Sushi for One? (3 page)

Until then, she’d stick to him like gum on his shoe.

“Hey, Kin-Mun. Jill.”

“Lex, I was asking Kin-Mun if he’d play with us at the Vegas tournament in a few months. Can you play, too? No one sets him like you do.”

Lex shrugged. “Sure, I’ll play. Email me.”

“Let me check my work schedule first.” Kin-Mun’s unusually deep voice growled in the noisy gym. Lex had to move in to hear him better.

“No prob. Thanks, guys.” Jill drifted away.

“I hope I can play.” Kin-Mun sat down to tug off his volleyball shoes. “’Cuz then
Jill
can set me instead of you.” He roared with laughter.

“Very funny. I’ll tell her you like your sets low and tight to the net so the blocker will stuff it down your face.”

“Aw, you’re so mean.” He rose and picked up his bag.

Excellent. Maybe she could hustle him out of the gym early. “Going out to eat?” Lex started ambling toward the door.

“Yeah . . . Where’s my ball?” Kin-Mun wove his way toward the folded-up bleachers, examining balls lying on the floor.

Lex went to the other side and helped him search. Anything to get him out to his car faster. She spotted the faded blue Sharpie graphic he’d drawn over the “Tachikara” emblem. “Here it is.”

“Thanks.” Kin-Mun put the ball into his bag, then dropped back down to the floor to stretch.

Stretch?!

Lex could have a cow or just be patient for once. She dropped to the floor next to him.

They were a little removed from the other players, out of earshot if she spoke low. “Hey, Kin-Mun — ”

“Hi guys.” Robyn walked up to them. “Will you buy magazine subscriptions for my son’s fundraiser?”

Another interruption. She’d never ask him out at this rate. “Sure.” Lex fumbled in her bag for her purse. The faster she paid Robyn, the faster she’d leave them.

“Kin-Mun?” Robyn gave him a coaxing grin.

“Uh . . . sure.” Kin-Mun searched through his bag for his wallet.

Robyn handed Lex the tattered flipcard listing the magazines. Lex barely glanced at them. “
Golf
.”

Kin-Mun gave her an adoringly confused look. “You don’t like playing golf.”

“I like keeping up with the sport. And I already have
ESPN
and
Sports Illustrated
.” She handed Robyn some cash.

Kin-Mun scanned the magazine listings with agonizing slowness. His methodical nature really annoyed her sometimes. Like now.
Sometime this century . . .

“
Entrepreneur
.”

“You don’t invest.”

“I’d like to.” He handed Robyn the card and his money.

“Thanks, you guys.” Robyn finally left.

“So, Kin-Mun — ”

“Unca Kin-Mun!”

The screech came only a millisecond before a three-year-old hurtled in between them. Lex caught a flailing hand across her eyes. “Oof!”

A burning sensation crawled across her eyeballs. She squeezed her lids shut, and the pain radiated laterally to the corners. What did that brat — er, child have on his hands?

“Oh, buddy, your hands are all sticky.” Kin-Mun’s jovial voice spoke through Lex’s dark pain.

“Oh-jay.” The boy giggled like he’d made a joke worthy of Sesame Street.

Tears finally welled and gushed out. The burning eased. Lex rubbed at her eyes.

“Go back to Mommy.” Kin-Mun gave him a pat on his well-diapered bottom as the toddler stumbled away.

“So, Kin-Mun — ”

With a fluid motion, he hoisted his lanky frame to his feet. “You going out to eat with everybody?” He turned toward the door.

Kin-Mun didn’t even wait for her as he walked out. Lex swallowed her ire as she stood up, grabbed her bag, and followed behind him.

Well, at least he held the door open for her as they exited the gym.

Other players walked beside, in front, and behind them as they all made their way to the parking lot.

“Do you know where we’re going to eat tonight?” Kin-Mun dodged a branch that had fallen onto the sidewalk.

Lex shrugged. “Probably the usual.”

“I’m getting tired of Michael’s Diner.”

“Well, then convince some other restaurant to stay open past ten on a Monday night.” Didn’t they have this conversation every week?

When they reached his car, Lex shifted to stand closer to him as he unlocked his trunk. “So — ”

“Hey, Kin-Mun, did you catch the Giants’ game the other day?” One of his teammates jogged up, lugging his monstrous bag.

“No, I saw the highlights on SportsCenter. Did you?”

“Yeah, I have it saved on Tivo.”

“Hey, can you burn it onto a DVD for me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“See ya.” He and his bag lumbered off.

Lex wouldn’t be interrupted again. “Kin-Mun, go out on a date with me.” Oops, that sounded kinda like a threat.

Bushy eyebrows waggled upward, creasing his tanned forehead, reaching for his hairline. “What?”

“Um . . . would you like to go out on a date with me?”

“Date? Like in . . .”

“Date.”

“Well, we always hang out.”

“No, I mean, hang out like more than friends.” Man, she hated this kind of DTR stuff. Wait, was this a Define The Relationship discussion? Whoa. This was weird.

“Um . . .” Kin-Mun scratched the back of his head and looked down at the ground.

Okay, that was a bad sign, right? No immediate,
Oh, that’s something I’ve never thought of before. Sure, let’s try it.

“Is that it? ‘Um’?”

“I like being just friends.”

Aaargh. “Nonono. Not acceptable.” Oops . . . did she say that out loud? Try again. “You’ve never thought of me as anything else? Not even considered it?”

“You’re like . . . a brother.”

“A brother? One of the guys?”

“Yeah.” He started to smile.

“What am I, genderless?” It came out just short of a screech. Grandma was
not
correct, she didn’t need bigger breasts to catch a man.

His smile flitted away. “No. You’re like . . . a sister. Yeah, a sister.”

Was she really not attractive —
No, stop that thinking right there. Don’t be ridiculous.
“But I’m not your sister.”

“Uh . . . no, I guess not.”

“So why would you think of me as a sister?”

“I dunno.”

Lex needed to hit the restart button on this entire conversation. “So why not give it a try?”

“What?”

“Dating.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

As Kin-Mun stood there, Lex could almost see his left-brain logic gears whirling. “Uh . . .”

“Give me a good reason.”

“Well . . .” He scratched his head again. “I guess.”

“Great!”

Kin-Mun jumped at her exuberance. His smile seemed a little pained. Maybe she had shouted too loud.

Now to make plans so he couldn’t change his mind. “I’ll email you. We can go out this Saturday night. You’re free, right?”

“Uh . . .” Gears whirling some more. “Yeah — ”

“Great! You can take me to FJL.”

Kin-Mun’s face brightened at the mention of his favorite Italian restaurant. “Okay.”

“I’ll make reservations. Pick me up at seven.”

“Okay.”

Lex walked away. That hadn’t been too bad. He had just needed a little prodding.

FOUR

Y
es, I’ll hold.” Lex loosened her grip on the phone handset.

“Will you stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.”

Trish plopped on the orange-and-brown striped couch. “So, Kin Mun’s reluctance doesn’t bother you even a little bit?”

Trish’s knowing look put Lex’s back up, even as a small part of her whispered,
He wasn’t that reluctant, was he?
“Can we talk about this later? I’m on the phone.” Lex leaned back in the ancient La-Z-Boy and rested her elbow against the scarred oak side table.

“You’re not talking to anyone right now.”

“I’m not going to be distracted by you.”

“I don’t distract you.”

“You make me emotional, and I need to be pleasant and calm with Mr. Tomoyoshi.”

Trish rolled her eyes but shut up.

“Hello, Lex?”

Lex turned her attention to the phone. “Hi, Mr. Tomoyoshi.”

“Haven’t seen you in the restaurant in a while. How are you doing?” The kind, jovial voice matched Mr. Tomoyoshi’s wide girth and generous nature.

“I’m doing well.”

“Still playing volleyball?”

“Yup. In fact, I’m coaching — ”

“I still remember when your grandma brought you into the restaurant and you wouldn’t leave your volleyball in the car, and you ended up hitting it into your ramen noodles and splashing yourself.” He laughed.

“Heh. Heh. Yeah.” Was that the only memory Mr. Tomoyoshi had of her? He mentioned it every time she spoke to him. What about her graduation party in his Japanese restaurant? Or her dad’s
yakudoshi
birthday party? Or the numerous other times she went in there to eat and didn’t have a horribly embarassing mishap? “So, Mr.Tomoyoshi — ”

“How often do you see your grandma?”

“I just saw her at my cousin’s Red Egg and Ginger party.”

“Oh, Chester’s niece? That must have been nice.”

For the other guests there, maybe. “Yeah. Good food.” Not that she’d had any of it.

He chuckled. “You tell your grandma to have it in my restaurant instead next time.”

Hmm. Traditional Chinese party in a Japanese restaurant. She wasn’t quite seeing it. “Sure. You’ve got the best food.”

“Aw, thanks. You’re such a sweet girl.”

Lex grimaced at the “girl” remark. “I’m still coaching a junior high girls’ volleyball club team.”**

“Oh, good for you. Way to give back to the Asian community.”

Lex wouldn’t mention that most of her girls were from downtown San Jose. Well, a few of them were Asian. “I’m happy to do it. They’re the daughters of the women that my mom coached.”

“Ah, I miss your mom.”

Lex swallowed convulsively. “Yeah. So anyway — ”

“How’s your dad doing these days?”

“He’s good. He’s bowling a lot.”

“I see him every so often. He’s walking a little slower these days, you know?”

“Uh . . .” Actually, it didn’t seem that way, but Lex wasn’t about to argue with one of her elders, let alone a potential sponsor. “Sure.”

“Well, you should cut back on some of your volleyball so that you can take care of him. We’re all getting older.”

Lex was fully aware of the cultural and moral obligation to care for her parent in his old age, even if said parent insisted he didn’t want to be cared for. But why did people always think she needed to be reminded and that she needed to give up everything in her life to do it? She’d seen friends and relatives who gave up dreams to care for their family, and it was just sad, frustrating, and tiring for them.

Lex chose to ignore his comment. “Speaking of volleyball, my girls’ team will be traveling for playoffs over the summer, and I wondered if you’d be willing to sponsor us or donate to the traveling costs.”

“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.