InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 10: Anomaly ❯ Back Home Again ( Chapter 27 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

“This is the most awful shade of baby-shit yellow-brown I’ve ever seen,” Madison mused as she brushed through Evan’s hair.

“Yeah, I added a touch of greenish to complete the effect,” he said, an obnoxious grin, surfacing on his features as he met her gaze in the large mirror that was lined with frosted daylight bulbs, running around the perimeter.

She wrinkled her nose and sectioned off a clump of his hair to tease.  “Anyway, since when do you do a photo shoot here in the studio?” she asked.

He shrugged and leaned back to look up at her.  “I asked V if she’d pose nekkid for the cover, but she didn’t seem to think I was serious.  I mean, she’s fucking hot, you know?  I mean, ho-o-o-o-o-ot . . . Then she suggested that I hire the strippers that worked my bachelor party, bu-u-u-ut . . .” he drawled.  “It seemed like the lesser of two evils.”

Madison giggled since Evan had ended up with ladyboy strippers at said-party—something that Valerie had thought was hilarious, after all—and so did she.

“Anyway, Mikey said something about setting stuff up in one of the empty rooms upstairs, so it won’t look like I’m in the studio, exactly.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “I just hope they can do it fast because I’m already behind schedule.”

“Since when do you care about stuff like that?  It’s all about the music, remember?”

“True enough, but you know how much Mikey bitches about delays.”

She made a face since she’d been privy to enough of his infamous lectures over the years for them to be vividly entrenched in her mind even now.  Holding her hand before his face to shield it, she gave his hair a quick spray to set it before stepping back, giving him the critical once-over.  “All right, Roka,” she finally said.  “You look deviant enough, don’t you think?”

He gave himself the critical once over, slowly turning his head from side to side.  Finally, he nodded.  “Do you think I have enough blush on?”

Madison rolled her eyes and jerked her fist, thumb out, a few times.  “Go away,” she said sternly, only to laugh a moment later as she flicked her wrist to check her watch.  “That didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would,” she admitted, dropping the can of hair spray into her kit.  “Oh, you know, Cade Warren’s here, isn’t he?  He mentioned that he would be in to do some recording while he’s in town . . .”

“You know him?” Evan asked, hauling himself out of the chair and reaching for the beat-up leather jacket that he’d dropped over the back of the nearby sofa.

“Yeah, I met him on the plane coming home,” she remarked, packing away the rest of her gear.  “Saved me from having to sit next to some loser who thought he was God’s gift to women.”

“Since when do you need saving?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t,” she admitted.  “Still, not having to spend the entire flight beside the ass was a definite plus . . . Cade offered to change seats with him.”

“Sounds like you talked quite a bit—with Warren, that is.”

Madison shrugged off-handedly as she moved things around in her kit, putting things back in order before closing it up.  “Yeah.  Guess he’s here mostly to meet with some managers that his label suggested.”

Evan snorted, leaning in toward the mirror, running his index fingertip under his right eye.  “You kidding?  Did you tell him never to trust anyone that the label recommends?”

“I might have mentioned that,” she said.  “Don’t suppose you know of anyone who might be better for the job?”

Leaning forward, Evan grabbed a tissue and blotted gently at his right cheek.  “Seems like just a little more on this side,” he said when he intercepted Madison’s questioning look in the mirror.

“Let me see,” she said, stepping over and gesturing him back into the chair once more.  She frowned as she slowly turned his face from side to side before retrieving a powder compact and dusting his right cheek a couple times.  “Better?”

Evan squinted at his reflection as he inspected the correction.  “Yep, good,” he finally said.  “So, what’s wrong with the manager he’s got?”

Madison’s lips twitched.  “She may or may not be claiming that he’s knocked her up.”

Evan grunted.  “As if,” he muttered since he obviously knew that Cade was youkai.  “I’ll ask Mikey.  He can take a few minutes to stop in and give him some names, I’m sure.”

“Isn’t Mikey busy, babysitting you?” she asked, slipping the powder and brush back into the bag and zipping it up.

Chuckling softly, Evan turned away from the mirror and slung an arm around Madison’s shoulders to escort her out of the room.  “Ha ha, very funny . . . C’mon.  We’ve got time to run down and say hi, at least.”

“How well do you know him?” she asked as he herded her toward the elevator.

“Honestly, not very.  But he did save V at a party we were at in a backhanded kind of way.”

“Saved her?  Was she in danger?”

“Nah, but she was dancing with that fucktard Nate Damon—you know, that little shit from Gladfist?  He’d pretty much dragged her out there, and Cade came to find me.  That’s all,” he replied, stepping into the elevator and pushing the button for the second floor.

She laughed.  “So, he’s got a history of rescuing women?  Well, I guess I didn’t really need to be rescued, but you know what I mean.”

“Maybe,” Evan quipped, pulling out his phone and firing off a quick text.  A moment later, his phone chimed, and Evan read through it.  “Mikey said he’d be happy to take a few minutes to stop by and give Cade some recommendations . . .”

The elevator slid open, and Evan waited until Madison had stepped past him before following her out of it and down the hallway.  “Oh, so, how were your shows?”

“Awesome, of course,” he assured her.  “Just like always.  Hey, Mikio tells me that you’ve spent some time with him?  Thanks for that.  He doesn’t get out nearly enough, if you ask me.”

Just the mention of that particular name made her falter in her step, but Evan didn’t seem to notice.  “Did he?” she said, careful to keep her tone as nonchalant as she could.

Evan nodded.  “Said you took him sight-seeing . . .” Stopping beside the first studio door, he read the name on the tag on the wall.  ‘Warren/Buzz,’ it read.

He tapped on the door a couple times before opening it quietly and leaning into the room.  “Hey, you old bastard.  Am I interrupting?”

Buzz Marleighvaughn glanced up from the mixing board and broke into a wide grin.  “Ah, Roka.  You slackin’ again?”

Evan chuckled.  “No, way!  Getting ready to do a shoot for the album cover.  Heard that Cade was in town and figured I’d stop by and say hey.”

Buzz rolled his eyes and hit the Talk Back button.  “Zel Roka’s here to screw up your schedule,” he said.  “If you want, I can tell him to go fuck himself.”

A minute later, the door between the sound booth and control room opened, and Cade stepped through it.  He spotted Madison and winked before shaking Evan’s hand.  “Well, damnation.  I rank a visit by the Zel Roka?”

“Eh, Maddy told me you were here to lay a couple tracks,” he replied.

“Ms. Cartham,” he greeted, reaching over to grasp Madison’s hands in a friendly gesture.  He gave her fingers a quick squeeze and let go.  “She was quite stunning,” he told Evan.  “Telling off some bloke who didn’t seem interested in taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Is that right?” Evan said, turning his head, giving Madison the eye.

“Just some idiot who bought me a drink while I was waiting for the flight.  I gave it back, and he didn’t like it,” she replied simply.

“And he followed you onto the plane?”

She laughed at the absolute mayhem that tinged his voice.  “Not intentionally.  He was just flying here, is all.  So, he sat next to me and started bugging me, and I let him know that I was most certainly not interested.  He wanted to change seats, so Cade, here, was nice enough to trade him.”

Evan didn’t seem to be pacified by her answer, and his gaze shifted to Cade instead.  “What’s the guy smell like?”

This time, Madison rolled her eyes.  “Back off, Roka,” she warned.  “I took care of it.”

“I don’t think she required any assistance,” Cade added, looking entirely amused by the whole situation.

Evan, however, didn’t look like he was interested in backing off, but in the end, he grunted his acquiescence.  “Maddy also mentioned that you were here to meet with a few managers?”

“Oh, of course,” Cade said.  “I already met with one this morning.  Interesting, he was, but fair to say we weren’t exactly on the same wavelength.”

“I didn’t figure,” Evan remarked.  Buzz grunted and strode out of the room, probably opting to take a break since it didn’t seem like the visit was going to be as brief as he might have liked.  “I talked to my manager.  He said he’d put together a list of some good ones for you.  Rule number one: if the labels suggest someone, then they sure as hell aren’t there to do you any favors.”

“I rather thought that, too,” Cade admitted.

Madison’s phone rang, and she dug it out the pocket of her jacket, only to blink in surprise.  She stepped back to take the call while Evan and Cake continued to talk.  “Well, hi, there!” she greeted when the call connected.  “How are you?”

“Uh, fine,” he said, and somehow, the simple sound of his voice was enough to set off a brigade of fluttering throughout her belly.  “Your meetings were good?”

“They were,” she allowed, flicking her hand dismissively when Evan shot her a curious glance.  “I’m so glad you called!  I’ve . . . I’ve missed you . . .”

“Missed, who?” Evan asked, raising his voice so that she couldn’t miss him.

“None of your business, Roka,” she replied.  “Aren’t you supposed to be talking to him?”

“It’s quite all right . . . It’s not the bloke from the plane, is it?” Cade teased in a very dry, very British kind of way.

“No, it’s not, and it’s none of your business, either of you,” she shot back with a smile.

Cade chuckled.  Evan narrowed his eyes, but grinned.  “Yeah, but she’s the love ‘em and leave ‘em type,” Evan remarked.  “It’s how she rolls.”

“Oh, is that right?” Cade drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Madison rolled her eyes and let herself out of the sound booth, seeking some privacy for the rest of the phone call she’d hoped for but wasn’t entirely sure she’d get.  “Sorry about that,” she said.  “Have you managed to make any progress with Gavin’s case?”

“A little,” he said, and then, he cleared his throat.  “The . . . guy from the plane . . .?” he asked.

She blinked almost absently for a moment before she understood, just what he was asking her.  “Oh, that . . . That was nothing.  Just an idiot who didn’t understand what, ‘I’m not interested,’ meant.”

“The British guy . . .?”

“Oh, no, but I did meet him on the plane . . . He’s a musician, and Evan wanted to talk to him.”

“I see . . .”

She bit her lip, noting the strange sort of reluctance in Mikio’s overall tone.  But she wasn’t sure what to make of it, so she brushed it off, figuring that maybe it was all in her own head.  It was so much more difficult to really read someone, wasn’t it, when they weren’t right there in front of her . . . “I am glad you called,” she said instead.  “I . . . I’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

“Uh, y-yeah . . . Me, too . . .”

“So . . . Did you call for anything in particular?” she asked, pressing her hand against her belly as those unnatural tremors seemed to take hold of her once more.

He cleared his throat twice before speaking.  “Just, um . . . I thought maybe you’d be free for dinner?  Tonight?  But, uh, you . . . I mean, it’s pretty short notice, isn’t it?  You . . . You probably have plans, and—”

“I’m free,” she blurted, realizing on some level, just how borderline desperate she sounded and simply not caring.

She heard his sharp exhalation, and she smiled to herself.  “Y-Yeah?”

The smile that broke over her face was blinding, brilliant, and she laughed.  “Yeah,” she said.  “I . . . I am.”


Miki o stood, pulled out the chair when he spotted Madison, being led to the table by the maître-d’.  She murmured her thanks to the man before she smiled at Mikio, placing her hand upon his forearm and rising on her toes to kiss his cheek.  He blushed.  He could feel it.  He just couldn’t help it, but she didn’t seem to notice as she sat in the chair he held for her.

It was a nice restaurant, one that Mikio had never been to before, but he’d read some great reviews of it.  That they specialized in upscaled, traditional Japanese food was a plus since Madison seemed to like it whenever he made her something that was more like the things he’d grown up eating.

As for her?  Wearing just a cute little slip of a black dress that barely brushed mid-thigh, showing off a very generous length of her absolutely stunning legs, with an openwork black sweater with bell sleeves over it, she looked entirely gorgeous—not surprising, really, since she always, always did.  Even so, he’d been a little unprepared for the instant and intense rush of warmth that surged through him when he first saw her.  He had noticed, too, just how the other men in the place had stopped, stared, expressions ranging from obvious appreciation to outright leering, but if she noticed at all, she gave no indication.  No, instead, her gaze was fixed on him—only him . . .

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the menu the maître-d’ offered her.

The man smiled and nodded.  “Your server will be right with you,” he said.  “Enjoy your stay, and do let me know if there’s anything at all that I can do for you.”  Then, he inclined his head in Mikio’s direction before stepping away from the table once more.

As the man started away, she turned her attention back to Mikio once more.  “I’m so glad you called today,” she said, flashing him that smile that made him blink, made him momentarily forget that staring was considered to be rude.

Mikio slowly shook his head, somehow feeling like an afterthought, which, he supposed, might well be normal when it came to men’s reactions to Madison Cartham.  “Yeah . . . I missed you,” he murmured.

She bit her lip despite her widening smile, and he wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought that maybe her cheeks pinked just a little as she quickly ducked her head, her golden hair, catching the ambient light on the soft swoop where she’d twisted it up and off of her face—a French twist, he thought they called it . . . “I’ve missed you, too,” she told him.  “Especially after the insanity of LA . . . I swear, that place is like a wholly different planet.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes, darting up to meet his for a long moment before she lowered her gaze to the menu in her hands once more.  “Mhmm . . . and I’m incredibly sick of avocado, too . . .”

He chuckled at her dry tone.

“Good evening.  I’m your server, Cary.  Can I get you drinks to start you off?”

“A good sake sounds nice,” Madison remarked.  “I mean, if we’re here, right?”

Mikio nodded.  “Do you carry Dassai?”

“Dassai?  Yes, we do,” Cary replied.  “I’ll bring it right to you.”

“Thanks,” Mikio said as the waiter hurried away.

“You’re going to have to guide me through this,” Madison remarked, glancing up from the menu once more.  “What are your suggestions, Izayoi-san?”

He blinked at the formality, as well as the idea that she’d actually used a Japanese honorific. For some reason, it amused him far more than it should have.  “Oh, uh . . .” Picking up his menu, he scanned the contents carefully.  “Are you in the mood for spicier food or . . .?”

Her eyes were sparkling, almost shimmering in the gentle light of the fake candles in the center of the table.  “You know, I think I could definitely do spicy tonight,” she said.

Something about her words . . . They sent a very delicious tremor right down his spine.

‘That woman . . . If she ever figures out, just what she could do to us . . .’

Mikio was inclined to agree.  It was enough, wasn’t it, that she had the uncanny ability to turn him completely inside out, but if she knew that . . .?  ‘Heaven forbid . . .’

His youkai-voice heaved a sigh.  ‘Hell, yes . . .’

“Why don’t you order for me?” she went on, apparently entirely oblivious to his unbidden thoughts.  “I trust you.”

“Uh, all right,” he allowed.  She closed her menu and set it aside, which was only a real problem when she turned all of her attention onto him instead.  The absolute warmth of her very aura seemed to reach across to him, wrapping around him in a wholly welcoming sort of way—something that he’d noticed with her before.  The first time, he’d wondered if she were doing it on purpose, but over time, he’d come to realize that she was just that kind of person, willing to extend a part of herself, just to make people feel at home, and in such a way that it was most certainly second nature to her—an unconscious thing that was as intuitive as she herself was.

Cary returned, stopping beside the table and interrupting Mikio’s musings.  It was probably a good thing, really, all things considered . . . The server set down the very ornately painted tokkuri along with matching ochoko, and he carefully poured the first cups for them both.  Then, he stepped back.  “Have you decided what you’d like to order?  If you’re interested, the house special for the evening is Kaiseki.”

“Oh, okay, then,” Mikio agreed.  “That . . . That sounds interesting.”  He glanced over at Madison, who nodded her agreement.  “We’ll both have that,” he said.

“Very good,” Cary replied.  “I’ll be back shortly with your first course.”

“So . . . what did I just agree to?” Madison murmured, leaning forward, her eyes, twinkling in her own amusement, given that she didn’t have a clue, what he had just ordered.

Mikio chuckled.  “It’s a multiple course tasting menu—kind of like a chef, showing off his talents in small courses—but you get a little bit of everything, so that’s nice, I think.”

“That does sound good,” she commented.  “Oh!  I took some pictures in LA—the new spa location, some of the work they’ve done.  Some of the areas are still pretty rough, but the main salon is nearly finished, and I interviewed a number of stylists while I was there . . . Maybe not too thrilling for most people, I guess, but I’m pretty excited . . .”

“Sure, I’d love to see it all,” he said.

She dug her cell phone out of the small purse she carried and pulled up her pictures before handing it over.  “I got so lucky on that building . . . The owner was in a hurry to sell, and it’s such a great location, right there in the midst of the Rodeo Drive shopping area, and even though the initial investment has been more than any of my other locations, it’ll be totally worth it in the end—I hope.”

He slowly studied the first image.  The tall and rather exotic-looking building stood grandly between a couple of very trendy-looking shops: white stucco that almost appeared to hold a tinge of pink and accentuated by sheets of pinked glass windows and brushed silver metal panels.  There wasn’t too much in the way of outdoor embellishments, but that was likely because of the actual street front that didn’t accommodate much in the way of ostentatious décor, anyway.  There were some built-in planters running the length of the front in the same material as the building construction, and those planters softened the modernistic harshness of the lines and angles in general since they were molded, almost wavy, graduating from very high on the corners, only to lower as they closed in and rounded near the entrance.  The sign, arranged mid-way between the second and third floors, was covered with a white tarp, and the entire presentation was very welcoming, overall.

Scrolling through the pictures proved that Madison really did have impeccable taste.  The place was decorated in rather muted pinks and light tans, accented with the same kind of brushed silver that embellished the outside.  Even from the images, he could tell that the place, while well-lit, managed to retain a sense of tranquility that he was sure her patrons would appreciate.

He pushed past the last image of the spa and frowned.  Evan, complete with a really obnoxious shade of yellowish-brown hair, standing beside Madison in what appeared to be the sound booth of his recording studio, and on her other side was another guy that Mikio didn’t recognize.  That would have been fine, of course, given that she knew lots of people, but the man had his arm slung around her waist, his fingers, curled a little too possessively on her hip . . .

‘Wh-Wh-Who the hell is that?’

‘You’ve got me . . . But we need to find out . . .’

‘Damn straight.’

“Mikio?  Is something wrong?”

Blinking rapidly as he leaned forward to hand back her phone, he had to count to ten before he trusted himself to speak.  “The spa looks great,” he began slowly, cautiously, even as the perverse and almost overwhelming desire to rip something to shreds threatened.  He pushed that down, too.  “So, um . . . Who’s that guy in the last picture with you and Evan?”

For a moment, she seemed as though she wasn’t sure, just who he was talking about and, in fact, checked her phone to see the image that he was talking about.  “Oh, him . . . That’s Cade Warren.  Have you heard of him?”

“Can’t say I have,” he replied tightly.  “You look . . . close . . .”

“What?  Oh, no . . . We just met on the flight back home.  He’s pretty hot right now on the music scene—hot enough that Evan took a little bit of time out of his schedule to talk to him.”

“I . . . I see . . .”

She raised her eyebrows as she stared at him for a long moment.  “What do you see?”

He really should have heard the hint of foreboding in her tone.  Just then, however, it was low on his list of priorities.  “You went to go see him today?”

“Well, no, but I had to go do Evan’s hair for a shoot, and Cade mentioned that he’d be at the studio, recording a few tracks, and—” Cutting herself off abruptly, she narrowed her eyes at him, leaning back slightly in her chair as she slowly shook her head.  “Why do I sound like I’m defending myself?”

He snorted, returning her look in kind.  “I-I don’t know,” he grumbled.  “You didn’t cancel plans with him to have dinner with me, did you?”

She looked absolutely stunned for a full minute, and Mikio had to wonder if he hadn’t managed to offend her in some way when she suddenly giggled, leaving him, frowning in confusion.  “If you were anyone other than you, Mikio, I might be mad as hell,” she admitted, her laughter winding down, but her eyes, still shining in amusement.  “No, I had no plans with him.  Cade is nice, but he’d not really my type.  I’m sure that I told you that I wanted to have dinner with you.  I meant that.”

He wasn’t quite ready to let go of his irritation, but he nodded.  “You look like you might be his type, though,” he pointed out since the man in the picture had looked just a little too pleased with himself for Mikio’s peace of mind.

Madison said nothing as Cary slipped the first course of food onto the table, and she nodded politely before the server left them alone again.  “Mikio?”

“Hmm?” he intoned, only paying half-attention while he inspected the food.

She licked her lips, and slowly shook her head.  “You have no reason to be jealous,” she said simply, reaching for her fork since she wasn’t very good with chopsticks.  “It’s sweet that you are, but really . . . I don’t like to play those kinds of games . . . I promise.”