A/N: The most exquisite thing in the world has just happened to me.

Review Responses

Priestess-Taisho- I'm glad you like it!

HoshiiNoTenshi- Haha. Wasn't he a dick in that scene? Enjoy the next chapter.

Anonymous person- Happy you like it; enjoy.

Chew Chew- I don't like rushing romance. She's in this chapter.

Starrilight-Hotaru- Awww. I love you. I've never read any of your stuff, but I think now I'm going to look into it. I'm a hack, and I'm not really that good. Everything that inspires me is good, not me. As long as something inspires you I think you've got it. Ciao for now.

KokoroOfAnime- Here's the update!

Hakuryuu- Oh, wow…you're so sweet. Like I said before, though, I'm a hack. I don't really write that well. I have to spend three days on a fucking chapter, so I'm not really that good. But people who like it keep me at it, and I'm…well, I'm not really an author. I write something down and I guess it's because I want to share it, and I want to connect to people who understand. Or whatever. Anyway, here ya go! Much love.

Freaky Krazer- I think I read something of yours…the one where Rin is the new girl at school and she embarrasses herself horribly in front of delinquent Sesshoumaru…and I liked it! You're a good writer. Here's the update. Enjoy.

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Chapter Two: A Dinner, A Smile

"Hope smiles on the threshold of the year to come, hoping that it will be happier."-Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Nothing was better from that point on. For the first year, we argued and hurt each other in every way we could find. I became a snide, high-strung, and intolerable jerk, and she became a damnable hussy. Whenever I'd come home it was another man here, another there, one the shower, the others in the cupboards…they ranged from sleazy degenerates to respected senators and came in all shapes and sizes. I started thinking that she was just doing it to make me mad, so I started to leave things around- notes saying, "Honey, please note the doctor about your B.V. (BACTERIAL VAGINOSIS)," and other small, embarrassing things too varied and too cruel to mention here.

There were times she showed some kind of love or some kind of innate dependency, though. They were rare- maybe once or twice during our marriage. But they were there and they showed another side of the rude woman I'd come to know.

It was January of 1994, the new year- and the second year of our marriage. I was at home, not one for big New Year's bashes and other trifles of that kind. I was awake at two in the morning, eyes bloodshot and struggling to keep myself from strangling the jocund nothings partying loudly. I liked total peace and quiet- anything that disrupted this peace and quiet was sure to get shot.

Kagura came flailing in, throwing the door closed carelessly, her skirt torn. She kicked her heels off; I heard the noise and went to inspect whatever she was doing. She looked torn and beat, tear stains running down her cheeks and her hair messy. She stumbled onto the floor. I ran over to help her.

I lifted her by the underarms and dragged her over to a couch. She groaned a little, and tried to fight me off. I pulled harder and managed to lift her onto the edge of the couch, but her dead weight pulled her down and she toppled on me.

I struggled to get up while covering my nose from the putrid stink of- good God, what did she drink? It smelled like a rank mix of cheap wine and thick beer, and it covered her like a blanket of fog, an invisible mist over her bright sequined top and bare legs. I tried to push her off, but she resisted. She nestled her head into my shoulder, and said something to the effect of, "You're such a pretty man…"

I glanced at her coldly, trying to decipher what this meant. I attempted once more to push her off me, but it was in vain. She was too much to carry- the extra liquid added to her normal weight, therefore making the task of lifting her nearly impossible. I bit my tongue so as not to say anything out of line and have her start slashing at me.

She didn't slash at me- there was no aggressiveness in her tonight. She buried her head into my shirt and started to sob heavily. I froze, not knowing what to do or how to react- did she do this often? How would one of her millions of boyfriends act? In trepidation I lifted up a shaking hand to put it on her head, allowing it to move down her hair.

My hand on her only caused her to cry harder and louder. Sometime during this scene she sputtered, "I love you!" Now that I think about it, I suppose she only loved me when she was vulnerable, when she was weak, or when she needed somebody. She said it again once or twice and finally fell asleep. I lugged her to the couch and went to bed, trying to figure out why we hated each other so much. We were too much the same- how could we love each other when both of us were uncomfortable with ourselves? We had each other figured out- it becomes a drag when you live with and in yourself.

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Twelve years- that's how long our marriage lasted. Divorce wasn't a plausible solution- it would only cause problems and legal fees. Besides, we didn't even feel as if we were married- I had a certain degree of freedom- not complete freedom- but freedom enough with women, if I wanted any at the time. I also had an expensive apartment and an ongoing supply of money. We had no respect for "the Union;" only the priest did.

Our marriage was like a bomb, ticking ever slowly and agitatedly, until one of us would finally explode. I sometimes could imagine it- she screaming like a banshee and burning the building down, and me trying to end her life with, let's say, a kitchen knife. It was domestic paranoia- you had to watch where you stepped or be dismembered horribly.

At the time, I was in the infamous real estate business- the business of homosexuals and sordid middle-agers. I owned a number of properties in both the city and the suburbs, and I was reeling in cash because of it. Sometimes when you drove around the city you'd see the signs or billboards advertising me- a few words saying how great I was, my name, a cheesy slogan, and then a picture of my face, indifferent and reflecting nothing. I'd smile, sometimes, but that was only when the bastards had enough spine or presumptuous stupidity to force me to. But the point was that, in New York State, I was a real estate king. An embarrassing title, but it made me considerable sums of money, so I was satisfied. The talent was passed on to me from my father. What I lacked was a real passion for the stuff.

Real estate is the reason I met her.

It was 2005 and I was thirty-two. Aside from the million other things I had going on, I had a woman calling me persistently about a house in Queens. It was a three-bedroom ranch, brick and plain, with fairly large rooms. Her name was Charlotte Badeau; her voice was grating and high-pitched, like a bird's. She was offering a fairly high price for the small house, so I had to oblige; we met a couple of times and I sold it to her. She was a pretty woman, or would have been, were she younger.

The summers in New York are horrible- I've already explained the rise in blood pressure. I've made it a point not to go out in summer, unless I absolutely need to. The air is heavy and the heat is unbearable, but the worst part is the humidity- it's an adhesive layer of moisture. People are sweaty and in bad humor in New York City's summers, and it's best not to leave the house, unless you have a death wish.

Charlotte called me up one August morning, bursting sunshine. "Hello? Sesshoumaru?"

"Ms. Badeau," I acknowledged. "Is there a problem with the house?"

Although my voice was filled with irritation, Charlotte was too good-hearted and ignorant to be afraid of it. "Oh, no, it's lovely," she answered. "I just wanted to know if you'd like to come over for a drink, and maybe to, well, inspect it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Inspect?"

"Well, it's nothing," she answered, "but I am almost sure that there's a problem with the faucets or the plumbing, in general…I just want to make sure nothing's wrong."

"You should be calling a plumber," I said, not wanting to deal with her.

"I know, but the blockhead I know told me that there was nothing wrong, and I simply do not believe it. I can hear the dripping from here!" she replied.

"Well, I shouldn't like to leave you with any problems, Ms. Badeau, but I-"

"Well, isn't it imperative, then, that you come and check it over?" she demanded. She was always stubborn and somewhat thick… "Unless, of course, you have something better to do- that I can completely understand…"

I paused and frowned. Well, I had nothing to do, besides be irritated with my mother's weekly phone call, and have to deal with my pervert associate Miroku…I had nothing to do. "Well, I suppose I can come over…when should I?"

"As soon as you like," she answered. "How nice of you! I'll have a drink ready when you arrive."

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Humid. Disgusting. Sweltering. I drove to the house and got out, wiping sweat off my brow. I'd be damned if I ever did favors like this again…the smell of mowed grass and summer air hung unbridled around the peaceful suburb. It was too peaceful- all you could hear were some children screaming and a lawn being mowed.

In the driveway there was a blue SUV, trunk opened and revealing a number of boxes and other large items. I walked by it and looked for Mrs. Badeau.

The screen door opened. Ms. Badeau hung down. "Sesshoumaru! What a pleasure to see you!" she said, running down the small steps to me. "Come in! I have that drink!"

I had the drink and did quick inspection of the bathrooms (the faucet did drip, but only because she hadn't closed it tight enough), and was invited to stay longer. I shook my head. "I have to be going."

"Oh, live a little!" she said with a broadening smile, showing the wrinkles around her mouth, "Who wants to go back to banausic old work, anyway?"

The side of my mouth twitched. This woman- Charlotte, whatever her name was- was just asking for a bullet. I looked at her broad smile and suddenly began to get a heavy feeling that this was all an ugly stratagem to get me over here, and to get me to stay over here…She had no husband, from what I knew. "I have to go," I urged, now feeling a nervous tension.

"Well, if you must," she heaved. "I probably shouldn't keep you too long. I make a mean soufflé, though!"

"I'm sure you do," I snapped.

"I'll show you to the door," she said, walking toward me.

In a jerking movement I opened the side door, backhandedly, and flung it open. The movement was quick and anxious, like a caged animal eager to leave. "No, I'm…fine," I answered, and walked down the small staircase.

"Have a good afternoon!" she called after me.

I turned back and nodded. She ran back inside, having remembered something or smelled live flesh to prey on… "Never again," I muttered, and staggered my way to the car.

I was walking just past the blue SUV when a girl, seeming to have appeared from nowhere, walked out from behind it. She was holding a box- full of…books, I think, and a lot of CDs and movies. She wore a checked green shirt and short shorts, only reaching up to her mid-thigh, if even that long. She was thin- her legs were shaped well, and she had wild, wind-tossed black hair, tied into a ponytail at the side. Her eyes were wide and a medium brown; her skin was healthy and an ivory color. She looked natural and healthy and for a moment I caught myself off-guard.

She must have noticed me staring, or gotten tired of it. She grinned at me, widely…It was a broad, impish grin, showing some of her straight teeth. With her box she walked into the house. I turned in her direction.

Ms. Badeau was hanging in the screen door. I didn't know why, but she had come exactly when needed. "That was my daughter, Renée," she said. "We call her Rin for short."

I squinted in the sunlight and nodded.

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I went to a bar called Perry's after that and had a long talk with myself while I drank. Here I was, obsessing over some some-teen girl with a hawk-like mother…oh, but if you could only see the way she grinned at me, you would understand.

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I left the bar an hour later with a steady buzz. Fuck my clients- I didn't need to see anyone today. Today I needed to go home and relax; lie down and eat some eggs and bacon.

I glanced at the clock upon coming in. I'd been gone for two hours, but there was no sign of life in the house. I walked into the living room and positioned myself supine on the couch. I closed my eyes, when from nowhere I heard heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

Kagura came into the living room, fastening some pearl earrings on. "You're home early," she scoffed, as if it were appalling that I was in my own house.

"You're home," I answered, showing similar distaste for her being home.

She pursed her lips. "That's clever," she snapped. She retreated to the bathroom and came back with hairspray; she tied her hair into a high-up bun. "Do we have any money left?"

"Do we? If you don't recall I'm not the one spending it," I answered. "How much do you need?"

"I don't know. I'll get it out of my account," she said. She paused in her spraying and peered at me. "What's wrong with you?"

I frowned and sat up. "Does it look as if there's something wrong with me?"

"You look different. Like you've seen something good," she answered, leering suspiciously. She began to spray again. "Whatever. I'm going out." She walked off.

"What else is new?" I called as she left. She gave me the finger and shut the door behind her.

I slammed my head into the throw pillows. Even though I had lived in the Boca Raton, summer took some getting used to. But I had seen something good today. Something almost impossible.

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A few numb days passed; they didn't feel like anything. No good days, no bad days. I felt like a ghost, too powerless to get out of the drudgery, when Ms. Badeau called me.

I recognized the number on my phone and hesitated in picking it up. There was the ever irritating Charlotte…and I didn't want to be blatantly staring at her incredible teenaged daughter like some filthy pervert. Charlotte would have me locked up for sure, and I wasn't about to degrade myself that much.

But then I remembered that grin, and I slipped. "Charlotte," I greeted, forgetting formality in my regret and nervousness.

"Hello, Sesshoumaru!" she greeted. "I was just calling to inquire as to whether or not you had plans for dinner tonight."

"No…I don't," I answered.

"Good! Because we're having a housewarming dinner, just Rin and I, and we'd like to know if you'd come," she jabbered on. "Rin's just finished making an absolutely wonderful chicken salad with cilantro and lemon…It's a bit too tangy, but, all the same, it's wonderful- and I'm making lamb. Won't you join us?"

I leaned back lightly on my office chair. Well, fuck it, I had nowhere else to go. "Of course," I answered, sounding earnest.

"Oh! Marvelous!" she twittered. "You hear that, Rin? He's agreed! I told you he would." I cocked an eyebrow, curious as to what she was talking about. "Well, why don't you swing by around seven? That'll give you enough time to freshen up."

"Certainly," I answered. I shuffled through papers on my desk, checking my daily regimen, to see if I had anything at seven I had to cancel. "I'll make sure to arrive without delay."

"You're a gentleman," she said, with a coy pride. "Oh! The lamb! I'll see you then. Good-bye!" She hung up the phone.

I laid the phone cautiously on the table as a heavy fear came over me. I tried to get it off my mind that the reason I was going over there was not the chicken salad at all. Salt water trickled to the back of my throat. I got up and got my things and started to walk out when my secretary stopped me.

"Mr. Miyazaki? Where are you going off to?" she asked, pushing her cat-eye glasses down on the tip of her nose.

I whipped around and snapped. "It's none of your business where I'm going!" I barked. A woman poked her head out of a nearby door. "If it was any of your business, I would have sent a personal notification! Do you have any common sense!"

She looked at me in shock, leaning back and with her eyes wide. This wasn't typical of my calm demeanor. I dashed in hasty steps to elevator, where I sank down the wall and buried my face in my hand.

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The summer nights are much more pleasant than the mornings- though it's still muggy and disgusting you are comforted, sometimes, with a passing breeze. The breeze feels cooler than a blizzard amidst all this heat.

I got out of my car and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I knocked again, less patient, more persistent. Still no answer. I began to become irritated- what was she doing that she couldn't hear? Stalking her prey, ripping it with her bare teeth, blood thickening over her ears…I pounded on the door with a white fist, when Charlotte ran to me from the backyard.

"Oh! Sesshoumaru! I'm so sorry. I forgot to tell you- we're having dinner on the verandah," she said. She stopped and smiled, wiping fresh sweat beads off her brow. She did look pretty tonight- Charlotte was a thin woman with pinned back black curls and harrowing dark brown eyes. She was wearing a maroon summer dress and strap heels.

My eye twitched. "Certainly," I said, through gritted teeth.

She sauntered to me and linked arms. "You look strapping tonight," she said, smiling, "And I am so glad you could come."

I nodded, my face still deadpan. The veranda had been decorated nicely- outdoor lamps were on the balustrades, and the two had erected a small round umbrella table on one side of it. They were in a good location for eating outdoors; I could feel the breeze without a problem.

Renée was sitting at the table, sneaking some of the salad. I decided then that she was an ordinary but extraordinarily pretty girl, and really nothing more. She was wearing her short shorts again, but this time with a blue peasant shirt, and in those sleeves and scooping neck, the dark blue and small white flowers, I had to seriously strain myself to look away from her.

I sat down, unfortunately, right across from her.

Charlotte served herself a heaping plate of salad and sighed, satisfied. "It's such a wonderful night," she said. She slowly took a forkful of the salad and put it to her mouth, wincing when she took a bite. "Rin, be a darling and ease up on the lemon next time, won't you?"

"Yes, Mom," she answered, coyly and smiling. She had a nice voice, and I picked up a slight curb on the word "mom" to make it sound like "mum."

I followed suit in serving myself a plate of the salad. Charlotte continued to eat and sigh. "I just can-not get over what a nice night it is!" she exclaimed. She laughed. "How is it, Sesshoumaru?"

"Good," I responded. I don't know how she got the idea that it was tangy…maybe some of her taste buds were missing. It was a bit lemony, though…

"I have to agree. Rin's getting better," she noted.

"Oh?" I answered, eating more.

"Yes. You see, Rin here would be a marvelous cook if we broadened her horizons a bit more," she said, looking scrutinizingly at Rin. "She's very good with American food, but I'd like to send her to learn how to cook de la mode française…and maybe a bit of Italian food. Spanish food, too- a nice sarsuela would be good. Her mother's too old to learn new tricks," she said gloomily, and served herself more food. "We should have the buffalo wings now. I'll go get them!" She got up and trotted away in the direction of the kitchen.

There was a moment of silence. "The salad is good," I said, taking a bite.

"It's kind of lemony," she observed, taking another bite. I raised an eyebrow skeptically, and tried to analyze that comment. She noticed me and looked up at me, smiling coyly, privately, teasingly. I quickly looked away.

Her mother came back with a tray of buffalo wings. "Here we go! They're quite spicy- I've had two so far." She dropped them on the table with a tinny clank.

We ate, after that, I think,…lamb, and then a sorbet. It went as it had in the beginning- Charlotte chattered meaninglessly, Rin and I ate, and Rin would occasionally roll her eyes or smile or laugh in agreement. Her mother was ridiculously polite in a rich country-club-member way that made you want to rip your hair out every time she said "marvelous" or "gorgeous" or "wonderful." Rin, though, she was good-natured and pleasant in an almost ethereal way. It was hard to explain. She didn't seem as if she noticed anything around her- almost otherworldly.

"I have to go," I said, getting up.

"Oh, do you?" Charlotte said, disappointedly.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Thank you for inviting me."

"We should have dinner again?" she countered.

"Certainly," I nodded.

They both stood up. I shook hands with Charlotte, and then nodded nervously at Rin. She gave me a smile- not coy and teasing, and not the grin she'd first given me. This time it was honest and sincere and exquisite. It was warm and inviting, a smile anyone would remember- something great. Something that everyone had to know about, or else they were missing out on a whole lot. It was a smile for pleasant goodbyes, smiles that tell stories that you couldn't rightly explain because everyone had their own story to tell. I stood motionless for a minute, and then blinked. Our eyes met for a minute. I noticed her face- wide brown eyes and a small, sloping nose that buttoned at the end, lips that looked kissed, healthy hair. I left feeling like the king of the world, and when I got home I listened to "Something in the Air" on the highest volume I could take, over and over, lying on my couch and staring at the ceiling, listening because it was the only thing that could justify that smile.

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A/N: "Life In The Fast Lane-" The Eagles
"Something In The Air-" Thunderclap Newman