Quicker update for the person who guesses which movie the first line in the first paragraph is from. Hint: The last name of my pen name is the starring actor. Just take the words 'dance hall' out and replace it with 'gin joints'.
F.Y.I – Time to go to the mattresses is from 'The Godfather' and it's basically saying that it's time to go to war. When crime bosses used that term, it meant that it was no longer safe for the crime family to sleep in their own homes, their enemies obviously knowing where they lived. So, they would get used mattresses and sleep Lord knows where.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. Or 'The Godfather'
All In The Name Of Cement Shoes: Time to Go to the Mattresses
Of all the dance halls in all the towns in all the world and they walked into Madame Fufee's.
At first, Misao had tried to concoct a devious plan that involved a certain feigned cough and the occasional painful moan. But she knew that Aoshi would never buy the act of a cold. It had only been minutes before that she had run out of the mansion at an incredible speed to see Kaoru.
And it wasn't so much that Misao hated to dance, but the fact of who was teaching the dance. It had been three years since Kaoru had convinced Misao to take ballroom dance lessons in order to impress a few potential clients. Practice what you preach, was the reasoning behind it. So the wedding planners sought Madame Fufee, dance expert for the vertically challenged. Five minutes into the first session and Misao could already find herself harboring a deep resentment for the dance teacher.
Madame Fufee, also known as Leona Borkowitz, was quite the flamboyant character from her frizzy red hair that sat atop her head in a messy bun, to her Elton John wannabe boa, to her glitterfied mango dress. She was indeed a sight. And loud! Misao would silently wonder if she would be deaf by the end of lesson, which would take away the entire point of dancing if one couldn't hear the music.
"1 2 3… 2 2 3…3 2 3…Wrong, Misao! Do it again!" This is how the lesson began and how the lesson ended. No matter how much Misao tried, her bruised toes just wouldn't let her move to the movement. After that dance lesson, Misao vowed never to return to the dance hall again. Of course, it had helped that Madame Fufee had banned her from the building altogether.
But here she was, standing face to face with the woman once again. The only difference between then and now was the barest hint of ass kissing. It boiled Misao's blood to the very bone. The woman didn't have the gall to teach two measly wedding planners how to dance but place a man with money in front of her and you suddenly become top priority.
Out of the corner of her eye, Misao could see the middle aged woman fluttering about the multimillionaire like a butterfly on crack. Misao sighed to herself. That wasn't fair. Perhaps Madame Fufee had changed since the wedding planner's dance of death. She twirled about Aoshi's lean frame once more before heading over to the weary thing in the corner.
"You, girl, what's your name?" Then again, some people never change. Misao's turquoise eyes began to glitter with the urge to strangle the dance teacher.
"Misao." The woman quirked a barely there eyebrow before inquiring about Misao's name.
"Just…Misao?" What was the woman expecting? Two middle names and a hyphenated last name?
"Yes. Just…Misao." She eyed the young woman's petite figure before signaling that the class had begun.
"Ok, Aoshi and Miso, let's get started then." Oh for heaven's sake! Was it THAT hard to remember two syllables and five small letters?
"It's Misao." Madame Fufee nodded hastily and continued on with the lesson.
"1, 2, 3…2, 2, 3…3,2 – Ouch! Miso! Chin up! How many times do I have to remind you!" Misao grinned innocently as Madame Fufee rubbed her bruised toes. She had long ago shed the high heels to meet Misao's height, which was an insult in itself. So in a senseless act of revenge, Misao played dumb and ignored every simple rule that Madame Fufee screeched out. Aoshi had been sent to the benches, for he 'was brilliant in the art of dance'. It made Misao's stomach ache to know that he was perfect in yet another area that she completely sucked in.
"Forgive me Madame Fufee. And it's Misao." Ignoring the correction, the dance teacher began the instructions once more. However, this time the braided beauty could feel another pair of eyes correcting her two left feet. From his position on the bench, Aoshi watched her with a heated gaze. Those smoky eyes were demanding that Misao get it right or she would regret it later. And to be honest, Misao was exhausted from all the '1,2,3's and 'keep your chin ups'. Reluctantly, Misao slid her hand into the older woman's and let the music guide them across the dance floor.
"It's about time Miso. For awhile there, I thought you were a complete invalid." That was it. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
"It's Misao and for as much as I'm paying, I would expect that you could at least get that much right." Both women turned in surprise as Aoshi's deep voice lit up the room. He swiftly took the place of Madame Fufee and gently grasped Misao's hand while wrapping his other one around her thin waist. Another song echoed throughout the dance hall and they took off.
Misao was too lost in the moment to question her husband to be and his motives. But he had stood up for her, something that was rare in Misao's case. Most men considered the tiny girl a rough tomboy that could more than likely take care of herself if need be. For once in her life, Misao felt like a bonafied woman. Not only was she dancing like a woman, but she was also painfully aware of where Aoshi had placed his hands. If they moved, Misao would feel it. The mere touch was enough to send chills up and down Misao's spine and create a deep warmth within her. She shyly moved in closer to him and tightened her own grip on his broad shoulder. This dancing thing wasn't so bad after all.
Sadly, the dance lesson ended within the hour and Misao hustled to catch up with the long legged man. A shiny black limousine pulled up in front of the brick building just as Aoshi opened the door. The wedding planner learned earlier that Aoshi was not one to be late and neither were his means of transportation. A chilly wind managed to tint Misao's pale cheeks a light pink and she hated to leave the comfort of fall weather. It was just too beautiful. Fall in New York was possibly the best time of year and Misao smiled sadly as shades of orange, red, and yellow danced among the tall trees.
"Misao, are you coming?" She watched Aoshi lean out of the car door and stare at her for an answer. She slowly shook her head.
"It's fall weather, Aoshi. I should enjoy it before it turns into a sluggish winter." She turned on her heel and listened for the slam of a car door. As soon as it was heard, she suddenly regretted leaving Aoshi's presence.
"You're an odd one, I'll give you that much. But you're right. Fall weather is to be appreciated and not wasted." The wedding planner could do nothing but gawk at the tall man standing beside her. She smiled inwardly and stuffed her hands into the pockets of the large black coat she borrowed from Okon. The couple walked along in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. For Misao, her mind was wandering into the more difficult questions of why Aoshi was being so…decent. Little did Misao know, but Aoshi was thinking the same. She kicked lightly at a fallen leaf on the paved sidewalk and glanced at the man beside her.
"Why did you stand up for me when Madame Fufee berated me?" He continued to stare forward, ignoring Misao's question for a moment and then pondering the answer over in his head. This aggravated the ocean-eyed girl and she finally took it upon herself to stand in front of him so that he could not pass without answering her question. "Answer me, Mr. Shinomori!" She felt stupid for being so proper but she didn't think he felt comfortable with her enough that she could say his first name casually.
"I said it once already – for the price I was paying, she could at least learn your name." The small flame in Misao dimmed a bit. That was the only reason? She glided back into her position beside the rich man and continued to walk an unknown path.
"So…why does Hannya wear a mask? Is he deformed or something?" Misao's intentions were honest – she just wanted to talk to the stoic man. But the subject of Hannya and his mask must have been a sore one for Aoshi, for he suddenly turned on Misao, anger becoming deafening to her ears.
"You ask too many questions." He may have been angry with her for bringing it up, but she was curious now and fear had become a translucent shadow in the back of her mind.
"Was it because of that accident Okina mentioned?" The muscular man suddenly paused and glared daggers into the girl beside him. Misao could only pray that she hadn't just signed the sweet old man's death note.
"Drop it, Misao." She lowered her head in defeat. So it was going to be this way, huh? She gently pulled at her braid and began to comb out the tangles at the end of it with her thin fingers.
"Someday, Aoshi…someday you will be able to trust me enough to tell me what happened." Her voice was barely above a whisper but Aoshi could hear it loud and clear.
"I doubt that you will be here when that day comes." He could feel her eyes on him now. There was no sadness yet no perkiness behind them. Just raw determination.
"I'm not going anywhere, Aoshi." With that said, a new subject arose. The cold conversation was replaced by the intoxicating smell of melted cheese, baked dough, and mouth-watering pepperoni. Misao tilted her nose upward, an excited grin spreading across her features. "PIZZA!" She quickly grasped Aoshi's large hand and ran towards the small stand that housed the famous dish. In what seemed routine for Misao, an order was placed in a matter of seconds. "What are you getting Aoshi?" He stared blankly at the woman before him, taking note of the expressions she delivered. She scrunched up her eyebrows as realization hit. "Don't tell me you've never had New York pizza…" He suddenly found more interest in his feet than the pizza stand. "You lived here for HOW long and you've never had New York pizza! It's legendary and soooooo delicious! You HAVE to try it!" She ordered for him and impatiently awaited their order. When the order finally came up, the wedding planner rushed to the counter, bringing back two giant slices of gooey pizza. He picked at it, noticing that one has to fold it in order to fit it in one's mouth.
"You actually eat this slop?" Misao whirled around, a long string of cheese hanging from her bottom lip.
"Slop! Are you nuts! You haven't even tried it! It's food from the gods, I'm tellin ya!" He eyed her once more before biting into the junk food. He took in every taste at once, from the zesty spices in the pepperoni to the slightest hint of cilantro in the pizza sauce to the gooey goodness of the cheese sliding so easily down his tongue and into his stomach. The warmth could be felt all the way down. Misao was right – this was food from the gods! She tossed her plate into a nearby trashcan and grinned impishly at the wealthy man. "Wellll?" Aoshi hoped that she couldn't see the rapture he was feeling and took another small bite.
"It's…quite filling." She pouted at this statement but the defeat didn't last long. She bounced past him and towards the parked limousine. They had somehow made it back to the dance hall and luckily, Aoshi had asked the driver to stay. "You know you liked it!"
The ride back to the mansion was quiet, for night had fallen upon them and knocked Misao right into a fit of sleep. She leaned against his hard shoulder, somehow finding comfort in the appendage. It was a bit uncomfortable to have a woman sleeping on him but he figured that Misao deserved this rest and was content to just watch her lightly snore. He had lucked out in this one. He was expecting something quite ugly but Misao was…attractive. When she wasn't opening that large mouth of hers than she was actually quite…pretty. He features were a bit rough but with the right care she could even be…beautiful. He hastily shook his head. There was no need to become attached. This was strictly business. Strictly business!
He gently pulled Misao into his lap as the limousine came to a stop and began the long trip up the stairs. With the greatest care he laid her on her own bed and pulled a comforter over her delicate body. The day had been…interesting to say the least. He would have to tell Hannya to order from that small pizza stand come next big meeting. With that last thought, Aoshi headed into his own room to do something he hadn't done successfully in one year: sleep.
Misao awoke with a smile on her face and stretched her body as the sun crept into her bedroom. She quietly launched herself downstairs and searched the kitchen for something decent to eat. She would have to thank Aoshi for buying her dinner last night.
Studying her work before her, Misao was pleased. It wasn't a gourmet breakfast but it was delicious in its own way. Lying before her was a pile of French Toast, lightly sprinkled with powdered sugar, three strips of bacon, a large glass of orange juice and a glass vase with a single white daisy all placed neatly on a silver tray. She quickly gulped down two pieces of bacon and a small glass of milk and began the tedious task of delivering the tray to Aoshi. Okina was already up, and although dressed in his pajamas, was already beginning his morning chores.
"Miss Misao, what are you doing up so early?" He looked down at the tray and smiled at the young woman. "So thoughtful…"
"Okina, could you possibly direct me to Mr. Shinomori's bedroom?" Okina nodded slightly before leading the carefree woman up the stairs and to the door at the end of the hall. His room was right next to her? All this time…
She whispered a thank you and pushed against the large door. The stifled a small giggle for the sight before her was intriguing. Aoshi was decked out in his clothes from the night before which consisted of a dark blue dress shirt and dress pants. His body was sprawled out amongst the black sheets and his hair was slightly disheveled, revealing warm, masculine features. Did she mention handsome as well? She carefully placed the tray on a nightstand and pulled on the curtains to reveal a gorgeous sunrise. She watched his face scrunch up from the intrusion of light and swiftly placed herself in front of him on her knees. Ever so slowly, his cloudy eyes opened.
"Good morning, Aoshi."