Still Raining

Still Raining
Sequel to: On the Street of Dreams
Written by: chochowilliams
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Summary: Ayaka is used to getting what she wants and what she wants now is Eiri. She’ll do whatever it takes to make him hers. Anything.
Chapter Summary: The rest of Japan reacts to the news. Some take it better than others do.
Warning: fantasy, angst, drama, romance, m-preg, language, M/M, hentai, Ryuichi/Tatsuha, Eiri/Shuichi
Inserts: --
A/N: Thank you to inumoon3, fan girl 666, DarkestFlameUchiha, Namikaze naruko14, kaname-luvr, RRW, Selina, Sarah83654123, juju, Mrs. Hatake Itachi for your reviews.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

Last Time

“…Rique Kizou is…” Takashi Iba lifted his gaze from the paper in his hands and sought out the man in question. “…the father of one Takanori Eiri Uesugi.” Or so he tried to say. He hadn’t even gotten passed “father” before the cheering began. It wasn’t even cheering. It was more like a roar of sound.

Shuichi was up and out of his chair before the sentence was even half out of the man’s mouth. Laughing and crying at the same time, he flung himself at Eiri and then at Kizou.

“Congratulations Mr. Kizou,” Tatsuha shouted above the noise from his seat on the couch.

Kizou was stunned to say the least. He had a son? He’d heard the words, but it was as if they’d been spoken in a foreign language that he did not know or understand.

“Congratulations,” rumbled a voice.

He had a son.

Still in shock, Kizou went to open his mouth, but nothing came out but a squeak, so he nodded.

He freaking had a son!

The first tear slid down his face. He was never a religious man before, but now he was certain. There had to be a God because this was nothing short of a miracle.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

Chapter 23: What D’Ya Reckon

NG Productions Executive Offices - Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, Japan

Somewhere amidst the impromptu celebration celebrating Kizou’s new status as a father, someone had brought Shuichi a cup of tea. He had a feeling Eiri was responsible. Or, more likely, Eiri via Tohma via Nana. That man really was too good to him. Overprotective and possessive as hell, but way out of his league.

The white ceramic teacup and saucer were not traditional Japanese, but Shuichi thought they were beautiful, especially the colorful bouquet of flowers and lively butterflies that decorated both.

Eiri‘s opinion of such feminine cups? “They suit you.”

“Shut up,” Shuichi had retorted, but there had been no stopping the grin.

Shuichi brought the cup to his face and breathed in the heavenly aroma. It was a wonderful scent. It loosened the coils of tension knotting his insides. He took a tentative sip and practically moaned. It was liquid sex. Absolutely perfect. Not his usual blend, but it was would do. Oh, most definitely. The warmth of the tea flowed through him, vanishing the tension within him completely.

Through the steam rising from the cup, Shuichi swept his gaze across the office to the black leather couch where Kizou, Ryuichi and Tatsuha were listening intently to two year old little Takanori who was both stuffing his face with the junk food laid out before him- he was partial to potato chips loaded with half the dip in the container- on the coffee table and speaking adamantly about one thing or another. Shuichi chuckled at the serious expression on his son’s face.

Where minutes prior the stacks of coloring books, the colored pencils, crayons and markers had been his son’s lifeblood, now it all littered the floor, long forgotten.

So fickle his son.

With a two thousand watt grin on his face, Shuichi turned towards the man of the hour: Rique Kizou. Now there was a happy man. To the best of his knowledge, Shuichi could not remember a time when Kizou was this radiant.

“Fatherhood suits him,” he thought aloud.

He was glad Kizou turned out to be the father of little Takanori. Kizou would be a great father. There was no doubt in Shuichi’s mind.

But…

While he’d never been in love with Kizou, he did love the older man. It was impossible not to. He’d been a kind and gentle lover, compassionate, protective. If he’d never met and fell in love with Eiri, Shuichi honestly could have foreseen spending the rest of his life with Kizou. Of course that was something he had no intention of confessing to Eiri anytime soon.

Despite the vast wealth of knowledge that Shuichi had on the Black Dragons, knowledge that in certain hands- hands like the PSIA- could bring down the entire association once and for all, Kizou had let him go that day without a second thought. Not many in Kizou’s position would have done that. That was the type of person Kizou was. Ruthless, hard, vindictive and unforgiving when he was forced to be, to those who earned his trust and respect, Kizou could be a formidable ally. Cross him and he would not think twice about cracking your head wide open.

But it was the Yakuza part that had Shuichi on edge.

Of course they- meaning he, Eiri and Kizou- still had many things to discuss concerning their son, but Yakuza or not, Shuichi could not very well in good conscience keep Kizou away from his son. Kizou deserved to get to know and spend time with his son and vice versa. But it was because Kizou was the leader of the Black Dragons, a notorious Yakuza gang, which had Shuichi on edge and knotted his insides in nervousness. He was not going to keep his son from his father even though said man was a criminal and led a very dangerous lifestyle, but he couldn’t help but be frightened at the endless possibilities that could ensue because of it. That was not to say that he did not trust Kizou, Eiri or Tohma, for he did. All three of them would never let harm befall little Takanori, but that did not stop him from worrying. It was his right as a parent.

All this uncertainty and worry was starting to give him heartburn.

Seeing the different emotions- the most prominent one being fear- race across Shuichi’s face one after another twisted at Eiri. It brought out a side of him he never knew existed before that fateful night nearly three years ago. Every time this protective, possessive side of him came roaring to the forefront, it took him by surprised. That he felt this strongly about anyone that he would go to bat for them or do whatever he could to see that frown turned upside down was something he’d never thought he would ever experience.

Going against his first impulse to ignore what he’d thought at first to be a bum asleep on the bench in the middle of the park had been the best decision of his life.

It stilled amazed him to this day that the sixteen year old he’d been obsessed with had reciprocated his feelings and was even now not only his life partner, but also carrying hid children.

Not caring for the worry lining his face, Eiri draped an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders and pulled the smaller man gently against him.

Shuichi leaned his head against Eiri’s shoulder with a content sigh. “What’ll happen next?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Eiri said truthfully.

“That is something you, Eiri and Mr. Kizou will have to discuss.”

Eiri was forced to drop his arm as he and Shuichi turned towards the source of the voice. Neither cared for the loss of contact.

Sitting behind his desk with his hands steepled before him was Tohma.

“In the meantime, there are a few things we should go over before the press conference,” he continued. At the grimace, Tohma reassured his brother-in-law that neither he nor Shuichi nor Kizou would be required to attend.

Both men breathed a sigh of relief. They despised having to deal with the press.

“Ah, Mr. Kizou,” he called, “if you could join us please? There are some things we need to go over and then I’ll leave you to your…negotiations.”

Eiri snorted.

“Certainly,” Kizou replied.

Shuichi watched as Kizou bent towards their son and spoke softly. Though he could not hear what was being said, he knew it was something their son did not like when, predictably, the two year old started to pout. He folded his arms over his chest and plopped down on the floor, dropping his head so far forward that his chin touched his chest.

His son. The drama queen. At least he wasn’t hitting his head against the floor. That scared him half to death. It was a new maneuver little Takanori had taken to doing and he did it quite often. Once when Eiri refused to buy a particular toy that little Takanori wanted, little Takanori sat down on the floor in the middle of the crowded store and starting smashing his forehead into the floor. When he told Ryuichi about this, his brother claimed he used to do the same thing.

From besides him, Eiri all but rolled his eyes.

Not liking the miserable expression on his son’s face, Kizou slid off the couch and crouched down on the floor besides the toddler. This time what he told little Takanori was better received.

“I like that,” little Taknori stated confidently and loud enough for them all to hear.

“Good.” Kizou kissed the boy’s forehead. “Why don’t you play with Uncle Ryuichi and Uncle Tatsuha while I talk to Mommy and Daddy okay?”

“Okay!” Excited at the prospect of getting to play more with the nice man again later, little Takanori stood up and grabbed another chip out of the bowl and plunged it into the dip.

Standing with a grunt that had Shuichi giggling, Kizou made his way across the office towards the others, ruffling his son’s soft raven hair as he passed.

Eiri inclined his head in greeting and Shuichi smiled as Kizou reclaimed the seat he’d been in earlier. Shuichi reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Well,” Tohma stated, watching the three men before him. He reclined back in his chair. “We have a lot of ground to cover. The press is going to be all over this story; especially you Mr. Kizou seeing you are who you are.”

Shuichi squirmed uncomfortably.

Kizou gave the smaller hand within his a reassuring squeeze.

“The first question will most likely be how you can be the father Mr. Kizou if Shuichi and Taki Aizawa were dating at the time of the conception. Where do you fit in?”

Oh wonderful, Shuichi groaned. It was a good thing he was not required to be at the press conference. Guess all the skeletons were coming out of the closet now.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

Later That Evening - TCN Studios - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan

A small portable radio sat behind the reception desk in the lobby of The Christian Network studios. Nobody could remember anymore to whom the radio belonged. Currently, it was tuned to local Christian radio station WLOF, known as the “Station of the Cross” (1). A soft Christian rock song trickled softly out of the speakers.

Isako Kinku looked up as the lobby doors opened. “Evening,” she smiled.

The man approaching was clad in a brown uniform. He was carrying a package not much larger than a jewelry box and a clipboard. “Hello. I have a package here for Chishin Yamada. Sign here.” He handed over the clipboard.

Kinku signed at the bottom. “Thank you,” she smiled again and handed back the clipboard in exchange for the package.

“Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Kinku turned the small package over. There was no return address. That in and of itself was not surprising. Setting the package aside, she reached for the phone.

“Isa!”

Kinku looked up. A tall woman with blond dyed hair secured into a bun and wearing an olive green skirt suit was rushing towards her. The click clack of her black heels echoed loudly against the tiled floor. “Ririko.”

Ririko Zenigata had not always been a friend. They hadn’t even been acquaintances. Kinku couldn’t even say honestly that they used to be rivals. In fact, when they hadn’t been trying to avoid the other as humanly possible, despite working for the same small television studio, they used to butt heads quite often, but what else would you expect from two people who each believed “their God” was the one true god? Each believed it to be a blessing that neither had to deal with the other outside of work, until that was exactly what they’d been forced to do.

It was at a family gathering two summers ago. Her brother had arrived with his new girlfriend, who turned out to be none other than Ririko. She had no other option, at that point, then to swallow her malice for the over Christianized woman- she was sure she used a stronger word back then. If her brother was in love with this woman, if Ririko made her brother happy, then who was she to stand in their way? Six months later, they were married. Six months after that, Ririko came to her, crying, in the middle of the night. She’d walked in on her husband with another woman. Strangely enough, after that, they two became best friends.

“Turn on the news,” Ririko was demanding in a breathless huff. “Turn on the news!”

“Why?” Kinku furrowed her brow in confusion.

“You know how there’s been this whole…” Ririko flailed her hands about as she rushed around the reception desk and grabbed the radio, “…thing,” she decided, “about who the father of Shuichi Shindou’s child is and everything?” She fiddled with the dials until she came to one of the public broadcasting radio stations. “Well, I guess the results came back,” she continued without waiting for an answer.

With her heart beating wildly within her chest, Kinku spun the chair around to face the other woman. She leaned towards her, her dark eyes wide with excitement and curiosity. “And?” she pressed eagerly.

“I don’t know! They didn’t-”

“And now we bring you to the press conference live from NG Productions,” the DJ cut into their conversation.

Ririko shushed her. “It’s starting,” she whispered eagerly. Despite her skirt, she squatted down behind the reception desk besides Kinku.

Both women huddled around the radio.

Kinku turned up the volume.

“Thank you all for coming.” The male spoke softly, yet there was something commanding about his voice. It made you sit up and take notice.

Kinku exchanged a knowing glance with Ririko.

“Tohma,” the other woman mouthed.

Kinku nodded.

“As you may know, in response to the influx of demands all wanting to know who the biological father of one Takanori Eiri Uesugi is, Mr. Shuichi Shindou decided to order a DNA paternity test done. Earlier this afternoon, we received the results.”

Both women held their breaths and pressed theirs ear to the speakers of the tiny portable radio.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

It was too perfect.

Chishin felt the laughter bubbling up inside of him. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t stop it from bursting forth and once he started he could not seem to stop. All too soon, there were tears in his eyes and a stitch in his side.

“I don’t think it’s that funny, Yamada,” said the male voice over the speakerphone. “After all, she was partially right.”

Well, didn’t that just suck the amusement out of the situation? Chishin rolled his eyes at the phone. “I don’t think Nami being right about Aizawa not being the father is anything to worry about, Iso.” Besides, one did not need to be a rocket scientist or have the results of a paternity test in hand to realize that something had been off with the claim that Taki Aizawa fathered Takanori Uesugi. It should have been obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.

“No, but,” Isoroku argued, “some people aren’t going to be satisfied with the results. If Shindou lied about whom the father of his child was, then what else has he been lying about? This is just going to add fuel to the fire.”

Chishin had to give Isoroku that. He made a valid point, but still. “Some people aren’t going to be satisfied no matter what,” he reminded his friend. Those people were in love with the sound of their voice. What other reason could these people have for speaking out against everything? “Besides, Mr. Seguchi’s explaining about that right now.”

“The father of Shuichi Shindou’s child is a man named Rique Kizou.” Tohma spoke the name of the half-Japanese half-French men carefully. “He and Mr. Shindou were together for many years, but he was never considered as a candidate because Mr. Kizou suffered from testicular cancer some years before he and Mr. Shindou…”

Isoroku hummed over the line. “Testicular cancer.”

“It happens.” Chishin was not sure if he personally knew anyone who had battled cancer, but he had friends who had relatives who had. It definitely was not an easy situation to deal with for anybody, whether it is the person with the cancer or a relative of said person.

Now, he did not know much about this particular cancer, but he did know that there was a possibility it could leave a man sterile. If both Shuichi and this Kizou guy believed that to be the case then of course they would never suspect that the child that Shuichi had conceived belonged to him.

“Yeah, but it seems-”

“Too convenient?” Chishin finished.

“Exactly.”

Chishin sighed. Nothing to be done about that. People find out someone is lying and demand to know the truth, but when they are told the truth, the truth is so shocking that they automatically assume they are being lied to again. That just goes to show that most people, even though they say they want the truth, in actuality, want a pretty lie. Sometimes an untruth is easier to accept than the truth.

Speaking of which, he wondered how his old friend was taking the news.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

The Trinity Offices - Setagaya, Tokyo, Japan

Well, Nami thought. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events. She definitely had not seen this one coming. However, the knowledge that she had been right- at least partially- had her doing a happy jig in her chair- or at least mentally. Despite the surprise outcome, she was satisfied. After all, she’d only set out to prove that Shuichi Shindou lied about the father of his child- that was her story and she sticking to it- and the results of the paternity test proved just that. Well, guess it really depended on how you looked at it. Can someone truly lie if what he or she knew at the time was not the whole truth?

Or so the claim was being made. Whether or not that was the case was up for debate. Frankly, she did not care one way or another now.

Her prejudices with the so-called third sex were well known. After all, it was not as if she ever tried to hide them. She found them to be a disgrace. Disgusting. Immoral. A waste of human flesh. So on and so on. But she was not about to storm their home in the middle of the night with torches and pitch forks. Or string them up the nearest tree while a mob curses and spits and beats them like a piñata. Or tie them to a fence in the middle of nowhere and beat them senseless and then maybe drag them down the street behind the car for miles. She was not that much of an idiot. As long as they left her alone, she would leave them alone. It was as simple as that.

If one of Them hit on her, it wasn’t as if she went postal. Maybe slap him and call him a derogatory name or two.

She grabbed the remote, aimed it at the giant flat screen TV secured to the wall opposite her and pressed the red power button. The image on the screen froze and then faded to black.

Besides, she’d only seemed to be so obsessed with Shindou because, well, the truth of the matter was, she and Ayaka had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Of course, this little tidbit of information was on a need to know basis and at the moment, nobody needed to know. Unless your name was Chishin Yamada and you had friends in high places.

Speaking of which. That reminded her.

As she sat back, her eyes fell to the phone.

She wondered if Ayaka knew yet.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

Usami Residence - Kyoto, Japan

She was not happy. She was not happy at all. This just would not do. Oh, no it would not. Nami had warned her that something like this might happen. She should have listened. Why hadn’t she listened? Oh why had she ignored what had so obviously been sound advice from her very best friend? Well that was easy. Because she’d been so sure everything would work out in her favor. As far as she’d been concerned, there hadn’t been any need to not be certain of the outcome. Her hopes had been so high that she’d been convinced that Nami’s constant negativity would bring her down. So instead of embracing what had turned out to be sound advice, she’d basically told the girl to sod off.

No matter.

What’s done was done. The past was the past. Nothing short of a time turner or another sort of time machine was going to aide her into doing anything about the past. What she could do something about was the future. Yes, the future. It hadn’t been written as of yet. There was still hope. Oh, yes there was. As long as there was breath in her body, there was still a chance that everything would work out, maybe not exactly as she‘d planned, but why argue over insignificant details? The desire for something did not die just because the road to it was blocked. If anything, it only intensified the desire. All you had to do was follow the detour around the blockade. If there wasn’t one, then you had to create one. It was as simple as that.

As simple as that logic was, it did not cease the flood of bitter emotions sweeping through her.

The plan had been so simple, so easy. It’d been foolproof. All she thought she’d had to do in order to split Eiri and Shuichi up was prove that as a mate, Shuichi was undesirable. And what type of person was the least desirable? A liar. Who would want to share a bed with a liar? How could you trust someone who only knew how to spew untruths?

She should’ve known that her plan was too good to be true.

As the saying went, “If it’s too good to be true, it usually is.”

So deeply engrossed in her anger-fueled ministrations was she that the sudden cracking noise sounded like a gunshot in the otherwise silence of the house.

A reporter for the twenty-four hour news station she happened to land on when the news broke was now speaking to an expert in the field of cancer research.

“Oh yes,” the man was saying. “It is certainly possible. Now I am not familiar with specifics of Mr. Kizou‘s case, but I had a patient a few years ago in a similar…”

Slowly, Ayaka shifted her unblinking gaze down at her clenched hand, which was in the process of strangling the life out of the television remote. Unfurling her hand, one finger at a time, she did not so much as grimace at the sight that greeted her. There was a fine spider web of cracks spiraling out from the lower portion of the remote. A particularly long crack raced up the center.

“-reporting live from outside NG Productions. Thank you Wakamiya.”

With more difficulty than she thought possible, she tore her gaze from the destruction her anger had brought upon the innocent remote control, and glanced at the television.

“In other news, a police chase on Route 4 this morning had traffic tied up for hours. Take a look at this.”

The picture changed from the live feed to a prerecorded one.

Ayaka squinted at the unsteady image that had obviously been captured from the inside of a vehicle of some sort. If the loud siren was anything to go by, she assumed the vehicle in question was a police cruiser. It was weaving in and out of traffic. There was the occasional vehicle that thought it was better than the rest of society, or maybe it knew something the rest of the world did not know, because it refused to pull over for the emergency personnel coming up fast behind them.

Judging by the scenery whizzing by along the sides of the screen, the chase was racing through some city that she could not identify.

“This was taken from the dash cam of an Arakawa police cruiser.”

She watched in fascination as the cruiser continued to meander its way through the heavy traffic. At one point, the driver lost control and started to spin out, but thankfully, he was able to regain control before the car was flipped over into a ditch. That was when she caught glimpses of the other police cars.

The suspect vehicle, going well above the speed limit, suddenly swerved sharply to the right. It crossed several lanes of traffic, dodging any number of accidents just by sheer dumb luck, jumped the median and emerged on the other side going northbound. The problem was that traffic was heading southbound, towards the suspect vehicle.

Ayaka gasped in horror.

“Watch again. The suspect vehicle jumps the median into the southbound lane. He weaves around a semi onto the shoulder, but an SUV who’d decided to pull over, suddenly looms before him. Before either driver has a chance to doing anything, they collide head on.”

Ayaka cringed away from the scene. It seemed worse in slow motion.

“The driver of the SUV walked away with a couple of broken ribs, a broken wrist and minor cuts and bruises, but alive. The suspect was not as lucky. He died later at the hospital.

“It had since been revealed that the suspect fled when cops attempted to pull him over for a broken taillight because apparently he was already out on probation and had empty beer bottles in his car.”

As horrid as the ending of the chase was, it did give her an idea.

A sly grin crossed her face.

Oh, yes. This time it would work out. She was certain. Eiri will be hers.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

On the hill behind the Usami residence, amidst the shadows, Shiho dozed lightly. It was the one drawback of being a mercenary. Since it was not a nine to five type of job, it was somewhat difficult to get those ten hours of sleep each night that was said a person needed to function. Despite the severe lack of sleep required to perform her duties, though, she would not change jobs for anything in the world.

What she could do without was the rude wake up calls.

Before she could fully comprehend what she was doing or what was happening, she’d snatched her gun from its thigh holster and had it cocked and aimed before she was even on her feet.

She blinked at the tall blond man before her. For several long seconds everything went still. Then the tension rushed out of her all at once. She released her pent up breath in an explosive sigh.

“K.”

She started to lower her gun.

“Son of a…”

A tearing pain suddenly ripped through her head. It doubled her over. Pressing the heel of her free hand to her head, she hissed out a long series of colorful phrases through gritted teeth.

Why K could not greet someone as if he were a normal human being was beyond her. Honestly, this man was going to be the death of her one of these days.

Seemingly unconcerned with any injuries he possibly could have inflicted- after all, she’s lucky it was just a steel toed boot upside the head and not a Molotov cocktail shoved up her ass- the American demanded, “Where’s the target?” How dare she fall asleep in the middle of an assignment?

“In the house,” Shiho managed to spit out. “Goddamn it!” Her head felt as if it had been cleaved open. She bet she had a concussion. Despite it holding her gun, she brought her other hand to her head. “Where’s she been all goddamn day.” Damn him!

K shot a look through the trees to the Usami residence at the base of the hill, taking in every detail in a matter of moments.

“Where the hell did you come from anyway?” Shiho questioned. When the only reply was the cry of the squirrels and the chirping of the birds, she raised her head and frowned. “What the fuck?” Dropping her hands, she slowly stood up, wincing once as her head gave a particularly painful throb. “Where the hell did he go?” If she didn’t know better, she would swear the man was a ghost.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

It was way too quiet. That was what K noticed immediately as he crept up onto the side porch off the tatami room. He did not have a good feeling about this.

Drawing his trusted magnum, K flattened himself against the outer wall of the house besides the sliding door, which had been left open. He waited and listened. No movement. No sound. No nothing.

He did not like this. Not one bit.

Maybe the target was asleep. Entirely possible. Who would leave a door open if they were going out?

Someone who wanted his or her valuables stolen?

Ignoring that little voice in the back of his mind that continued to niggle at him, K slowly stepped into the house- not even bothering to remove his shoes.

Tatami room. Empty.

From there, he had a clear view into the kitchen. It too was empty. As was the first floor bathroom, or whatever the Asians called it.

Technically speaking, the “bathroom” was not what Westerners would call the bathroom. What you stepped into from the hall was called the dressing room. The only thing remotely bathroom-y in the room was the vanity and the storage closets. Sometimes, the toilet was in a separate room of its own. Sometimes it was located in the dressing room. The actual “bathroom” was a separate room off the dressing room in which was the bathtub.

From there he swept the living room. Empty. Warmth flooded through his hand when he touched the back of the television. Someone had been here not too long ago. It was just as Shiho stated.

Despite his large physique, K swept up the staircase to the second floor as silently as if he were a ghost. He cleared the second bathroom, three bedrooms and finally the attic.

The house was empty.

“Shit,” he hissed with feeling.

The target was gone.

-- 23 --23 -- 23 -- 23 --

Shindou Residence - Kyoto, Japan

“How do you think this will affect Mr. Shindou’s career? Having the father of his son being a Yakuza boss?” asked the reporter on the screen to one of her guests, an editor for some entertainment magazine. “Could Mr. Shindou’s life, as well as that of his son, be in danger?”

“That’s hard to say…”

Mai reached for the remote and shut off the television. Concern lining her face, she glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen at the phone she could just see from her position on the couch. She bit her lip, rubbing sweaty palms up and down her jean-clad legs.

“Could Mr. Shindou’s life, as well as that of his son, be in danger?”

The thought of both her son as well as her grandson being placed in harm’s way because some bitch with a fucked up view of neutrals could not leave well enough alone infuriated her. Before she had time to fully process what she was doing, she was flinging herself off the sofa and into the kitchen where she wrote her husband and daughter a quick note on the white board on the fridge and marched through the house to the front hall closet, grabbed her purse, slid her feet into her shoes and stalked out of the house like a mother on a mission.

-- TO BE CONTINUED --

(1) Actual radio station here in Buffalo, NY (it’s a Catholic radio station).

A/N: The stage is set. What will happen next?