No Ordinary Love by Kenya Wright Page B

and wrenched me back around. “I smell bullshit and you’re reeking of it.”
    I took a whiff of my underarms. “No way. Wrong person. I washed this morning.”
    “Well you’re still covered in the Dragon’s funk!”
    “Are you going to keep calling him that?” I pulled out of Zo’s hold. “His name is Kenji.”
    He leaned my way and whispered, “His name is written in blood on every Tokyo street corner.”
    “Really?” I did a big show of taking out my cell phone to snap a picture. “I must see this.”
    “This isn’t a joke.”
    “You’re right.” I nodded. “And by the way, this is your fault.”
    “What?”
    “You didn’t answer your phone. What were you doing anyway?”
    “Beating my record, and that’s not the point.”
    “Record?”
    “Stop changing the subject,” he countered.
    “Explain what you’re talking about.”
    “My record, damn it. I got to eleven women yesterday.”
    Ick. That record.
    “And you are appalled at me kissing him? When you’ve spent your lifetime trying to have sex with as many women as possible in one day.” I scrunched up my face in disgust. “You hooked up with eleven different females? How were you even able to keep going?”
    “Stop changing the subject.”
    “Did you use condoms?”
    “Of course I did, and I’m not the reckless person here.” He poked my chest with his finger. “You are.”
    “I kissed him. That’s it.”
    “I should've known you would mess this up. I ask you to be nice to him after kneeing him in the crotch. Instead, you joined his harem.” Zo gestured at the tiger around my neck. “You told me you picked this thing up at a store. I knew you were lying. There’s no way you can afford that. It’s concubine jewelry!”
    “Stop yelling.” I checked around to make sure no one was listening to our conversation. “I'm not in a concubine. If I was, I'm sure I would've gotten a car and maybe keys to his place. I've got standards, you know?”
    He held his hand to his heart and made a show of hyperventilating. “Not funny. I think I’m having an anxiety attack. I’m going to die just like I want to, right in Harujuku, but unlike my dream, it won’t be in the suit of all suits and surrounded by gorgeous women.”
    “Thanks a lot. I'd like to think I'm pretty gorgeous.”
    He glared at me.
    “Calm down. Kenji and I are only dating while I'm here.” I waved away his ridiculous performance. “We’re just hanging out. Nothing else. Nothing more. And because I'm just dating him, I get access to his district, access that no one has ever had. This could be one of the biggest books of the year.”
    “You’re right.” He wiped the sweat off of his face. “It will be a huge seller, even more because the author was found dead and sliced up in the middle of Tokyo. How did the author die? We'll never know. No one had any idea of the murder. All the facts surrounding the silly writer’s death will be a mystery. All the world will know is that she had horrible taste in men and even worse taste in jewelry.” He flicked his thumb at my tiger.
    “First of all, I didn't pick the necklace out.” I lifted it up and touched the diamond stripes. “But, it is a bit gaudy. It screams fake.”
    “Well, trust me, sweetheart, it's flashy, but real.”
    “Real?” I checked it out. “No way.”
    “Those ridiculous rocks formed into tiger’s claws are all real. I could sense a precious stone a mile away with a blindfold wrapped around my eyes. It's real and ridiculous. Poncho told me that Kenji is all about threats veiled in symbolism.”
    I raised my eyebrows. “Poncho? Who the hell is that?”
    “My new photographer, and Mrs. Eleven's husband.”
    He had sex with his photographer's wife on a day he hooked up with ten other women, and he’s worried about my morals.
    “What happened to the other photographer?” I asked.
    “Nothing.”
    Searching around for the store that radiated that haunting chocolate fragrance, I got on the tips