Temper: Deliverance: Book Three of the TEMPER Saga, page 22
“Thank you very much.” Honda almost grabbed Lana’s elbow to steer her away from that fresh hell of his, and they walked away at a brisk pace.
Repressing a laugh, Lana led them to the dinner hall, where all the flowers had been delivered. The place was empty as the hotel staff would come to set up the tables later.
“Okay, I’ll need your help with some of those, but first, let’s fix this please,” she said, once the door closed behind them. She stood on tiptoe to put his tie on and smiled at his grimace. She brushed his white collar and made a show of inspecting it closely.
“What are you doing?” an annoyed Honda grumbled, holding his chin high to offer her full access.
“Looking for unknown lipstick shades,” she replied, tongue in cheek.
With a growl, he seized her by the waist and pushed her against the nearest wall. She yelped and laughed aloud, before gasping when his full body pressed against her. On their own, her legs opened, welcoming him. Her hands grabbed his jacket, tugging at him without any false pretense; mounting desire danced in his eyes.
“Hmm, at first I was disappointed when Gabriella requested Western-style formal clothes,” Lana whispered, lips brushing his, “but I’ve got to say, you’re dashing in this tuxedo, and I can’t tear my eyes off Yuki sama.”
“Tuxedos are an instrument of torture and should be banned. And as much as I enjoy this dress, it will be my distinct pleasure to rip it off you. Keep those high heels of yours, though. Only them,” he grunted before claiming her mouth with a searing kiss.
Coming from him, such teasing words were unusual and turned her wet in a blink. Their kiss deepened and became passionate. Shivers ran down her spine as deft fingers climbed along her thigh.
But a flash of reason prevailed; she swatted his hand away. “Goshujin sama, not now…” She groaned with frustration, giving him full access to her neck against her better judgment. He was simply too good at this. “I really have to stay on schedule. I don’t want to mess it up, and Gabriella needs my assistance.”
A low growl answered her, but her husband demonstrated the extent of his newly found sense of self-control. Stepping back, he put some order back in his clothes; but an even deeper frown betrayed his aggravation.
Look at us. Responsible and cool headed. What a world of progress… and what a shame. Control, control, control...
She rested her head against the wall and inhaled deeply as a sudden rush of sadness clutched her guts. Eyes shut, she struggled to keep her composure. “You know what? My only regret is that I won’t get to dance with either you or Yuki sama tonight. Will you please give me the extreme pleasure of watching you dance together? I’d love to–”
Another long and fierce kiss cut her off. This time, other emotions fueled it, and she couldn’t help the heavy sob shaking her from head to toes. His hands cradled her neck with a tenderness that undid her, and she had to clutch his lapel to keep steady. Finally, he released her mouth, but not her face.
“Yes, we will, and each second of it will be for you,” Honda rasped. “And later tonight, we will do another kind of dance, the one that we excel at. Yuki and I will take extra good care of you, beloved. I swear that one day, you will be with us the way that you wish, the way we all do.” The tempest of raw emotions flashing on his face tore at her heart.
He wants this as much as I do. They both do. But can we ever achieve it, can we get more than what we have? Should we? Am I not too greedy?
Lana nodded before wiping her eyes carefully, mindful of her heavy makeup. “I can’t wait for that day,” she said with a shaky smile, before taking a deep breath. “So, you made some after-party plans? The traditional post-wedding hotel room, right? But what about Isao?”
“Already taken care of. Otoh sama didn’t even bat an eye, thanks to Yuki, I imagine.”
“Oh, this sounds perfect. And let it be known that I claim the first dance,” she whispered, voice tight and rougher than usual.
“Duly noted.” His hungry gaze melted the shards of ice planted in her stomach. “Can you please finish tying this thrice-damned knot now?”
Two hours later, Lana’s feet were killing her, her head throbbed with a constant headache, her back was a single piece of marble, and she feared the constant smile that she had plastered on her lips would never go away. It was only thanks to her daily Zazen sessions at home that the floor wasn’t littered with the bodies of Gabriella’s well-meaning, loving, warm but utterly undisciplined clan.
They will be the death of me! My goodness, when did I turn totally Japanese and forget what an Italian family was all about?
She straightened invisible wrinkles on her dress. A glance over her shoulder at the large group assembled in the hotel’s wedding chapel told her everyone was finally here, except for Gabriella and her father.
On her left, the Italian side – chatting, shooting pictures, laughing, arguing. She knew some of them, mostly those around forty, from the days she’d hung out at Gabriella’s after school, when she didn’t want to go home. Gabriella’s house had always been packed with cousins and other relatives. A stark and life-saving contrast from hers.
On her right, the Japanese side – waiting patiently and silently, but now and then darting surprised, amused or sometimes appalled glances at the new members of their extended family.
Kudos to Gabriella for convincing the Yamamoto family that a proto-Christian wedding was the way to go. I can’t imagine what it would have looked like at a Shinto shrine.
Almost time now. She gave Yuki a quick hand squeeze and they rose to stand by the altar. On the other side, Yoshiro and his two groomsmen waited, patiently. The groom was a bit pale and was doing his best not to fidget, but he couldn’t help playing with this collar and tie. A sharp contrast to his two smiling friends, fellow members of Yoshiro’s and Gabriella’s bike club, who traded jokes under their breath.
Lucky you, pals, you only had to handle the ring issue.
“Sweetling, something worries me. Is it me or has Gabriella’s father not cracked a smile since he’s arrived? Anything wrong? It can’t be just this issue of table seats...” Yuki whispered in Lana’s ear.
“This is no church, no Catholic ceremony, and the officiant’s credentials are murky at best,” Lana said with a light shrug. “He’s come all the way here, and loves his daughter dearly, but he never said he’d try to do more than that.”
“Does it mean he’s in fact against their union? From what I saw, he seems quite fond of his granddaughter, doesn’t he?”
“He’s utterly in love with her. Gabriella told me she had him wrapped around her little pinkie the second he saw her at the airport. I mean, look at her, she’s got her mother’s curls!” she smiled, pointing her chin at baby Maria resting in her proud grandmother’s arms in the first row. “They’ll be good, don’t worry. He’ll get over it.”
“That’s a relief,” Yuki smiled, and a burst of love bloomed in Lana’s belly. Her wife’s fierce affection and protectiveness toward Gabriella was a blessing. Then Yuki gave her a long look. “But you are so tense. You should relax, the hard part is almost over. You did a fantastic job, Isao is a champion, everyone is happy…”
“I know… but it’s so important everything goes smoothly. It’s…” Lana bit her lip, staring at the last row where their family had taken place. Let’s not go there now...
Yuki sighed and brought up the composed face she favored to hide her emotions in public. “It’s the wedding you’ll never have…”
Her words hit their mark with an awful accuracy, but it was the sadness behind them that sucker-punched Lana. Before she could react, though, music began to play. All heads turned to watch a beautiful, beaming Gabriella take slow and measured steps inside the chapel on the arm of her sulking father. With a long, shaky breath, Lana set aside her tumultuous emotions and focused on her best friend.
23 - Her Spitting Image
“All right, time for some pictures!” the photographer called out. All the guests had assembled back in the lobby. “Let’s start with the newlyweds and their parents, please. Can everyone step up on those stairs?”
With a happy buzz, each group took part in the exercise. It quickly turned into a social media frenzy, with dozens of pics shared right away by anyone between fourteen and forty-eight. Then Gabriella waved to Lana.
“I want pictures with my awesome maids of honor! Oh, please with Isao kun, too! The kids are simply too cute for words.”
“Playing matchmaker already?” Yuki joked as they smiled and took various poses with the children.
“Don’t say you haven’t thought about it yet,” Gabriella shot back with a wink.
Laughing at their banter, Lana focused on the camera of the official photographer. It was too difficult to choose where to look otherwise.
“Wow, is this the Academy Awards or what?”
“Take Isao kun, sweetling,” Yuki whispered from behind her.
Lana hesitated only for a brief instant before hugging her smiling son; her unease evaporated in a blink. The three women took another series of serious pictures, then Lana and Gabriella switched to more goofy poses. Eyes round, cooing happily, the children were clearly enjoying the attention and the madness around them. When they were done, it was the turn of the Japanese clan to gather around Gabriella and Yoshiro.
Lana took this opportunity to bring Isao back to his father. Neither family nor close friends, and certainly relieved to escape such a paparazzi madness, Honda and Nakazawa had stepped aside, and observed the more or less controlled ruckus unfolding in front of them.
“Ready for the fun part of the day, otoh sama?” Lana said with a toothy smile.
“If by that you mean, ready to drown my heartache in wine, yes I am,” Nakazawa retorted with exaggerated flourish.
“Otoh sama, may I remind you that you are on babysitting duty tonight?” Honda pointed out, face serene and innocent. A dark glance was his reply.
“I haven’t forgotten about it, don’t worry, the three of you will have your down time,” Nakazawa said before pinching his lips. A heavy sigh escaped him. “Well, I’ll make up for it tomorrow. I’ve invited Gabriella san’s father to a drinking party. From what I saw, he needs it more than I do.”
“Hm, I’m not sure if I should be happy or scared now,” Lana mused, pretending alarm. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, and it can’t be good!”
“What, me? Never,” the elder man shot back with a dangerous grin.
“Then it’s time for the emergency contingency plan! I’ll bring someone at our table later tonight that will make you forget all those schemes of yours.”
“Is this an attempt at outsmarting me, Daughter?” Nakazawa growled, half joking, half threatening.
“I’d never dare,” Lana replied cheekily with a courteous nod. “You are the master of cunning plans, I can only hope to learn from you. Anyway, you’ll see and be the judge of it. Okay, time for me to jump back into the fray, here is our precious package… Let’s move to the reception hall.”
“Lana san, wait,” Honda said. Lana frowned at his wary tone and looked at him expectantly. “That older Italian man over there… in the back of the group, taking pictures, a bit on the large side of the scale. Do you know him?”
Puzzled, she spotted the man her husband described. In his late sixties, the large and bulky man had certainly been dashing in his younger days. But alcohol and too many good things to eat had taken a toll on his waist and a face covered with brown age spots.
“With the dark navy suit, and balding head? I think that’s Andrea Giacometti, the third husband of Gabriella’s older aunt. The man Gabriella didn’t really want to see here, actually. Why?”
Right then, the man in question glanced at their small group and stared at her for a few seconds, before looking away when he realized he was the object of their scrutiny.
Honda growled. “Because of this, precisely. He’s been staring at you since you took those pictures with Yuki and Gabriella san. He shot a few himself.”
Lana shook her head, vague worry mingling with annoyance. “Well, I’ve never met him before yesterday. He might be a sort of creep. Thank you for the heads-up, though. If he bothers me, I’ll deal with him.”
Honda turned somber and a few steps brought him closer to the group of people still busy shooting pictures.
“Or we can fix this right now.”
“On what ground, Son?” Nakazawa interjected, calm but serious, Isao in his arms. “Maybe you’re right and he’s ogling her because he has two working eyes and can’t bother to be discreet. Or maybe it’s something else. But in any case, there’s no reason for you to instill some righteous fear into him on her behalf. At least not here, in public.” He tutted at the anger washing over Honda’s face. “Lana san can take care of him if needed.”
Honda’s shoulders and jaw stiffened, but he nodded once. “Yes, she can. But Lana san, if anything happens, call me.”
Heart swelling with affection, Lana repressed the urge to give his cheek a peck and pat his arm. Even if they had been officially a couple, such public shows of affection were a strict no-no in Japan. A curt bow of gratitude had to do.
“Yes, I will. All right, I’ll see both of you later, at our table.”
Another bow and she took off, pushing aside this question of Giacometti. Once again in super-organizational mode, she grabbed her notepad inside her purse and beelined toward the maître d’h who waited by the entrance of the reception hall.
“Wait, wait! Someone’s missing…” Lana checked her name list and did another headcount. Shit. It had to be him. “Andrea is not on board yet! Giulia, do you know where your husband is?” Lana asked, not bothering to hide her exasperation.
It was getting awfully late and everyone was ready to sleep. In her case, to move to a more private setting and finally enjoy the loving company of her spouses. The bus they had rented to bring Gabriella’s relatives from the reception venue to the other hotel where they stayed was ready to leave, but somebody had gotten lost.
“Sorry Lana, he was with me a few minutes ago. Maybe he went to the bathroom, do you want me to go back inside and look for him?”
“No, please, stay here. Nobody moves! Driver, my apologies, this won’t take long. If the missing gentleman comes back without me, please go ahead and take off.”
Wincing at the pain shooting from her throbbing feet, Lana darted back inside, hoping that the man hadn’t decided to pay the lounge bar another visit. Like Gabriella had predicted, the guy had been a mess from the start of the banquet. With a sigh of relief, she spotted him coming out of the men’s room near the elevators leading to the guest rooms of the luxurious hotel.
“Andrea, here you are! Everyone’s inside the bus waiting for you, do you mind…?”
Taking his time, the man dragged his feet toward Lana who did her best to keep a straight face.
“Comin’, comin’... don’t sweat, sweetie, don’t sweat…” His slurred speech and inappropriate words made her grimace. He was a walking barrel of wine.
As long as he waits until he’s in the bus to puke, I don’t care.
“Gimme a hand, here. Not so sure which way to go…”
She wasn’t fooled; despite his stagger, the guy could walk on his own.
No way those hands touch me.
“This way,” she said, keeping her distance and pointing at the large doors of the lobby behind her. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in bed in less than one hour.”
“Hopefully with you,” Andrea smirked.
Lana stopped in her tracks and gave him the stinky eye. Here we go. A lurking pig, all right. Naruhito smelled that one coming ten miles away.
“Careful, old man,” she spat. “I have zero tolerance for these kinds of games. You don’t want to spend two weeks in the hospital.”
With an eye roll, he rose his hands, faking shock and innocence. “My, my, what a mouth! I didn’t see you with anyone tonight, so you’re fair game.”
“Your wife is waiting for you,” she admonished him, staring straight ahead, deciding not to spare him any more attention.
Come on, let’s end this circus already...
“Oh, she can wait, all right,” he snickered behind her. “Don’t fret, woman! I thought I’d give it a try. Like mother, like daughter, you know? But maybe you’re just playing hard to get?”
Lana swirled on her feet, heart racing and mouth dry. “What? What… what did you say?”
His raucous laugh made her shiver with disgust. “You’re her spitting image, it’s amazing! Well, back in the days, of course, although I hear she hasn’t changed so much,” he gave her a sleazy smirk. “It took me some time to connect the dots. When you were on the stairs, acting like a starlet or whatever, I thought I knew you from somewhere. But when Vittoria did her slideshow, with that pic of your little group of friends, taken what, twenty years ago? I realized you were from Viareggio, too, and it all clicked.”
Andrea shrugged and resumed walking to the front entrance of the hotel, oblivious of Lana’s pale face and shaking limbs.
“Isabella… a fiery and naughty little piece of ass, if you ask me or any of the guys in town, ah! Anyway, nailing the two of you would make quite the story. You know where to go if you want to play, but you’ll have to behave and apologize!”
With another deep, thick laugh, he stepped outside and boarded the bus. The cold sweat running along her spine combined with painful spasms at the pit of her stomach made Lana feel like a sick puppy.
A weak, wounded dog somebody had hit repeatedly. With a dough roll, on the marble floor of a kitchen.
She held herself against the wall of the deserted lobby. Another wave of nausea left her queasy, and she buried her face in the crook of her arm. But there were no tears. No fear. Nothing but boiling rage. Red hot anger, of the kind she hadn’t felt in months. She slammed the wall, impotent, a muffled scream stuck in her throat.
The hair-rising idea she could be associated with her so easily, that they looked so much alike everyone could see they were related; above all, the ignominy of anyone assuming they were cut in the same cloth…
