more Japanese phrases. She supposed she could repeat the “going to the bathroom” phrase.

  “Otearai — ”

  Click.

  Lex stared at the offending phone in her palm. She could turn it off. But what if Wassamattayu called?

  It rang. Nononononono. She let it ring again. Unknown San Jose number. With a painful grimace, she flipped it open. “H-hello?”

  “Lex Sakai?” American accent.

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, my aunt is friends with your grandmother . . .”

  Lex fielded two more calls on her way to volleyball. She skidded into the parking lot and rammed into a stall. Collecting her gear, she hustled toward the high school gym doors.

  “Lex Sakai?” One of three Asian guys stood near the open doorway.

  She stiffened, then peered through the door at the volleyball players just inside. What was she thinking — that some strangers would attack her five feet away from her friends?

  She turned to the one who had spoken, a tall, thin boy who looked like he had just graduated college. “Listen, guys, I’m late for volleyball. I’ll talk to you all later.” If they stayed around until later. She rather hoped they didn’t.

  A second boy moved forward to block her way with his broad chest. “Okay, so you know your grandmother told our moms about the tickets.” He grinned and spread his hands wide. “We’ve all been nagged. We understand. We’re easy.”

  The first guy moved closer. “We don’t have to go out on a date. If you have tickets to the Cal game this weekend, and you’re not going, just give them to one of us. We’ll tell our mothers we had a terrific dinner and a movie.”

  Lex’s jaw ached from dropping it so far down. How was this better than being actually courted for those tickets? “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What — you’re going to the game?”

  With a growl of frustration, she pushed through. Dummies! Idiots! They had put her in the perfect mood to slam some balls —“Lex Sakai?”

  “What? ” She twisted around, following her bark with a feral glare.

  Right at the two Caucasian guys who had been watching her for the past week. The ones who might be Wassamattayu scouts. Just shoot me now. “Ah . . . Sorry, guys. I thought you were someone else.”

  She simpered.

  Their expressionless faces reminded her of FBI agents on TV. Or Aiden when he got frustrated on the court. The shorter one handed her an envelope.

  Her gym bag plopped to the ground. She ripped it open.

  You are cordially invited to participate in tryouts for Wassamattayu . . .

  “Oh my gosh! Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome.” Grim-faced, the taller one nodded.

  “We were very impressed. You play with power and precision.”

  The shorter man’s tone reminded Lex of a business report.

  Lex beamed. “I could almost kiss you!”

  He cleared his throat. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  Lex needed money.

  How ironic that something so important to her might be over before it began.

  She knew Wassamattayu charged several thousand dollars per year for membership — but that hadn’t worried her when she worked for Pear Technologies. She would have been fine taking the money out of her savings and then living cheaply at home until she made the money back at her higher-paying engineering job.

  Now she had to cough up five thousand dollars as a deposit before tryouts. It would be refunded if she didn’t get chosen.

  She re-read that line. She would be chosen. She’d train extra hard.

  But the money worried her. Now she had to rent an apartment instead of living free with Dad, and her SPZ job didn’t pay as much as Pear. And she had thought she’d use her savings as a backup plan —even though it wasn’t enough — for the girls’ playoffs expenses.

  Aiden dropped down next to her to take off his shoes. Both their cell phones rang at the same time.

  Lex barely glanced at the number before ending the call and tossing it down on the floor. She’d missed six calls during the night. How many friends with eligible sons did Grandma have? She sighed and glanced up.

  Oh, no. Talk about persistent.

  The tall, thin guy had stayed. The other two had left. Lex groaned and dropped her head. A pulsing headache started right behind her eyeballs.

  “So, Lex.” Mr. Persistent bent at the waist, hovering over her. “Let’s talk tickets.”

  “Let’s not.” He hadn’t even introduced himself, the pushy creep.

  Her foul mood only made him smile. “Come on. It’s an easy answer for both our problems — my mother, your grandmother.”

  An idea dawned. Lex shoved aside the immediate guilt that followed. “What do you do?”

  Mr. Persistent blinked. “Uh . . . I’m an optometrist.” He dug out his wallet and handed her a business card.

  He was solvent. And she needed money. He probably wouldn’t be willing to cough up five thousand dollars for the weekend Cal game, but he’d know friends who’d be willing to pay for other tickets . . .

  Nonono. She couldn’t believe she was even considering it. Aside from being, oh, slightly illegal, she couldn’t betray the alumni associations who gave her the tickets in good faith.

  Mr. Persistent smiled with that same slick confidence her brother Richard had.

  “No.” She thrust the card back at him. “No.”

  His smile widened. “Lex — ”

  “No.”

  “Aw, come on — ”

  “She said no.” Aiden’s sharp voice cut through them. Lex had forgotten he sat beside her. He’d apparently ended his cell call and overheard Mr. Persistent.

  He tossed Aiden a dark look before gazing at Lex with chagrin that almost looked real. “Keep the card. If you change — ”

  “I won’t.” She turned away from him and started tugging off her shoes. She didn’t look at anyone. Certainly not Aiden.

  She waited until she got the second shoe off. “Is he gone?”

  “Yeah.” Aiden dug in his bag for his street shoes.

  She stared at her feet, wiggled her toes in their socks. Finally she raised her eyes to him. “Thanks.”

  His look rested on her, gentle but not probing. “Anytime.”

  A warmth settled over her ribs. She liked having him . . . not say anything. Especially since practically every guy wanted tickets from her.

  Except him.

  Lex glanced at her discarded cell phone.

  It rang.

  NINETEEN

  Mariko had given her notorious sweet tooth full rein.

  Lex stared at the table of food and could already feel the sugar eating cavities into her enamel. Banana nut bread, sesame-crusted Chinese doughnuts, almond cookies, fruit cocktail and almond custard, steamed egg cake, even honey walnut prawns. On the non-Asian side was rum cake, blueberry pecan muffins, strawberry almond rolls, and croissants. The radioactive coffee Lex had bought that morning from Tran’s Nuclear Coffee Shop burbled in her stomach.

  “Not hungry?” Lex’s cousin Tiki fluttered impossibly long lashes as she bit into a chocolate croissant.

  Okay, one, what Asian had eyela
shes that long and curly? They had to be fake. And two, how did this size-zero chick get away with eating a chocolate croissant with gusto? Tiki even had a son.

  “So, Lex, I heard Mariko has a surprise for you.”

  Lex peered down her nose at Tiki. “She’s wasting her time.”

  Her cat-eyes glittered with mirth. “Oh? And why is that?”

  “I don’t need a man when I’ve got Byron Harvey.” Only the points leader on the Sacramento Kings’s roster.

  Tiki blinked. Her face had a vacant look that matched her brain capacity. “That’s . . . nice.”

  Lex pursed her lips. “Uh . . . I’m trying decide between Byron and Geoff German.”

  Tiki’s plucked brows wrinkled. “Who?”

  “German. The new pitcher for the Oakland A’s?”

  Her brow cleared. “Oh. Baseball.” She said it the way she’d say toilet.

  Lex’s diaphragm dropped like a trapdoor. These dodos didn’t know any of her sports heroes. A professional athlete as a date to Mariko’s wedding would be like a Pulitzer Prize winner at an Illiteracy Dinner.

  “Tavi’s crying.” Tiki flounced away to soothe her shrieking baby.

  Lex’s shoulders sagged. Well, at least she didn’t have to suck up to the UCLA alumni association rep in order to get Byron’s number. She probably couldn’t have convinced Grandma it was true love anyway.

  “Okay, everybody, let’s start the games.” Mariko stood in the middle of the living room as perky as a cheerleader.

  Tiki sidled up to Mariko, bouncing her crying one-year-old.

  “Where’s Burt? He’s supposed to be here to babysit.”

  Mariko shushed her with a hiss.

  The door opened.

  Mr. Babysitter had the coloring, build, and look of Russell Crowe as he entered the Colosseum to fight the gladiators. Shoulders back, chin up, firm jaw, eyes stern and ready for warfare.

  “There you are!” Tiki mobbed him, shoving baby Tavi into his arms. “See, Tavi-wavvie? Here’s Uncle Burt.” She danced back to Mariko’s side. “Okay, we can start now.”

  “Burt, sit there.” Mariko stabbed a lacquered nail at one of two chairs sitting side by side. “Lex, you sit — ”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Lex plopped down next to him.

  He jiggled baby Tavi like a jackhammer, brushing her arm with his elbow.