“Come on, it’s your turn, Kristal,” Lilli says after The Twins finish singing an obscure, slightly operatic song I’d never heard before. “Then you, Hayato.”
“And don’t even think about trying to weasel out of it!” says Tasha, who sang “The Boy Is Mine” with Lilli earlier, displaying more enthusiasm than skill.
Lilli agrees with a laugh. “We all have to sing at least once. That’s our New Year’s Eve tradition.”
I gamely take the song selection book and quickly find the track I’m looking for in the C’s section.
Lilli looks impressed with my choice. “‘California Dreamin’, I love that song! Probably not as much as you, though, since you live in California.”
No, not as much as me. Though technically, the North Pole isn’t California. I’ve managed not to appear crazy up until now, so I decide against pointing that out.
Hopefully, I can keep this not embarrassing Hayato train going. I step up onto the stage in front of the movie screen and take a deep breath as the opening melody begins to play.
“I will sing with you,” Hayato says, shocking me and probably the rest of his family too when he hops up on the stage to stand beside me.
It’s a song. It’s just a song.
But my heart beats like thunder as we sing side-by-side.
It should be a disaster. The Mamas and the Papas excelled at singing seemingly simple songs that required a strong voice and an even firmer grasp of harmony. We elves love ourselves a good karaoke party. And in my experience, most people sound awful when they try to take on this song.
But not Hayato and me. He echoes me in the first stanza before seamlessly joining me for the chorus. Our voices blend together, then dance apart and blend together again for a little over two glorious minutes. I can’t believe we sound as good as we do.
Perfect harmony. That’s what we have.
And I know this is temporary. I know I can’t stay with Hayato. But as we stretch out the last note of the song, I wish I could. Oh, Santa… I desperately wish I could.
36
In Bed
The eighth day of Christmas
It’s a perfect night, and the next morning is even better. I wake with a start. My hands are tied around a slat in the bed’s backboard. And Hayato’s head is between my legs.
A fiery pleasure bolts through me, and when my keening groan hits a piece of cloth, I discover he’s also muffled my mouth.
He raises from between my legs to whisper, “We are in a house filled with children, and you can be very loud, Kristal-san. I had to ensure that you would stay quiet no matter what I do to you.”
Then he returns to what he was doing before.
And he soon proves his reasoning sound when a new climax blooms inside of me. I lose myself, moaning helplessly against the cloth around my mouth.
Hayato’s chuckle sounds almost sinister when he replaces his tongue with a much longer and thicker part of his body.
“See?” He says…before pushing inside of me.
The sensation of having him fill me up before I can come down from my orgasm makes me gasp. Maybe I should be used to him by now, but I’m not. I lose my mind all over again as he drives into me, relentless and nowhere near as polite as he was downstairs.
I don’t figure out how early in the morning it is until we emerge from the bathroom after a shower that also degenerates into wall sex.
“It’s only six in the morning. Why did you get us up so early?” I say when I see the time on the nightstand’s digital clock.
Lilli and Tasha let me know last night that getting up early to watch the sunrise was a Japanese New Year’s tradition. But, “Sunrise isn’t until eight.”
“This isn’t about the sunrise…” Hayato answers, his voice solemn.
A few minutes after getting dressed, I find myself on the stairs, listening to one side of a conversation that Hayato is having with someone he calls Mr. Montana.
When Hayato relays to me the dead security guard’s request, my eyes fill with tears.
“Please tell him we’ll do it,” I say to Hayato.
37
Hum Along and Dance
Hayato borrows the keys to Lilli’s minivan, and about half an hour later, we find ourselves on a street lined with apartment buildings.
A blonde woman with bedraggled hair and a thick German accent answers our knock. “Why are you showing up on my doorstep so early in the morning?”
I wince apologetically. “We’re really sorry for coming by so early. We’re looking for Uta.”
“You’ve found her,” she says, her eyes confused and bleary.
“I know you don’t know me, but I’m Kristal Kringle. And this is Hayato, Norio Nakamura’s brother.”
I was concerned I would have to explain who Norio Nakamura was, considering that it had been over four years since she last saw No and his family at Dallas Montana’s funeral. But her face immediately lights up with recognition.