All That Glitters - Chapter 3
The bedroom door across from him snapped shut with an oddly sharp click, audible even through the loud conversation that Jaden and Usagi were carrying. Kain downed the rest of his water. The small, pathetic remains of an ice cube dropped onto his tongue, and was gone in a single crunch of his teeth. He stood, and skirted Mamoru’s chair, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he did.
He entered the kitchen, to the sudden crash of pots hitting the floor. A tall woman, muttering a string of highly unladylike curses, bent to pick the offending pots up, the hem of her pink apron trailing on the floor. She stood, a pot in each hand, and startled at the sight of Kain in the doorway. “Oh! Sorry, I was just--” she dumped the pots unceremoniously in the sink, and rushed to brush a stray auburn curl from her face. The humidity had clearly done a number on her hair, which was straining at the elastic containing it in a ponytail. She wore only a tank top and a pair of those short pants that girls liked so much under her apron, but the kitchen was even hotter than the rest of the apartment, and she looked like a wilted flower with her hair curling too much in some places and hanging limp in others. “Do you need something?”
Kain lifted his empty glass. “I was just hoping for some more ice water.” He knew that Neil had left some beer chilling in the fridge, but he did not have intentions of drinking right now.
“Oh, of course! I’ve just got tap water, but I have a filter system, it’s really nice, I swear, the water tastes great. And the ice is--well, you know where to find the ice, of course.”
Kain felt sorry to have flustered her. “Of course. I’m sorry to get in your way.”
“No, not at all!” She waved her hand as though she had only been occupied in something trivial, but a cursory glance around the kitchen said that this was not at all the case. The kitchen was far too small for the amount of projects that she was engaged in. Sloppy mixing bowls, crumby baking sheets, measuring cups and spoons seemed to be stacked everywhere. Bags of sugar and flour were shoved into the few available surfaces, while the sink was filled to the brim with dishes. A light dusting of flour coated everything.
She seemed to wither a bit further as she realized just what he was seeing. “You really shouldn’t see it like this. I’m not normally such a disaster.”
“You don’t know what a kitchen disaster is until you have seen our kitchen after Jaden’s gotten his hands on the blender.”
The comment seemed to relieve the strain in her shoulders a bit. “Sorry, I’m Kino Mak--ah, Makoto Kino.” She carefully said her name in the western order, despite speaking Japanese. “I guess we haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”
“You’ve been busy. Kain Ward.” He gave her a polite bow. “Can I help you in here?”
She fussed with a stack of baking sheets, realized that she had nowhere else to put them, and set them back down again. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to--”
“I would like to help. If only to escape the noise level for a while.”
She smiled, understanding, as a peal of high-pitched laughter sounded from the living room. “Usagi certainly seems to be having a good time.”
“And Jaden is managing to match her in both speed and volume.” He looked over the sink again. “I can get some of these dishes out of your way.”
She bit her lip anxiously. “Well, if you really don’t mind...”
“Not at all.” It pained him to see a kitchen so overloaded with dirty dishes, and he felt the need for distraction. As he organized the pots in the sink and began to run hot water into it, he noticed the cake sitting on top of the fridge, likely to keep it out of reach from certain shorter guests. The ribbons of chocolate frosting around the edge were as straight and even as he had seen in any cake shop. Red roses were piled in one corner, with leaves spilling down the side. “Did you make that?”
She seemed to be preoccupied with mixing something in one of the few clean mixing bowls remaining. He wondered just how many mixing bowls she possessed and how she managed to store them all. “Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s chocolate, you know, for Mamoru.”
Kain had only very recently learned that Mamoru had a secret love for all things chocolate. He knew it should not have bothered him, that what had taken him months of prodding and carefully learning about his prince was already common knowledge to somebody else. But it served as a small reminder of the years that he had not been there, when other people had fought beside Mamoru in his place. “Of course,” he replied, as he began to remove dishes from the sink, so that he could rinse globs of dough and cake batter from it before filling it. “Chocolate frosting as well, I take it?”
Makoto focused on the bowl in front of her. Her hand plunged right into the bowl, fearless of the mess. “Yes, a chocolate Italian buttercream.”
“I’m not altogether familiar with cake baking. Is Italian buttercream different?”
“From other buttercreams? It has a lighter texture, because it’s partially made out of whipped eggs, like a meringue.”
“Is it safe to keep it at room temperature, then?”
He was briefly concerned that she would take offense at his questioning, but her smile said that she was happy for the opportunity to discuss the details of her creation. “Actually, yes. The secret is to add boiled sugar to the eggs as they’re being whipped. The sugar sort of cooks the egg, but if you’ve tempered everything properly, the eggs stay fluffy.” She opened a cupboard above her, and began pulling down jars of spices with her clean hand. “It’s easy enough, now that I have a mix master to do the meringue while I focus on the sugar. I sincerely regret the time I enlisted Mina to help me with the sugar.”
“Did she burn it?”
“Lit it on fire, actually.”
“I can see how that might infringe upon the making of frosting.” After carefully rearranging the dishes in his immediate vicinity, Kain had approximately a third more space to work with than he’d had before. He reached across the counter to retrieve a stack of pans, and free up more counter space around her.
“Oh, let me--” Makoto hurried to grab the pans for him, closing her hand around them just as his came in contact with the other end.
A white-hot shock of electricity exploded in his wet hand, and he jumped back in alarm, trailing soapy water down the counter and onto the floor. The pans, all four of them, predictably clattered to the floor with a deafening crash.
They stared at each other a moment--her hands covered up to the wrist in what may have been risotto, him with his hands covered in soapy water that seemed to have turned half into slush in a moment of panic. Jaden leaned into the door across from them. “Everything okay in--HAHA OH SHIT MAN, YOUR HAIR!”
Kain glared at the blond with all the force of a thousand glaciers. “Yes. Alright. Everything is fine, Jaden.”
“What did you DO, stick a fork in a socket?”
“This situation does not require your commentary, Jaden.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” He produced his phone from his pocket. “I just need a picture, first.”
“Not unless you want your phone to swim in the dishwater.”
“You never let me have any fun. Hey Sasha, Kain’s doing a David Bowie impression!”
From the living room, Sasha’s voice called back. “Present Bowie or Ziggy Stardust Bowie?”
“Labyrinth Bowie!”
“Get a picture!”
“Sorry man, majority rules.” Jaden snapped the photo before Kain could decide whether to break him or the phone, and was already out of the room before he had decided to break both.
With nothing at all nearby that was within his power to break without seeming, at the very least, profoundly rude to his host, Kain instead snatched up a dish towel and dried his hands as meticulously and unaggressively as his burning hatred for phones and their cameras allowed.
“I’m so sorry,” Makoto squeeked, and he realized that she was still standing beside the fallen pans, staring in horror. He found that he was so used to living with people who took immense pleasure in his rare moments of downfall that he realized he had very much been expecting her to join in the laughter.
He set down the towel, and smoothed his hair in the most casual manner possible under the circumstances. “Not at all. I should have been more cautious.”
“No, you wouldn’t have--oh jeeze.” She leaned both hands against the counter, and Kain tried very hard not to inwardly wince at the risotto smearing on its edges, even if the counter was dirty to begin with. She sighed, head sagging down, and he could see the tense muscles in her strong shoulders working beneath her tank top. “This isn’t working very well. Let’s start over. My name is Makoto Kino, and I enjoy hosting parties. I am normally very, very good with them. But today is less good. Today I’m too busy waiting for a thunderstorm to happen to think straight.”
Her frankness caught him off guard. He had expected them to dance around such topics as powers for an indeterminate amount of time, and here she was, confessing a significant flaw in her abilities. He ran his hand over his hair a final time, not altogether satisfied that it was in its proper place, but not wanting to be seen as fidgeting. “It’s an honor, Kino-san, and I’m sure the storm and its unfortunate consequences can be excused.”
They both went for the pans again, and Makoto held up a messy hand with a giggle. “No, really, let me. I think I’ve given up on this recipe, anyway. It’s an unsuccessful experiment that shows I should stick to cakes and pastries.”
He allowed her to pick up the pans, if only because he did not want to achieve maximum hair volume again. “Really? What sort of experiment?”
“Just something I found in a magazine. It involves squishing risotto into balls and frying it, but it’s not sticking together very well, and I think it’s sort of bland.”
Despite a myriad of other things occupying his mind, Kain had to admit that his curiosity was piqued. “May I take a look?”
Makoto looked around her messy kitchen. “Why, do you think you can possibly make it worse?”
***
“Brad Pitt.”
“That’s a boring answer. Every woman has that answer.”
“Come on! You said Angelina. It’s only fair.”
“Okay, fine.” He rolled the ball around in his broad hands for a moment, before tossing it to her. “Victoria Beckham.”
It flew a little high, but she caught it with both hands, giggling. “Only if I get David.” She tossed it back.
“That’s fine. That’s a fair trade. Divide and conquer is an appropriate maneuver in so many situations.” Though the room was dark, lit only by the twinkling city outside, his grin still seemed to warm the room. “Natalie Portman.” He tossed the ball back.
The ball was small and squishy and painted to look like a basketball. Mina was the one who had given it to Makoto after retrieving it from a game machine, and so she felt perfectly entitled to throw it at the almost-stranger across from her. “Christian Bale.” Toss.
“That gets a pass only because he’s Batman. Esperanza Spalding.” Toss.
“Ooh! Good one! Gorgeous and a fantastic voice.” She considered, squishing the ball between manicured fingers. Her top shimmered slightly in the darkness as she moved. “Colin Firth.” Toss.
“Bullshit. You like Colin Firth because he is charming and has an accent, not because he’s attractive.”
“Attraction isn’t only about looks, you know.”
“If you aren’t going to touch yourself to a photo of him in his underwear, then it doesn’t count.” He threw the ball back.
Other girls may have found his bluntness offensive, but Minako could only giggle. “Alright, alright. George Clooney.” Toss.
He tossed the ball between his hands, leaning back in the desk chair he occupied, propping one foot on the edge of the bed. “Damn, another Batman. I think you’ve got a thing for the broody ones.”
“Was he Batman?”
“The most unfortunate of Batmans. Anyway, he’s an old dude. Do you pick up men in retirement homes, too?”
She continued to giggle. “Hey, maturity is sexy.”
“So’s having your own teeth.”
“You can’t tell me you don’t have at least one older lady stashed on your list.”
“Okay. Michelle Pfeiffer is a silver fox.” Toss.
“Hmm.” Minako leaned back against the headboard of Makoto’s bed, bringing her knees up to her chest.
“What?”
“That’s the first blonde I’ve noticed on your list.”
“Does that mean something?”
“Maybe that I’m not your type.”
“Honey,” he smirked, “you’re everyone’s type.”
When she threw the ball at his head, he dramatically threw his hands up in defense, and it bounced ineffectually off his arm. “Flatterer.”
He had a deep, hearty laugh. “It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”
She stretched, arms over her head, leaning back against the headboard. “So?”
“So, what?”
“What do you think of the view?”
“Stunning.” He was not looking out the window.
She gave him a long look. “Okay, I suppose you pass.”
“Pass what? Was there some kind of test I wasn’t aware of?”
“I’ve just decided that you’re taking me to Tokyo’s Imperial Palace tomorrow.”
For once, she seemed to have thrown him off. “The... Imperial Palace? Where did that come from?”
“I haven’t been there in years, and it’s a prime tourist attraction.”
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be my tour guide?”
“I am. But this tour guide doesn’t work for free.”
He grinned across at her. “Alright, sweetheart. It’s a date.”
***
Jupiter--no, Makoto leaned over the pan, inhaling the savory scent that rose from the crackling fried risotto. “How in the world did you do that?”
“Practice. I’ve made it for my dad a few times.”
“What was I doing wrong?”
Kain turned the little balls of rice over, considering how to most tactfully address the issue. Makoto was clearly a skilled chef--it was visible all over the grand cake sitting on top of the fridge--and this was her kitchen. “The recipe did not seem to call for enough moisture.”
She laughed, all casual warmth despite this strange man in her kitchen, criticizing her cooking. “Of course. Will you write down the ratio for me later?”
“I can write down the whole recipe, if you would like.”
She picked up the magazine clip-out she had followed. “This one’s a dud, isn’t it?”
“I believe that they cut too many corners in the process.”
She crumpled the clipping with a fierce crunch. “Ah well, that’s what I get for trusting a magazine that promises a decent meal in ten minutes. Nothing good can happen in only ten minutes.”
Kain mentally acknowledged to himself that, had any of his housemates been nearby to hear that statement, it would have spawned any number of innuendo-laden statements. He was relieved to, for once, have them out of earshot.
Makoto reached up and re-tied her ponytail, looking notably less frayed than before. The kitchen was not quite sparkling yet, but the bulk of the dishes had been cleared away, making it feel entirely less claustrophobic to Kain. “I don’t think it’s cooling off out there at all, do you? Lemonade?”
Short of freezing the entire kitchen, Kain could only do so much to mitigate the heat rising from the stove, adding to the existing stuffiness in the rest of the apartment. “That would be very nice, thank you.”
She opened the fridge, and bent down to retrieve the pitcher from the back. Just then, a tall figure appeared in the kitchen doorway. The room’s small size meant that when the fridge was open, its door blocked entry to the kitchen. Neil was capable of looking entirely like he planned to stand there all along, leaning one shoulder contentedly on the doorframe and filling the majority of the doorway with his bulk. He grinned over the edge of the fridge door at Kain. “Aw, an hour in somebody else’s place and already you’ve gone all domestic!”
Kain refused to acknowledge that the kitchen’s temperature may have dropped a few degrees in the wake of that statement. “It is my understanding that you should be busy right now. Socializing. Elsewhere.”
“My beer is warm. Maybe you’ve got a built in air conditioner, Mr. Freeze, but in case you haven’t noticed, the air in here is more moist than a Twimom’s panties at a New Moon premier. I’ve got enough sweat running from my armpits to power a small hydroelectric dam. Wanna get a good smell--oh.” Neil had leaned against the fridge door, and glanced down to see what Kain imagined to be an incredibly advantageous view of their host’s backside.
Makoto glanced up, and Kain also imagined that what she saw was a tall, sweaty man ogling her from overhead. She righted herself, and set the pitcher sharply down on the newly-cleaned counter. Perhaps it was the heat and all the blood rushing to her head, but she looked slightly more flushed than she had before. “What was that? All I heard was ‘panties.’”
“I was just making a joke about--well, it probably doesn’t translate very well.” He gave her his most charming smile, one that Kain had observed in the bar and with cute waitresses countless times before. “Lovely party, by the way.”
Makoto crossed her arms over her chest, and though her pink apron remained, somehow she had suddenly transformed from tired, frantic chef to a warrior whose command of the elements once made entire civilizations shudder. At least, that was what Kain saw. What Neil likely saw, given his glance downward, was how her crossed arms made her impressive chest stand out. “Is there a reason you’re in my kitchen?”
“Um.” For once, that charming smile faltered. “Just... just grabbing a beer.”
She reached into the fridge, closed her hand around a beer, and--for one brief moment Kain considered saying something before she smashed it over his head--shoved it into his chest.
Neil’s smile rose again. He was determined, it seemed, to salvage the situation. “Hey, thanks.”
“Anything else?”
“Just have yourself a pleasant evening, sweetheart.” He tipped the bottle in a sort of wave, or perhaps a salute, and turned to rejoin the party.
While Kain plated the last of the risotto, Makoto silently pulled down two glasses, filled them, and drank half a glass of pink lemonade in three gulps. Then she set her glass down--perhaps a little too aggressively for a glass--and began pulling out small dessert plates. “I think it’s time to serve the cake,” she announced to him. “I suddenly have a desperate urge for chocolate.”