Dangerous (3 page)

A look crossed Val’s face as she regarded the scene. For a moment I feared she was plotting some new mischief, like ordering Millie into the pool, until another group of guests wandered in. As they
oohed
and
ahhed
the moment of peril passed, and Val led us on.

Millie stayed very close to Val now, forcing me to follow. That was annoying, but not enough to throw me from Val’s outer orbit.

Eventually the path looped back to the other side of the party area. There we ran into Brent, who was now busy saying goodbye to departing guests.

He caught sight of the three of us. “Valeria? Koishi? I…had no idea you two knew each other,” he said with surprise. What did he know about Val that I did not?

“We’ve only just met tonight,” Val replied. “But I understand you two go way back.”

Brent nodded. “Yeah, we’re old college friends.” It was odd, being discussed as if I wasn’t there.

“How do you know each other?” I asked, partly to remind them of my presence.

They each gave different smiles. Val’s eyes had a knowing crinkle, while Brent’s expression was more guarded. “Through a mutual friend,” Val said. “How
is
Natalie these days?”

Before he could answer, Santa bumped hard into him from behind. The man’s arm was wrapped around the waist of a girl nearly as drunk as himself. “Brent, my man, I’m outta here! Thanks for the rockin’ party, dude!” The girl giggled and snorted.

Brent turned to bid them a good night, and asked if they were okay to drive home. But the girl had called a cab, and Santa Dude was going home with her. Brent assured the man he could pick up his car tomorrow, and offered them both a practiced benediction.

I looked back to find Val opening a pocket watch on a chain. Already I knew this was a carefully chosen affectation meant to reinforce her slightly Victorian aesthetic.

After Santa Dude had gone, Brent gave us each a kiss on the cheek. “It was so nice of you ladies to come,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go say goodnight to some people.” And off he went.

“And I’m afraid we must be going, too,” Val said. “Koishi, it’s been a delight making your acquaintance. Isn’t that right, Millicent?”

Millie gave a bright smile and curtsied. “Yes Ma’am!” She was faking it, but the illusion was perfect. It made no difference; I still disliked the girl.

“Thank you,” I told Val. “I’d have had a boring night if I hadn’t met you.” A simpler one at any rate.

She handed me a business card. “I know a nice little jazz club. Buzz me if you’d like to have a drink sometime.” I put her card in my purse.

“Say good night to Koishi, dear,” Val said.

Millie gave me a warm hug and, to my surprise, an impassioned kiss that went on long enough to make me uncomfortable. Her own bit of revenge, perhaps.

When it was over I looked at Val in surprise.

“You’re a delightful thing,” Val said, stroking my cheek with the backs of her fingers. The gesture was at once flirty and parental, and it made my scalp tingle. I felt delicate, small.

“Ta,” she said, and the two of them turned to go.

The newly-risen moon shone over the house, casting silver highlights in Val’s hair as she walked away. Millie’s step had an anticipatory bounce to it. I could not imagine what the rest of their night would entail.

That was how I met Valeria Stregazzi.

2     
hungry

MONDAY WAS CHRISTMAS Eve, and I dutifully drove up to Bakersfield to visit my parents for the holiday. I truly loved them, but it was so much easier to love them from afar. Trips home were stressful.

Being young, I had adapted quickly when our family moved to the States. Mom had not. From the parallax of my new American life, she became a cipher to me, encrypted by a culture I never knew firsthand, nor absorbed from her. I gradually stopped speaking Japanese and turned
gaijin
before her disapproving eyes. Nothing I did satisfied her; after a while I ceased to try. Moving out of my parents’ house was the happiest day of my life.

And then there was Dad, who seemed to shrink a little more each time I saw him. When I was eight he’d been strong and handsome as a Greek god. On returning from the First Gulf War his health had failed, even as the government refused to admit responsibility, or even that he suffered a real illness. The betrayal had destroyed his belief in The System, and now he saw conspiracies everywhere. Who could blame him? But he’d changed, and withdrawn to a cold, distant place I couldn’t reach. It was heartbreaking.

They were genuinely glad to see me though, when I arrived that chilly afternoon. Mom and I kept our claws sheathed, and Dad didn’t lecture me about 9/11 or the New World Order.

My favorite part of visiting my parents was the ambiance of Mom’s kitchen: the tang of fish and miso, the rice cooker’s happy burble. Although this was not the house of my childhood—they’d moved here four years ago to save money—it already smelled like home to me. As soon as I arrived Mom sat me down to a steaming bowl of
kimuchi nabe
, and I realized how much I missed her cooking, if not her constant company.

When the night turned cold I gave my parents their gifts early: two fluffy, sleeved blankets designed for lounging on the couch. And a little later Mom deftly hid the check I slipped her, while Dad wasn’t looking. Despite his illness and a tanking economy he still had his Latin pride.

The next morning Uncle Oscar and his daughter Lupe drove up from Riverside with food, gifts, and a year’s worth of stories. It was good to see my cousin again. Lupe was my age, and she’d been my first real friend in the States. Now we squealed with joy as if were were ten again, as she told me of her engagement and the wedding planned in June.

“You have to be my bridesmaid, Koishi. Promise me!” she demanded, amber eyes ablaze.

“Yes, my Queen,” I said with a formal bow.

She smiled, as I knew she would.
Yes, my Queen
was a private game we’d invented the summer before fifth grade, when our two families lived a block apart. In that game we took turns as Queen and gave the other orders, like a round of
Truth Or Dare
, or having to do something silly or embarrassing. If you didn’t obey, or failed to please the Queen, she gave you a punishment—and usually that was the funniest part. We’d fall down dizzy with laughter, and one time Lupe laughed so hard she wet herself.

Neither of us had thought about that in years. For a moment we stood glassy-eyed, recalling a happy time almost two decades past. I was still thinking about it when she and my uncle drove back home that night.

§

For two days Mom, Dad, and I managed to act like a real family, but that was our limit. When Mom started grilling me about romantic prospects over Wednesday’s breakfast I knew it was time to go.

I spent that blustery drive home wondering what to do with myself for the next week. Things were slow at work because of the writer’s strike, so our office would stay closed between Christmas and New Year’s Day.

I napped when I got home. Went to the theater. Cleaned my fish tank. Cooked dinner. And started reading the latest Sue Grafton novel.

§

I blame Norman.

Oh, his call that night was harmless enough.

“Hello?” I said, picking up the phone as I sat on the nearer stool.

“Hi, Koishi. It’s Norm. How ya been?”

Ugh. Please god, not Norman. Not tonight.

“I just got back from Christmas with my parents, so you can imagine how I’ve been,” I managed to say.

“Yeah, I know,” he chuckled, not knowing at all. That was the extent of his polite curiosity before cutting to the chase. “Hey, I know it’s been a while, but I was wondering if you’d like to go to a New Year’s party at Rob’s? Remember him? It’ll be fun.”

I dimly remembered Rob as his red-faced friend with the mullet and a Dixie flag on his truck. As for Norman, I’d stopped returning his calls six months ago. Nice enough guy, but about as exciting as tofu. The thought of being caught under mistletoe with him was more than I could bear.

“Aww, I’d like to, Norm, but I already have plans,” I lied, smooth as silk.

“Are you sure? I’d love to see you again.”

His pleading annoyed me enough to tell another lie. “Yeah, sorry. Oh damn, I gotta go put my clothes in the dryer. Bye!”

But his phone call, mom’s questions about dating, and the break from work with nothing to do threw me into a delicate funk. I desperately needed some company. Someone different, someone independent who wouldn’t cling. The problem was, my little black book was fresh out of numbers and I didn’t feel like going on the prowl.

As if on autopilot I lit the stove and put on a tea kettle, then sat to wait.

That’s when I remembered Val’s card, still in my purse on the far end of the counter. I leaned over and pulled it closer, the snap sliding on the faux granite counter with a metallic rasp.

I hadn’t even glanced at the card when Val offered it. Now, as I sat looking into the side pocket of my purse I was reluctant to touch it. Yet it found its way into my hand, almost against my will.

I’d hoped to learn something further about Val from that card, but I was disappointed. It simply said:

Valeria Stregazzi
(818) 555-4930

Just who, or what, was Valeria Stregazzi?

Self-assured, educated, and a good deal wealthier than me. Claimed to have a job she couldn’t talk about. If that was so, why didn’t she just say something boring, like “I’m an actuary.” No, she’d intentionally dangled that mystery to fix my interest, like the glowing lure of an anglerfish. Val was probably a rather vain person.

Kinky too, that much I knew, if not the details of her particular thing. She’d have made a fine vampire with her pale complexion and penetrating eyes, and Millie on hand as a ready snack.

Like a vampire she radiated power, and possessed an almost supernatural focus of attention. The most shocking thing, though, was my own reaction. I’d been captivated. I’d wanted it, wanted more, and not because of the drinks.

Wanted
what
, exactly? Sex?

The kettle sang, and I wrestled with the question while preparing the tea. No, I told myself, not sex really, but an unnamed yearning spiced faintly with fear. Val seemed to know a dark and delicious secret that smoldered in her look, her words, her touch.

I’d felt something similar in seventh grade, watching the older high school girls with their ripe curves and knowing eyes. Compared to my skinny twelve-year-old Asian body, they were blooming goddesses: haughty, numinous, sharing a carnal language closed to me. And it had been a source of wonder and dread to know that I would soon be one of them, whether I wished it or not.

With Val, I’d touched the numinous again, felt a similar awe. But unlike those high school girls, Val had crossed the divide to offer her forbidden fruit, dared me to bite.

Then there was the question of Millie. What was she to Val, exactly? She’d resented Val’s interest in me yet endured it, even when told to dance or fetch drinks. Stranger still, by the evening’s end she’d displayed, if not pleasure, some measure of acceptance toward me. Why did they both act as if Val had every right to flirt with me?

I found the whole situation bizarre yet strangely alluring, and my ruminations left me feeling even more fragile than before. I sipped my tea and swam back to the surface of the present, hoping to distract myself with last week’s unread copy of
Time
. When that didn’t work, I looked at the clock—8:55pm—and called my friend Trish. It was an hour later for her.

“Hey, Toots,” she said in that warm, ebony voice. We’d been coworkers and close friends until she moved to Tucson three years ago. Now we kept in touch by phone and email. When she flew into town a couple times a year, we usually found time to meet for dinner or drinks.

“Merry Christmas, Trish. Is it too late to call?”

She instantly detected my need to talk. “What have you done now?” Her tone was equal parts teasing and maternal concern. I imagined her standing with a hand on one hip, head cocked, awaiting my confession.

“More like what I’m
thinking
of doing. I kinda met someone last week.”

“And his name is…?”

“Um, actually…it’s not a he,” I admitted.

She laughed, her voice like honey. “Wow. Was the last guy you dated
that
bad? Norbert?”

“Norman. And it’s not because of him, you goof. It’s just—well, I’m not really sure what I should do.”

“She must be an incredible woman. So what’s her name?”

“Val. Valeria. I met her at Brent’s Christmas thing on Saturday.” Trish had met Brent two years ago, when she came with me to his 2005 party.

“
Valeria
,” she said, tasting it. “She an actress, with a name like that?”

“No, she does something with computers. Security, I think. But she knows Brent too.” I gave her a brief sketch of the encounter—without mentioning Millie or Val’s evasions concerning her job. “She gave me her card, said we could meet for drinks.”

“You gonna do it?”

“I don’t know. Should I? I mean, I don’t real—”

“It’s the Twenty-first century, K. Do what you want. Just be careful. And if things don’t work out, there’s always Norbert.”

§

When we were coworkers Trish had been my pole star in such matters. Now her approval put some of my doubts to rest. If she had freaked, Val’s card would have gone straight in the trash, end of story.

I decided it was okay to meet Val for a drink and play it by ear. If her interest was purely social, it would just be a nice chat. And if she wanted more, well…I could always say no if things got weird. What was the harm in that? My curiosity was killing me.

Still, I didn’t call her the next day. Or the next. Every time I saw her card on my counter, I recalled her voice in my ear, breathing, “Are you hungry, Koishi?”

§

I broke down and called Val on Saturday.

The phone rang ten times and she answered just as I reached to hang up.