I can’t let them down. I won’t.
Suddenly, Kimono-lady was scurrying toward me. “You forgot this,” she cried and plopped the tall, almost silly looking chef hat on my head. “It’s Benny Hana’s lucky hat. Now what are you waiting for? GO, GO, GO!”
Right. I’m going, going, going. Galvanized into action, I tied the apron around my waist, marched down the narrow hallway, slid open the bamboo door, and stepped inside the private room.
Thirty pairs of eyes were fixed tight on me.
Oh bum! I gulped. This was going to be worse than I thought. A lot worse.
The entire clan was here! Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews, nannies! For a rash moment, I considered bolting out the bamboo door. But I held my ground. The kids were counting on me.
Deep tantric breaths. Find my inner peace.
Feng shui my mind... feel my chi energy.
Think tranquil and serene thoughts.
Calm, calm thoughts.
Think Japanese botanical garden.
Think pristine koi pond.
Ohm . . . Ohm . . . Ohm . . .
Somehow—don’t ask me how—I found myself bowing slightly. “Konnichiwa.”
“Adelaide!” Molly shrieked with delight. “Are you gonna be our Hibachi chef?”
“Yes.” I smiled serenely. “Yes, I am. Sadly, chef Benny Hana has been taken ill tonight and his replacement is nowhere in sight.” I gave her a mournful look before perking right up. “But... the show must go on!”
Everyone stared, incredulous, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
Ender had his eyebrows raised so high I thought they might pop off the top of his head!
And Bianca’s glare was so blighting I almost shriveled on the spot.
Slightly petrified, I managed a strained smile.
Okay. Deep breaths. To avoid Bianca’s Medusa-like scowl and Ender’s scorching-hot stare, I grabbed two spatulas, smacked the utensils together, and went straight to work.
I began the performance with a blast of flames from the grill. Next, I entertained the crowd by bouncing eggs on the skinny side of a spatula. Then I spun two eggs, making them dance along the grill. As the eggs were spinning away, I began juggling spatulas in the air, flipping them over my shoulder, around my neck, and over my head.
Catching the spatulas mid-air, I screamed, “Hi Yah!” and split the eggs open like a samurai with a sword.
“PHWOAR!” the kids gasped. Some of the adults were wowed by the show, too. I suspect it was the novelty factor for them.
Soaking up the applause, I set more flames shooting across the grill, flipping food here and there, squirting out sauce with aplomb.
I was a spatula-slicing-and-dicing, fire-wielding Hibachi chef!
Things were going terrific! I grinned inanely, buoyed up by the pleasant turn of events. I started tossing pieces of vegetables and shrimp, one by one, from my spatula into the eager mouths of participants—namely Molly and McKenzie. Even Ender and Edric went along with the shenanigans, catching flying shrimps in their mouths like trained dolphins.
Feeling more confident, I started creating my own tricks, pushing the rice together with the spatula to make a heart shape. Then I slid the spatula beneath the heart and made the ‘heart’ beat.
“Ohhhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhh.” The kids watched with rapture.
Hah! I thought that was a clever touch!
Then it was time to cook the meat and seafood. I laid down scallops, lobster tails, chicken, and filet mignon, chopping and flipping them as they cooked.
“Adelaide!” The twins were giggling with excitement. “Do the volcano trick!”
Their wish was my command. I stacked raw onions cut into rings, one on top of the other, creating a volcano shape. Then I poured oil down the center, squirted some sake, and lit it on fire.
WHOOOSH! Flames exploded and shot out of the top like a volcano with smoke billowing out.
The kids were wowed by the culinary pyrotechnics. I know this for a fact because they yelled, “WOOWWWW!”
Moments later, I reached for a bottle to douse out the flames, but I must have grabbed the wrong one because the onion volcano erupted like Mount Vesuvius!
WHOOOSH! Flames blasted out, engulfing the entire grill station.
I stared in horror! Bianca’s hair was smoking and burning at the tips.
With sudden supersonic speed, I grabbed a dishrag and frantically beat the fire out of her hair.
“What are you doing?” Bianca screamed, shoving at me with both hands. “What the hell? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?”
I froze. Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. And I simply went numb.
First Cade, and now Bianca. I didn’t even want to think about the countless others who had hurled those words at me.
The past was too painful. I thought it would be different here.
I thought things would be different now.
But those words kept replaying in my mind: What the hell is wrong with you?
“I don’t know,” I said in a pathetically weak voice. “A lot of things.”
In the background, I could hear Ender yelling at Bianca. Fredrick was yelling at Ender. Kids were screaming and crying.
But to me it was just noise. A distant, meaningless noise.
As if in a slow trance, I removed the chef hat, untied the apron, and left.
I didn’t know where I was going.
I just knew I had to get out of there.
Tears pricked my eyes. I had ruined their Christmas.
Chapter Thirty
ENDER
OUTSIDE, I FOUND ADELAIDE in the parking lot. She was just sitting in the red Ferrari, staring blankly at the lights on the dashboard.
I opened the door and slid in the passenger seat.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on with you?”
A faint smile touched her lips.
This time I had said those words intentionally, deliberately, fully conscious of the fact that they meant something to her.
I could tell they still did because her stiff shoulders seemed to relax a little.
“How’s Bianca doing?” she said at last.
“She’s okay. Her singed hair and wounded pride are the extent of her injuries. Other than that, she’s perfectly fine.”
Seconds passed before she spoke again. “I heard you yelling at Bianca.” She bit down on her lower lip. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her she had no right to yell at you, that you were only trying to help.” I paused. “And I might have mentioned that she uses enough hairspray to break the ozone layer, and I might have alluded to the fact that the shitload of hairspray she used was the reason her hair caught on fire.”
She laughed a little. “You really said that?”
“I did. No one else’s hair caught on fire, did they?” I gave a careless shrug. “Just Bianca’s. I say it’s definitely the hairspray.”
“Is Bianca still mad at me?” she asked in a small voice.
“No,” I assured her. “Bianca might look like she’s mad, but that’s just the fillers in her lips wearing off. Her lips deflate as the day wears on.”
“You’re too kind, Ender. You’re just trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?”
“Is it working?”
“Not really.” She sighed and looked down at her lap. “I still ruined everyone’s Christmas.”
“Adelaide.” I waited until she lifted her gaze before continuing. “You didn’t ruin anyone’s Christmas. You cooked us a good dinner and everyone’s in there enjoying their meals.”
“But... but I heard the kids crying.”
“The only reason they were crying is ’cause Bianca scared the shit out of them when she started screaming at you.”
She blinked. “You mean they weren’t scared of the fire that got out of control?”
“Are you kidding me?” I adopted a serious tone. “They fucking loved it!”
“Really?”
> “Really.”
To this, she tilted her head slightly and smiled. A smile that lit up her face and lingered in her eyes. “That’s such a relief. I was so afraid I mucked things up for them. Molly and McKenzie were so excited for tonight, to see a Hibachi chef in action doing fast and fancy tricks.”
“They got to see you in action.” I elbowed her playfully. “Which was even better.”
“You think so?”
“I know so, Iron Chef Adelaide Morimoto. You’ve got some mad skills.” I reached over and slid the key out of the ignition. “C’mon,” I said. “Let’s go inside. I saved a plate of food for you. A huge plate of food,” I added and she laughed, shoving me playfully.
Chapter Thirty-One
ADELAIDE
MOLLY AND MCKENZIE sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of their sumptuous bedroom, playing with their Barbie and Ken dolls.
“Adelaide,” Molly said, dressing her Ken doll in a pink tutu. “How come our baby brother, Sawyer, has a penis but Ken doesn’t have one?”
“Yeah.” McKenzie’s blue eyes narrowed in thought. “Barbie has boobies, so why doesn’t Ken have a pee-pee?”
“You girls are absolutely right!” I gave a crisp nod. “Ken dolls are anatomically incorrect. He should have a penis.”
“How big are most penises?” Molly asked.
“Well,” I said. “The average size of a penis is 3.5 inches when flaccid and 5.1 inches when erect.”
“Let me get a ruler!” McKenzie leapt to her feet and returned moments later with a wooden ruler. “Did you say 5.1 inches, Adelaide?”
“Correct,” I said.
McKenzie measured out 5.1 inches on her ruler, and then she said in a hushed awe, “That’s bigger than Sawyer’s arm.”
“That’s big.” Molly frowned. “Why are penises so big?”
“Good question,” I said. “Studies show that the human penis is proportionally larger than those of our evolutionary cousins. It makes me wonder if women have been responsible for the male penis getting larger—at least over the course of evolution. I think it’s a possibility that women may have selected larger penises because they’re linked to higher rates of coital satisfaction. Suppose that the average early human had a penis similar to a chimpanzee’s but our female ancestors had more coital satisfaction from those few males who had larger penises. Males with larger penises would tend to be selected, and they’d be more successful in reproducing and have more offspring. In time, the whole population of males would tend to have larger penises and through linkage disequilibrium would carry genes for the preference for larger penises among females. At the same time, the females who prefer males with larger penises would carry the unexpressed genes for large penises. So coital selection is one way of developing a grossly enlarged feature.”
Ender chose that moment to saunter into the room. “What’s a gross enlarged feature?” he asked.
“Penises!” Molly yelped.
“They’re big,” McKenzie added in a serious tone. “Bigger than Sawyer’s arm.”
The faint, sexy lift of his lips told me he was amused. “Is that so?” His voice was teasing.
I felt the color rising to my cheeks, considering Ender’s penis was much larger than the average human penis. The guy was hung like a moose.
“Sorry to break up the party, girls!” Ender said grimly. “But it’s your bedtime. Bianca’s orders.”
“Where’s Bianca?” I whispered.
He didn’t reply, simply shook his head and cut his gaze to the ceiling.
After much hemming and hawing, the twins finally clambered into bed and I pulled the covers up to their chins.
“Don’t leave yet, Adelaide,” Molly said in a pleading voice. “Tell us a story.”
“All right,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What kind of story would you like to hear?”
“A ghost story.” Molly gripped the covers tightly beneath her chin and her eyes were wide as headlights. “We love ghost stories.”
“I’ll tell you a ghost story,” I said. “But it won’t be about ghosts from planet earth.”
“Why not?” Molly asked.
“Because they don’t exist.”
“Nice one, Adelaide.” Ender shook his head but there was a hint of laughter in his voice. “Way to ruin it for the girls.”
I shot him an irritated glance. “Do you want to tell the story?”
Leaning indolently against the wall, he folded his arms across his chest. “You tell it.”
“Yeah,” McKenzie chimed in. “Tell the story, Adelaide. I still want to hear it.”
“Me, too.” A sexy grin tilted Ender’s lips. “I wanna hear it.”
“Okay,” I said decisively. “I’ll tell the story.” In the next breath, I began, “When you go outside and gaze at the night sky, what do you see?”
“Stars,” said the twins.
“Correct,” I said. “And the stars that you see are a lot like us. They are born, they live for an amount of time, and they die. Some might fade away, some might explode, but in the end, they are mortal, much like us.”
Molly’s brows furrowed. “So some stars are dead as a dodo?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “Some of the stars you see are dead.”
“Hmm.” Molly pursed her lips. “How come we can still see them twinkle if they’re dead?”
“Good question,” I said. “Because light travels at a large but finite speed, it takes time for light to cover large distances. So when you see the light of very distant objects in the universe, you are actually seeing light emitted from them a long time ago; you see them literally as they were in the distant past. And it takes a long time for the light from stars to reach us. The nearest known star to the sun is the Alpha Centauri triple-star system. And it takes more than four years for its light to reach us. Some stars are so far away it takes eternities for their light to reach us here on earth, and by the time they do, some of them are already dead. Think of the light you see as their spirits, their souls. Their bodies have long faded into the distant galaxy. So if you want to see ghosts, all you have to do is gaze up into the night sky and you’ll see them... light emitted from a long time ago.” I paused. “Ghosts of dead stars.”
“Wow.” Wonder filled their voices. “Cool story!”
Molly smiled, showing a charming dimple. “You’re so smart, Adelaide.”
“I’m not smart.” I smiled back. “I just spend more time with problems and my thoughts and things like that.”
“Thank you for the story,” McKenzie said sweetly.
“You’re welcome,” I said, pushing myself off the bed. Then I lifted my chin at Ender. “Your turn now. Try and top that.”
He laughed. “I’m not even going to try.”
“Goodnight, girls.” Ender leaned over and tucked the covers around their little bodies, wrapping them in protective cocoons.
The twins gazed at him with a sort of hero worship in their eyes. But it was Molly who spoke first. “We had so much fun hanging out with you, Ender. When do you have to leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Nooooooooooo,” they both wailed. “Can you stay longer?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Can’t. Gotta go to school just like you gotta go to school.”
“What about Adelaide?” Molly asked. “Can she stay longer? I really, really like her.”
“I like her more!” McKenzie added emphatically. “What about you, Ender? Do you like her?”
He didn’t answer right away and my shoulders tensed as the silence stretched. “I like her, too,” he said at last.
“Is she your best friend?” Molly asked, giggling under the covers.
Ender caught my gaze across the room, a faint smile curving his lips. “Yeah,” he said slowly, holding my stare. “I guess you can say that.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
ENDER
“THERE YOU ARE, SON.” Dad cast me a darting glance over his shoulder before turning back to the s
tone fireplace that took up the entire wall of his study.
I crossed the room and sat down on the antique leather wingchair in front of his desk.
Dad picked up a fire poker from the hearth and started stirring the smoldering ashes.
Leaning back in my chair I watched him, noting the slight tremor in his right hand as he stoked the fire. “I can no longer pretend it’s not a problem.” He stared deeply into the flames. “It used to be a slight tremor in my thumb, sometimes my chin. But it’s gotten worse.” A pause. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”
I said nothing, waited.
It seemed there were miles between us even though we were only a few feet apart.
He walked to his desk and pulled a Cuban cigar from its ornate silver case. His hands shook slightly as he removed the band, snipped the tip, and lit it. Settling down on his chair, he puffed on his cigar and began talking about business, his practice, money—always money, what he wanted me to do with my life.
I poured myself a scotch and drank in silence as he droned on and on.
“What’s your problem, son?” he said at last.
“You wanna know what my problem is?” I clenched my jaw. “You. You’re my fucking problem. And I don’t wanna join your damn practice.”
He took another puff of his cigar and blew smoke rings in my direction.
Pretentious prick. Bianca emasculates him and he turns around and tries to emasculate me. ‘Tries’ being the operative word.
“What do you want?” His words were muffled because of that damn cigar between his lips.
Anger burned down my throat.
He knows what I want. He’s always known.
“Don’t sit there and pretend you don’t know. I want to turn pro. I want to quit college so I can work on my game full-time. Three years ago, I beat Phil Marr and he’s now ranked ninth in the world. I’ve crushed Ivan Dossier on the court and he’s now ranked fourth. That could’ve been me, Dad. That could’ve been me. Nike offered me a million-dollar deal to—”
“You think one mill is a lot?” He chuckled. “That’s nothing compared to what you could be making if you joined the practice.”
[Hemsworth Brothers 01.0] The Slam Page 21