Crimson Footprints (36 page)

He nodded. “Sorry, I
forgot.”

He took a deep and dramatic
breath.

“
Deena, I’ve something to
tell you. I—I think you’re breathtaking.”

She lowered her book with a
sigh. “Michael, I’m not in the market for a boyfriend.”

He nodded. “No, no. I
understand.”

He leaned forward and
whispered in her ear. “I know what it is that you want. And I want
to give it to you.”

“
Give it to me?” Deena
echoed. She leaned back to place a buffer between the two of
them.

“
Yes. I know what you need,
and I’m man enough, mature enough, to give it to you. You want to
be free. You want sexual freedom. I can give that to you. I’m
telling you; I’d give you anything.”

“
I want what?” Deena
echoed, confused.

“
Exploration. And I don’t
mind. I have to be honest with you. The moment I saw you, I was
breathless. I’d do anything to be with you. I’d—”

“
Mike, wait. There’s
something you’re not understanding.”

“
No, I understand. And I’m
okay with it. You might not think it, but I can please you. Just
give me a chance. Try me out.”

Deena stood, her book
clattering to the floor.

“
I don’t know what you’re
talking about but I want you to stop talking about it.”

“
Just think about it,”
Michael said, kneeling to scoop up the book. He paused to dust it
off. “I know you’re type, and I know that in certain circles, your
lifestyle isn’t acceptable.”

“
My
lifestyle?
”

“
Yeah. I mean, I don’t use
words like ‘slut’ or ‘whore.’ They’re judgmental and sexist. But
we’re missing the point. I don’t want to be cumbersome. We could
start with a one night stand if you want, no commitment of course,
and—”

“
A what? Oh my God! Get
away from me!”

Deena pin wheeled back into
the terrace railing, upturning a glass of lemonade in her
descent.

Michael’s gaze narrowed in
confusion.

A few yards away, the
Frisbee glided to the ground as Tak stood, watching Deena fall. He
took in her cowering posture, backed into the porch railing, and
tore across the hot sand to reach them.

“
What the hell’s going on?”
he demanded on arrival.

Deena’s eyes watered. “He
called me a slut!”

“
He what?”

Tak turned on
Mike.

Mike sighed. “That’s not
what I said. All I said was that girls like her tend to prefer
sexual freedom.”

Tak took a step closer. “Run
that by me one more time.”

“
I said that girls like her
prefer sex—”

Spittle flew with the
insertion of fist to face. With a yelp, Mike toppled, blood spewing
from his mouth. He staggered to the ground in stages, a hand to his
face as he shrieked.

“
Fuck!” Tak
said.

With a grimace, he shook his
hand, a hand streaked with blood.

“
Fuck!”

Tak’s head dropped as he
gripped his wrist; eyes squeezed shut, he bent forward.

Behind Tak, John and Kenji
tore across the beach. When they got to the terrace, John placed a
hand at Tak’s chest to hold him in check.

“
Feel better?” John said
quietly.

“
You better fucking believe
it.”

John grinned. “Thought
so.”

From his cowering position
on the floor, Mike began to yell.

“
You hit me! Why the hell
did you hit me?”

Tak took a step, only to
have John push him back.

“
Cause you don’t listen,
Mike! She’s my girl.
Mine.
And I warned you.”

Mike sat up with a whimper,
a hand at his nose. Blood coursed between his fingers.

“
Shit,” John said. He
turned on his brother. “Why the hell couldn’t you just back off?”
He went and offered a hand. Mike slapped it away.

“
You’re taking his side?
I’m your brother! Your goddamned brother!”

“
You’re an idiot is what
you are.” John turned to Deena. “Do you see what happened? Didn’t I
tell you that this would happen?”

Deena’s eyes widened.
“You’re blaming me?”

“
Shit yeah I’m blaming you.
The only reason it didn’t happen sooner is because me and Kenji
have been running interference all over the goddamned
place!”

“
I was supposed to know Tak
would break his hand on Mike’s face?”

“
Yeah! I did!”

John turned to Tak with a
look of disgust. “Now what? You probably broke his fucking
nose—and, and by the looks of you, your hand, too.”

Tak winced. “I think you
might be right.”

John brought his palms
together before his lips. “Okay. Just—give me a minute to
think.”

“
Think? Goddamnit, do
something. He just—just punched me in the face!”

“
Well it’s not like you
didn’t deserve it!” John cried. He shook his head and returned to
his cousin.

“
You see, Tak?” This is why
I told you to just tell him. You know how he is. He never
quits.”

“
I’m sitting right here,”
Mike said, his hand slick from the still-gushing blood.

“
Well what are we going to
do? We can’t just take them in the house like this,” Kenji
said.

“
I know, I know,” John
looked at Tak, who clutched his wrist in an effort to steady the
afflicted hand. “Are you all right?”

Tak shook his head. “The
pain’s killing me. And my hand’s swelling up.”

“
Never mind me, who’s
bleeding to death on the floor,” Mike said.

John sighed. “You should’ve
left her alone. Daichi said so, Tak said so, and she turned you
down every chance she got. I don’t know, Mike, maybe this is what
you needed.”

John pulled his brother up
and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

“
There something wrong with
your legs?” he asked, wondering why it was so difficult to steady
his older brother.

“
I’m dizzy. I need to lie
down.”

John sighed.

“
Shit. You guys need a
doctor.”

Tak shook his head. “I can’t
go to a doctor. If my dad finds out—”

“
We’ll just have to make up
something then.”

Mike balked. “And if I don’t
want to go along with your lies?”

Tak took a step forward.
“Then maybe I can give you a little encouragement with the hand
that still works.”

Mike looked from his cousin
Kenji, to his brother, each with gazes devoid of sympathy. He
sighed.

“
Fine. What’s the
story?”

CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE

Yukiko was no longer
listening to Takumi’s cumbersome explanation. She simply couldn’t,
less her migraine grow worse.

They were playing
football.

Michael
was playing football?

Well, he was
nearby.

Close enough for an elbow to
hit him yet not in the game?

Yeah.

And your hand?

What about it?

There’s nothing wrong with
my hand.

It looks
disfigured.

Oh that. Slammed it in a
door earlier.

And you played football
afterwards?

Uh yeah.

Yukiko made her way to
Daichi’s study with thoughts of Michael’s face and Takumi’s hand
plaguing her. Clearly the two had found one another, and she was
certain she knew why. Michael’s advances towards Deena seemed to
border on manhandling. Anyone with more than a passing interest
could see the way Takumi squirmed when Michael made advances. Her
son Daichi failed to have more than a passing interest.

Daichi met Yukiko’s tap on
the door with a gruff ‘what’. She bristled, despite the knowledge
that he would soften once realizing his mother stood on the other
side. Yukiko stepped inside as Daichi set aside a legal pad riddled
with careful print. He turned in his custom-made swivel chair,
retail price three thousand dollars and gave his mother a cursory
nod.

“
Afternoon,
okasan
. What can I do
for you?”

Daichi didn’t smile at his
mother, but then again, he didn’t frown either.

“
It’s about Takumi,” she
said.

Daichi’s face
darkened.

“
What is it now? I’ve a
great deal of work. I can’t be bothered with
trivialities.”

Daichi turned back to his
desk.

“
Takumi is not a
triviality. He’s your son.”

She shifted her weight,
heavy-lidded eyes on the broad of his back.

“
Are you here to lecture
me,
okasan
?”
Daichi’s fingers formed a steeple as he stared at his cherry wood
desk. “If so, I’ve much work to do.”

Yukiko sighed. “What you do
here is not work, Daichi. What you do here is chase
ghosts.”

She took a seat on the mauve
leather couch behind him as Daichi lowered his head.

“
I don’t know what you
mean.”

“
You are a brilliant man.
I’ve no doubt you do.”

Yukiko nibbled on a
wrinkled, painted lip as she thought about the lavish estate that
was her home, designed and built by Daichi. She thought about the
five vacation villas he owned and the juggernaut that was his
architectural firm.

“
Time does not rewind, my
child, no matter how hard and fast you wish it so,” she
said.

Daichi studied his
fingernails. They were manicured and shined with the clear polish
of a pampered man.

“
Your sons love you. Your
wife loves you. But you must repair the bridge that divides you. No
one can do this for you. I think you know that.”

Daichi stared through his
desk, eyes glistening. He was the greatest architect the world had
ever seen.
Time
said so.
People
said so. Two dozen honorary degrees said so. And yet, it was
these words that pierced his heart.

“
Time is escaping you,
Daichi. Your stubbornness, your intolerance, your willfulness is
the source of your unhappiness. And the stakes now are higher than
ever.”

“
Okasan
, if you have something specific to tell me, please do
so.”

“
All right.”

Yukiko stood. “I just left
the hallway, where I found Michael with a broken nose and Takumi
with a broken hand. They claim that football is the culprit, but I
suspect the lie is for your benefit.”

Daichi sighed. He had no
idea what she expected from him.

“
Too often, when our
children lie we lash out without looking inward. Sometimes they lie
because we’ve closed the door to the truth. They lie because we’ve
made telling the truth impossible. They lie because we require
it.”

Yukiko stood at the door, a
hand on the knob.

“
Whether you like it or
not, Daichi, you are the eldest and head of this family. And your
opinions affect everyone. In your quest for perfection, you’ve
begun to see the world in black and white. You’ve made shades of
gray impossible. But they will exist whether you acknowledge them
or not. With your intolerance, you drive a wedge through this
family. With your intolerance, you demand the lie.”

CHAPTER
FIFTY-SIX

A boxer’s break was what Tak
had, a fracture of the knuckles that was the perfect complement to
his cousin’s shattered nose and concussion. Tak’s injury took a
cast and six weeks to heal, during which time he was unable to
paint or play his guitar. His father hadn’t required much of an
explanation; Tak told him that Mike had simply gotten on his
nerves. Interestingly enough, he took that without
question.

Deena sipped iced green tea
as she sat at her desk. The tea was a gift from Asami. She was at
work on a Sunday, brainstorming ideas for a designing competition a
few thousand years out of her league. The competition was for a
so-called “City-Within-A-City,” a megaresort in the Dominican
Republic that would be the equivalent of an
everything-and-the-kitchen-sink dive into the tourism industry. It
was an architect’s dream, with 80 acres of space and very few
guidelines. A seven billion dollar enterprise, the commission alone
guaranteed five hundred sixty million dollars. Every architect in
the world salivated at the venture, letting Deena know she had an
ice cream sundae’s chance in hell of getting the gig. Still, it was
about the process, and as she worked, she remembered Daichi’s words
of advice. Study the culture. Remember the culture. Reflect the
culture. She wasn’t sure how much it would help her though, since
he was entering the competition as well.