Sujata Massey - Shimura Trouble

“I don’t regret it,” I said. “I don’t regret anything about this visit, even having to face Hugh. He was kind enough to give me a ride into town, and we had a light bite at his hotel and said a pleasant goodbye. It’s really over, Michael. Nobody kissed or cried or screamed.”

We walked out of the shadow of the garage and on to the street. A mix of emotions passed over Michael’s face, and finally he said, “I’ve been so stupid.”

“I would never say that about someone I love.” The words came quickly, before I could take them back. And now, under the streetlight, I could see that Michael’s face was as flushed as mine.

“Rei.” Michael’s voice cracked slightly, and then he kissed me, a long, sweet kiss that I’d been waiting for, all day long. After we broke apart, I waited for the words I wanted to hear him say, but he remained quiet. Still, I felt like a weight had been lifted, having finally had the courage to express what had been plaguing me for months.

THE RESTAURANT’S ATMOSPHERE only seemed to heighten my feeling of having crossed into a new world. Michael held the door for me as I stepped into the first of a series of airy rooms with blue-green walls.

I’d eaten so little with Hugh that I was hungry again. And, after reading the menu, I decided that if I didn’t eat seafood soon, I might develop a phobia. I ordered carefully, choosing butterfish grilled with miso. Michael shared with me a more delicate fish called moi, which floated in an intense broth made from fresh local tomatoes and the Japanese seaweed, hijiki. For dessert, we shared a pot of jasmine-flavored green tea and sparred over a single bowl of haupia lemongrass crème brûlée.

The drive back to Waikiki was quick, since it was after eleven, and after we parked at the Hale Koa’s garage, it seemed only natural to walk for a while. As we walked along Lewers Street, the trade winds blew fiercely, whipping my silk dress.

“Too bad I can’t drink, because that looks like the perfect place for a fancy cocktail,” I said, inclining my head toward a small hotel that looked like a white jewel box surrounded by all the high rises.

“There’s always coffee, tea or me,” Michael said, and I smiled at him as we walked up a few steps into the Halekulani, admiring its small emerald-green courtyard lawn before finding a bar called the Lewers Lounge. It was a little dark art deco paradise, where we found a banquette in a dark corner. I decided tea wouldn’t cut it, so I ordered an alcohol-free version of the passion fruit and ginger cosmopolitan.

“This is the best night I’ve had since I’ve been here,” I said, marveling at how everything had turned out; that I was having cocktails with Michael, cuddled in a cozy banquette, listening to romantic jazz standards.

“I still feel terrible for what I said to you; for forcing you to chase me down, for this to happen. The more I think about it, you put yourself at risk for me-how were you going to get back to the Leeward Side, anyway?”

“Maybe I would have taken the bus, or paid for a night’s stay at one of the cheaper hotels around the corner. My father would have understood if I stayed out-as long as I called.”

“Would he?” Michael looked at me intently. “Would he understand if you called him at this hour and said you weren’t coming home tonight?”

“But…” I was taken aback. “You share a room with Kurt. How could we?”

“I was thinking about this hotel, not the Hale Koa. I’ll go out to the lobby right now and ask if they have a room, but only if you’re willing to stay the whole night-and tomorrow morning, as well.”

“Are you sure?” I asked carefully, my heart thumping under my dress.

“Of course I’m sure. But your response makes me wonder if I’m rushing you?”

“No. It’s just that this seems like a very expensive hotel. I didn’t lure you in because I expected to stay overnight.”

“But after what you said to me on Restaurant Row, don’t you want to?”

I was glad the darkness hid the color that rose on my cheeks. “The thing I noticed was what you didn’t say to me in return.”

“Rei.” Michael’s voice softened. “If you don’t realize that I love you too, you’re truly in the wrong line of work.”

“What?” I paused, not believing what I’d just heard. The world just seemed to have shifted ten degrees on its axis.

“I’ve loved you forever,” Michael went on, taking my hand again and drawing me close to him on the banquette. “But there are so many reasons why I’ve thought this is the world’s most impossible romance. There’s the matter of professionalism, but even if that wasn’t a factor, I’m just a simple American guy.”

“It’s true that I’ve never dated an American,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try, and you aren’t simple, you’re complex! Don’t you realize how sexy spying is?”

“I’m not James Bond; it’s clear from my lack of an English accent and my less than glamorous drink.” Michael tapped the Bud Light he’d insisted on drinking from the bottle.

“I was trying not to notice.”

Michael laughed. “I am insane about you, Rei. Will you reform me, the way Harue did for Keijin?”

“No, I won’t reform you. I want you just the way you are.”

Michael gave my hand one last squeeze, stood up, and headed out of the lounge.

I knew what he was about to do. And in the meantime, there was a very difficult phone call that I needed to make.

FROM PAST EXPERIENCE, I know that it’s pretty embarrassing to take a hotel room without luggage. At the Halekulani there was no need for me to give my name-Michael’s was enough-but to my chagrin, the registration actually took place in the hotel room. This meant that a young Asian woman in a trim blue suit escorted us upstairs and did the formalities at a small desk with Michael, while I stared out the window of our deluxe room at a lit-up round pool seventeen floors below us. Only when the desk clerk had left did I turn back to examine the soft cream and tan room, with a watercolor by a Japanese artist above the queen-sized bed.

“Small but perfect,” Michael said, walking into the bathroom. “This reminds me of a really good hotel in Japan.”

“Well, this place is Japanese-owned,” I pointed out. “It’s interesting how much of Hawaii is owned by Japanese, but it doesn’t really seem to bother people. So different from when we were young-remember the outcry when Sony bought the Rockefeller Center?”

“Ever since I’ve become Japanese-owned, I’ve been happier.” Michael turned and wrapped me in his arms.

“That’s a terrible joke.” I kissed him. “And I don’t own you.”

“Oh, you’ve owned me ever since I conducted your background check.” Michael was slipping my dress straps off my shoulders, trying to figure out how to get it off. I started thinking about what was underneath, whether my underwear was going to be too intense-then I remembered something even more important.

“Michael, I don’t have anything with me. You know.”

“I have a three-pack,” he said, pulling a foil package from his pocket. “But I must warn you, it’s been a very long time. And you’re so gorgeous, I’m just…afraid.”

Michael Hendricks, afraid? I pulled him down on the bed and said, “Don’t worry so much. It’s been a while for me, too.”

This was right, I thought as we were finally naked, and our fingers blazed their first trails across each other’s bodies. I was thrilled by the idea of playing teacher to someone who’d forgotten how to make love. But Michael didn’t need to offer a disclaimer. He’d been married for almost a decade, and in that time he seemed to have learned many ways to please a woman.