FAZER LOGIN"I tried to make her see reason," he says. "But you know how she is. I can only imagine what that call was like for you.""I don't know if we're speaking anymore," I say. "Dad, I ruined everything. How can you not be angry?"He waves his hand. "Akira Ito can pull out of the deal if he wants to," he says, shrugging. "There's a morality clause Marcus very well could have broken all on his own anyway. There will be other sponsors.""You're not mad about the deal," I say.My father walks over to his bar and takes out a cigar. He clips the end of it slowly, looks at me like he's about to impart the most profound wisdom ever. But he just shrugs. "You win some, you lose some.""That's it?" I ask. "It's millions of dollars.""Honey, there will always be more money to make. It's replaceable. Besides," he says, with a sly smile, "I had an insurance policy on Akira-san. And your boss Chelsea won't find she has the employment opportunities she thinks she has.""What?" They sell insurance for this
Delaney"You dirty skanky ho." Daniel's voice on the other end of the phone is the first thing I hear as I debark the plane."Oh God," I say. "How did you find out?""Gossip site," he says. "I'm so proud of you.""What?" I can't process what he's saying. I'm just thinking about the fact that this has gone public, before I can even talk to my father. Before I can do damage control. I'm very close to bursting into tears. "I don't know what to do –""Oh, shit," Daniel says, his voice concerned. "Oh, sweetie, are you crying? I didn't mean you were a skanky ho for real. You're totally not. I'm jealous that you hooked up with Marcus. Why the fuck didn't you tell me? When did it happen?"I'm choking back tears as I walk through the airport, following the signs for baggage claim. "I don't know what I'm going to do.""Where are you? Are you in Dallas yet? Have you seen your father?" He peppers me with questions. "Please don't cry. It's not terrible. There's nothing wrong with it, doll. Nothing
DelaneyWe sit across from each other in a crowded izakaya in Shibuya, after passing a million little bars and restaurants that showcase plastic versions of their foods in the windows. Marcus sips his beer and laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and the sound is infectious. He's relaxed, for the first time in weeks, and I finally feel calm, away from Chelsea and work and the hotel and everything. The izakaya is crowded, yet it feels like Marcus and I are the only two people in the room."You love it here," Marcus says."Yeah," I tell him. "I was here for a semester. Not in Tokyo, really. I mean, I traveled, but I was mostly down south. Just enough time to fall in love but not enough time to really let the little things start to annoy me, you know?"Marcus sips his beer and looks at me. "Kind of like us."My heart practically stops and I take a long gulp of my chu-hi, a drink made from soda and shochu, but tastes dangerously just like plain soda. "You do plenty of things to annoy
DelaneyThe knock on the door in the morning startles me. When I answer, my hair plastered to the side of my face, no one's there. I barely slept last night, gutted over what happened. I wonder if Chelsea is on her way back to Texas already, the bearer of such fantastic fucking news that my father will probably have a coronary.I need to call my father. I don't know how to explain any of it. I really can't face him.And I can't face Marcus, either.How can things go from being so high to crashing down so low in a matter of minutes? Last night with Marcus, I was happy. I was deliriously, irrepressibly, recklessly happy. A part of me knew it wouldn't last, just like part of me this morning longs to go to Marcus, to tell him that it doesn't matter, that we shouldn't give a shit what anyone else thinks.Except it's Marcus, the guy who doesn't spend time with women outside the bedroom. The guy who doesn't date. Perpetual manwhore, always risk-taking, never-going-to-grow-up Marcus. And the
MarcusI can't fucking see straight. I'm wound so tight after spending the last fifteen minutes telling Delaney what I want to do to her. I hope she's as wrapped around the axle as I am. There's something about her that makes me crazy.We're still a block away from the hotel when I realize Delaney is limping. "What's wrong?"She kicks up one of her feet and sighs. "The perils of wearing heels in Japan," she says. "I don't know how the girls here do it, walking everywhere in stilettos. They must be masochists.""Fuck walking," I say, and I pick her up before she can protest, but she does anyway."What are you doing?" she squeals."How far away from the hotel are we?" I ask."I don't know, a block, I think," she says. "Put me down before someone sees.""Afraid not." I keep carrying her, ignoring the looks I get from strangers on the sidewalk. A couple of expats laugh as we pass them, and I explain, "She's totally drunk."Delaney hits me on the shoulder. "I am not! Don't say that.""You
"I have his office number," Delaney says, giving me a look. "I don't have his personal one. I left a message. What should we do? It was supposed to be a business dinner and then he was taking us out on the town."I slide my hand around Delaney's waist, right there in the hotel lobby, and she smacks it away. "Marcus, don't," she says."There is literally no one here watching us.""Only because it's impolite to stare," she whispers. "PDA is not appropriate here. And people will watch but not tell you you're doing something wrong, because that is not polite. But someone will notice. Trust me."I exhale heavily. Delaney is standing there, looking insane in this white dress that shimmers under the lights. It's simple and elegant and looks like it was made for her, skimming over every curve and showing off her amazing legs.I want to take it off her immediately. But she walks away and talks to the concierge. I see her gesturing, her forehead wrinkled up in the face she makes when she's upse







