Disclaimer: The voices in my head have just informed me that I don't own
Beyblade or any of the characters.
Author's Note: Once again, my readers, I have failed to produce a chapter in a reasonably short amount of time. For that, I apologize. I was struggling with my muses again, and they are just now recovering from the gruesome attack by those nasty evil pigeons. Don't worry though; I've got a highly specialized, crack down team of friendly squirrels investigating the incident. They guarantee that we'll have the pigeons in custody some time very soon. Anyway, this is the chapter, and I truly hope you enjoy it. Happy Readings!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I opened my eyes slowly and was greeted by the morning silence, and then I stumbled out of bed and went to the bathroom to puke. I found the first time to be very entertaining, so I decided to go ahead and do it again, and I'll be damned if I wasn't done having fun yet, and I up and puked again! It was a fun fifteen minutes.
After my little funfest, I stumbled from the bathroom back to the warm confines of my bed, my empty, rumpled looking bed. I sighed in bliss as my eyes began to drift shut, and my mind began to recall the prior evening. Everything was fuzzy to a certain degree, but I still had some fairly blatant images in my head. I wouldn't have been able to forget even if I tried. I couldn't remember too much about the club, but I did remember the ride home from it. By the time Kai pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building, I was practically in his lap. He didn't seem to have any problem with it, except when he almost rear ended someone at a stop sign after I decided to try something a little . . . intricate (yeah, that's a good word . . .) with my tongue.
He ended up carrying me 'damsel' style to the door where I thought it best to cease my . . . excursions (yet another good word . . . ) so as to spare Sam the more intimate details of my life. When we walked in, Sam rose from his chair. He started for us, but Kai waved him off, saying simply that he was filling in for Max. At this, Sam had chuckled, sat back down, and taken up his paper again.
When we got to my apartment is when the fun really started. It seemed as though I had taken the initiative all evening, and I had wondered if it would be that way for the remainder of it. My wondering only lasted to the moment that the apartment door was opened. Kai dashed into my bedroom, and he wasted absolutely no time as he dropped me on the bed and climbed on top of me.
Either to your disappointment or to your relief, I'll spare the details of what happened next. So, away with you! Let your imaginations wander! I'm certain that you will create a lovely image all by your little lonesome, yes? Of course you will.
Now the question burning in everyone's mind is something along the lines of, 'was it good?' The answer is simply, 'oh God yes'. Kai is a man of many talents, and apparently some of those talents are in the bedroom. Although, as I lay there on my bed, reminiscing, it occurred to me that, even though it was one of the best lays of my life, he was a bit rough. I was somewhat sore in . . . places but not nearly enough for me condemn ANY of the things he did.
But the most pleasing thing about all of it was that he was gone now. I had my bed to myself, unlike when I was with Mariah. Every morning I woke up with her next to me, or I woke up, and she was out in the kitchen or the living room, or in the bathroom. Now that we were separated, I could go about my merry way in silence and solitude; however, I needed to sleep off my hangover some more before I could celebrate; I did just that.
I woke up at exactly twelve o' clock P.M. A large yawn escaped me as I stretched out on my magnificently empty bed. I could have stayed there if I had wanted, but I had the urge to get up and do something . . . anything. So, I pried my body from the coziness of my bed and dragged myself to the bathroom where I proceeded to shower. The warm water that rushed down on me felt rejuvenating. It assuaged the soreness and pulled me into the awareness that accompanied consciousness.
Afterwards, I took my leisurely time dressing. I was feeling good, except for the lasting soreness, and I dressed casually (baggy blue jeans, and a cotton shirt under a flannel over shirt). I didn't have any major plans for the day, although I knew I should start my history paper some time.
The BBA had wanted the lot of us to stay together for promotional reasons, and we didn't have any problems with that. None of us wanted to separate. With Max's parent's death, Japan became his home, and Tyson and Kenny obviously already lived there. With Voltaire and Boris in prison, Kai was the only living heir, and he had no desire to return to Russia. I imagine that decision had a lot to do with painful memories. In any case, Kai couldn't actually inherit anything until Volaire died, but he was pretty well set up with one of his grandfather's mansions in Japan. He had plenty of money to live on due to some system that I don't even know about, but as soon as the old bastard croaks, Kai will be one rich son of a bitch. As for me, well, there was nothing for me back in China, and the same went for the rest of the White Tigers. The elders in the village would have had us farming, following the old ways and the likes. It wasn't something any of us looked forward too. We all had dreams and hopes for the future, and with Mr. D's help, we were all able to get into college.
Mariah was going to major in physical therapy, while Lee surprised everyone and decided to try something in the medical field; he had the brains for it. We lost touch with Kevin and Gary, as they both decided to study abroad. Max was going for pediatrics, Kai was majoring in business, Kenny in research and development, and Tyson wanted to act, which wasn't that surprising.
Ty has a lot of personality, zeal, is outgoing, and can be overly dramatic. The field seemed to suit him well enough. As for me, I wasn't so certain what I wanted to do. I knew I liked to help people, I enjoyed teaching kids to blade back home, so I thought about teaching, but I didn't know what exactly. History had always fascinated me, as had musical composition and music in general so, logically, I decided to take some history and music classes. It didn't mean I knew what I wanted to do, but at least I was SOMEWHERE.
As for my apartment, The BBA paid for the whole thing as well as Mariah's and Lee's. They offered to help out Max, but he declined. His parents left him a pretty scrumptious bundle of financial security, so he was set. Tyson stayed at his grandfather's old place because his grandpa left it to him in his will, and Tyson didn't have a desire to go anywhere else.
He loved that dojo, we all did, and we still do. We all try and help Ty to maintain it. We all owed something to old gramps, and it was our way of honoring him and trying to keep his spirit alive. Though with a spirit as strong and blunt as grandpas, it'd be hard to keep it dead, yes?
Anyway, I decided I'd do the paper later. How could I write effectively if I wasn't feeling passion for the subject? Hell, I was still recovering from the 'passion' of the LAST time I wrote a paper. (I only hope one could pick up the sarcasm in the last sentence.)
I yawned as I padded out to the kitchen. The afternoon sunlight filtered through my window, causing me to squint my eyes until they managed to accustom themselves to the sun's radiance.
Stretching, I began a pot of tea, as I did not feel as though my stomach could contain much else, and I sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. I was comfortable, barring certain things. The quiet of my apartment, my sanctuary from the world, and my coziness caused me to fall into a dozing state where I could consciously feel my mind slipping from the present, lapsing into a silent, silky lake of thoughts.
I thought about Kai, naturally. I could still feel every caress, as though he had left invisible, flaming scars on my skin. It should've been awkward, but I couldn't seem to find any shred of shame or regret for what we had done. It didn't seem right, but it didn't seem wrong, and I felt nothing. It was a good time, but my feelings were the same. Kai was still a distant friend, a fun puzzle to try and piece together at a time of boredom. Kai was still Kai, and I was still Rei Kon. Nothing had altered in our relationship, and I was pleased with it, for that meant that I would have no obligations, and nothing keeping me locked within the binding cell of a romantic relationship.
My next thought . . . didn't get thought due to a persistent whistling from my friendly teakettle.
I stood up and grabbed it from the burner, happy to feel the rising steam that left my skin feeling moist. I poured the steaming tea into a cup and cradled it in my hands as though it were my last breath, sipping every now and then, enjoying the solitude in the atmosphere.
The phone rang. Surprising? I think not.
With a great sigh, I set down my tea, leaned back in my chair, and grabbed for the telephone on the counter. I stretched to reach it, for I was determined not to get out of my seat.
I'll be the first to admit that it was stupid; after all, tile is slippery. Everyone knows that.
The back legs of my chair slipped under, causing the chair and I to tumble to the floor where we landed as a happy mess of limbs. I believe I was in more pain than the chair. Never the less, I had enough energy to reach up and push the speakerphone button.
"Hello," I grumbled.
"You okay, bud?"
Max just HAD to call, didn't he? "No, I'm not." I replied shortly.
"What happened?"
I frowned as I began to untangle myself from the lethal legs of the chair. "The chair and I had an altercation, and it kicked my ass. What's up with you?"
Max chuckled, and I gave him the finger, remembering only then that he couldn't see it. Sh, it's a secret.
"I was just calling to see if you got home okay."
I sighed and picked up the evil chair, grabbed my tea, and leaned against the counter. Max was sweet for caring. "Yeah, I got home just fine, Kai took me and . . . uh . . ." I trailed off.
I wasn't certain if I should tell Max. It really had nothing to do with him, and I wasn't sure I wanted him to know that our former team captain had spent his night giving it to me up the ass.
"Rei?" Max asked.
I shook my self out of my thoughts. "And he made sure I wasn't going to kill myself, and then he went home." I said.
It didn't sound real, it sounded concocted and artificial, and Max picked up on it, but he didn't say anything. He was always good about respecting privacy. I was grateful to him for that.
"Well, okay then. I just wanted to check."
"Thanks for the concern. Have you seen or heard from Tyson?"
Max laughed. "He's hard to miss sleeping on my couch."
I blinked. "You didn't get him home?"
"No, he was going to wretch, and it was either him or my car, so I sped to my place, and no sooner did I help him out of the car that he threw up in the parking lot and passed out."
"Wow, nice save with your Jag an all. That would've sucked to clean that shit out of there." I grimaced at the thought, knowing how the smell usually lingered for a portion of eternity. I could practically see Max's face turn pale at the thought.
"Yeah, yeah it was. Well anyway, as long as you're good. I've gotta go now. I think Ty is waking up, and he'll be needing some coffee. Later."
"Yeah, bye." I said and listened as the familiar buzz of a dead phone line sounded.
I pressed the speakerphone button, thereby turning it off, and started for the chair, but I stopped, glared at it, and chose the one next to it instead.
Wow, I sure showed it.
I spent a good hour sipping my tea and thinking. It was a good time, I enjoyed myself, and the lack of another's voice was quite pleasing to me. Afterwards, I proceeded to vegetate in front of the television, which was also a good time and very enjoyable.
I was in the middle of an oh so fascinating soap opera that I had never seen before in my life, had no idea who the people were, but found myself having to watch it, as I had left the remote on the coffee table in front of the couch and was too lazy to sit up to get it. It was a difficult time for me, but somehow, someway . . . I survived! Anyway, it was during this period that someone decided to knock on the door, which was odd because all of my friends knew that they had to buzz me before they could even get to the elevator; it was an apartment building policy.
I took a deep breath and trained my eyes on the door, as if waiting for it to make a move. Well, it DIDN'T move, and the knocking became more persistent. I was wary of whoever was on the other side, but I climbed to my feet reluctantly and padded over to the door. Slowly, I grasped the knob with one hand and removed the little chain lock with the other. Biting my lip, I turned the knob and opened the door. I was more than surprised to have a shimmering golden police badge shoved in my face as some random lady shoved passed me and strode into my apartment.
"Uh," I started.
"Rei Kon, I presume?" she asked.
I closed my door and turned around to meet her gaze. "Presume? Isn't it your job to KNOW?" I questioned.
Her eyes, which were an intense, gleaming onyx color regarded me with a strangely stoic expression. I realized then that my comment might have been a little uncalled for.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Um, yes ma'am I'm him . . . er, Rei Kon, that is."
"Wonderful," she said dryly, and I had the strangest feeling that I had not made a good impression on her.
There was a strange silence after that as we both stood there observing one another. I thought she was very attractive with her tall, slender body, defined, high cheek bones, dark eyes, tan skin, and her black hair that was cut short in the back, but had two longer strands extending to her easily sloping jaw on either side of her face in the front. Though, she vaguely reminded me of someone . . . oh who was I was thinking of? Oh, right. Satan.
"My name is Callie Mou, DETECTIVE Callie Mou," she said sternly, and she held out her slender hand to me. I took it, and we shook. It was a very hard, stiff handshake. Her grip was firm and mechanical, empty and perfunctory; it was all procedure.
"Mr. Kon," she began, then paused and made her way to one of the kitchen chairs. "May I sit?" She asked, but did not wait for my response, merely proceeded to do so.
I sighed. This woman had an air of superiority and cockiness about her, and I wasn't appreciative of her attitude. However, I wasn't about to get myself in trouble with the law, so I merely took a seat across from her.
She grabbed a note pad and pen out from her purse. "I have a few questions to ask you Mr. Kon."
"Obviously," I said sarcastically; however, let the record show that I did not MEAN to say it. It was an accident! It just . . . slipped.
Those dark, hard eyes flashed menacingly, and I practically felt little bolts of lightning shoot from them.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Um, would you . . . like something to drink before we get started?" I asked in a useless attempt to smooth things over.
Keeping her eyes on me, she shook her head easily, and I knew she derived a certain pleasure in seeing me fidget under her gaze. It made sense though . . . after all, she WAS Satan.
"Then, by all means, ask away," I said. Oh how I wished for progression of the conversation.
"Very well," she agreed.
I thanked the merciful gods.
"Where were you last night, Mr. Kon?"
I bit my lip. "Uh, at a club," I answered truthfully.
"Which club?"
". . . Um, the . . . dance . . . club?" I asked. I didn't even remember looking at the name of that place.
For my half assed response, she set another fierce, impatient glare on me.
I rolled my eyes. I was tired of that look. "Listen, I don't know, it was the first time I had ever been there, okay?" I said rather huffily.
She merely scowled and jotted something down on her paper.
"Were you with anyone?" She continued.
"Yeah. I was with a few of my friends."
"Their names?"
"Max Tate, Tyson Kinomia, and Kai Hiwatari."
Her eyes showed a bit of recognition as she wrote each name. For a moment, she looked human. "Ah, yes, I thought I recognized your name. You're Rei Kon, as in Rei Kon of the Blade Breakers, I take it?"
I nodded slowly, studying her facial features. They were softer. "Well, yes, a while ago anyway," I said.
"My husband and my son watch the sport carefully. Your team was always their favorite," she said.
I was surprised. She didn't strike me as the wife and mother type. Suddenly, it seemed like Satan had a soft side. Aw, how sweet!
I gave her a lopsided grin. "What about you? Did you ever follow Beyblading?"
She seemed to hesitate before shrugging mildly. "I may have watched a few battles."
After that, there was a silence, though I wasn't sure how to describe it. I wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but I would have been happier if one of us spoke. Either she agreed, or she figured it was time to get back to work.
"Where can I find these other three gentlemen?" She asked.
I gave her all of their addresses and schedules, and she wrote them down quickly.
"Besides your companions, did you meet anyone else last night?"
I wanted to start laughing, but I didn't. "Eh . . . yeah, I met . . . people . . . last night," I replied and couldn't suppress a snicker.
She tossed me another glare, though less severe than its antecedents.
"Anyone specific?"
"I can't remember really. There was a lot of commotion. It was a nightclub, ya know, loud, crowded, and fast paced. I danced with several people, and only conversed with about half of them." I didn't mention the alcohol, due to my . . . being under age and all.
She nodded slowly. I watched her hand working to spell out the words she wrote. It moved rapidly across the small pad of paper, and her mind seemed to reconfigure each and every note she put down. She was a very analytical person, not too unlike myself, though my predominant disposition seemed generally less pugnacious.
She ceased her scrawling, and her hand retreated into her purse once again, that time resurfacing with a photograph of pretty young girl. I thought she looked rather familiar, though I was somewhat dubious as to my recollection.
She slid the photo across the table. It came to a stop before me, and I stared at it for a moment before daring to pick it up. I examined it. I KNEW that girl. I knew her from . . . somewhere, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember how or where I knew her.
"Mr. Kon, do you recall ever seeing or coming in contact with this young woman?" Mou asked.
I glanced up at her, and then back to the picture. ". . . No, I don't," I said.
"Nothing at all?" She persisted.
"No," I insisted. "Nothing."
Detective Mou sighed as I handed her back the picture. She slid it back into the mysterious sanctuary of her purse. "Very well then, I--"
"Hold it," I interrupted. "Just hang on. Before you start asking more questions, I have a few of my own. For example, why are you here? What does this girl have to do with anything? And furthermore, why am I a part of your, presumed, investigation?" I asked.
She stared at me, and she blinked, and I stared at her, and I blinked . . . and it was kind of quiet for a while. Then, she once again reached into her purse and pulled out a trio of photographs. She replicated the previous action of sliding them across the table, and I replicated the action of staring at them and picking them up. However, once I had them in my hands, I nearly dropped them again. I hadn't expected to see morgue shots.
"Uh . . ." I muttered intelligently.
"Her name is . . . was Cynthia Kieros. She was found dead in an alley this morning at 2:30. It's already been deemed a homicide, but logically so. You can see bruising on the skin from physical blows, bruising and cuts on the wrists, breasts, and on the inner thighs. Tests found sperm, verifying the idea that she was raped, and we believe the cause of death was by strangling. She was only 23 years old," said Mou.
I sat there staring numbly. What else could I do? My heart was aching for this poor, lost soul. A soul that I didn't believe I had ever met. I had never felt so close to something terrible like that, and yet I knew nothing of that girl; just the facts of her demise, her tender age, and her name.
"We couldn't find witnesses of any kind, but we did find out from Kieros' land lord that she had been dating a man by the name of Scott Lake. Upon further investigation we found that Lake had recently been released from a two-year prison sentence for assault and robbery. Lake's roommate claims not to have seen him since last night when he left for the nightclub," Mou explained.
She seemed to lay out this information so casually, as though nothing terrible happened . . . as though no one had been beaten and raped in a cold, disgusting alleyway . . . as though no one was murdered.
I felt the blood drain from my face, and my head began to throb. My mouth became strangely dry, but my mind begged a question. "How do I . . . play into all of . . . this?" I asked, slightly agitated at my weak, cracking voice.
Mou adjusted herself in her chair before reaching down and pulling a single photo out of her purse. The purse didn't seem that large to me. With so many pictures, I wondered if she HAD anything else in the damned thing.
Unlike the previous times, Mou held the photograph in her hand rather than sliding it toward me, and she trained those dark eyes on it before turning her attention back to me.
"We spoke to the bartender at the night club, showed him the photos, gave him the basic questioning, and he provided us with some information. He said that he remembered seeing Lake last night. He claimed to have seen him dancing with YOU for an undetermined amount of time, maybe twenty or thirty minutes, before Lake stopped and abruptly disappeared."
Mou finally proffered the picture to me. I hesitated, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, and keep myself from going through some sort of mental breakdown. I really couldn't remember anyone too specific. I wasn't sure if I wanted that picture to jog my memory. With a deep, slow intake of breath and a slow exhalation, I reached out and loosely grasped the thin, smooth picture between my fingers. I brought it to my eyes and began to examine the young man's features. Something began to gnaw at my memory, but I wasn't sure . . . I couldn't tell if I remembered him or not. I tried, but to no avail, I couldn't come up with anything solid.
I gently shook my head in apology. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember him. Maybe I was dancing with him, but then, I danced with a lot of people," I said.
I started to hand the picture back to her, but she held up a slender hand, and I halted my action.
"Keep the photo. There's no telling when or what you'll remember later on," she commanded.
I simply nodded and set the picture face down in front of me. I decided to dwell on it at a later time, as I had another question I wanted addressed. "Detective, am I in any sort of trouble . . . with the law or otherwise?" I asked.
Mou seemed to ponder my question for a split second before shrugging somewhat nonchalantly. "If anything, we'll ask you to be a witness in the case."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
She sighed. "Well, yes, in regards to the LAW."
That particular sentence made a chill run up my spine, and I became a little concerned. "JUST the law? What ELSE should I be concerned about?" I questioned cautiously.
"Mr. Kon, a very distinctive psychological profile was done on Lake. He is very . . . OBSESSIVE, if you will." She said.
"Obsessive? How?"
"Should he set his sites on something . . . or someone, he tends to obsess over it. He enjoys dominance, and can become very violent. I wouldn't think you have any need for concern, after all, you don't remember him, and it doesn't sound like you spent much time in one another's company."
I blinked. Was she implying that he might stalk me or something? "Are you implying that he might stalk me or something?" I asked, true to my thoughts.
"No, I'm merely heeding caution."
I was skeptical, and my stomach began to churn with uneasiness. "So, you believe he had something to do with the murder of Cynthia Kieros?" I questioned further.
Another sigh escaped those delicate lips of hers. "Cynthia was a very attractive young woman, and sources indicate that they had only been dating a short while. They were having relationship problems. She may have wanted to leave him, but being possessive by nature, he didn't want to let her go. I guess they tried to get over their problems, but they couldn't have gotten too far if he was seen dancing with you. We aren't sure if he had anything to do with her murder, but we suspect it."
"Do you think he killed her?"
"The semen samples that we collected didn't match his, but that doesn't mean he didn't play a part in it."
I nodded slowly, an easy bobbing of my head. I couldn't shake the numbness that coursed through my veins, or the feeling of my skin crawling and tingling. "I see," I said after a few silent moments.
I watched as she jotted something down on a clean sheet of paper and held it out to me. "Take this," she said. "It's my cell phone number if you need to reach me, and there's also the station number. Just ask for me if you call."
Detective Callie Mou stood up from the chair, and I copied the action. She held out a deceitfully delicate looking hand, and we shook. "I'll get back to you if anything develops," she promised.
"Thanks." I said.
She started for the door, and I watched as she placed her hand on the doorknob and started to turn it, then she paused. She turned toward me once again, and I looked at her expectantly.
She pulled yet another item from her mysterious purse of magic and wonders, for once it wasn't a picture. It was a small, bulky item that was concealed in a red, velvet bag with a golden draw cord. She undid the cord and carefully pulled out an extremely familiar object. I couldn't suppress a grin.
She stared at it for a minute and then held it out to me. "It's my son's birthday tomorrow. I don't claim to know much about them, but the store attendant said it was one of the best. It would mean the world to him if you could sign your autograph."
"No problem," I said happily. After grabbing a permanent marker, I signed my name neatly on the side of the beyblade and gave it back to her. She slipped it back into the bag and put it in her purse.
"I'm going to attempt to get your teammates' signatures as well."
"They'd all be glad to," I told her honestly.
"Well, thank you. He'll be absolutely ecstatic." Bowing slightly, she turned and exited my apartment.
I stood there for a while, just staring at the door. I had learned a lot about . . . stuff I didn't care to know about or be a part of. How was it that one drunken night got me involved in a murder investigation? Furthermore, why couldn't I speak Spanish?
. . . I'm not sure how the last question held any relevance. . .
Author's Note: Once again, my readers, I have failed to produce a chapter in a reasonably short amount of time. For that, I apologize. I was struggling with my muses again, and they are just now recovering from the gruesome attack by those nasty evil pigeons. Don't worry though; I've got a highly specialized, crack down team of friendly squirrels investigating the incident. They guarantee that we'll have the pigeons in custody some time very soon. Anyway, this is the chapter, and I truly hope you enjoy it. Happy Readings!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I opened my eyes slowly and was greeted by the morning silence, and then I stumbled out of bed and went to the bathroom to puke. I found the first time to be very entertaining, so I decided to go ahead and do it again, and I'll be damned if I wasn't done having fun yet, and I up and puked again! It was a fun fifteen minutes.
After my little funfest, I stumbled from the bathroom back to the warm confines of my bed, my empty, rumpled looking bed. I sighed in bliss as my eyes began to drift shut, and my mind began to recall the prior evening. Everything was fuzzy to a certain degree, but I still had some fairly blatant images in my head. I wouldn't have been able to forget even if I tried. I couldn't remember too much about the club, but I did remember the ride home from it. By the time Kai pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building, I was practically in his lap. He didn't seem to have any problem with it, except when he almost rear ended someone at a stop sign after I decided to try something a little . . . intricate (yeah, that's a good word . . .) with my tongue.
He ended up carrying me 'damsel' style to the door where I thought it best to cease my . . . excursions (yet another good word . . . ) so as to spare Sam the more intimate details of my life. When we walked in, Sam rose from his chair. He started for us, but Kai waved him off, saying simply that he was filling in for Max. At this, Sam had chuckled, sat back down, and taken up his paper again.
When we got to my apartment is when the fun really started. It seemed as though I had taken the initiative all evening, and I had wondered if it would be that way for the remainder of it. My wondering only lasted to the moment that the apartment door was opened. Kai dashed into my bedroom, and he wasted absolutely no time as he dropped me on the bed and climbed on top of me.
Either to your disappointment or to your relief, I'll spare the details of what happened next. So, away with you! Let your imaginations wander! I'm certain that you will create a lovely image all by your little lonesome, yes? Of course you will.
Now the question burning in everyone's mind is something along the lines of, 'was it good?' The answer is simply, 'oh God yes'. Kai is a man of many talents, and apparently some of those talents are in the bedroom. Although, as I lay there on my bed, reminiscing, it occurred to me that, even though it was one of the best lays of my life, he was a bit rough. I was somewhat sore in . . . places but not nearly enough for me condemn ANY of the things he did.
But the most pleasing thing about all of it was that he was gone now. I had my bed to myself, unlike when I was with Mariah. Every morning I woke up with her next to me, or I woke up, and she was out in the kitchen or the living room, or in the bathroom. Now that we were separated, I could go about my merry way in silence and solitude; however, I needed to sleep off my hangover some more before I could celebrate; I did just that.
I woke up at exactly twelve o' clock P.M. A large yawn escaped me as I stretched out on my magnificently empty bed. I could have stayed there if I had wanted, but I had the urge to get up and do something . . . anything. So, I pried my body from the coziness of my bed and dragged myself to the bathroom where I proceeded to shower. The warm water that rushed down on me felt rejuvenating. It assuaged the soreness and pulled me into the awareness that accompanied consciousness.
Afterwards, I took my leisurely time dressing. I was feeling good, except for the lasting soreness, and I dressed casually (baggy blue jeans, and a cotton shirt under a flannel over shirt). I didn't have any major plans for the day, although I knew I should start my history paper some time.
The BBA had wanted the lot of us to stay together for promotional reasons, and we didn't have any problems with that. None of us wanted to separate. With Max's parent's death, Japan became his home, and Tyson and Kenny obviously already lived there. With Voltaire and Boris in prison, Kai was the only living heir, and he had no desire to return to Russia. I imagine that decision had a lot to do with painful memories. In any case, Kai couldn't actually inherit anything until Volaire died, but he was pretty well set up with one of his grandfather's mansions in Japan. He had plenty of money to live on due to some system that I don't even know about, but as soon as the old bastard croaks, Kai will be one rich son of a bitch. As for me, well, there was nothing for me back in China, and the same went for the rest of the White Tigers. The elders in the village would have had us farming, following the old ways and the likes. It wasn't something any of us looked forward too. We all had dreams and hopes for the future, and with Mr. D's help, we were all able to get into college.
Mariah was going to major in physical therapy, while Lee surprised everyone and decided to try something in the medical field; he had the brains for it. We lost touch with Kevin and Gary, as they both decided to study abroad. Max was going for pediatrics, Kai was majoring in business, Kenny in research and development, and Tyson wanted to act, which wasn't that surprising.
Ty has a lot of personality, zeal, is outgoing, and can be overly dramatic. The field seemed to suit him well enough. As for me, I wasn't so certain what I wanted to do. I knew I liked to help people, I enjoyed teaching kids to blade back home, so I thought about teaching, but I didn't know what exactly. History had always fascinated me, as had musical composition and music in general so, logically, I decided to take some history and music classes. It didn't mean I knew what I wanted to do, but at least I was SOMEWHERE.
As for my apartment, The BBA paid for the whole thing as well as Mariah's and Lee's. They offered to help out Max, but he declined. His parents left him a pretty scrumptious bundle of financial security, so he was set. Tyson stayed at his grandfather's old place because his grandpa left it to him in his will, and Tyson didn't have a desire to go anywhere else.
He loved that dojo, we all did, and we still do. We all try and help Ty to maintain it. We all owed something to old gramps, and it was our way of honoring him and trying to keep his spirit alive. Though with a spirit as strong and blunt as grandpas, it'd be hard to keep it dead, yes?
Anyway, I decided I'd do the paper later. How could I write effectively if I wasn't feeling passion for the subject? Hell, I was still recovering from the 'passion' of the LAST time I wrote a paper. (I only hope one could pick up the sarcasm in the last sentence.)
I yawned as I padded out to the kitchen. The afternoon sunlight filtered through my window, causing me to squint my eyes until they managed to accustom themselves to the sun's radiance.
Stretching, I began a pot of tea, as I did not feel as though my stomach could contain much else, and I sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. I was comfortable, barring certain things. The quiet of my apartment, my sanctuary from the world, and my coziness caused me to fall into a dozing state where I could consciously feel my mind slipping from the present, lapsing into a silent, silky lake of thoughts.
I thought about Kai, naturally. I could still feel every caress, as though he had left invisible, flaming scars on my skin. It should've been awkward, but I couldn't seem to find any shred of shame or regret for what we had done. It didn't seem right, but it didn't seem wrong, and I felt nothing. It was a good time, but my feelings were the same. Kai was still a distant friend, a fun puzzle to try and piece together at a time of boredom. Kai was still Kai, and I was still Rei Kon. Nothing had altered in our relationship, and I was pleased with it, for that meant that I would have no obligations, and nothing keeping me locked within the binding cell of a romantic relationship.
My next thought . . . didn't get thought due to a persistent whistling from my friendly teakettle.
I stood up and grabbed it from the burner, happy to feel the rising steam that left my skin feeling moist. I poured the steaming tea into a cup and cradled it in my hands as though it were my last breath, sipping every now and then, enjoying the solitude in the atmosphere.
The phone rang. Surprising? I think not.
With a great sigh, I set down my tea, leaned back in my chair, and grabbed for the telephone on the counter. I stretched to reach it, for I was determined not to get out of my seat.
I'll be the first to admit that it was stupid; after all, tile is slippery. Everyone knows that.
The back legs of my chair slipped under, causing the chair and I to tumble to the floor where we landed as a happy mess of limbs. I believe I was in more pain than the chair. Never the less, I had enough energy to reach up and push the speakerphone button.
"Hello," I grumbled.
"You okay, bud?"
Max just HAD to call, didn't he? "No, I'm not." I replied shortly.
"What happened?"
I frowned as I began to untangle myself from the lethal legs of the chair. "The chair and I had an altercation, and it kicked my ass. What's up with you?"
Max chuckled, and I gave him the finger, remembering only then that he couldn't see it. Sh, it's a secret.
"I was just calling to see if you got home okay."
I sighed and picked up the evil chair, grabbed my tea, and leaned against the counter. Max was sweet for caring. "Yeah, I got home just fine, Kai took me and . . . uh . . ." I trailed off.
I wasn't certain if I should tell Max. It really had nothing to do with him, and I wasn't sure I wanted him to know that our former team captain had spent his night giving it to me up the ass.
"Rei?" Max asked.
I shook my self out of my thoughts. "And he made sure I wasn't going to kill myself, and then he went home." I said.
It didn't sound real, it sounded concocted and artificial, and Max picked up on it, but he didn't say anything. He was always good about respecting privacy. I was grateful to him for that.
"Well, okay then. I just wanted to check."
"Thanks for the concern. Have you seen or heard from Tyson?"
Max laughed. "He's hard to miss sleeping on my couch."
I blinked. "You didn't get him home?"
"No, he was going to wretch, and it was either him or my car, so I sped to my place, and no sooner did I help him out of the car that he threw up in the parking lot and passed out."
"Wow, nice save with your Jag an all. That would've sucked to clean that shit out of there." I grimaced at the thought, knowing how the smell usually lingered for a portion of eternity. I could practically see Max's face turn pale at the thought.
"Yeah, yeah it was. Well anyway, as long as you're good. I've gotta go now. I think Ty is waking up, and he'll be needing some coffee. Later."
"Yeah, bye." I said and listened as the familiar buzz of a dead phone line sounded.
I pressed the speakerphone button, thereby turning it off, and started for the chair, but I stopped, glared at it, and chose the one next to it instead.
Wow, I sure showed it.
I spent a good hour sipping my tea and thinking. It was a good time, I enjoyed myself, and the lack of another's voice was quite pleasing to me. Afterwards, I proceeded to vegetate in front of the television, which was also a good time and very enjoyable.
I was in the middle of an oh so fascinating soap opera that I had never seen before in my life, had no idea who the people were, but found myself having to watch it, as I had left the remote on the coffee table in front of the couch and was too lazy to sit up to get it. It was a difficult time for me, but somehow, someway . . . I survived! Anyway, it was during this period that someone decided to knock on the door, which was odd because all of my friends knew that they had to buzz me before they could even get to the elevator; it was an apartment building policy.
I took a deep breath and trained my eyes on the door, as if waiting for it to make a move. Well, it DIDN'T move, and the knocking became more persistent. I was wary of whoever was on the other side, but I climbed to my feet reluctantly and padded over to the door. Slowly, I grasped the knob with one hand and removed the little chain lock with the other. Biting my lip, I turned the knob and opened the door. I was more than surprised to have a shimmering golden police badge shoved in my face as some random lady shoved passed me and strode into my apartment.
"Uh," I started.
"Rei Kon, I presume?" she asked.
I closed my door and turned around to meet her gaze. "Presume? Isn't it your job to KNOW?" I questioned.
Her eyes, which were an intense, gleaming onyx color regarded me with a strangely stoic expression. I realized then that my comment might have been a little uncalled for.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Um, yes ma'am I'm him . . . er, Rei Kon, that is."
"Wonderful," she said dryly, and I had the strangest feeling that I had not made a good impression on her.
There was a strange silence after that as we both stood there observing one another. I thought she was very attractive with her tall, slender body, defined, high cheek bones, dark eyes, tan skin, and her black hair that was cut short in the back, but had two longer strands extending to her easily sloping jaw on either side of her face in the front. Though, she vaguely reminded me of someone . . . oh who was I was thinking of? Oh, right. Satan.
"My name is Callie Mou, DETECTIVE Callie Mou," she said sternly, and she held out her slender hand to me. I took it, and we shook. It was a very hard, stiff handshake. Her grip was firm and mechanical, empty and perfunctory; it was all procedure.
"Mr. Kon," she began, then paused and made her way to one of the kitchen chairs. "May I sit?" She asked, but did not wait for my response, merely proceeded to do so.
I sighed. This woman had an air of superiority and cockiness about her, and I wasn't appreciative of her attitude. However, I wasn't about to get myself in trouble with the law, so I merely took a seat across from her.
She grabbed a note pad and pen out from her purse. "I have a few questions to ask you Mr. Kon."
"Obviously," I said sarcastically; however, let the record show that I did not MEAN to say it. It was an accident! It just . . . slipped.
Those dark, hard eyes flashed menacingly, and I practically felt little bolts of lightning shoot from them.
I cleared my throat nervously. "Um, would you . . . like something to drink before we get started?" I asked in a useless attempt to smooth things over.
Keeping her eyes on me, she shook her head easily, and I knew she derived a certain pleasure in seeing me fidget under her gaze. It made sense though . . . after all, she WAS Satan.
"Then, by all means, ask away," I said. Oh how I wished for progression of the conversation.
"Very well," she agreed.
I thanked the merciful gods.
"Where were you last night, Mr. Kon?"
I bit my lip. "Uh, at a club," I answered truthfully.
"Which club?"
". . . Um, the . . . dance . . . club?" I asked. I didn't even remember looking at the name of that place.
For my half assed response, she set another fierce, impatient glare on me.
I rolled my eyes. I was tired of that look. "Listen, I don't know, it was the first time I had ever been there, okay?" I said rather huffily.
She merely scowled and jotted something down on her paper.
"Were you with anyone?" She continued.
"Yeah. I was with a few of my friends."
"Their names?"
"Max Tate, Tyson Kinomia, and Kai Hiwatari."
Her eyes showed a bit of recognition as she wrote each name. For a moment, she looked human. "Ah, yes, I thought I recognized your name. You're Rei Kon, as in Rei Kon of the Blade Breakers, I take it?"
I nodded slowly, studying her facial features. They were softer. "Well, yes, a while ago anyway," I said.
"My husband and my son watch the sport carefully. Your team was always their favorite," she said.
I was surprised. She didn't strike me as the wife and mother type. Suddenly, it seemed like Satan had a soft side. Aw, how sweet!
I gave her a lopsided grin. "What about you? Did you ever follow Beyblading?"
She seemed to hesitate before shrugging mildly. "I may have watched a few battles."
After that, there was a silence, though I wasn't sure how to describe it. I wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but I would have been happier if one of us spoke. Either she agreed, or she figured it was time to get back to work.
"Where can I find these other three gentlemen?" She asked.
I gave her all of their addresses and schedules, and she wrote them down quickly.
"Besides your companions, did you meet anyone else last night?"
I wanted to start laughing, but I didn't. "Eh . . . yeah, I met . . . people . . . last night," I replied and couldn't suppress a snicker.
She tossed me another glare, though less severe than its antecedents.
"Anyone specific?"
"I can't remember really. There was a lot of commotion. It was a nightclub, ya know, loud, crowded, and fast paced. I danced with several people, and only conversed with about half of them." I didn't mention the alcohol, due to my . . . being under age and all.
She nodded slowly. I watched her hand working to spell out the words she wrote. It moved rapidly across the small pad of paper, and her mind seemed to reconfigure each and every note she put down. She was a very analytical person, not too unlike myself, though my predominant disposition seemed generally less pugnacious.
She ceased her scrawling, and her hand retreated into her purse once again, that time resurfacing with a photograph of pretty young girl. I thought she looked rather familiar, though I was somewhat dubious as to my recollection.
She slid the photo across the table. It came to a stop before me, and I stared at it for a moment before daring to pick it up. I examined it. I KNEW that girl. I knew her from . . . somewhere, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember how or where I knew her.
"Mr. Kon, do you recall ever seeing or coming in contact with this young woman?" Mou asked.
I glanced up at her, and then back to the picture. ". . . No, I don't," I said.
"Nothing at all?" She persisted.
"No," I insisted. "Nothing."
Detective Mou sighed as I handed her back the picture. She slid it back into the mysterious sanctuary of her purse. "Very well then, I--"
"Hold it," I interrupted. "Just hang on. Before you start asking more questions, I have a few of my own. For example, why are you here? What does this girl have to do with anything? And furthermore, why am I a part of your, presumed, investigation?" I asked.
She stared at me, and she blinked, and I stared at her, and I blinked . . . and it was kind of quiet for a while. Then, she once again reached into her purse and pulled out a trio of photographs. She replicated the previous action of sliding them across the table, and I replicated the action of staring at them and picking them up. However, once I had them in my hands, I nearly dropped them again. I hadn't expected to see morgue shots.
"Uh . . ." I muttered intelligently.
"Her name is . . . was Cynthia Kieros. She was found dead in an alley this morning at 2:30. It's already been deemed a homicide, but logically so. You can see bruising on the skin from physical blows, bruising and cuts on the wrists, breasts, and on the inner thighs. Tests found sperm, verifying the idea that she was raped, and we believe the cause of death was by strangling. She was only 23 years old," said Mou.
I sat there staring numbly. What else could I do? My heart was aching for this poor, lost soul. A soul that I didn't believe I had ever met. I had never felt so close to something terrible like that, and yet I knew nothing of that girl; just the facts of her demise, her tender age, and her name.
"We couldn't find witnesses of any kind, but we did find out from Kieros' land lord that she had been dating a man by the name of Scott Lake. Upon further investigation we found that Lake had recently been released from a two-year prison sentence for assault and robbery. Lake's roommate claims not to have seen him since last night when he left for the nightclub," Mou explained.
She seemed to lay out this information so casually, as though nothing terrible happened . . . as though no one had been beaten and raped in a cold, disgusting alleyway . . . as though no one was murdered.
I felt the blood drain from my face, and my head began to throb. My mouth became strangely dry, but my mind begged a question. "How do I . . . play into all of . . . this?" I asked, slightly agitated at my weak, cracking voice.
Mou adjusted herself in her chair before reaching down and pulling a single photo out of her purse. The purse didn't seem that large to me. With so many pictures, I wondered if she HAD anything else in the damned thing.
Unlike the previous times, Mou held the photograph in her hand rather than sliding it toward me, and she trained those dark eyes on it before turning her attention back to me.
"We spoke to the bartender at the night club, showed him the photos, gave him the basic questioning, and he provided us with some information. He said that he remembered seeing Lake last night. He claimed to have seen him dancing with YOU for an undetermined amount of time, maybe twenty or thirty minutes, before Lake stopped and abruptly disappeared."
Mou finally proffered the picture to me. I hesitated, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, and keep myself from going through some sort of mental breakdown. I really couldn't remember anyone too specific. I wasn't sure if I wanted that picture to jog my memory. With a deep, slow intake of breath and a slow exhalation, I reached out and loosely grasped the thin, smooth picture between my fingers. I brought it to my eyes and began to examine the young man's features. Something began to gnaw at my memory, but I wasn't sure . . . I couldn't tell if I remembered him or not. I tried, but to no avail, I couldn't come up with anything solid.
I gently shook my head in apology. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember him. Maybe I was dancing with him, but then, I danced with a lot of people," I said.
I started to hand the picture back to her, but she held up a slender hand, and I halted my action.
"Keep the photo. There's no telling when or what you'll remember later on," she commanded.
I simply nodded and set the picture face down in front of me. I decided to dwell on it at a later time, as I had another question I wanted addressed. "Detective, am I in any sort of trouble . . . with the law or otherwise?" I asked.
Mou seemed to ponder my question for a split second before shrugging somewhat nonchalantly. "If anything, we'll ask you to be a witness in the case."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
She sighed. "Well, yes, in regards to the LAW."
That particular sentence made a chill run up my spine, and I became a little concerned. "JUST the law? What ELSE should I be concerned about?" I questioned cautiously.
"Mr. Kon, a very distinctive psychological profile was done on Lake. He is very . . . OBSESSIVE, if you will." She said.
"Obsessive? How?"
"Should he set his sites on something . . . or someone, he tends to obsess over it. He enjoys dominance, and can become very violent. I wouldn't think you have any need for concern, after all, you don't remember him, and it doesn't sound like you spent much time in one another's company."
I blinked. Was she implying that he might stalk me or something? "Are you implying that he might stalk me or something?" I asked, true to my thoughts.
"No, I'm merely heeding caution."
I was skeptical, and my stomach began to churn with uneasiness. "So, you believe he had something to do with the murder of Cynthia Kieros?" I questioned further.
Another sigh escaped those delicate lips of hers. "Cynthia was a very attractive young woman, and sources indicate that they had only been dating a short while. They were having relationship problems. She may have wanted to leave him, but being possessive by nature, he didn't want to let her go. I guess they tried to get over their problems, but they couldn't have gotten too far if he was seen dancing with you. We aren't sure if he had anything to do with her murder, but we suspect it."
"Do you think he killed her?"
"The semen samples that we collected didn't match his, but that doesn't mean he didn't play a part in it."
I nodded slowly, an easy bobbing of my head. I couldn't shake the numbness that coursed through my veins, or the feeling of my skin crawling and tingling. "I see," I said after a few silent moments.
I watched as she jotted something down on a clean sheet of paper and held it out to me. "Take this," she said. "It's my cell phone number if you need to reach me, and there's also the station number. Just ask for me if you call."
Detective Callie Mou stood up from the chair, and I copied the action. She held out a deceitfully delicate looking hand, and we shook. "I'll get back to you if anything develops," she promised.
"Thanks." I said.
She started for the door, and I watched as she placed her hand on the doorknob and started to turn it, then she paused. She turned toward me once again, and I looked at her expectantly.
She pulled yet another item from her mysterious purse of magic and wonders, for once it wasn't a picture. It was a small, bulky item that was concealed in a red, velvet bag with a golden draw cord. She undid the cord and carefully pulled out an extremely familiar object. I couldn't suppress a grin.
She stared at it for a minute and then held it out to me. "It's my son's birthday tomorrow. I don't claim to know much about them, but the store attendant said it was one of the best. It would mean the world to him if you could sign your autograph."
"No problem," I said happily. After grabbing a permanent marker, I signed my name neatly on the side of the beyblade and gave it back to her. She slipped it back into the bag and put it in her purse.
"I'm going to attempt to get your teammates' signatures as well."
"They'd all be glad to," I told her honestly.
"Well, thank you. He'll be absolutely ecstatic." Bowing slightly, she turned and exited my apartment.
I stood there for a while, just staring at the door. I had learned a lot about . . . stuff I didn't care to know about or be a part of. How was it that one drunken night got me involved in a murder investigation? Furthermore, why couldn't I speak Spanish?
. . . I'm not sure how the last question held any relevance. . .