Under a Silver Moon Page 15

  “Oh, it has.” Mandy sighed. She had to bite her tongue hard not to squeal when Miji put his arm around her.

  “Never let it be said that Makana does not know how to treat his fans. Come sit at my table.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kim and Imai had an early dinner the following evening as he had to work on the set lists for his upcoming tour and Kyoru was coming over to work on the arrangements for a new song they were working on for the next ChildsPrey single. Standing near the floor to ceiling windows that led out to the garden as she drank her coffee, Kim wondered what in the world had gotten into Mandy besides irritability from jetlag.

  She’d slept in ‘til well after noon, which wasn’t much of a surprise, but when Kim went back to the guesthouse later to see how her evening with Izumi-san had gone Mandy had been surprisingly tightlipped and brushed her off, saying that she wanted to soak in the tub a while and email her friends. Mandy came out of the guesthouse and was walking in the garden talking on her cell phone just as Kyoru arrived. Kim greeted him and then told Imai she was going out to visit with her daughter.

  “That’s Kim-san’s daughter?” the drummer asked gesturing to the window.

  Imai grinned as he looked over the sheet music his friend had brought. “Kim looks great for having an eighteen year-old, ne?”

  “I guess so. But, hey, I saw her last night, the girl. She was at Miji’s party.”

  Imai’s head shot up. “What the fuck were you doing at a party given by that bastard?”

  “He and I are partners in Harajuku Rage, remember? You didn’t want to invest to keep it afloat and he had the cash in hand.”

  “Fine. Fine.” Imai looked back to the sheet music for a moment then to his friend again. Kyoru was gazing out the window as he stirred sugar into his coffee cup. “She was with Michiko from the label, right?”

  “The girl?”

  Imai nodded. “Her name is Mandy.”

  “Sasao said she saw Michiko in the ladies’ room, but she was nowhere around when I saw the girl with Miji.”

  Imai stared at his friend, who’d left just enough unsaid to rouse Imai’s protective nature. “What. Did. That. Fucker. Do?”

  “Nothing really,” Kyoru said, sipping his coffee.

  “Don’t shit me. I know him.”

  “He had her sitting on his lap. He was teasing her by trying to look down the front of her dress. It was nothing. She was laughing.”

  Imai tossed the stack of sheet music on the table and glared at Kyoru. “That bastard,” he cursed. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

  “Do what?” Kyoru frowned, brushing some of his chin-length, blonde-dyed hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t know who she was last night. And even so…”

  “Even so what?” Imai demanded. “We both know Miji has only one thing on his mind, that pervert.”

  “Mandy-san is an adult.” Kyoru got defensive, staring into his coffee cup while he talked to avoid meeting Imai in the eye. “Like I said, she was laughing and enjoying herself. It’s none of my business to interfere.” He paused, then added in a quiet mumble, “Or yours.”

  “What does that mean?” Imai fumed. “And don’t try to back peddle, you little prick.”

  Kyoru returned his glare with one just as furious. “You’re not her father. And knowing you, I don’t think you’re very serious about her mother.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  The sharpness of Imai’s tone startled Kim as she came in through the entrance hall.

  “It means what it means, Imai. I’ve known you for ten years, and you’ve never spent more than a week with any one woman and all that time was in bed by your own bragging accounts.”

  “But this is different.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Time will tell.”

  Kim covered her mouth with one hand to keep herself from making a sound as she stood frozen outside the room. She would’ve imagined Imai to put up more of a protest against his friend’s comment ‑‑ hell, why were they even talking about this? Unless…oh, God, could it be true? Was Imai already getting tired of her and complaining about it to Kyoru?

  She heard Kyoru get up to leave, but couldn’t make herself move. The drummer turned the corner a moment later and gave her a surprised look. “Oh, Kim-san…” he stammered. “I…how long were you standing…”

  “Did you leave your music notes with Imai?” Kim said quietly, avoiding his unfinished question.

  He nodded, nervously brushing the hair from his face and biting down on his lower lip. “I guess I better go. Imai can explain the situation better than I can.” Kyoru rushed past her while Kim’s heart sank to the floor.

  This was a “situation” now?

  Hearing the front door slam, Imai came out into the hall to find Kim standing there staring as though he’d grown another head. “Where did that idiot go?”

  “Home, I suppose,” she said in a tone so flat it hit him like a slap. “What happened?”

  “Miji Makana is what happened,” he muttered. “I’ll kill that bastard. Last night, he had no right ‑‑”

  “To let me know I’ve been fooling myself? I should have known…”

  “What?” He stepped closer and she held up her hands as if to keep him away.

  “I knew there were a lot of women. Hell, how could there not be ‑‑ look at you. But you should have told me. I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have done it all anyway. It’s been wonderful…”

  Imai stood there, trying to figure out what was going on as she stepped past him and went upstairs muttering to herself.

  He followed and caught up with her at the top of the stairs. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting my things to go back to the guesthouse.”

  “Why?”

  Kim laughed. “Because I’m done being one of your many women you keep only in bed.”

  He gave her a questioning look. “You’re talking about what that idiot Kyoru said.”

  “Obviously.”

  Imai shook his head. “He was talking stupid shit. That has nothing to do with us.”

  “But it’s true. You didn’t try to correct him about not spending more than week with a single woman beyond bed.”

  “I didn’t feel anything for them. I told you that. You’re different. I’m different.”

  “Maybe.”

  Imai leaned on the banister, crossing his arms over his chest. “God! It’s easy to see where your daughter gets her attitude from,” he growled in frustration.

  “But hopefully she’s not as stupid as her mother, believing in things that aren’t true,” Kim said in a frosty whisper, her words hitting him once more like a slap.

  “Where is this coming from, Kim?” Imai stared at her. “A few overheard words are all it takes for you to go running?”

  Kim sank down onto the step and held her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s just that everything is so weird all of a sudden.” She looked up, her blue eyes full of fear. “Exciting, wonderful things don’t happen to people like me. Large ladies pushing forty just do not attract the attention of anyone, let alone have a gorgeous, glamorous rock star fall in love with them out of nowhere. And as moody as teenagers can be, it’s as if my Mandy was replaced with some weird clone I don’t know and I’m not sure I even like very much.”

  “That I can understand,” Imai said, looking over his shoulder and down the stairs toward the guesthouse. “Mandy’s at a difficult age, and it’s hard on everyone."

  Even for him, seeing how much Kim hurt and worried over the girl. To hell with what Kyoru said; Imai did feel protective of Mandy even if they weren’t flesh and blood.

  He eased down onto the step next to Kim, stretching his leg out in front of him. “But I don’t understand why it’s so easy for you to think I couldn’t be attracted to you, or that I’d use you. What does that say about how you see me?”

  Kim instinctively opened her mouth to protest,
but didn’t. She took hold of his hand and held it in both of hers. “I guess I’m afraid that this is a wonderful dream and that I’ll wake up back in L.A., alone and unwanted, with nothing in my life except work and my daughter.”

  Imai kissed her hand. “It’s not a dream. It’s very real, and the way I feel about you is real.”

  “But it could change; you might get bored with me. When you go on tour soon and then with your band when you’re traveling all over the world and see those skinny young babes ‑‑”

  He touched his fingers to her lips. “No worrying about months and years in the future. No wasting time fearing things that will never come. Let’s just enjoy each day we have together.”

  Kim nodded. “I’m sorry for being such a drama queen. I’m not usually like that.”

  Imai smiled and pulled her close. “Perhaps I’ll write a song about the brat and the drama queen.” He was about to kiss her when someone pounded on the glass door leading to the garden.

  His earlier grin turned quickly to a scowl when Miji Makana walked in uninvited, Mandy trailing behind him like an obedient puppy.

  Imai pulled away from Kim and was on his feet in less than a second, his still not-quite-healed leg be damned. He scowled at the throbbing ache, and Kim grabbed his hand with a quiet warning. “Careful!”

  “You ‑‑!” Imai sputtered at Miji, too mad to acknowledge Kim.

  “How rude.” Miji yawned, smoothing out the front of his long, black lace dress and rolling his mascara-laden eyes. “Imai, you’re even worse at greeting guests than Toru is.” Beside him, Mandy giggled at his comment and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “You haven’t seen rude yet, you hormone-driven pervert,” Imai cursed in Japanese. He started down the stairs with Kim in tow. “Get out of my house.”

  “I’m not here to see you,” Miji said with a dismissive wave. With that same hand, he reached over and stroked his finger under Mandy’s chin.

  “Mandy, come here,” Kim said slowly, her tone the no-nonsense one she’d been having too use all too often these last few years.

  “How about ‘no?’” Mandy said with a wicked smirk. “I’m eighteen now. I can do what I want, and I want to work for Miji-sama. He’s taking me to his office to see the prototypes of his new line.”

  “You mean he’s taking you to show off the labors of Kyoru’s hard work.”

  Miji snorted his contempt. “Kyoru’s cute little Lolita clothing was going nowhere fast until I bought into the company and brought in the Gothic visual crowd.” He turned to Kim and gave her a sugary sweet smile. “Have no fear, Donovan-san, I’ll look after your daughter as though she were my own.”

  “Your own what?” Imai fumed. “There’s only one thing you’re interested in with this girl, and we both know what that is.” He felt Kim tense next to him, and Imai bit down on his tongue for not thinking before talking.

  “Mandy, I don’t care how old you are, you’re staying right here until I know exactly what’s going on,” Kim said.

  Miji rolled his eyes again. “She’s going to be a model, and a very fine one. So don’t ruin her career by getting in the way.” He turned to Mandy, who hooked her arm through his.

  “Bye,” Mandy called over her shoulder.

  “Mandy!”

  “What’s wrong, Mom ‑‑ jealous?”

  “Jealous of that? Hardly!” They laughed at her as they exited and closed the door hard enough to rattle the glass. Kim ran out. “Miranda! Get back here!”

  The girl replied with a middle finger salute as she disappeared around the side of the house.

  “I don’t believe this,” she said when Imai came up behind her and enfolded her in his arms. “I really do not believe this. She’s had the teenager attitude, but it’s like she’s not my Mandy at all in the span of twenty-four hours. What am I going to do?”

  “Let her make her own mistakes and wait for her to come running home when she falls?”

  Kim turned in his arms and studied his deep, dark eyes. “Is that what your father said when you walked out?” Imai nodded. “But you never went back?”

  “I refused to fail and give him the satisfaction of rubbing it into my face.”

  Sighing, Kim laid her head on Imai’s shoulder. “I don’t think Mandy is that strong. I’m afraid she’ll get in over her head and get hurt.”

  Imai smoothed the back of his fingers over Kim’s cheek. “Let me call Michiko Izumi. She’s Kyoru’s liaison with Makana’s people. She can keep an eye on things and report back to you.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing at all, Shimizu-san,” Michiko purred into the cell phone. “I’ll make sure Donovan-san’s daughter is well taken care of.” She flipped the phone down and smiled at Mandy as the young girl dropped into the spot on the couch next to her.

  “Was that Imai?” Mandy asked.

  “Yes, but he only called because your mother insisted.” Michiko sighed. “She doesn’t want you to be a model. She says it’s not appropriate.”

  Mandy scowled fiercely. “Yeah, sure,” she said, bitter. “Now that she’s not the center of attention anymore, it’s ‘get back in your place, Mandy.’”

  Michiko shrugged and took the drink Mandy offered her. “Didn’t I say some women lose their sense when it comes to working with professional musicians?”

  Mandy flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “But not women like us, right?”

  Michiko merely sipped her wine and smiled to herself.

  Outside this private lounge, the rest of the Harajuku Rage boutique was set up more like a nightclub than a fashion shop. Flashing black lights hung from the industrial-like rafters overhead and a deSade song played in the background. It was hard to tell the shoppers from the workers, who were all dressed in Gothic makeup and clothes from the store.

  Miji stepped through the velvet drapes sectioning off the lounge area. He carried a few different pieces of clothing in one hand, with plenty of see-through lace and delicate silver chains dangling from the hangers. “Mandy-chan, let’s get you ready for some photos, ne? I think you’ll look lovely in these.”

  He held out one of the outfits with a skintight bustier sporting a neckline about three inches lower than Mandy’s mother would’ve let her get away with.

  “Wow.” Mandy cleared her throat. “I’m not sure that’s really for me…”

  Michiko gave a flippant laugh. “Go on, don’t be shy.” She eyed Mandy over the top of her wineglass. “Didn’t you see the clothes your mother had on during Imai-san’s video? Why should only she get to wear all the exciting latest fashions?”

  “You’re right.” Mandy nodded firmly, standing up to take the outfit from Miji. “And I’m sure I’ll look about a hundred times better in this, too.”

  She stormed off to find a dressing room and Miji turned to Izumi. “Why does it feel like I’m missing something?” he asked, raising one of those perfectly sculpted eyebrows at the woman.

  “Just girl talk,” she assured him. “Nothing more.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kim was sitting in the lobby of the Nakamura Tower looking at her daughter in a full-page ad for the latest Harajuku Rage line. It was the most she’d seen of Mandy in weeks. With a soft sigh, she turned the page though she really wasn’t paying much attention to the other photos. She’d thought of Mandy growing up and moving out on her own for ages, but now that it had actually happened she felt a bit lost. So this must be the empty nest syndrome thing.

  “You’ve come to finally file a sexual harassment complaint against Imai-kun, have you?”

  Kim looked up to see Koji smiling at her.

  “Actually, I did that last week. This week I’m complaining about the lack of overtime pay.”

  Koji laughed and plopped down into the seat next to hers. “Stick it to him good. He’s loaded.”

  “I really came to pick up the costumes for his show next week. There was a problem with the tailoring, and Miss Izumi said she’d handle it personally.”

&n
bsp; Koji nodded. “Izumi-san does have a certain rabid dedication for handling business.”

  “It seems that way. I think she’s seen him more than I have this month. I think she mentioned she might go on the tour with him to make sure the venues have everything the way she ordered.”

  “You going, too?”

  Kim shrugged. “He wants me to and I was originally hired to do his hair and makeup for the tour, but I don’t want to seem like some clingy groupie or anything.”

  Koji nodded. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but one of the things that broke up Jun’s marriage was the fact that Rumiko didn’t want to take a backseat to the business. That’s not to say that Jun neglected her or anything, but this is a demanding job, a lot more demanding than the average person thinks. Sometimes we do have to eat, breathe, and live the music.”

  Kim smiled. “Sounds a lot like motherhood. It’s with you twenty-four-seven, no matter what.”

  “Yeah. And considering what a big baby Imai can be, I guess you’ve got it all down pat.”

  “You’re rotten, but right.”

  They were laughing when Michiko came out of the elevator with a few garment bags slung over her arm.

  “Oh.” Michiko gave her an aloof look. “What are you doing here?

  “I came for those.” Kim stood up, pointing to the costumes the other woman carried as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “I was supposed to pick them up for Imai.”

  “No you weren’t,” Michiko corrected. “I’m handling everything for Imai-san now. At this point, he and I both agree it’s best someone who understands the Japanese music industry take care of things.”

  “Excuse me?” Kim frowned. “When did Imai say anything like that?”

  “Oh, yes, you don’t attend the tour staff meetings. That’s when it was brought up.” Michiko glanced down at her watch and started down to the lobby. “I have to go before I start running late.”

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Kim said glancing to Koji. “She totally blew me off.”

  “Call Imai. He’ll put her in her place.”