Love is Just a Word
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"Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves."
-Albert Einstein
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Ryoma opened his eyes to a new morning, and immediately shut them again and groaned in dismay.
He cursed quietly and risked peeking one eye open. He glanced lazily around the room and groaned again.
This was not his house.
He was not surprised, he was more annoyed. He had to assess the situation and attain his bearings. He opened his eyes, sat up in the bed, and was immediately forced to grab his head in pain.
After the throbbing in his head subsided he looked around the room.
Purple swirled before his eyes. Nope, definitely not his house.
It was everywhere. He felt like he was suddenly colorblind because all he could see was a wretched purple. Walls, curtains, desks, doors, lights, lamps; this looked like Barney's room. Just how much did he drink last night?
He was glaring down at the violently purple sheets in disgust when he heard a decidedly feminine sigh. That was when all of last night's events came back to him.
That was also when he realized he was naked. He scrunched up his face in distaste. God, he felt disgusting; he really needed a shower.
He quickly rolled out of bed and began to pick up his clothes, which were spread throughout the room. He picked up his shirt and gave it a slight sniff before his nose wrinkled with distaste. After some more quiet searching, he found his cell phone in his pants pocket. His expression softened for a second. He then flipped it open out of habit and winced.
7 New Voicemails. Those were unholy words.
If his manager wanted to contact him this badly he was screwed.
He hurriedly began dressing. He was sitting on the bed and pulling on his pants when he felt a hand on his shoulder and a mouth nipping at his ear. He had to repress a shudder of revulsion.
"Stop it; I have to leave," he said as politely as he could manage. She just leaned in closer and pressed her naked body against him.
"Aw, come on sweetie," she crooned in his ear. "I had fun with you; I'm offering you a free round."
"Get off," he said coldly. He was quickly losing his patience with this woman. He shrugged his shoulder away from her and tried to pull on his shirt.
The tall and voluptuous blonde caught his arm and licked the back of his neck. "Don't be mean," she purred
He jerked his arm away from her and quickly jumped to his feet. He wiped the back of his neck, anger and abhorrence clearly showing on his face. "What's the matter with you?" he snarled in a rage. "I said to get the hell off of me, not lick me like a dog."
"Well you seemed to enjoy it last night," she said unsurely, surprised by his change in demeanor.
"Well that was before I was sober, wasn't it?" He took out his wallet, removed a considerable wad of bills, and tossed them on the bed in front of her. "There's extra there; buy yourself a shower and some breath mints. You smell like a cheap whore."
With that he stormed out, pulling on his shirt as he went.
She sat on the bed, outraged. She was new here; it was only her second week, and one of her first customers was this asshole!
Another tall and voluptuous woman came to the door and peeked in; her hair was a midnight black as opposed to her platinum blonde counter-part sitting on the bed. She tiptoed quietly up to the woman on the bed and sat herself gently next to her. "That's just Ryoma Echizen; he always acts like a jerk, honey, but he'll be back. Just think of him as being more fun when he's drunk. Besides you'll wanna stay on his good side; he tips better than most of our other customers."
The girl nodded in understanding, picked up the cash on the bed, and counted it with a honey-eyed look.
--
As he was storming out he saw many familiar girls peeking out of their rooms and winking or waving at him as he passed. He spotted his opponent from the Wimbledon match passed out in the hallway. The idiot had bet Ryoma about the outcome of their final match. he had offered to treat Ryoma to 'as many drinks and women as he wanted' if he won the final match. So, after he beat the sucker into the ground, of course he demanded to be taken to the Playboy Mansion.
Ryoma ended up paying anyways; at the time, the ex-Wimbledon champion was too drunk to find his nose, let alone his credit card in his wallet. Ryoma didn't mind. He had the money.
"Idiot," he murmured and gave his opponent a nudge with his shoe. He barely stirred. Ryoma shrugged and continued on his way out the door.
That reminded him; how was Momo? He was probably married by now. Hell, he was probably on his honeymoon by now.
He handed the valet his ticket and waited for his car.
When would Momo use his gift and fly over so he could congratulate him?
The boy pulled up in his Royal blue SSC Ultimate Aero.
"This is a nice car…" the boy noted in awe as the car door swung upward, seemingly of its own accord.
No shit. Ryoma thought while suppressing a smirk.
"There are only 25 of this exact model in existence. It's the fastest street legal car in the world, with the ability to go from 0-60 in only 2.7 seconds," he recited with practiced ease, not bothering to conceal his adoring expression as he gazed at the car.
Ryoma smirked and jokingly told the boy not to get drool on the upholstery. The boy let out an embarrassed laugh and surrendered the driver's seat slightly unwillingly.
The tennis prince hopped in, handed the boy his tip and, as a parting gift, showed off his car's speed to the boy as he quickly peeled out and took off down the street and around the corner.
He drove down the streets quietly and wondered more about the wedding. Momo would always call Ryoma and offer him brief details about the events involved in the planning stage of the wedding, but he didn't tell Ryoma what he really wanted to hear. Ryoma could tell he edited some parts, which annoyed the hell out of him. He had called Eiji and got the same response.
All of his friends edited the events so they didn't include a certain person that he was, paradoxically, most curious about.
He had tried to call Fuji, whom he knew would give him the complete and total truth of the events. Ryoma knew for a fact that Fuji would edit nothing, but the bastard wouldn't ever answer his phone these days!
Ryoma picked up his phone and checked it in reflex and once again saw those horrid words.
8 New Voicemails.
Oh my, he missed another call. He really must take his phone off silent one of these days.
He reluctantly reached over and hit the speed dial on his car phone. It rang exactly twice before a man picked up and immediately began a ferocious lecture, "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in right now?"
"'Good morning' to you too, Bobby." He said sarcastically to his manager.
"I swear, if your ass wasn't making me thousands of dollars a minute, I would kick it out on the street for your attitude," Bobby bellowed in response.
"My ass and I are grateful," he said while opening and munching on one of the energy bars that he had stocked in his car.
He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "Listen. You were supposed to meet with Nike Corporation almost two hours ago. I told them you must have had some sort of emergency but that you would be back after lunch."
"It's lunch time already?" Ryoma interrupted and then glanced down at the clock on his radio. Sure enough it was eleven forty-three. "Well, I'll be damned. No wonder I'm starving." With that he grabbed another energy bar and a bottle of water from the cooler stuffed between the seats.
"Yes, and they'll be back at twelve so you better get your ass over here or else we could lose a million-dollar contract!" Bobby snarled in agitation.
"Where exactly is 'here'?" he asked, in part to calm down the harassed man.
"I've already programmed it into your GPS; just hit the button and say 'Nike Corporation'," he said, composing himself a little.
"Okay mother, I'll be home before curfew," Ryoma said sarcastically and hung up.
Robert Smith rolled his eyes in response. The kid was a handful all right. Ryoma had made his life hell since the moment he first became a client. But as long as he wasn't distracted, the kid could work. Aside from his little attitude problem, the Ryoma did whatever he said and did it well; he was a manager's dream client.
It was almost a little creepy sometimes, the way he got into work.
Bob had spotted him when he was still in college where his good looks and tennis expertise really stood out. As he pursued Ryoma as a client, he quickly learned of the prince's bad attitude and general closed mindedness toward agents and their work. He said he wasn't interested - that he really only plays tennis for sport. He wouldn't do it for a career.
That was definitely a disappointment, but it wasn't a problem. There were other players out there more pliable than this kid. But when Bob learned that this player was in fact Ryoma Echizen, the son of the Great Nanjiro Echizen… well, he simply had to have him.
Bob had tried any and all means of bribery he could think of to get Ryoma working for him, but nothing worked.
Nothing, that is, until he happened to get a glance at Ryoma's cell phone.
They say that if you want to know a woman, you see what's inside her purse. Well if you wanted to get to know Ryoma you took a look inside his phone.
--
Ryoma set up the GPS and followed the directions toward Nike.
Man, was his manager annoying.
He opened his cell phone for a third time and started systematically deleting all of his manager's calls and messages without listening to or reading them. Usually the only one who called him on this phone was his manager, so he was more than little surprised when he saw an unfamiliar number.
Not only was it unfamiliar, but it was a Japanese number. He hit the redial button and put it on speaker, preparing himself for some nosey Japanese reporter.
The phone rang for a while and right as Ryoma was about to hang up a roaring deep voice answered.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WIT' YOU!? WHY THE HELL YOU CALLIN' ME AT SEVEN O' FRICKIN' CLOCK, YA ASSHOLE?!"
Ryoma was so surprised he swerved into another lane and almost side-swiped a very large Ford F-450 Super Duty Pickup.
After much honking and exchanging of insults between the large red Ford and small blue Aero, the result of which was Ryoma giving Mister-definitely-compensating-for-something-else the bird, Ryoma was able to properly respond to the angry caller.
"What the HELL is the matter with you?! You called me earlier, ya jerk off, and I was just calling you back!" He snarled angrily, while now carefully keeping watch over the busy roads.
Immediately the man's tone softened. "I called you…? Wait…Ryoma? You caught me when I was sleeping, ya see I have this night job and-… well, never mind. It's good to hear from ya buddy!" The man now boomed warmly.
Ryoma was very confused, and justifiably so. First this man was yelling at him and now he was acting like they were best friends… He decided this problem was best solved using one of those tricks one would use at parties if you don't remember someone's name. What if it was some sort of corporate employee? He didn't want to make a bad impression.
"Uh, yeah good to hear from you," he started awkwardly "I'm sorry, how do you pronounce your name again?" He questioned with an awkward laugh. "I remember the characters; I just don't remember how you say them," he said trying to excuse the blunder.
There was silence on the other line for a second before the man burst into laughter. "You don't know who the hell this is, do you?" The caller managed to say through his laughter.
"No, sorry. Was it that obvious?" He snapped sarcastically, very annoyed at being the butt of a joke.
"No. If I was some Ritchie'-Rich like you and I knew all of those frou-frou games you blue-bloods play then maybe I would have believed you," he chuckled.
Ryoma stayed silent in his mortification.
The man seemed to take a hint. "Okay, okay," he comforted with a resigned tone. "I'll tell you how to pronounce my name. 'Ho-rio Sa-to-shi.'
Ryoma brightened immediately. "Horio? Seriously? Damn, I haven't talked to you since-" - since a certain someone left his life - "…I can't even remember," he said cheerfully, stubbornly refusing to let thoughts about people who no longer matter enter his mind.
"Yeah, it's been awhile…" Horio observed awkwardly, suddenly sounding shy.
"How have you been? What are you doing? You mentioned a job," Ryoma prompted, curious about his friend's life these past five years.
Wow, it had been five years.
"Sorry Ryoma, but I can't really talk right now. I just called to ask you one question," Horio said unsteadily, now sounding slightly nervous.
"Okay," Ryoma responded, sensing there was something wrong. "What is it?"
"You didn't happen to get any calls from Momo did you?"
"No," he immediately answered. "Why, is something wrong?"
"No, no. Everybody is fine. What about Eiji?" Now Ryoma was nervous.
"No I didn't get a call from him either. Listen. If something's wrong I have a right to know-" Horio calmly cut him off.
"Sakuno?" It was a quiet inquiry, not at all meant to have the effect it did have.
It was still surprising to him how hard that name hit him every time he heard it.
"Why…" he started shakily. "Why would that bitch call me?" He snapped, just under a snarl, desperately trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
Horio immediately backed off. He almost sounded cheerful now. "She wouldn't; I'm sorry, you know Tomo-Chan, she's nosey. She wanted to know what was going on. I'm sorry. I promise not to bother you with these things anymore." And he just hung up without giving Ryoma another word.
Ryoma was now ready to kill someone. Horio had some nerve, yelling at him and bringing up the past like he did. To top it off, he had the audacity to mention her name and then not even tell him jack about her. If he was going to say her name then he better damn well have a reason why. Yes, he really wanted to punch someone right about now.
He pulled up to the Nike Corporation's meeting place in a foul mood. Bob was there with a freshly ironed suit in hand.
"Change into this in the bathroom; and for God's sake, try to make yourself smell like an athlete not some alcoholic who's just been to a whore house."
"It was a not a whore house! It was a high class, all night entertainment establishment," he said smoothly. His bad mood was improving slightly at the prospect of more work.
Bob rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just get rid of the high class entertainment smell."
"I might add that you are the kind individual who treated me and my loser friend to this entertainment," Ryoma added cheekily and ducked into the bathroom before Bob could take a swing at him.
--
Japanese Athlete Takes Tennis Tournament by Storm
No, Eiji thought; too far back.
Ryoma Echizen: Next Donald Trump?
Too recent.
Echizen to star with Jolie, Aniston in Movie; Brad watches anxiously from sidelines
Too recent again, but this time Eiji had to roll his eyes.
Upcoming Tennis Superstar Taking Over Hollywood
Ryoma Echizen Declared Sexiest Man Alive
Echizen Advertising for Footwear Brand
The Prince of Tennis Cologne: Smell like a player
None of these were right!
Eiji refined his search, desperately looking for something he doubted the public ever saw.
Google Search: Ryoma Echizen Dating
Enter.
10,000,000 Results for Ryoma Echizen Dating
Dear Lord, Eiji thought wildly.
Ryoma Dating Actress
Echizen , Star Vocalist Hold Hands
I W4NN4 M3RRY RY0M4 3CHIZ3N!!!111!!!!!1!!!1! 1111
Eiji smacked his head against his computer desk in his exasperation. What was wrong with these people? He decided then and there that he didn't like the internet.
Apparently people either didn't want to remember Ryoma before he became a superstar or they just didn't care about him before then.
Eiji guessed the latter.
He was currently at Momo's apartment, pretending to listen for suspicious noises down the hall that might sound like Momo sexually assaulting Sakuno-Chan. Since Momo had been declared 'emotionally insane' by his psychiatrist, and decidedly couldn't be left alone; Sakuno had stayed with him even at nights. This was why he was here; making sure that in his delicate state he didn't assault Sakuno or anything. He had heard none for the past week that he had been working his 'night shifts', as Tomoka had called them. He wasn't worried, just as everybody had said; it was a precaution. But it gets hard trying to stay up all night. So he thought he would go on the internet and started to search for new games he could play in his class.
Eiji had done fairly well for himself since high school. He had good enough grades in college, a love for school, and a fun-loving personality, so he found his niche in teaching. He became an elementary school gym teacher. It was fun; he got to teach kids interesting ways to stay in shape and exercise.
While he was creating his lesson plans though, he got distracted and thought of another way to pass the time, by solving another of his curiosities: searching the web for traces of Ryoma and Sakuno's breakup. He searched for hours with no results. Finally, just before he was about to give up, he found a small obscure article dated four years ago that he wouldn't even have noticed were he not so desperate for results.
Ryoma Echizen Snaps on the Field
Eiji clicked on it, a curious excitement broiling in him. What he read, though, shocked and sobered him immediately.
Ryoma Echizen, better known as the Tiger Woods of the tennis world, seemingly had a nervous breakdown during a practice match yesterday before the finals for the qualifying matches to the Warsaw Open.
His opponent, amateur player Ron Phid, hit a shot on the line. He declared it was in, while Ryoma disagreed. A short argument ensued, which was largely ignored by officials since arguments of this sort were common on the courts. Ryoma, seemingly pushed past his limit, pounced on the poor unsuspecting opponent and started mercilessly beating him.
As he beat him he shouted things like "F---you, you f-----g a—hole; you don't know what the f--- you're talking about! The f-----g ball was out; I was right next to it, I saw it! You think I'm an f-----g liar?! I'm not the f-----g liar, you're the liar you stupid b—ch!"
Ryoma was pulled off his opponent by other members present at the court at the time. Ryoma then turned on these men and lashed out at them. After some time Ryoma was restrained, but not before he sent three men to the hospital with multiple injuries. The victims lost several teeth, and between them had two broken noses, cracked cheek bones, a broken wrist and several broken ribs.
Sports analysts would say that it was only a matter of time before Ryoma overreacted in this way. He always plays it cool on the court; he had to snap from the pressure some time. But is this really the truth? Onlookers reported that Ryoma came into practice slightly irritable that day and had a harsher vocabulary than usual. The ball boy working that hour would later tell us that though normally the sport super star is very kind to him and offers him tips on his tennis, that day he cussed violently at him and told him to 'quit before you embarrass yourself and the sport any more than you already have'.
Another curious onlooker would later tell our investigative reporter that he saw Ryoma yelling very angrily while talking on his phone. After the call was seemingly done, Echizen was seen throwing his cell phone roughly into his gym bag, picking up one of his rackets and slamming it violently against the pavement. It shattered with the force. You can see an image of this on page 6.
Our anonymous observer said that he walked into practice, his bad mood apparently not improving. Our observer said he wished he had told someone earlier about what he saw; maybe violence could have been avoided if Ryoma had been intercepted before the brawl.
What was the real cause of the tennis star's bad mood? Our reporters decided to go to the source. He appeared fine at sight but when questioned about the incident, Ryoma gave our reporters a charming smile and called security to escort them off his premises.
We may never know the real cause of Ryoma's bad mood that day. Analysts have already chalked the incident up as another new celebrity with 'Rags-to-riches syndrome,' while experts say they act up just for attention.
One thing is for sure, Ryoma Echizen is not just your average tennis player. Now that he has come to the state, America will never be the same again.
By Susie Quinn, Gossip Columnist.
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Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis / Tennis no Oujisama. I do not own Google, an SSC Ultimate Aero (-.-), a Ford F-450 Super Duty Pickup, or the Playboy Mansion. OR Nike, or Brad, Angelina, and Jennifer. I do not own Donald Trump (You're Fired) I do not own Tiger Woods. I do not own the Warsaw open or Wimbledon.
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A/n: So, how do you like it? Interested? Well I tried to make the characters modern so I had to add a lot of stuff and research a lot of stuff so I hope you guys appreciate the effort with reviews. For they are my blood! Seriously! Tell me what you think! All questions or concerns should be directed to moi. TTFN. Peace!