Chapter One
He had read somewhere that love was the migraine of the universe and that it was a disease—an ongoing disease of the most horrible nature, more frightening than, say, pneumonia or smallpox or even that avian flu virus going around…H5N1.
TK, at this present point in time, was quite madly inflicted with this curious malady, and had been so, in fact, for a rather long time.
And he had decided, there really was only on thing to do…
"I'm willing to excuse him when he has short lapses of reason—and those occur frequently enough—or even a long lapse of judgment—because, really, I tell myself—he's your little brother. I tell myself—you can't expect him to always be wise and smart—I tell myself—he's still just a kid, cut him some slack, man—he's going to make mistakes in life, and you have to let him. That's the only way he's going to learn, and grow up." There was a pause for several beats after this furious rant, and a moment of silence descended, broken only by the heavy, angry breathing of the extremely irate man. "But—then—he goes and does something like this! I can't excuse him this time—I can't say, don't worry, he's going to be okay—because—hell, he's really lost it, and he's not going to be okay! You can't be okay when you go crazy—and, yes, he has most certainly gone crazy—a frothing-at-the-mouth lunatic…Someone's going to call me any minute now and tell me that my little kid brother was last seen running in Central Park butt naked—maybe painted blue—and I'll have to commit him to an institution—"
"Geez, Matt," laughed the woman who sat opposite of him, smiling her dazzling smile and fiddling with her many bracelets. "I never knew you were so over reactive…"
"I'm not over-reacting!" Her companion squeaked explosively, fingers clenching spasmodically around his coffee mug.
Matt Ishida, the up-and-coming next-big-thing in Hollywood, was meeting Mimi—who most certainly was not his girlfriend, despite what the tabloids said—for his daily cup of coffee. She was only a friend—a very good friend—who just…happened to be a girl. And who he happened to like more than was really healthy…
But that didn't make her his girlfriend.
"What did he do, anyway, to make you so mad?" she asked.
Matt gave a chilling little laugh, low and mirthless, answering grimly, "What did he do? What did he do? He went—he went and—he got—" in a tone of extreme horror and disgust—"engaged."
The young woman was quiet for a moment, and then—"Wow! That's so wonderful!"
Matt stared, blinked, "I think you misheard me. TK—is—getting—married—"
"Oh, I head you perfect," she said perkily, "the first time. This is great—him getting married…"
Matt felt a tiny muscle in his jaw begin to twitch. That was never a good sign—it heralded the beginnings of a migraine. Damn.
"Who's the lucky girl?"
"Mimi—" scathingly—"Who else? Is there any other girl that TK would even consider dating, let alone…"—a gulp—"marry?"
Mimi beamed, "You don't mean—"
At that moment, her cellpuhone brightly chirped out the tune to Ode to Joy. Matt rolled his eyes (because it was only to be expected that she would pick this particular ring tone), she smiled apologetically, fumbling through her purse, and he politely looked away, glancing disinterestedly at that the other patrons of the café.
Mimi held the (neon pink, but of course) phone to her ear, and opened her mouth, but before she was able to speak, a voice on the other end squealed excitedly,—
"I'm getting married!"
A ceramic mug fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, to shatter on the floorboards. The man didn't seem to notice this, because he did not once glance down, and remained dead silent.
This, apparently, worried the other after a moment, and there came the inquiry: "Hello? Tai? Tai? Tai—are you there?"
The man blinked, the slowly glanced down—
"Tai?"
—saw the shattered mug. "Hell."
"Tai?" She was hurt. That would never do.
"No, no, no—not about your…wedding…" He could barely get the word out, and did not think it wise to continue. But his sister was not saying anything—ah, this was her expectant pause… "Erhm…I'm—uh—really….happy—about this…"
Tch. Yeah. Right.
It wasn't that he did want his sister happily settled down, with a good husband, a few kids, maybe dog, living in a brick house with a white fence and expansive lawn—and a few apple trees in the backyard, along with a tree-house for his future nephews-to-be…
It was just—she actually had to get married for all of this to happen?
Not that he wanted her pregnant out of wedlock…Hell, he'd gut the man who had done it to her, maim him, disembowel him, and then break both his legs, and then his arms, and then his neck—
"Tai…are you zoning out on me again?"
"Huh?"
On her end of the line, Kari rolled her eyes. "So—we're thinking July, maybe. Two or three months to plan—and it'll be a small ceremony. Not too many people—my family, his family, and the old gang…"
She frowned when not answer was forthcoming on his part. Tai had never been what one called… reticent.
"Tai?"
"Yes?"
There was something so proper to his voice, so schooled, so politely interested that—really—she thought it wrong…Her brow furrowed even further. "…Tai," as a suspicion began to form—
"What?"
That one word confirmed her suspicions, and she sighed in exasperation. "You can't avoid her forever, you know, and certainly not this time. It's my wedding—"
"Avoid who?"
Where had her brother learned to lie so convincingly?
"What do you mean 'avoid who?' Don't be ridiculous—"
"I—"
"You haven't seen her for years—"
"She's been in London—and I…have been all over the place…It really can't be helped, you realize, if we don't see each other because we're rarely on the same continent, let alone in the country…"
"—Honestly! You've never even told me what the big ruckus between you two were about. One day, the two of you are sharing an ice cream cone and killing each other with a soccer ball; the next day, you refuse to talk to her, and she avoids you like the plague…"
"It wasn't like that—"
"—I never knew you could give someone the cold shoulder for that long—"
"Kari—" Tai hastened to intervene before his sister launched into another one of her "reform Taichi" lectures…
Too late.
"C'mon. Can't you at least—"
"—make up with him?"
On the other end of the telephone, Sora lifted a soapy, wet foot out of the tub, and played with the bubbles on the water's surface. She sighed, "Please, Kari. I'm taking a bubble bath. It's one of my few luxuries. I'm a deprived person. Can't this wait until I get out or—"
"No," Kari scoffed, which was a rare occurrence for someone of her placidly amiable temperament. "Sora, this has been going on for far too long—"
"What has been going on for far too long, dear?" Sora asked, kindly, as she tucked a wisp of auburn hair behind her ear.
"Avoiding the situation is not going to make it any better—" Kari intoned ominously, causing Sora to frown. Where had that sweet little thing she knew disappeared to?
"Kari—" Sora protested, a warning note entering her voice.
The younger girl heaved a sigh, and very wisely dropped the subject. "So…I hear you're moving?"
"Huh? Oh. Yes. But I'll still be in London—my landlady's run off with some Colin Firth look-alike and the landlord is going to have a brain aneurysm any day now—he's thinking too hard, you see…"
"Indeed?" Kari laughed, "So, what address should I send the invitation to?"
Sora leaned back in the tub, and stretched languorously. "And if I have no inclination to attend?"
"Sora!"
She grinned at the outraged tone of Kari's voice. "Kidding, kidding…Send it to my current address—wait, when is the wedding anyway?"
"July—so, pretty soon…"
"Okay. My current one—they'll forward it to me if I move…"
"Duly noted and checked," Kari replied, scribbling on a paper. "How's that book of yours coming along, anyway?"
"Huh—absolutely nowhere," Sora said disgustedly, "I'm tempted to delete the past fifty pages—it's starting to resemble some medieval soap opera—"
"They didn't have soap operas in the Middle Ages…" Kari said in confusion.
"Oh, you'd be surprised, Kari…" Sora answered grimly, "I read the whole thing—beginning to end—the other day…it was like a Guinevere-Lancelot romance with some Lady of Shalott added for good measure…" She scowled. "Do you know how much I hate Guinevere and Lancelot?"
"And how much do you hate Guinevere and Lancelot?" asked Kari, amusedly, who personally was quite fond of the tale.
"I loathe them," Sora muttered darkly, "absolutely loathe them…"
"Do you like any story from Camelot?" Kari asked curiously.
"Pro'bly not," Sora said brightly, "No, no—I liked Tristam and Isoude though…But not Isoude of the White Hands. I only liked the first Isoude; the second was so…blech."
"I see," Kari said, though she really didn't. There really were too many Isoudes…
There was a pause.
"How'd Davis take the news anyway?" Sora suddenly asked, a mischievous gleam dancing in her eyes.
"Um…" Sora could almost picture Kari fidgeting. "We—…haven't exactly—well—told him yet."
"You haven't told Davis yet that you are marrying TK?" Sora echoed slowly. "Were you planning to invite him to the wedding?"
"Oh, certainly!"
"But…" Sora prompted.
"You're not supposed to pick up on these things," Kari grumbled. "But…we don't exactly know how to go about this…"
There was another pause.
"Are you waiting for me to say something?" Sora finally asked.
"No…I was thinking. I had an idea…"
"Let's hear it."
"Well…we all know how much Davis looks up to Tai—"
Sora gave a little huff which Kari interpreted as "not him again."
"—he does. You can't deny it…"
"That was like ten years ago," Sora grumbled. "I doubt Davis still hero-worships him anymore."
"Well, nonetheless—if only for old times' sake, Davis wouldn't kill someone he so greatly admired, right?"
"Are you concerned that he might possibly kill you?" Sora asked, rather amused.
"Me? No. TK? Absolutely," Kari sighed wearily, "Davis, as we all know, has such a temper…"
"He's not the only one," Sora muttered, "And his temper blows over quick, too."
Kari ignored that. "Of course, Tai would probably refuse. Say something about it not being right and honest and how I should buck up, have courage and all that…"
"Very Tai-like," agreed Sora, if a bit unwillingly.
Kari doodled absentmindedly on her wedding planner as she asked Sora, "So—how do you Davis will take the news?"
"That's what I'm asking you."
"But…"
"Why don't call him?" Sora suggested. "Now."
"Now?"
"No time like the present," Sora answered brightly.
"I probably should…" Kari ventured tentatively. She really didn't look forward to this. "But—I—"
The line went dead at that. Kari stared at it, frowning—Sora had just hung up on her…
"Honestly," she muttered crossly, stalking downstairs to look up Davis' number.
"The first of Hercules' twelve labors…" she mumbled as she began to dial. "Lord help me."