Outsiders. Part 17

"You can't," Fran protested almost simultaneously, "you've all worked too hard to let this opportunity go."

Nina turned in her seat to touch Fran's cheek and gaze into her eyes. "No, baby," she said, her voice soft but firm, and her eyes over-bright as she spoke. "Nothing is more important than you right now-not music, not business...not even us. Nothing."

Samantha grasped Fran's hand over the table. "She's right. And since you have to do something anyway, let's do it this way-and it'll take a lot of stress off your shoulders during the process. Besides," the half grin Samantha gave as she spoke made Ren certain Samantha had forgotten anyone else was there, "you've always said you wanted to spend a few months living in Tokyo again and see the sakura, the cherry blossoms."

"I would have you stay in my apartment in Kichijoji," Ren interjected. "And it would be completely yours, for as long as you wanted. I myself will stay in my father's"- she faltered a moment-"my place in Seijou. Besides, you can see the sakurain Inokashira Park-just make sure the three of you don't take boat rides together on the pond. Then again," and here Ren paused to allow herself a small grin, "you're a triad, not a couple, and you've moved beyond courting, so perhaps Benzaiten's spell won't work."

Ren's grin grew into a full smile at Fran's shocked expression.

She knew full well that Fran was surprised not only by the allusion to their relationship, but also by her reference to the park's legend of a vengeful G.o.ddess who placed a curse on courting couples who ventured out on the pond in a boat. But in her warning of it, Ren was also affirming her support and approval, and when Fran finally returned a watery smile, Ren knew her message had gotten through.

"You can't do this," she said finally. "I won't let you-you can't all give up the things you love so much for me. Ren, you love that place! Nina, Sam," she said and looked at each of them, "the point of this entire trip-the meetings, the shows, all of it-was to create a new label, your label, your future. All of you."

Ren glanced quickly at Samantha, then Nina. Permissions granted and clear, she leaned across the table, then placed her hand over the warm knot of their entangled hands. "And what future do any of us have without our Nozomi? You have taken care of everyone else. Please, Fran, let ustake care of you. Then the future will take care of itself."

Fran took a shaky breath as she stared down at the table and considered. "All right," she said quietly before she looked up.

Tears filled Fran's eyes, glinted from her eyelashes, but didn't fall. For a moment, just a single moment, Ren felt an answering smart in her own, and a brief clutch of regret that things had not turned out differently. But destiny, Ren knew, could not be avoided, only made worse. And so, Ren let that feeling go as she leaned back and released their hands from hers, secure in the knowledge her beloved friend was exactly that-beloved.

"And what's the plan for the meeting later today, then?"

The plan Samantha and Ren presented to her and Nina had been relatively easy to create. The night before, when Samantha apprised Ren of the true situation with Fran, the solution became apparent, and was surprisingly simple: j.a.pan had some of the best cancer facilities globally, a national obsession given their historical experiences. Ren had both the money and the connections to access the care Fran needed, as well as heart enough to know that through the recovery process, Fran would need those dear to her as close as possible. And though they did not speak of it, underneath was the silent acknowledgement that the closeness would be critical should the worst occur.

The new business venture could be put on hold, but a lot of money and effort had gone into arranging the meetings and events, so face, for both them and the interested parties had to be saved, and the future-a future that they were firmly certain must and would include Fran-had to be provided for. With that in mind, they created a list of proposals that would work to everyone's ultimate and increased benefit, though it would perhaps take a bit longer than expected. Should they be rejected, the plan would allow each party to walk away knowing they'd done their best and not feeling they'd wasted their time.

On the personal side, it would let Samantha and Nina focus their energies and attention where they wanted over the next several months-on Fran during her treatment and recovery process in a place she loved. On the business side, there would be a new ent.i.ty that joined East and West and the time spent in j.a.pan would allow them to build a firm Pac-Rim foundation.

Both Nina and Fran approved.

Now, with their proposal before the investors and the initial meeting over, they once more companionably sipped coffee together, discussed their upcoming travel plans, and called Stephie in New York to make more phone calls and send faxes to numbers Ren provided in Tokyo.

By the time they walked back into the conference room, nervous excitement buzzed through them all, and Ren realized that within the excitement that filled her, she also felt something else, something she'd not felt in a very long time. It didn't matter how the meeting went, whether the terms were agreed upon or not. I'm happy, Ren thought as she walked to her seat. I'm actually happy.

Not only was she finally going to be able to build something of her own, she would perhaps also redeem some of her father's legacy. Already, she was able to help a friend. Friends, she amended to herself with a secret small smile as she looked at them: Fran, in her suit and her papers set neatly before her on the table, Samantha with her air of casual indifference as she leafed through hers, and Nina, with her studied cool as she placed her own report down and stood to face the rest.

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen," Nina began with a smile. "So...have we reached an agreement?"

"Oh my G.o.d, Stephie! I totally can't believe it! Hey Steph-do I have a pa.s.sport?" Bear asked, his excitement and confusion clear to me across three thousand miles.

I couldn't help but laugh as I answered. "Dude, I sent it with that package you brought with you, just in case. But you don't need it yet. You're not traveling for about another month. Better start learning j.a.panese now, gaijinboy."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know," he answered. "But I know they can be a total b.i.t.c.h to get! And hey, I know how to ask for the bathroom, Fran told Nina and me-and that's a good start," he insisted. "But, omiG.o.d, omiG.o.d, omiG.o.d-Steph, it worked, it so totally worked! You're a total freakin' genius!"

Even though he couldn't see me, I blushed at the compliment. "Nah," I said, "it came from something you said, anyway."

"I said something? When did I say something?"

I could imagine the expression on his face and it made me smile as I answered him. "About two, maybe three weeks ago? Oh hey"-this time I interrupted myself-"have you seen the logo design Nina created for the new project?"

"I think they're faxing it to you later, but I can tell you what it is-it's gorgeous. It's a triskele set within the j.a.panese naval-ensign-styled sun. Hey, maybe I'll get that as a tattoo!" he enthused.

"We're not there yet, bud," I reminded him. "Only two of the investors agreed to all of the terms, and one of them was Toya's group. It's gonna take a little bit, maybe another full year or so before we're completely up and running."

"True that," he conceded, "and there's also the whole thing with Fran and her...d'you think she'll be okay?"

With both Fran and Samantha's agreement, Nina had filled us both in-separately, of course-on what caused the black cloud that invaded our work s.p.a.ce before they went on this trip.

"Yeah, I do," I answered, nodding because I forgot he couldn't see me. "There's too much love, too much hope, and too big a tomorrow for her not to be all right."

Bear sighed into his end of the phone. "I guess...I hope, anyway. I might try praying. Couldn't hurt, right?"

"You do all those things, and I will, too," I promised.

A companionable if slightly melancholy silence filled the miles between us.

"Steph?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"What did I say?"

"Huh?"

Bear sighed a long-suffering sigh. "You said I said something a few weeks ago that gave you an idea. What was it?"

That knocked the melancholy right out of me as I remembered. Bear was partially right. I wasn't a freakin' genius, but I occasionally had a good idea. "You said 'just lock them up in a room together with a bathroom and enough food to get by for a few days. They'll either work it out or kill each other.'" I couldn't help grinning. "I figured they wouldn't kill each other."

Bear laughed so hard I had to hold the phone away from my ear, and two seconds later, I joined him.

The End.

Blackout.

By Susan X Meagher.

The Vagaries of Fame. The Perils of Celebrity in a Starcentric World. Laurie Ambrose stood on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Eighteenth Street, devising t.i.tles, as she often did, for quotidian events in her life. Her underpaid and over-used a.s.sistant Libby stood at her side.

"I wouldn't normally care if they saw me, but I look so bedraggled that I'm afraid they won't believe I'm me." Laurie's body was on Eighteenth, but her head was peeping around the building so that she could spy on a neat queue of people waiting in line.

The ninety-degree temperature, the very high humidity, and the fact that Laurie had just finished a yoga cla.s.s combined to make her look almost nothing like her publicity photo. Her sandy brown hair, normally sleek and full, was wet with perspiration and had sprouted a short halo of humidity-induced strays. Her blue-and-green print, sleeveless V-neck top and leaf green yoga pants rendered her far too casual to properly represent her brand to her adoring fans. But Libby knew the bigger problem was that Laurie had been running very late, and when she was late, she was nervous. When she was nervous, her underarm protection sometimes failed her. Today it had failed her completely, but Libby did not want to be the one to mention this. Using the skills that made her a very good a.s.sistant, she proposed, "My gym is just two blocks away. You look enough like me to pa.s.s. Take my ID and you can have a shower and a nice place to change."

"I'm fifteen years older than you are!"

Libby did not remind her that their age difference was a bit over twenty years. "It doesn't matter. Just swipe the card through the reader and head down the stairs. The women's locker room is on the left." She pushed the garment bag into Laurie's hands. "I'll go into the store and make sure we're set up properly. Your agent should be there already."

"My agent," Laurie growled. "She's nothing more than a pimp."

"She can help me get organized. And, if somebody from your publisher is there, I'll wheedle some books out of them to give to your fans. If you give them something for free, they won't even notice if you're late."

Indecisively, Laurie's eyes shifted from the crowd of about a hundred people back to the garment bag she held. "Are you sure?"

Libby took her by the shoulders and turned her in the direction of the gym. "I'm positive. It's only three thirty-five. You can easily be back here in twenty minutes, and you'll be five minutes early." They both knew that was a ridiculously optimistic timetable, but Laurie started running towards the gym, and Libby headed for the door of the bookstore.

Libby had no idea how she had accomplished it, but Laurie stood next to her at 4:05, looking and smelling fantastic. She wore a very simple sky-blue-and-yellow sun dress which showed off her enviably toned arms and long legs. Her hair was in order once again, held back from her face with a tortoisesh.e.l.l band, and she'd applied a little bronzer to her cheeks, making her look more like a model for a high-end women's clothing catalog than a mystery writer. But that was the "Laurie Ambrose" look, carefully chosen for the brand.

Laurie smiled gracefully and shook hands with her agent and a rep from her publisher. The table was set up, large signs with her publicity photo were properly placed, and the books were not only on hand, it looked as though there were enough of them. Libby discreetly said, "It took some doing, but I pried ten books out of your rep's greedy paws."

"Good for you. Did you give them out?"

"Yep. I went outside and made people answer trivia questions about the series. Some of those people must do nothing but read your books."

"I hope so," Laurie said, her throaty laugh making not only Libby but everyone nearby smile at her.

"I'm not crazy about where they've stuck us," Libby said, looking worried.

"I've had worse. I had to sign in front of the pool toys at a Wal-Mart in Mississippi right before the Fourth of July. I barely sold a book, but I learned a lot of Southern insults."

A kind-faced woman approached and addressed Libby, "Are you ready?"

She turned to Laurie, but before she could speak every light in the store went dark. All five of them looked at each other for a moment, then Laurie said, "It's so quiet." Indeed, it was. Every person in the store seemed to come to a standstill, waiting to see what happened. But the lights didn't come back on, and the shoppers began to look to Laurie and her group-as though they were in charge.

"Nothing to worry about folks," said the bookstore manager. "We must have blown...something." She took off, heading for a door at the back of the building.

"Now what?" Libby asked.

"We can't sell books in the dark," Laurie said. "Besides, if the lights aren't on, the cash registers won't work."

"The air conditioning is off too," a woman behind Laurie said softly. "It'll get hot in here soon."

Laurie turned to find an exotically lovely woman gazing at her. Laurie found herself strangely calmed just by looking at the woman, whose reaction to the power outage was devoid of emotion. Always seeking out the calmest-looking person in times of strife, Laurie said, "How can you tell that?"

"It was blowing on my neck. Now it's not." She smiled, showing even, white teeth that nearly glowed in contrast to her tanned skin and straight, black hair. "I bet the demand for power blacked the whole neighborhood out."

"No," Laurie said confidently, then asked in a softer voice, "You really think so?"

"Yeah. If it was something in the building, they'd have it fixed by now."

"I'll go look outside," Libby said, dashing away.

"I wonder what she's going to look for?" Laurie asked.

"Traffic lights would be a good start. If they're out-the neighborhood's out."

"Oh, s.h.i.t," the rep mumbled. "I'll go see what I can do to help," then he walked towards the front of the store.

"Does he have the ability to bring life to the power grid?" the woman asked, showing a sly grin.

"Hardly. He's in publishing." Laurie turned to her agent. "Call someone in another neighborhood. See what's up."

The agent did as she was told, leaving Laurie to roll her eyes at the stranger. "It's hard to find good help." She extended her hand. "Laurie Ambrose."

The woman shifted the large format, hard-cover book she was holding, turning it so the cover faced outward. "Taj Medina." They shook and Laurie spent a second looking at the book.

"The book you're holding has your name on it."

"The books on that table have your name on them. You've got more than I have." Taj walked to the table, resting her hand on the large, neatly arranged stack. "How many on your backlist?"

"Thirty-five."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope." Laurie smiled, her grin still easy to see in the darkened building. "I crank out...I mean...craft three a year. Have been for ten years."

"I guess I should have heard of you, but I'm sorry to say I haven't."

"Oh, I'm only well known in the genre. I'm not big enough to make most airport kiosks." She walked over to Taj and tugged at the book she still held, taking it into her hands and peering at the photo. "This is a lovely book." Their eyes met briefly. "I bet you get more than one dollar and five cents per copy for every one you sell."

"Yeah, I do," Taj agreed. "But I bet I sell fewer than you do. A lot fewer."

"So...tell me about Emerging Womanhood: Girls Becoming Women in Afghanistan."

"I can tell you about the photos. I didn't write the text." She pointed at a name above the photo of an achingly beautiful young woman. "She's a writer from Afghanistan. I just trailed her for a couple of months, taking pictures."

"You make that sound like a routine job. Taking pictures in a war-torn country can't be easy."

Taj shrugged. "It wasn't bad. I've been in worse places."

Laurie's agent shuffled back towards them, panic etched on her sharp features. "There's no cell service! None!"

"That's common during a blackout," Taj said, her voice calm and rea.s.suring.

But the rea.s.surance didn't work on the agent. "I've got to get to my office. I've got to be able to use a phone!" And with that she was off, heading for midtown.

"I wonder how she thinks she's going to get anywhere." Taj said.

Libby approached, looking concerned. "We're screwed. Traffic lights are out. Every building on the block is out. People are getting freaked."