Yuki's Luck Page 4

  “Asher’s waiting,” I remind her as she parts my hair with her hands using her fingers to separate my curls. She tosses half over my shoulder and I braid it loosely while she starts the detangling process.

  “He’ll survive.” A flash of humor crosses her face. I laugh. “Besides it seems both my babies are battling with their hearts today.”

  I drop my head and play with the pink ruffles on my bedspread. I feel the brush rake through my hair a few times. Smooth as silk. “How do you detangle my hair so fast?”

  “Years of practice.” She braids the section and adds an elastic band to the end to keep it from unraveling. She unbraids the other half and starts over.

  “I slept with Dylan last night.” I blurt out. Her hands stop, suspended in air, our eyes locking in the reflection of the mirror.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.” Now, I’m surprised.

  “Why not?”

  “That boy's been goo-goo eyed for you ever since he and Asher figured out girls were better than video games.”

  “Momma!” Her hearty laugh fills the room.

  “It’s true. I’m just glad he waited until you were good and grown.” She continues working her way through my hair. “How do you feel about it?”

  “About last night?” I’m watching her every move. She nods. “Confused.”

  “Why?”

  I struggle to find the right words. I make high dollar presentations to billionaires persuading them to trust me with their brands. Nearly three billion dollars worth of contracts I’ve closed and I’m at a loss for words.

  “This morning I remembered the last day I saw Dad with Mother.” She looks away. “I was at the kitchen table working on a project for school and they were arguing as usual. And then peace settled over the room. I felt a shift.”

  I saw my five foot two Korean mother standing before my six-foot-tall father. They were the most striking couple like magnets either attracting or repelling.

  “I later realized it was the day she learned about you and Asher," I remember looking up from my assignment, their love was so intense and volatile.

  “What happened?”

  “She confronted him. He didn’t deny that you two were still married. Mother went crazy. Kicking, screaming, crying. He just stood there.” Her mother collapsed on the couch her sobs filling the air. “That’s when I knew I’d never see him again.”

  Momma finishes the last braid and pulls me to her. She kisses my forehead, wrapping a loving arm around me.

  “She was on the couch yelling. Telling him to get out of her house. Never come back. He walked over to me and kissed my forehead and said, ‘Love you, sweetie.' The next time I saw him, he was in a casket.”

  Momma’s shirt is soaked with my tears. She knows the rest of my story. My father’s death killed my mother, she died shortly after. But Momma saved me. Her and Asher found me right before my seventh birthday.

  Her grip tightens, “Baby, we all manage our wounds in different ways. You erect a perfect, pristine steel wall. You’re the princess in the ivory tower. Pretending to move beyond it all but you took your father’s death the hardest. It was like you had something to prove.”

  I did.

  “While your brother stands in front of anything and everything with a bulletproof vest, guarding his heart but not his life.”

  “What about you Momma?” I glance up.

  “Me? Baby, I’ve learned to look at my wounds with gratitude.” She nods her head and smiles. Her heart shines through her smile. “I was told I’d never have children. And not only did I have one. But the good Lord gave me two. God is good to me.” She holds me tight and raises her other hand to the sky.

  “Cleo and his ways could have crushed me. But 20 years ago his restless spirit blessed me with you. My precious baby girl. A gift that I’d bear any wounds, tears, and heartaches to have.”

  My father married Momma before shipping out in the Army. She remained in Texas while he traveled the world. He had women on almost every continent. And mother was the only one to follow him back to the United States after her parents disowned her. Asher and I are only a few weeks apart, I was born to my mother in Korea and him to Momma in the U.S. But father always loved Momma and it killed my mother.

  “Is that what had you dragging in here this morning?” She chuckled.

  “Mom!”

  “Don’t mom me. You came in with your bed hair and love bites all over you. I’m old but not that old.”

  “He told me he loved me and I left before he woke up this morning.”

  I wonder how he felt waking up in an empty bed? I glance in the mirror trying to discern her silence.

  “Did he hurt you?” Her face is unreadable.

  “No.”

  “Do you not return his feelings?”

  I can’t look in her eyes. Dylan is like another child to her and I’m sure it’s hard to see either of us hurting.

  “All I see is my mother’s face and I feel my father’s, cold heart. I can’t love him like this.” For the first time I feel unworthy, like my baggage is too heavy.

  “And you don’t think he knows that? That boy knows you better than any of us. He accepts you as you are and at some point, you have to do the same.” She shows no signs of letting up.

  “I can’t hide with him.” I confess.

  “And that’s a bad thing? Baby look at me.” She grips my shoulders and we’re face to face. “Every relationship is different. You are not your parents. If you don’t love Dylan, fine. But don’t run from love. You have too much of it to give.”

  “Thank you," I whisper.

  “Yuki Smith loving you is an absolute joy. I couldn’t ask for more. The good Lord would deem me selfish and ungrateful.” She chuckles at her own joke, I love this woman.

  “What about you Momma? Don’t you want to be in love again.”

  “My life’s full.” Her sentiments echo my own. Then she falls silent again. “How about we make a Smith Pact?”

  Smith Pacts are written in stone. Unbreakable. It was how she taught us to keep our promises to each other and ourselves. I sit up, knowing not to take it lightly.

  “We will,” Momma reaches for my hands, “open our hearts to love.”

  I nod in agreement and hug her. “Thank you, Momma.”

  “You’re welcome, my love. Now, let me go see what’s eating your brother.” She kisses my forehead then leaves the room.

  I gather Dylan’s jacket and head to the living room to check on Asher. Then I’ll call Dylan.

  7

  “Is Jazz ready for her little trip? I’m taking you up on your offer and joining her.” I need a vacation.

  Asher and I took Momma to breakfast and told her the good news about Smith & Jameson. My talk with Momma left me feeling refreshed except for the minor task of calling Dylan. Thankfully I have his number at the hotel in Dublin. I’m watching the clock to give him time to land and get settled in.

  “Actually I need to ask you for a favor?”

  “What is it?” Asher is staring at me as if he’s about to drop a bomb.

  “I need you to fly to Ireland in my place.” His eyes are avoiding mine. “I’ll cover your ticket, the accommodations—”

  “What happened?”

  “You’ll love the place. We booked a private tour to view the Blarney Castle and—”

  “Asher—”

  “…and there’s a two day Beer and Bike tour visiting several breweries. You’ll love that too.” He’s rambling.

  “Asher!”

  He faltered, shocked. “I messed up bad.”

  “Don’t worry we’ll fix it." I say the words but his face has me concerned.

  “Not even my lucky charm can fix this one.” He runs his hand over his face. “Jazz and I had a huge fallout and I gave her a hall pass.”

  “You did what?”

  “I gave her—”

  “I heard you. What were you thinking giving your wife permission to do what and whoever she wants
?”

  “I wasn’t. And I didn’t think she’d actually believe me.” He’s pacing the length of the living room. I sit back on the couch sending up a silent prayer for my brother and Jazz. This has got to be the craziest weekend ever.

  I hold up my hands to stop the pacing, he’s making me dizzy. “What happened?”

  “I found out she stopped taking her birth control because she wants a baby.” I gasp out of reflex. “Tell me about it. So I’m pissed. She’s going on and on about me not being there for her. That I’m consumed with Smith & Jameson. And how she wants out.” He stops. It’s like fumes are rising from his head.

  “Calm down.”

  “I’m calm,” he barks.

  I roll my eyes and he drops to the couch.

  “How did that conversation lead to a hall pass?” I can’t see Jazz actually doing it. Something else is going on.

  “She said something like ‘I need space’ and next thing I know I say ‘Do whatever you want but divorce is not an option.'"

  “Asher please tell me you didn’t.” I walk over and sit next to him. He’s folded over. “What are you going to do?” Romantic woes are rabid in the Smith family today.

  “I’m not begging her to stay. I’m a good husband. I don’t cheat. I take care of her. I’m more of a man than our father ever was.” His last statement pierces my heart and I think about the pact I made with Momma. “This is the Twilight Zone.”

  “Tell me about it. I slept with Dylan last night.”

  “You what?” He glances up. “If this is some sort of reverse psychology, I can’t take no more surprises.”

  “I did and I love him. I have for a long time now.”

  “Of course you love him, we know that. But are you in love with him?”

  I nod. And his eyes move over me at lightning speed, “What happened?”

  “I left before he woke up.”

  “That’s probably why he called me this morning.”

  My body stiffens. “Did you talk with him?”

  “No, I was too busy losing my wife.” The agony in his voice is palpable.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Besides apologize and hope I don’t have to kill a dude for touching my wife?” He cracks his knuckles.

  I’ve never seen Asher like this. The seriousness in his face is scary. But I don’t see Jazz trying to sleep with another guy or skipping out on her birth control. She must be trying to get his attention. Now it’s time I do the same.

  “Brother, I have an idea to repair our relationships.”

  The Smith Pact is in full effect as I exit the terminal in Dublin Ireland. Asher headed to Cancun and I’m pulling my carry-on through the modern airport. We landed early giving me time to grab a coffee and consider how I’m going to apologize.

  I call Momma and she lets me know Asher made it safely too. I exhale, nervous energy assaults me as I head to the exit to look for my driver. I’m officially on my own risking it all hoping Dylan hears me out.

  “Hello, I’m Yuki Smith.” I see a man in a black suit holding a sign with my name on it.

  “Welcome to Dublin Ireland.” His smile lights up the room and I feel an adventure in my future.

  “Thank you.” He reaches for my bag and we make our way to the car. “I am thrilled and exhausted.”

  He laughs and opens the door for me. We ride into the center of town where a sizeable pin-like structure points to the sky appearing to fit right in yet almost odd. “What is that?”

  “You are looking at the Spire of Dublin. You should walk over and see it later tonight.”

  “What else would you recommend?”

  “There are several parks within walking distance, free museums, and the Dublin castle. If you’re looking for tourist type places, there’s Temple Bar.” He slows down turning into the hotel. He walks around and lets me out. “Temple Bar is not like a traditional American bar. It is more like an area of bars together with music and of course plenty of beer.”

  He rolls my bag to the sidewalk as a doorman steps forward. I turn towards him to give a tip. “No thank you. It was covered with your reservation.”

  I smile. “Thank you again. Is there anywhere else you’d suggest?”

  “How long are you here?”

  “A little under a week. I have plans for Guinness tomorrow and Blarney Castle later in the week.”

  “Those are great choices. Keep your eyes open for great authentic Irish crafts and don’t forget the ale.” We laugh. “Many of these locations are within walking distance or a quick bus. But you’d miss a treat if you don’t visit the Cliffs of Moher.” I was so anxious about seeing Dylan again that I didn’t do much research. “What’s your name again?”

  “Call me Art.”

  “Art thank you again. Take care.”

  I enter the hotel ready for my next big challenge. Thankfully, Asher handled everything. Minutes later I enter the double bed suite, I shower and set my timer for one hour. Traveling fourteen hours with a layover knocked the wind out of me. Sleeping before connecting with Dylan ensures I’m focused and have my wits about me. Turning down the covers, I climb into the plush bed and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  “Hey, Siri what time is it?” The room is pitch black.

  “It’s 8:27 PM. Good evening, Yuki.”

  I pop up rested, I must have hit the snooze button a million times. I toss back the covers and swing my feet over the side of the bed. I hear a sharp intake and look up to see someone in the chair across the room.

  “Who are you?” I reach for the phone.

  “What are you doing here? And where are your clothes?”

  8

  I’m going to kill Asher. It’ll be slow and painful. Pliers and a screwdriver. No one will suspect it, I wouldn’t risk Jazz’s chance to get his life insurance policy—I clearly watch too many movies. I reach for the blanket.

  “Leave it.”

  I stare at his silhouette aware of the occupant in the chair and what he’s thinking. He’s pissed. What do I plan to do about it? I push the covers back as he requested. The long trip gave me time to decide if this is what I want and I do. Now to get him to see it.

  I’m opening my heart to love.

  I stand as naked as the day I was born with the addition of my diamond studs. I walk to the mini bar thankful for every yoga class and run. My abs are tight, butt is high and round but Dylan is a leg man—and I got legs for days.

  I bend slowly at the waist with my tush in the air. I grab a bottle of water turning my head in his direction. The soft light peaking around the perimeter of the drapes ensures he gets an eyeful.

  “Would you like some?” I stand, cracking the seal on the bottle, facing him taking a long drink. This is the deal of all deals.

  My talk with Momma lessened the ache of the hurt from my past, maybe one day the good days will overshadow the bad. But at this moment I thank my parents because I hit the genetic lottery. I have my father’s height and full lips, my mother’s alluring eyes, and my caramel skin is a perfect blend of both. With the addition of Momma’s heart and courage, which I’ll need to make Dylan love me again.

  I walk in his direction.

  “Stop.” His hoarse whisper breaks the silence.

  My heart is lodged in my throat. I can play up the sexuality, tease him until he folds, or tell him the truth. I choose the latter, starting with his question, “I came here to get you back.”

  “Why so you can leave in the middle of the night?”

  “No, I—”

  “So you can ignore all of my calls?”

  “Dylan, I—”

  “Yuki, you are not going to walk all over me like those other dudes. You don’t want what I have to offer, fine. But no games.”

  “I’m not playing—”

  He’s on his feet. The heat off his body reaching out to me across the room. I step towards him.

  “Don’t.” His hands up like two large stop signs. “You played me.”
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  “But you said, I’m yours.”

  “Don’t use my words against me.” He growls.

  I take another step. “Dylan, I’m sorry. You opened up to me and I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to give you what you deserve. So I—”

  “Left.” The finality in his voice cuts like a rusty knife.

  I’m losing him. I step back and hear Momma’s voice, don’t run from love. I step forward.

  “Before I came to live with Momma and Asher I lived with my parents. My father, Cleo Smith, was career military and an officer in the Army. He was stationed in Korea when he met my 18-year-old mother, Sun-young Lee.”

  I sit on the end of the bed. “He was tall, handsome, and worldly. She was a petite beauty sheltered by her parents. They moved fast, so fast that when it was time for him to return to the States she found out she was pregnant. He left anyway and all seemed well in her world until her parents saw her little black baby girl with thick curly hair.”

  “You?”

  I nod. My heart considers what it must have been like for my mother to be a young girl facing her parents alone with a baby, let alone a black baby. Her bundle of joy destroyed her relationship with her parents forever.

  “They disowned her. Pregnancy before marriage was bad enough but by a black man... They gave her an ultimatum, give me up for adoption or move out. She moved out and they cut her out of their lives completely leaving her with no choice but to reach out to my father. And he sent for her.”

  I’ve never told anyone this story. I climb beneath the covers as the air conditioner turns on.

  “So there she was with a newborn, speaking little English and he moves her to Texas before being deployed again. And for years we lived in a bubble. Just the two of us. He’d pop in here and there between tours. It wasn’t until years later I learned he had another family.”

  “Asher and Momma.”

  “Yep and it was the day of the funeral.” A freak accident took his life. I brush the tears away and for the first time, the ache of my father’s betrayal doesn’t carry the same sting. “I learned he was married to his high school sweetheart. They had a son. And nowhere was I mentioned in his obituary.”