Hope you enjoy this chapter.

All characters are very OOC; especially Kagome.

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha

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Broken Glass

Almost one in the morning.

A naked man was in the kitchen.

I rented part of a three-level home.

A naked black man who was well endowed was in the kitchen.

The house was at the bottom of the hill facing a small park. I always came down hill and shut off my engine before I made it to the house, always shifted to neutral and coasted by the king and queen palm trees and into the garage, parked next a F650, my roommate's BMW motorcycle. She had a car, needed that in case we had to make food runs or take clothes to the dry cleaner's, couldn't run real errands on a bike, but she left her four-wheel cage out on the streets, only garaged her F650.

The basement was a game room, still the same way her ex-husband had left it. Big pool table and a Ms. Pac-Man machine met you as soon as the garage door opened, one of the other rooms had a home gym and free weights, and another was a media room with a gigantic plasma television anchored on the back wall. She also had a laundry room the size of a friggin' Laundromat.

I always dumped my backpack, helmet, gloves, and leather jacket on the pool table, kicked my shoes off, and headed up the stairs.

I climbed the stairs in a darkness that couldn't touch my mood. As soon as I made it to the main level, he was standing there in the kitchen, wearing nothing but dark skin and a goatee.

The naked black man jumped when he saw me. His super-sized penis did the same.

My body was frozen, ready to run or fight, but my eyes were between his legs, watching his penis bob and weave, staring at it the way a victim watches a robber's gun.

I said, "Uh. Hello."

He said, "Hey."

He didn't cover himself. My eyes eased up, moved across his firm stomach, and finally made it to his face. Handsome. Brown skin. Built like a professional running back. Strong legs. Hairy chest.

I closed my mouth, swallowed, and said, "You are…"

"Jason."

"No, naked. You're…"

"Oh came to get some water."

"You are…?"

"A friend of Thelma Mae. She said it was okay-"

"Who is Thelma Mae?"

"Nice… chest… Chinese… Thelma Mae."

"She's Korean, not Chinese."

"You sure?"

He didn't notice the magazines that were on the island. KoreAm Journal. The Korean American Experience in bold letters across the top of each one.

"Korean. And her name is Sango."

"Damn. I've been calling her Thelma Mae all evening."

"Sango is… where?"

"In her bed."

"Where did you meet her?"

"Barnes and Nobles."

"Sci-Fi section?"

"Yeah."

"You must read Issac Asimov."

"Some."

Philip K. Dick?"

"Yeah. How did you…?

"Cool. Asimov is tight, but she loves her some Dick."

"Yeah. He-"

"Which one of the Big Five you ride?"

"Huh?"

"Harley, Honda, Saki, Zook, Yam … what kind of bike you got?"

"Yamaha."

"Yam."

"Yeah. Got a Yam. How did you know I had a-"

"Displacement?"

"Huh?"

"Damn. What size is your freaking engine?"

"Six hundred."

"Geesh. You must be another checkbook rider."

"Huh?"

"You ain't been riding long, have you?"

"About a month. I still have my learner's permit. No freeway."

"Be careful. I had to kick another door, this one on the freeway."

"Huh?"

"A lot of haters on the road."

"You kicked somebody's door?"

"Every chance I get."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I get tired of people messing with me, that's why."

My sudden rage jarred him. It was my hormones. Felt that change, the fire inside me.

He backed away. "Nice to meet you… uh… uh…"

"Kagome."

"Nice to meet you, Kagome."

Jason hurried down the hallway, his big feet sticking to the marble floor, and then went up the stairs, rushing back to the master bedroom, his weight making the hardwood floor creak. That meant he weighed at least one-ninety. Took that much weight to make the floor sing.

I hardly ever went upstairs. There were two bathrooms and two more bedrooms up there. My bedroom was on this level, right off the living room. I had my private little world down here and Sango had hers up there in the heavens.

I grabbed bottled water from the pantry, opened the French doors, and went out on the patio.

"Kagome."

"What's up, Sango?"

She was halfway down the stairs when she called my name. The stairs didn't give her away. Never did. My scandalous and hedonistic roommate only weighed about a buck twenty, if that.

She yawned. "I thought you were spending the night with Inuyasha."

I said, "I thought you were with Miroku."

"Could you talk a little bit louder? People in Australia couldn't hear you."

Sango was coming out behind me, walking like she had a pretty barbaric horizontal workout. She came over and leaned on the rail. Her golden skin had a decent glow, made her look sweet sixteen.

Sango was almost twenty-seven, all of five-six, long black hair in braids, arched eyebrows over tight eyes, thick eyelashes, full lips, skin so tanned she looked like her last name should be Brown. Perfect D-cups with a twenty-four-inch waist. Her toned body, plus her attitude, all of that made her seem more perfect. She had a high waistline, narrow hips, breast to die for, and thanks to playing semi-pro beach volleyball she had killer legs.

Her mother married a black man when she was six; Sango had a teenage sister from that union, so they'd been integrated into a brand-new Nubian world.

I said, "You smell like sex."

"No, I smell like great sex."

"Don't ask me why I look like crap."

"What did Inuyasha do?"

Sango had on a short housecoat, no shoes. Her nails were red with green designs. Her toenails and fingernails were attention-getting, always works of art. She smelled erotic, like sweat and lavender mixed with a man's cologne, those scents and hints of drying semen.

I said, "Dude upstairs, he thought your name was Thelma Mae."

She laughed. "That's because I told him my name was Thelma Mae."

"And he thought you were Chinese."

"Why is Korean so hard to remember? They remember all the ese. Chinese. Japanese, Vietnamese."

I laughed. That was the one thing that pissed her off.

I said, "When you have breasts like that, I don't think they care what you are."

"Don't hate."

I lowered my voice. "Is your patio door open?"

She leaned, craned her head so she could look up toward her suite, then shrugged and whispered back, "Don't think so. If it is, so what? I'm Korean dammit. I don't look Chinese."

"You don't look engaged either, but you are."

"Shhh." She bumped me. "I'm not engaged dammit."

"Not yet, but the way Miroku acts, you will be soon."

"Could you say that a little bit louder?"

"Miroku is crazy about you."

"So is Daniel."

I whispered again. "His name is Jason."

"Jason? You sure?"

"Hell if I know. All I know is he told me his name was Jason."

"Oh, boy. I've been calling him Daniel."

"Match made in heaven."

She yawned. "I gave him my club name."

"Sounds like he gave you his too."

She bumped me and snapped, "Asshole."

"Don't asshole me."

"Shit, Daddy Long Stroke tried to asshole me."

"You let him go Greek?"

"He's too… gifted. Told him I only speak one language. No Greek, no French."

"I saw what you were working with. I thought he was about to go pole-vaulting."

She asked, "What's up with Inuyasha?"

I pursed my lips. "He's a bastard and his wife's a bitch."

"What happened?"

I thought about venting to her about my jacked-up evening, but I wasn't looking for company or long conversations. I didn't know which way this would go, so I wasn't ready to talk about my mistakes.

I asked, "What happened to Miroku? I thought you two were getting serious."

"Still seeing him. He wants to take me to Tokyo. As a matter of fact, he was with me at Barnes and Noble, took me to dinner before, then he had to leave. All of a sudden he had to go get his son."

"Baby momma drama?"

"She was blowing up his phone. God, why do I date men with children? Why? Why? Why?"

I laughed. "Another research night?"

"Yeah. Still trying to write this damn novel. I think I'm going to call it Comfort Women."

"You start so many novels. Which one is that?"

"Korean woman … forced to be sex slaves for the Japanese military during World War II."

"You've been working on that as long as I've known you, for at least five years."

"More like six. If only I can get past chapter three."

"Uh-huh."

"I was at the bookstore, took a break, was sitting on the floor reading I, Robot for the umpteenth time, looked up and saw this Adonis walking down the aisle. I'm talking two seconds after Miroku walked out, and this boy who looked like Will Smith walked in, leather jacket, biker helmet in hand."

"You should get that eye surgery. If you think he looks like Will Smith, you're damn near blind."

She shrugged. "Whatever."

I said, "So, Miroku walks out of the bookstore and…"

"And Daddy Long Stroke walks in." She smiled. "There is a God and she loves me."

"Playa play on. Somebody playing the field big-time."

"Nice guy, Miroku is real nice, but he can't satisfy me."

"Uh-huh. Took you two years to come to that conclusion?"

"I had hopes."

"Don't we all."

"He has the smallest penis I have ever seen, and that ain't no joke."

"Smallest?"

"Maybe not the smallest. But damn."

"What's your definition of small?"

"Under six. Six to seven is average. Seven to eight, large. Over eight, huge."

"Damn. Miroku is what, six-two, about two hundred pounds."

"Six-four. About two-twenty."

"You're killing the myth. Don't make me cry."

"Miroku has huge hands. He makes me come like crazy with his hands. I love his hands. If he didn't have hands, I'd leave him. If we were married, I'd divorce him and take one of his hands."

I chuckled. "His hands have you sprung."

"But I need more than a hand." She motioned upstairs. "This guy Daniel-"

"Jason."

"I was moaning out Daniel the whole damn time."

"Doubt if he cared, Thelma Mae."

"Daniel is good. He inspired me. One minute we were talking Asimov. Then we were talking about a short story by Tevis. You know that one?"

"Read it when I was fifteen."

"One of my favorites. How often do you meet someone who reads Tevis?"

"Long story short. So you were talking Tevis."

"Next thing I knew, I was… was wet. Was in that mood. It was strange. One minute Asimov, the next Tevis, then Heinlein… we started kissing… and kissing… and kissing… the guy can kiss like… like… then… he had me on the pool table and was eating me out. Intense."

"Wait. On the pool table eating you out? I think you left out a few steps."

"You said long story short."

"Not that short."

"Okay we were talking about Heinlein's 'I am God, you are God' theme, how it's essentially Heinlein's means of emphasizing the personal responsibility of each-"

"Sango."

She moved her braids from her face. "You just want to hear the freaky parts, huh?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, we went from talking about 'I am God' to me screaming 'Oh God Oh God Oh God.' " She chuckled at her own joke. "I was planning on just being his Pillow Queen, lick me to heaven, and then send him home. But it got out of control. He out it down like crazy. The next thing I knew, I was giving Jason the best head he's ever had."

"How do you know it was the best head he's ever had?"

"Hmm. I don't know. Maybe it was just the best head I ever gave. He drinks plenty of liquids and lays off the sodas. He drinks a lot of fruit juices, I can tell. Fruit juices are the best. I turned him out."

"Yeah, it's the best if they don't drink sodas. Fruit juices are the best."

"My gag reflex has gotten so much better."

"Too much information."

"Probably almost as good as you claim yours is."

"Sango!"

"Hand sex." She chuckled. "Russian. The love Russian."

"Don't forget Greek. They all want to go Greek."

"Why do straight men love Greek? Then there was this guy who wanted to use his nose."

That got a raised eyebrow from me. "His nose?"

"His nose was huge. Like a penis with nostrils. Strangest orgasm I ever had." She laughed and shook her head. "After that he wanted to give me a facial. God, I'm always in weird relationships."

"You're always having weird sex."

"I'm always having great sex. If I die, remember to burn my journals before my mother gets here. She'd have a stroke before she made it to page two. Hell, a pearl necklace is on page one."

"That's the mess you should put in a book. You could become the Asian Zane."

"Asian Zane. I like the way that sounds. A wonderful alliteration."

"Actually, it's more like a consonance than alliteration. Repetition of the 'z' sound in both words, that makes it consonant."

"Bitch. Always correcting me."

"Your tight-eyed cousins mess up the curve all across the nation and I'm a bitch?"

She mocked me. "Here we go with the stereotypical racist shit again."

"Learn to take a joke the way you take a dick."

She laughed. "You need to quit. Your Japanese ass."

"I'm not full Japanese."

"Where were you born?" She laughed. "You were made in Japan. That makes you Japanese."

"Whatever."

Sango said, "My problem is this…"

"Uh-huh."

"Miroku… take away the kid, lose the baby momma, and he's perfect. Fine as hell. Wants to commit. We have a great relationship. A great communicator; open; very loving. He's intelligent and has great presence. We both talked about how we loved the fact that we can take each other anyplace."

"I'm listening."

"And my being Korean…"

"Uh-huh."

"At some point that always becomes an issue. Always. Like I become some sort of exotic toy."

I asked, "If Miroku's such a great package… if he isn't making you a trophy… what's the problem."

"I'd rather be single and lonely, than married and miserable."

"Why you so hard on marriage, Sango?"

"Because I've been married, Kagome. I'm not obligated to be that stupid ever again."

I laughed at her crazy behind.

She sighed." Hell, I slept with my ex more after we divorced than I did when we were married. We had sex more in a month than we did in two years of marriage."

"Damn. You made love much?"

"Oh, please. We didn't make love. We fucked."

"I stand corrected."

"Hotels. Parks. Malls. Did it damn near everywhere. The best breakup sex I ever had."

"Only divorce you've ever had."

"Only takes one to change your view of the world."

"Again I stand corrected."

"If he'd hooked me up like that when we were married, we might've still been married."

"How did he treat you after the divorce?"

"Same way I treated him." She smiled. "Like a damn whore."

"Nice."

"Very nice. He tried to fuck me senseless, thinking I would come back to his ass."

"Didn't work."

"Oh, please. He loved me in private, but in public my being Korean, it became a problem."

"Why did you keep sleeping with him?"

"I loved him."

"Uh-huh. Love. That sweet addiction."

"Outside of the emotional and legal drama, we got off easy. Glad we didn't have kids."

I asked, "Think divorcing would've been harder if you had kids?"

"Don't know. And don't wanna know. All I know is that for more reasons than one, I'm glad me and my ex didn't have kids. As a matter of fact, let me amend my earlier statement. Yeah, I'd rather be single and lonely than both married and miserable or divorced with a freaking snotty-nosed kid and both of us miserable."

I said, "So, I take that to mean you're passing on Miroku too."

"Damn. Forgot I had somebody upstairs."

"Jason, in case the name slips your mind."

"Daniel. Jason. Whatever."

"Condoms?"

"Never ride bareback. Inuyasha coming over? You need some?"

"I'm cool." I almost told her. Couldn't. I asked, "Why do you mess around on Miroku?"

"Something is wrong with me. Sometimes I feel like I need to have sex with a good-looking, intelligent man who won't tell me his problems or ask me to cook freaking breakfast."

"What's wrong with cooking breakfast?"

"Quit playing."

"Okay,okay."

"Sometimes it's too much. Stay involved too long… people want so much from each other. Sometimes it's nice to be with somebody who can't want anything more than you're willing to give."

"Is that what Miroku's doing? Getting too deep? Becoming a bugaboo?"

She growled, touched her braids, shook her head. "What's you take on the love thing?"

"It is what it is and that's all it is."

"Just another addiction." She tapped her veins. "You just have to get rid of the addiction."

I sighed. "Falling in love is like falling off a building-it doesn't hurt till the end."

"You finally said something that makes sense."

"Oh, kiss my ass, Thelma Mae."

She said, "Love is like magic. Magic is an illusion. Therefore love is an illusion."

"Bitter, bitter, bitter."

"Not bitter. Marriage and divorce were my red pills. My eyes are wide open now."

"Are they? Hard to tell."

"Forget you. Don't start with those tight-eyed jokes."

"Bitter and paranoid, Thelma Mae. You are bitter and paranoid."

"And you're Japanese."

"Keep it up. Get slapped."

She rocked, stared at her beautiful fingernails, did all she could to delay going back to the man lounging in her den of pleasure. Guilty. She was feeling guilty. It showed in her terse smile. I understood her. I owned the same type of smile, only for a different reason.

She asked, "So, what's up? You skipped working at the Temple Bar to be with Inuyasha?"

"Don't you have a butt-naked stranger waiting on you upstairs?"

"You can smile, Kagome, but your eyes don't lie. It's bad. What happened with Inuyasha?"

I did want to vent, started to tell her then, that I was pregnant, that Inuyasha's words were rattling around in my head, that I was trying to think of what to do, how I could make it through this all by myself. But I didn't. She was my friend, I loved her scandalous butt, but she wasn't the one to talk to about this.

I shrugged and avoided the subject. "I'll screen your calls."

"If you need to talk, I'm only fourteen stairs and a short hallway away."

"Thanks."

"But don't knock too soon."

She headed back into the house.

I was alone.

I fell into a trance gazed down at the backyard, at the gazebo, the Jacuzzi, the trees, at the marigolds in the bonsai orange and Antigua yellows, at the red and sun-colored celosias, at all the dianthus.

The flowers, the moon, the stars, no matter what I looked at I saw Inuyasha.

I saw us swimming in the pool. I saw us naked, in that darkness, making love in the backyard, and the moon over our heads like a big flashlight. I heard us laughing and talking when we were done.

I heard him telling me he couldn't do this. I closed my eyes to make him go away, but he wouldn't. They wouldn't.

I saw Kikyo on her knees, her face in Inuyasha's lap, bobbing up and down, same thing I was doing this time last week. I saw them. Only this time I was in the room with them. Inuyasha had his hands on the back of her head, stabbing her throat with his hardness. He looked at me, said, Kagome, just think about it. Be married first. Have a partner. Finances right. Have a plan. That's all I'm saying.

Kikyo stopped savoring his jism long enough to wipe her mouth, masturbated him as she frowned at me. She snapped, Close the fucking door, bitch!

I jerked out of that self-imposed nightmare, shivered, felt so damn cold.

A few minutes later sweet moans were floating over my head, seeping through the bedroom window and the doors. His baritone moans were abrupt and strong, tangled up with her keen howls and catlike wails. I listened. She moaned for Daniel. I listened. He moaned for Thelma Mae.

He had out it on her good. She'd already given up on being a Pillow Queen.

I shook my head in disgust and amazement. But I listened to them, both chanting like Tibetan Buddhists, imagined them savoring each other, creating their own hydrogen fusion.

She barely knew his name and he couldn't care less about hers, yet they were comfortable enough to hump each other and she felt safe enough to let him wander naked through her home.

I couldn't judge her on that one. I'd done that so many times in my lifetime.

Live like a woman and date like a man. The only way to stay sane. God bless equal rights. We truly lived in fucked-up times.

I went to my bedroom. Locked my door. I stared at the picture of me and Inuyasha that sat on my dresser, positioned in the center of my other pictures, photos of me and my parents, as if Inuyasha were the sun that my fractured world rotated around.

I wanted to meet you face-to-face that I was going back to my wife.

I wanted to rip my ears off. Dig inside my brain and remove some of my memory. Right now I needed a cool bottle or a warm shoulder, some sort of comfort. I wanted to sleep in my makeup and skip brushing my teeth, do all the wretched things lovers do when it's over.

I wanted to get on my bike and ride away from the sunrise, live in the dark as long as I could.

I stripped down. Showered. Put my head under the water, wet my hair, and cried. They all added up. For one it was six months. For another it might be three years. For another a weekend or two. But they all added up

They all added up to time spent on relationships that didn't work. Time I wished I owned again. But time wasn't ownable. And days spent on useless relationships were irreversible.

Age crept in and the slim pickings became even slimmer.

Without drying off, soap trailing down my skin, water running from my hair and making a river across my face and back, I stared at myself in the full-length mirror on my closet door.

Rubbed my hands over me stomach. I imagined being nine months pregnant and alone.

In the middle of the night my phone rang. It didn't wake me because I was still pacing. Hating. Up thinking about the simple art of murder.

Inuyasha's number was on my caller ID. His name lit up my phone and it felt like I was parasailing.

I answered. "Inuyasha?"

"This is his wife."

The world stopped rotating. Felt like a knife had been jabbed in my throat.

I lost it, went ballistic. "How did you get my number?"

She didn't have to answer. I knew. She was on Inuyasha's phone.

She asked, "Are you with child?"

I growled, stared at my phone like I knew she didn't have the nerve to call me.

The she said, "Pregnant. That's the oldest trick in the book."

I cursed her out, told her, "don't ever dial this number again."

I hung up. Sat on the bed staring at the wall. Then I turned on the light, went to the bathroom.

As soon as I sat on the toilet, there was a crash, followed by loud music. Then the sound of a racing engine, a vehicle burning rubber on the pavement.

I jumped up and ran back into my bedroom. The window facing the streets was shattered. Broken glass was everywhere. A red brick was on my bed, the same spot I should've been sleeping on.

Someone had thrown a fucking brick through my bedroom window.

Taillights were speeding away; saw that through the shattered window.

That bitch did this.

I ran to the front door, yanked it open, and cursed out at the vanishing SUV.

So to clear up some things, Kagome was born in Japan but she lived in California for most of her life. So she doesn't really consider herself Japanese.

Jason is black. He does not live in Japan, he is from America. So he is on vacation technically.

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