So, currently it is almost 6 am where I am, and I've been up all night working on this chapter - well working on this chapter and watching Total Drama Island. Like I said last chapter, this is where everything starts fresh - I'm planning on taking some ideas from my previous story line; but all in all, this chapter is nothing like the Chapter 9 I'm replacing. Also, with this chapter I would like to thank the people who have reviewed this story as I have rewritten it - especially the review I received earlier tonight from a Guest. It was actually because of this particular review that I got this chapter out tonight. So, if you guys have any input or anything at all, I would love to get messages or reviews. They're what motivate me to write like a madwoman. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter though - we get some much needed background on Manami.
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Almost a month passes since I have contacted either Han or Takashi. My schedule remains pretty rote in that time; I finished my GTR and am now working on cars for a lot of my father's friends. Half a million dollar cars flitter in and out of the garage, keeping my mind off of the pressing issue of the Yakuza offer.
"Jesus, this Bentley is going to need a completely new transmission, what was Senator Tanaka thinking?" Hands resting on my hips I glare under the hood of the car, blaming it for the current predicament – this was going to be an expensive project and Tanaka wasn't going to be pleased. Irritated I rip my glasses of and run my hands up my face.
"Hey, Miichan." Looking up I see Satoshi leaning against the open garage door, putting my glasses back on I wait for him to continue, "You have something on your face."
"Shut up." Looking down at my hands I realize that I'm covered in transmission fluid, Muttering a gross amount of profanities I wipe my hands on my white tank top, he clicks his tongue, irritated I glare at him and snap, "What?"
"You just ruined another shirt." He whines. Walking over to me he grabs a red rag from my cluttered work bench and begins cleaning each of my fingers. "I have something to show you once I get you cleaned up."
Glaring at my fingers as he wipes each of them clean, "Oh? What is it this time? If you're here attempting to hook me up again I will knock you out and leave you on top of the mountain."
"You have to get over him, Miichan." I jerk my hands away and fix my glare back at my best friend, "Neither of them deserve you." His fingers grasp my chin, "And they never will."
"I've been looking at flats in London." I change subjects, Satoshi tries his best every time he's here to discuss Han and Takashi and honestly, it is the last thing that I could ever want to discuss at this point. Mostly because I don't know, and I'm angry that I don't know – I always know. "If I don't think of something soon, would you be up to moving to London for a time? I mean, you'd still be able to do fashion shoots and you'd get a new view of the world."
"That sounds interesting enough," his eyes appraise me for the longest time, "you don't want to go back to the US?"
I shrug, "I don't have any loose ends there."
"You'll have them here," my glare returns, he always knows how to redirect the conversation back to the two of them.
"No." Before he gets a chance to respond I pull my phone out of my pocket, "I have to make a phone call before we have another screaming match, plus I thought you were here to show me something." Satoshi nods and begins walking back out to his car giving me time to dial Senator Tanaka's number, "Yes, good afternoon, sir. I'm just calling about your Bentley Flying Spur."
Tanaka sighs, "That's good, you've finished your inspection then? What's wrong with my car?"
"I have sir, I have do have a question for you first though," as he asks me to continue I take a deep breath this car was so expensive and this fix wasn't going to be easy – I have to prove what's wrong, and this is the only way, "Have you been adding transmission fluid, sir?"
The line is silent for a long while, I'm almost worried he hung up that is until I hear an almost silent, "No. Why does that matter, Miss Hara?"
"It would seem, sir." I steady myself, there was no way to get around this, "That the transmission in your Bentley is beyond salvageable – this has been through the lack of transmission fluid, and when you miss or grind gears along with the lack of fluid it destroys the transmission faster than any dealership could estimate."
"How much will this cost to fix?" His voice was death, harsh and relentless I almost hang up because of it.
"It may just be cheaper for you to sell it and purchase a new car, sir." My hands were shaking, I don't really know how I'm managing to keep the phone pressed to my ear and I don't notice as Satoshi creeps up behind me pulls my hair, making me gasp.
"Is there something wrong, Miss Hara?" His voice remained even; it was only partially veiling the pure malcontent that was piercing me through the phone.
"N-no sir." Swatting Satoshi up to the loft I gather what's left of my wits, "So, what would you like to do, sir?"
"Fix it." He snaps, "Your father says you're the best. Do not make him look like a fool."
"Of course not sir, I will work swiftly and efficiently to have to completed for you."
"You better." Hearing the phone click I find myself collapsing onto the sofa. When had I managed to make it up to the loft? Phone calls to the most powerful men in Japan are the bane of my existence currently.
"Scary." Satoshi was snickering, observing me casually while lounging on the couch opposite my own.
Dropping the phone onto the coffee table I bury my head into the pillows on the couch, "Shut up." Muffled by the pillows, I'm still sure that he heard it.
Feeling the couch dip down on either side of my hips I'm not surprised when the pillow is ripped from my clutches, "Now, let me show you what I came here to." Reaching into his back pocket he pulls out a magazine and opening it up to the largest ad I am shocked to see the girl from the photo shoot a month ago staring back at me, "She liked your photos the best. You're now plastered all around Tokyo."
"What?!" My voice went up an octave from its normal pitch. "Why me? What could possess any person in the world to pick me?"
"You're beautiful Manami." Crawling off of me Satoshi sits at the opposite end of the couch, "There are three billboards around Tokyo now that have you on them."
"That… That woman in those photos isn't me." I watch as Satoshi cocks his head in confusion. "Before you get it in your head to do another intervention, listen to me. Physically, yes that's me, but really – that could never be me. I'm not that woman that everyone talks about at parties. I'm not a trophy wife. I'm a mousy mechanic who with the help of enough talented people can be made to look like something I'm not. I'm not a model, Satoshi. That girl in those photographs doesn't really exist."
"Where's that folder I gave you that I told you keep?" Now it was my turn to look confused, I've never seen Satoshi look so serious.
"I dunno, over by my laptop I suppose." Watching as he quickly snatches the manila folder of the desk I watch him intently, "What's the big deal with that folder, anyway?"
Satoshi begins rooting through the folder, apparently looking for something, grabbing six or seven photos he returns to sitting beside me, "The big deal, Manami is," handing me the photos I begin to glance over them, "That those weren't the first photographs she saw of you."
These were photos of me, two of them were from our trip to Rio – one of me leaning over my Mustang and the other the one day Satoshi was able to drag me to the beach, the others were assorted – college, sparring sessions, out drinking and lounging around our college flat.
"You can't tell me that you aren't beautiful in these, Miichan. These are what the designer saw when she said yes to you joining us on the shoot." I furiously shuffle through the photographs, looking for something anything to complain about, "Do you not want to be pretty? Does your mother's opinion of you really mean that much?"
"Women should be seen and not heard." I mutter under my breath, repeating my mother's mantra that I heard throughout my entire childhood.
"Women should be seen and not heard." That's how it always started.
"But you, child, will never be that woman. You should have been a man; you're far too plain for this world we live in – your father will never be able to show you off. You'll never be married off for your looks – so you better have some brains in there." My mother would tut as she attempted to make me presentable for the many balls we would attend.
I was six when this started, by twelve I was no longer allowed to attend any social event – blue doe-eyed half Asian girl who could never fit in with either side of the spectrum, underbuilt and tiny I was always under guessed in my age – and my mother was never afraid to show her disgust.
"You want to go to college?" Most mothers would be proud or demand that their child goes to college, "What could you possibly do with a college degree?" Model in her younger years, my mother never finished secondary school – so to her, no woman should have to do more than that; "The man should be able to support both himself and his wife." Her bits of wisdom, never asked for but always given.
When I told her my major, her reaction was even more harried; "A man's profession? Manami Hara, I would have never told you that you should have been born a man if I had known you'd take me literally." That was the last conversation the two of us ever had; if you could even call a one-sided chastisement a conversation.
That was probably what started my drinking, racing and general misbehavior. If I was going to dishonor what she stood for, I was going to go the whole nine yards in the matter.
"Of course my mother's opinion doesn't matter." That lie almost sounded like the truth, enough to make Satoshi's frown disappear.
"Good, now I'm going to go pin this up somewhere to commemorate you realizing that you are indeed pretty." Biting my tongue I settle for rolling my eyes, this argument was really getting too old – and if telling a little white lie was enough to get me out of having to hear I was beautiful all the time, I'd take it.
"Is there something else that you needed, Satoshi?" Lying on my back I stare up at the metal ceiling of the garage.
"Actually yes." Hearing him climb back up the steps I feel him sit on my legs, "I need my car inspected. How soon can you do it?"
"Well, Tanaka's transmission will probably take me the better part of tomorrow – so how about the day after?" Mentally going through my schedule I realize that I have three days of peace before another two weeks of hectic car inspections, "Please tell me that there's nothing wrong with it this time."
"I just bought it last year." He sounds proud, making me snort that much louder.
"That means absolutely nothing Satoshi, especially if you haven't done the basic upkeep." Gaze leaving the ceiling I look over at him, "Have you had the oil changed? Have you checked the transmission fluid? Have you been grinding gears?"
He frowns now, I assume that it's in concentration, "Alright. Oil – no. Transmission – no. Gears – I don't know."
"If your car is wrecked I'm going to kick your ass." Self-restraint is completely lost at this point.
"Why?" He was either ignorant the last fifteen times he came to the garage or he's as clueless as he looks.
"Because these are my first three days off in the last month and I don't want to spend them fixing your car." I need a break, perhaps I shouldn't though – I haven't thought about Takashi or Han any time other than when Satoshi brings them up.
"Hire help." He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world.
My eye twitches, "I've interviewed at least fifteen people."
"And?"
"None of them match up to the two high school students that helped me with the Audi."
"Hire them, then."
"They work for Han."
Silence.
His voice was a whisper now, "You're better than him." Kicking him roughly in the thigh I scowl, "Ouch. I'm being honest, Miichan. Does he have a PhD in engineering?" I'm silent, "I didn't think so. Also, you need to talk to both of those Neanderthals and get all of this settled or move to London because you moping around your garage working on rich old men's cars is really disturbing to watch." My gaze returns to the ceiling, I'm not going to give him anything to go on. "Manami Hara, give me your cell phone this instant." Nothing, I can't respond. I don't want to talk to them.
I don't want to talk to anyone about what happened, the two of them are – are… hearing my phone being picked up from the table I sit up immediately, "Satoshi, what do you think that you're doing?"
"Texting." His grin was spread across his face sickeningly similar to the Cheshire Cat.
"Who?" My body immediately shifts into a position where I can pounce on him before he can press send.
"The two men who have broken my best friend into a million submissive little pieces, you guys need to have a long conversation." Leaping over I snatch my phone from his grasp.
"No." Looking up at the screen I realize it's too late. And the message has been sent separately to both Takashi and Han.
Hey, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you for the last month. I just didn't know what to say or how to say it. We should meet up now and discuss things.
-M
