2.
Jun eyed the lopsided bunch of dusty greenery critically. It didn't look like much, but once upon a time the Ainu of Japan and ancient Europeans, interestingly enough, had thought it sacred. It was believed that mistletoe could cure illnesses, nullify poisons and encourage fertility.
In many cultures it had symbolized peace. To such an extent that warriors might declare a day-long truce should they meet beneath a sprig of mistletoe, even in the heat of battle.
She'd found mistletoe's modern connotations far more interesting.
Many were the plans she'd had for this particular bunch of green leaves. Almost all of those plans-- no, she smiled, fantasies if she were going to be frank about it-- had been sitcom and shouju inspired.
She pulled a ratty bandanna out of her pocket and wiped away the worst of the dust that covered it. Its leaves were still a healthy color. They only looked a little pinched. "What a hardy little thing you are," Jun told it. "Guess that's why you're an evergreen."
She'd thought of hanging it from the glitter ball and pulling Ken onto the dance floor one evening should the mood be right. Then, she observed Joe rapping another one of her regulars, all sly smiles and flashing eyes, and she'd quashed the idea as too dangerous.
Holding the bunch of mistletoe up to the light, she let it dangle by the string from her fingertips until it spun itself straight. It would have looked very pretty beneath the glitter ball, twirling in the reflected spotlights.
But she'd been afraid; afraid that if Ken had caught sight of her mistletoe he would have understood completely what was going on and she'd not see him outside of the mission field for at least a month.
Jun lowered the mistletoe to the table top, rested her hand against her shoulder and her head against her hand.
She liked him too much to risk that.
With renewed purpose, Jun bound up her hair. She left her seat, hopped over the bar top and went into the kitchen to get more cleaning things.
Minutes later she returned, bearing four types of housekeeping mitts, three buckets, her home chemistry set and a surgical mask. The lock of hair that had tickled her cheek all morning had escaped its confines once again.
She stalked into the center of the dance-floor and cast her gaze upwards, a feral gleam in her eye. "You," she said to the clotted dust that crept down the electric cord and coated the top of her glitter ball, and got to work.
As the sun pressed brighter and brighter through the thin cloud cover, Jun dusted, scraped, mixed and scrubbed until the skin around her eyes was white and moist. Eventually, the harsh tang of chemicals combined with the sting of sweat in her eyes drove her to take a seat on the floor, right where she'd been working loose a calcified smear.
Gum, she decided, pulling off her face mask with a heavy sigh, ought to be illegal. She stretched her legs and indulged in a slouch.
The bell above her door tinkled. She looked up and winced, momentarily blinded by the daylight blazing behind the man's familiar silhouette.
"Hey," he said, laughing "didn't mean to blind you." He carried pink box, diagonally striped with broad red bands and tied with a big green bow. He smiled as he walked towards Jun, his gait easy. His hair swung shiny and loose around his wind-flushed face.
"Ken," Jun said.
He got down on his haunches next to her and propped the box, it looked like a cake box, on his knee. "Hi," he said a little breathlessly. He smelled of cold.
"Hi," Jun replied, regretting her decision to go without a bra.
"What're we doing down here?" he asked.
"I'm," she leaned forward, planted her palm on the ground and got to her feet, "taking a break from cleaning." She pulled off her right hand glove and extended her hand. He took it. His eyes, warm and largely unreadable, locked with hers.
They stood toe-to-toe. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"What is it, Ken?" Jun finally asked.
"Happy New Year," he grinned. He had a slight smear of cream colored frosting off-center of his chin.
"Happy New Year."
"Want to share some red-velvet cake with me?" he asked.
"Sure," she said. "Give me a minute, though, okay?"
In the bathroom, she splashed her face and neck with warm water, scrubbed her hands and retied her bandanna twice before giving up. Her hair wasn't paying attention to her today.
Folding the kerchief three times, she slipped it into her back pocket.
She licked her nude lips, placed her hand high on the bathroom door, and took a deep breath, reminding herself that she had practically grown up with the person waiting for her in the other room.
She found Ken in the booth, holding the ribbon bound bunch of greenery up to the light. It twirled and twisted on the string while he poked at it with his finger. He appeared transfixed, his sweet mouth partially open.
The bandanna would have hidden her burning ears.
"Found one of your Christmas decorations," he said when she sat down, his eyebrows quirking. She held out her hand. He lowered the mistletoe to her palm, folded her fingers around it. For a moment, his hand enveloped her own.
Fixing her with a look that meant she was at the center of his attention, he leaned over, so close that she saw that his eye-lashes were not just black, but also brown-black and burnt bronze. The white of his eyes were very clean. Their color benign. His irises, she lost a second seeking out the many hues of his irises, looked like the heart of a deep blue chrysanthemum. Luckily, when he spoke his breath was not as sweet. So, Jun pulled back a little, the hammering of her heart the slowest it had been since he'd walked through the door.
Ken was already opening the cake box. Jun smiled to herself when she that the smear of frosting that graced Ken's chin matched the frosting on the cake.
"This," he said, as his strong hands slid the box apart, "is incredible. The woman who made this--"
"Woman?" Jun asked.
Ken nodded, "She's one of my customers, lives all the way out in Ugari." His eyes met hers. "She used to be a chef at Dano's Diner in New Chicago."
Jun looked suitably impressed though she could not remember having heard of Dano's Diner. The world was a big place, and if word of this 'Velvet' cake had reached Ken's ears it must be pretty impressive stuff. Ken cut two thick slices, revealing cake of a queer red color.
"What's it made of?" Jun asked.
While fixing their plates he answered, "Some special kind of chocolate, red food coloring I think." He made a little face, "lots of red food coloring. Other stuff, but Miranda wouldn't tell me. I think there's cherry juice in here, too."
"A red chocolate cake?" Jun queried, squaring the plate in front of her.
Ken rolled his eyes, his fork wavered over his slice. He was picking the best angle to begin, "Yeah, and is it ever good."
Her eyes blinked wide at her first mouthful. The taste had exploded in her mouth, at least five different kinds of sinfully good. Even the aftertaste sparkled. She took another bite, smiling closemouthed as she chewed. She swallowed and exclaimed, "Good!"
Ken chuckled. "Told you," he said, and took his first bite.
The sound started low in his deep chest, trembled up the column of his throat. One of his hands curled in on itself and the tendons in his solid forearm shifted.
Jun's mouth went dry.
Ken was moaning.
He swallowed. "Sorry," he said, smiling apologetically. "It's just so good." He took another bite, and instead of moaning, sighed.
The toes of Jun's left foot pressed down on the toes of her right.
Oblivious to her scrutiny, Ken wriggled in his seat, slow. He looked to be having the time of his life.
Fascinated, Jun watched him swallow. His Adam's apple slid up into the tender shadows beneath his jaw. His eyes squeezed shut and he did it again. He moaned. Right there in front of her.
She blushed.
Ken's eyes blinked open. "Hey," he said, "Why aren't you eating your cake? Miranda worked really hard on this."
Jun brushed crumbs from her cake into a small pile with her fork. "This is a really nice gift, she gave you," she said.
"Isn't it, though?" Ken replied. "She's a really nice lady. Really friendly. I guess she gets lonely living all the way out in Ugari. Doesn't have many friends, I don't think." He took another bite.
"I can imagine," Jun said, raising a forkful of icing to her lips, doing her best to ignore how he kissed the morsel off his fork.
"Probably my best customer. For Thanksgiving she got me a scarf."
"Really?" Jun said. "You're kidding me."
Ken made a complicated face, somewhat incredulous and mostly exasperated, "Why," he asked, "would I do that?"
"She bought you a scarf for Thanksgiving."
"Unh-hunh," Ken rubbed his thumb at the corner of his mouth, "Knitted it herself."
"How old is Miranda?" Jun asked.
Ken shrugged, "Twenty-eight maybe, twenty-nine."
"Is she married?"
"I don't think so," he put his index finger in his mouth, moistened it.
"She dating anybody?"
"Dunno," he replied around his finger, withdrew it from his mouth, pressed it against the plate to pick up a crumb of cake, and put it back into his mouth.
"You really have no idea, do you?" she blurted.
Ken leaned back into his seat, all smiles and lightness gone from his expression. "No idea what?" he asked.
"No idea that half of your clients are dying in love with you?"
His brow beetled, "You're being silly."
"A lot of the girls that come to the J, come because they know you're here."
At this, he scowled.
"Ken, how can you not hear them whispering about how beautiful you are?"
Ken blushed, "C'mon, Jun, stop it."
She leaned across the table, her expression earnest, "What's it like? Having three quarters of a room drop what they're doing when you appear?"
"Weird," he said. "And it doesn't happen all the time." He looked down at his hands, "Can we change the subject?"
"Sorry, it's just---" she took pity on his discomfort, "---Never mind."
Ken's head nodded ever so slightly and favored her with another one of his slightly smiling stares, his eyes thoughtful as he examined her. The beautiful thing about Ken was that she felt neither frightened nor embarrassed.
"Can I ask you a question, Jun?"
"You can ask me anything you want, Ken," Jun said.
"Why didn't you put up your mistletoe?"
Jun hadn't been prepared for that. She hadn't been prepared for that at all.
"Um..."
Her fork twisted and turned in her grip, hovering over her remaining cake. She put it aside.
"Um?" Ken supplied.
He appeared to be stealing himself for whatever she had to say, his mouth compressing until it was bud-like. His eyes dark blue wells of--
"Sorry," he said, "never mind." He cleared his throat, "You've got frosting all over your cheek."
Her eyes smiled first. "You've had some on your chin since you got here." She pushed herself out of the booth, "I'll get us some napkins."
She felt his eyes on her back the entire way to the kitchen.
On the other side of the double doors Jun leaned against the counter. What, she asked herself, was that?
Shaking her head she strode back to the set of double doors. Ducking her head, she pulled it open, and ran directly into Ken.
A small shriek escaped Jun's mouth. The napkins she'd been carrying fluttered out of her grasp. The sound of the padded doors bumping against their backs filled her ears. Ken, being taller, reached over her head and braced his hand against the door nearest her. The fabric of his jacket, still cold from outside, enveloped her on one side; he himself radiating nothing but heat, and a tangy scent that was all his own. Her hands were crossed over her chest. She stood on her toes, her legs tensed. His other arm held back the closing of the other door.
Sandwiched, Jun thought, and feared the coming of a giggle fit. She felt something, touch, spider-like, the top of her hair.
Ken's eyes pulled hard on hers. She was unable to look up and see what grazed the top of her head. The tip of Ken's tongue (was it white pink or pink white?) darted out and grazed the bottom of his lip.
A delicious shiver, not unlike the one that flooded her mouth with the first bite of the red velvet cake, soared through her. It started from the crown of her head swept down her neck, down her shoulders, the back of her calves and to the soles of her feet.
Ken's hand, dry almost papery, settled on her upper arm. Her eyes almost closed in reaction to feel of his fingers on her skin. They must be glowing, Jun thought, they were so warm.
Her head tilted up, ever so slowly. In time with the slow smile spreading across Ken's face.
She looked up and saw twirling from a string held in his hand-- mistletoe.
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