Sushi for One? (9 page)

ELEVEN

T
he interview ended up being pathetically short. After a few questions that made her sound like a complete moron for applying for a receptionist position with no corporate receptionist experience, they pushed her out the door, which barely missed hitting her backside on the way out.

Her only saving grace had been that they didn’t even bother to rise to shake her hand good-bye, so she didn’t have to try a left-handed shake when her right hand looked fully functional. She entered the lobby and immediately saw the women’s restroom on the other end. With a yellow
Cuidado: Piso Mojado
sign in front of the propped open door.

She peeked in and saw the janitor, a surly-looking Hispanic man. “Can I just come in to wash my hand?”

“
No entre. Es peligroso.
”

“I just need to wash my hand.”

“
No
,
esta resbaloso.
”

“Please?”

“
Por dios!
”

Guess that was a no. She headed toward the men’s restroom just as someone exited and caught a glimpse of other men inside. Nope, she couldn’t sneak in to use the sink.

A couple of oversized couch-chairs sat against the wall across from the restrooms. She walked over and flopped down —

“Stop!” A man’s voice came out of nowhere.

Squish.

Comfy overstuffed chairs — especially those upholstered in modern zippy colors — weren’t supposed to squish. Something colder than her skin seeped through her skirt.

Lex slammed her hands down on the chair arms to hoist herself up. She was reminded of the stickiness on her palm, but not in time.

Upholstery fuzz clung to the gummy residue on her skin. With a heave, she shot to her feet.

Her skirt stuck to her bottom with a disgusting, wet feeling.

A forty-something man in a polo shirt and slacks approached. “You okay? I saw the janitor clean a stain off the seat cushion a few minutes ago.”

Lex then noticed that the scent of industrial cleaner hung heavier in the air here than near the bathroom. She glanced back at the seat cushion and the psychedelic colors slammed her with an instant headache. “The fabric must hide the water mark.” She almost didn’t want to look at her behind, but she twisted around for a peek.

“It’s not too bad.” Then he looked away, face glowing. She guessed he belatedly realized he probably shouldn’t be staring at her tush. Not that she had that much tush in the first place.

His ringed left hand —
darn, married
— carried a worn leather briefbag like the ones she’d seen on Levenger.com, except his had a faded Indian badge attached to the flap. Stanford’s old mascot. “Wow. How did you get that?”

He shifted his bag in front. “Isn’t it great? I got it from a retired football coach. All my coworkers are jealous.”

“I am too. I wasn’t born yet when Stanford retired that mascot.”

His eyes seemed to glitter with curiosity. “Did you go to Stanford?”

“No — not smart enough. I went to San Jose State, and my cousins have all gone to Berkley.”

He tilted his head and his forehead wrinkled slightly. “You know a lot about Stanford for a Cal fan.”

She shrugged to hide her embarrassment. His tone reminded her of when her male cousins teased her about her sports fanaticism.

Then she remembered where she was. SPZ. Sports Mecca of Silicon Valley. Largest sports presence on the net. She was a sports nut just like any one of them.
Oh, yeah
! “Where did you go to school?”

“Sac State.”

“Oh, did you see the game last night? I thought Lloyd would hit fifty points.”

“That foul on him was so wrong.”

“Thornton should have taken Stuart out. He hasn’t been shooting well since he came back from that ankle injury.”

“Jamieson was smart to keep Costello on him.”

“Yeah, that was brilliant. Stuart didn’t have a chance.”

His direct, intense gaze reminded her of Aiden, except this man’s eyes were harder, more shrewd. “What do you think of UC Davis baseball this year?”

“Disappointing. All their key players graduated last year, and the new coach is failing his fresh blood. But their wrestling team is doing really well. I think they’re going to go to nationals.”

“You follow a lot of different college sports.” His mild tone contrasted his shrewd eyes, which seemed to search her face for her answer, not just listening to what she said.

“I love sports. I grew up with just my brother and my dad.”

“Not to be rude, but it’s kind of surprising.”

Lex gave a rueful snort. “Yeah, you kind of expect an Asian to be a doctor, lawyer, or engineer, right?” Like most of her cousins, who were pushed to excel in school, which just fed the stereotype.

“You’re here for an interview?”

Lex grimaced as she glanced down at her stained blouse and felt a fresh breeze spin a cold finger up her skirt. “For uh . . . receptionist. I’m actually a manufacturing engineer, but I’ve always wanted to work at SPZ and thought I’d get my foot in the door.”

“Oh.” He smiled, the lines deepening around his wide mouth.

“Russell Davis.” He held out his hand.

“Lex Sakai. Trust me, you don’t want to shake my hand.”

“Got a business card, Lex?”

She flipped open her folio — her brother had given her one of his extras, so who cared if she got her hand gunk on it? She passed him a card.

“Thanks. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too.” She watched him walk away. Professional despite her appearance and her smell. She sniffed her shoulder. Yup, she still smelled like rubber and car grease.

What a nice guy. Too bad he hadn’t been the one hiring.

Well, Lex would need to look for another engineering job in the morning. Maybe she’d find something with a nice pay raise so she could buy a condo. She didn’t dislike living with Dad, but she had turned thirty and thought she really ought to be on her own.

Lex weighed her options while waiting for the tow truck to haul her klunker-mobile to the nearest body shop, who said it would be ready in a couple days. She paid an exhorbitant price for a full-size rental car — all they had last-minute — and reveled in the fact that the engine actually turned over the first time she tried.

Thing is, now that all her potential sponsors had said no — which was really strange, come to think of it — she’d either have to get a boyfriend or use the money saved for a down payment for the girls’ playoffs costs. Too bad it wasn’t enough. If she really had to, maybe she could borrow the rest of what she’d need from Dad and Richard.

Maybe she’d do that. Things weren’t really so bad. Good thing she still lived at home.

“Dad, I’m home.” She slammed the front door and juggled her keys with her sticky folio and the old T-shirts from her trunk. She had sat on them to protect the rental car seat from the chemicals peeling the skin off her butt.

“Dad?” She kicked off her shoes and went to open the garage door. She tossed the T-shirts to the ground in front of the washer.

“Where are you?” She moved into the hallway toward her room.

He rounded the corner and jolted as he saw her. “Lex! You’re home early.”

“Not really.” She eyed the cordless phone clutched in his hand.

“Who called?”

“Nobody. What happened to your clothes?”

Lex pressed a hand to her temple. “I separated a lady and her coffee. I better go change.” Her skirt felt cold, wrinkled, and tight against her legs.

“Uh . . . Lex.” He scratched the top of his head.

Her sixth sense snapped to attention. “What, Dad?”

“I, uh . . . got laid off today.”

“
What?
Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s more like early retirement.” He played with the edge of his button-down shirt.

Both of them were now unemployed. “Are we going to be okay?

Lay it all out right now. No pussy-footing.”

“No, we’ll be okay. I’ll be able to do some consulting with other air-conditioning companies in the area. And you’ll get another job soon, right?”

“Yeah.” Maybe that jibe to Everett about Starbucks wasn’t so far off. She’d go to Jennifer’s house — Lex wasn’t the only one still living at home — and use her parents’ high-speed Internet to check for jobs.

“How did the interview go?”

“Great.” Lex walked into her bedroom. “I made a great impression.”

On Friday night, Aiden walked into the gym and was engulfed by the echoing booms of volleyballs slamming against the wooden floor as players warmed up. He found Jill, the woman he’d talked to about joining the recreational volleyball club.

“Hey, Aiden. Ready to play?” Her bright smile reassured him.

He glanced at some of the players on a hitting line. Their grace and rhythm as they leaped and hit the arcing balls was leagues above the people from his community college volleyball class. “Does my team know I only started learning?”

“Oh, yeah — I’m your team captain. You’re replacing a fourth round guy. Don’t worry about it.” Jill gestured toward the middle court. “Let’s head over there.”

Aiden adjusted his gym bag across his chest and approached the court, where four other Asian players peppered the ball back and forth to warm up.

Jill pointed to the folded bleachers on the back wall. “Get your shoes on and I’ll introduce you to the team.”

He dropped his bag on the floor near the bleachers and sat down to change into his volleyball shoes. He stretched a bit and looked around at the other players.

Most were more experienced than he was — some significantly so — but he noticed a few players, both girls and guys, who were about his level. His shoulders relaxed. Each team seemed to have at least a couple strong players and a couple weak ones.

A familiar feminine voice. “Hey Jill, warm up with me.” A slim figure darted onto the middle court.

No way.
Maybe God wanted to punish him for not believing in Him or something. Maybe for talking about church to Lex with such derision in his thoughts. Because there she was, on his team.

Her excellent form marked her as one of the best players on the court. She not only set with fluid movements, strong and precise like a dancer, but she also glowed with inner confidence, evident in the calm expression on her face, the way she focused on the next ball thrown at her to set.

He knew she’d be on his team even before Jill beckoned him over. “Lex, this is Aiden. He’s replacing Neal. Why don’t you warm up with him?”

The dampening look in her dark eyes could have extinguished grass fires.

He bristled, although he kept his face cool and impassive. However, he wasn’t a doormat, and this snobby player wasn’t going to intimidate him. “Gee, contain your excitement.” He tossed the ball to her.

She gave him a startled look as she bumped it back to him with amazing precision. His return wasn’t bad — just not as good as hers.

“You’re not bad.” It came grudgingly out of her mouth.

“I’m taking classes at the community college because someone told me to learn proper form.”

Her face flushed as pink as a lollipop, starting from her neck and creeping up to her hairline, but she didn’t respond.

After they bumped a few minutes, he took a few hits on the hitting line. He tossed the ball to a short Asian girl — he thought her name was Carol — and then took his first approach. He sailed through the air, opened up his chest, then swung at the ball that seemed to float in front of him.

Wham!
It sailed so far out of the court that it hit the base of the folded bleachers on the far wall. Well, at least he’d hit the ball squarely and hadn’t flubbed it.

A piercing whistle cut through the hitting practice. “Let’s get started!” The ref — a player from the third team playing on the middle court that night — swung his whistle from the cord around his neck and leaned against one of the net poles.

Lex walked up to the net and called to a tall Asian guy on the other team. “Hey Kin-Mun, sure you’re not too sore from last week?”

His smile exuded testosterone. “Nope. I must be a bus driver ’cuz I’m ready to take you to school!”

Lex laughed. “You’re easy. I can pick up anything you hit at me.”