Remember my Heart - 6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

THE applause clung to Dee’s skin like sweat as he retreated off the stage. The heat was cloying and sticky even with the air conditioner working at maximum. The members of his band were likewise exhausted, dropping into chairs around him and groaning or cursing.

“Yo,” grumbled the drummer, yanking off her boots and poking Dee with a painted toe. “Snap out of it.”

He just looked at her.

Her eyebrows rose and she waggled a finger at him. “Oh, honey, you don’t go giving me that kind of look unless you want a good kick to the balls.”

“Do him good,” grunted the lead guitarist. He sat backward on a chair, leaning over the back and pouring a bottle of water over his head.

The drummer jumped up as stray drops landed on her. “Hey! Chang, ahou!”

The twins snickered but Dee only sighed a little. Propping his chin in his hand, he stared at his reflection in the dressing table mirror. His make-up was partially melted and his hair was limp from the stage lights. Sweat itched along his scalp and pooled in uncomfortable places. Normally, this was the time he’d be most energetic, coming down from the high of a show, but all he really wanted to do was take a shower and sleep.

Gus had promised to make him a teen idol; he’d certainly succeeded, but what did he have to show for it?

“Dee.”

Looking up, Dee saw that his band had already departed. He hadn’t noticed them leave. He hadn’t seen Chang drag his chair across the small room to sit beside him. The older man had the saddest eyes Dee had ever seen. They were almost a violet color and framed by dark, full lashes. Those eyes were now fixated on him, solemn and, damn him, understanding.

Chang reached across the gap to clasp Dee’s shoulder. He squeezed a little and withdrew. He drank some water, regarding Dee steadily. Then, as if resolving some kind of internal debate, gave himself a shake and smiled.

“You know, I didn’t believe Gus when he told me he’d found me a band.”

“What?” Dee raised his head to regard his guitarist.

“Gus,” Chang repeated, taking another swig of water. “He always brings me the best pie. Some kind of little place down by the studio. They have this real old-fashioned décor. Expensive, but the greatest pie on Mars -- in the solar system, in fact.” He nodded seriously. “He likes rhubarb.” Chang shuddered and gulped another mouthful. “I like the ones with fruit. They use all fresh ingredients, you know.” He stood and smacked Dee on the shoulder. “Come on. I hear chocolate strawberry cream pie calling our names.”

Dee blinked. “You’re high.”

“Wait until you taste this pie.” Hair still dripping, Chang grabbed his jacket and hauled Dee to his feet.

Dee was seated in a taxi before his brain caught up and started thinking about protesting.

“Yep,” Chang said, leaning back in his seat. He clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “This pie, one bite and you’ll swear you’re in heaven.” The foot crossed over his knee started tapped the melody line of their last song. He licked his lips. “They make all their own pies, from scratch, every morning. Yes, sir, these are pies to get out of bed for.”

“Chang --“

“Sh!” He glared through one open eye. “I’m visualizing.”

Dee stared at the man a moment before sighing and tossing himself into a corner of the cab. Everyone knew that Chang was strange. He’d been a studio musician for years and years before Gus had introduced him to Dee. It wasn’t as if Chang hadn’t had other offers. He was an amazing guitarist. There were rumors about him, but most of them revolved around how antisocial he was and how he talked to his guitars. Still, anyone recording a track wanted him in their ensemble. He was just that good. Dee hadn’t the faintest idea how Gus had talked the crazy man into joining Dee’s band. Ha! Back then it hadn’t been much of a band; just him.

Their meeting was kind of a blur, come to think of it. After the duet with Gus at Power that catapulted Dee to the top of every gossip newscast in the city, the rest was kind of a blur. Oh, he sure remembered a few snatches here and there.

“Here we are,” said Chang, breaking into his thoughts.

Giving in to the prodding, Dee stepped out of the cab and gaped at the little café they stood in front of. “No way.” He smiled broadly for the first time in what felt like ages.

Throwing his arm around Dee’s shoulders, Chang led the way inside, not speaking until they were seated in a cracked faux-leather booth in a cafe built like a sausage. Most of the place was a long counter along the side. All the booths sat in front of the glass front, with menus tucked behind shakers of salt and pepper.

Dee ran his fingers along the black and white checkered tablecloth and stared around. “I had no idea you knew of this place.”

The guitarist grunted and Dee almost laughed, but an old woman in an apron was approaching them. She had a huge smile on her face and held her arms out.

“Why, if it isn’t Gus’s boy!” she cried, hugging him and giving him a kiss on each cheek. “I have not seen you in a long time!”

“Hi, Mei-san,” said Dee weakly. He ducked his head under Chang’s stare. “I can’t believe you recognize me.”

She tsked at him but smiled. “Of course I remember you, dear boy! One of the Mori clan, wet behind the ears still and bedraggled as a falling star.” She pinched his cheek. “So cute you were. You’ve been eating better. Dressing better, too,” she added, giving him an approving nod.

Dee blushed and she laughed. “You look like you need some coffee.”

“Coffee would be great.” He glanced at Chang. “And pie. You do have wonderful pie here.”

She patted his cheek. “Certainly, darling. Coming up.”

He stared after her feeling the years strip away until he was just a scared, hungry boy sitting overwhelmed in front of his idol. Helpless, he’d said nothing, only watching as Gus watched him back intently, as if determined to memorize everything about him. When at last he’d broached the silence, it was to outline the craziest idea Dee had ever heard.

"This isn't about talent," Gus had said, "this is about savvy, business smarts." He’d shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, smiled, and Dee had known he would say yes to anything he wanted. “We are who we are.”

“Yes, we are,” Dee sighed.

“What’s that?”

“Hm?” Chang was staring at him from over the top of his menu. “Oh, uh, nothing, Chang.”

“Talking to yourself is a bad habit.”

Dee opened his mouth to reply and stopped, tilting his head to regard Chang quizzically. “Are you teasing me?”

“I loved once,” Chang replied, changing the subject so abruptly Dee had to blink and rub his ear. He wondered if he’d missed something.

“Here you are, boys,” said Mei, setting down two steaming cups and two plates with generous portions of pie. “Chef calls it Dream Pie. You’ll like it.”

Dee listened to Chang’s delighted exclamations over the hot beverage. Real caffeine was hard to find on Mars. From the sounds he was making, Chang could taste the difference between the synthetic and the real thing in Mei’s coffee. Looking at him, Dee saw the same expression of bliss cross his face that Gus used to make.

Gus. Dee’s eyes tracked Mei’s path across the café as she tended to customers. Gus had said once that Mei was like a second mother to him. She’d certainly doted on him.

She moved on to her customers and Dee turned his attention back to where Chang had devoured both servings of pie amid grunts and moans of enjoyment. Dee tuned him out and closed his eyes as the clack of silverware and plates and glasses filled his senses. People chatted, babies cried, feet walked on the tile floor, chairs scraped, seats creaked, and the soft music on the restaurant’s speakers coated everything like a dream.

He could picture Gus sitting in the booth opposite him, breathing in the steam from a cup of hot chocolate. He’d sat and relaxed, eyes closing as he sighed. A small smile soothed the harsh lines of his face. Then he’d opened his eyes and smiled for real, laughing at himself and his weakness for chocolate. In seconds, they’d both been laughing.

“Dee. Dee, are you alright?”

He looked up at the touch on his wrist. His chest was tight and for a minute he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

"Call me Gus." He grinned. "Our clan names are so stiff and formal, don't you think?"

"Gus is so awkward," Dee tried to protest. The Earth-style name did not translate easily in Martian, but, to be on a first-name basis with Angus McKenna no Sato? Was he dreaming?

He shook off the memory with effort. “Why are we here, Chang?”

Two sculpted eyebrows rose in surprise. “Last chance for pie,” he said matter-of-factly.

Dee swallowed and looked around the little café again. In a few more days he would be boarding a transport headed for the moons of Jupiter. Unless something happened, the band wouldn’t be back for years. Groaning, Dee rubbed his face.

“We should order more pie.”

“Sure, you do that.” Rising, Dee clapped his friend on the shoulder and left. He waved at Mei; she waved back. The café disappeared behind Dee as he walked. A few minutes later, his cab rose up into Dream City’s sky traffic. Looking out the window, Dee recognized the downtown financial district, the university building, the sports dome, and a handful of other places. The skyline was growing crowded with all the new buildings.

The Mori clan had recently moved into one of the new skyscrapers. The family had the uppermost floors, with private access for taxis and other vehicles. Their staff lived on the floors under the recreation center, and then the family businesses were under that. Only the corporation’s offices remained in their traditional home, but those would move eventually as well. Mori-sama would accept only the best.

Dee left the taxi and took the lift down to his personal suite. These were not the rooms he’d grown up in; that building had been demolished to make way for new construction.

“Good evening, sir. How was the concert?”

Dee straightened up from the sink and took the towel from his valet in order to wipe his face. “What are you doing here? I thought I said …?”

“Hai, sir, but if you’ll permit me, sir, Sato-sama asked that I extend his gratitude for your kindness. He has taken his nephew home.”

With a sigh, Dee sank down in a chair. Automatically, his valet kneeled to remove his master’s boots. The service of a valet was yet one more of the things Dee had argued with his father about. Consequently, his valet was more of a personal assistant than servant. When he’d “run away” to become a singer, Dee’s valet had helped hide his absence and been summarily dismissed. Dee had hired him back just as soon as he could, and not only to spite his father. Norio was a friend.

“I have your trunks packed. All is standing by for loading on the transport ship barring the band equipment. You have only to specify --“

“Norio,” Dee interrupted, pausing in his undressing. “Gus, how did he look?”

His valet patiently folded the discarded garments. “McKenna-san is looking much improved, sir. May I remind you that your father requested your presence before we leave?”

Dee frowned. “You know my father and I are not speaking.”

Norio wisely did not comment. “You have yet to make the final selection for your tour manager.”

“I know, I know.” Dee pulled on some comfortable lounge pants and dragged a brush through his unruly hair.

“With respect,” said his valet, “why not have McKenna-san travel with you?”

Dee yanked harshly at a tangle. “Because!” he snapped, stopping and taking a deep breath. “We’ve been over this a hundred times, Norio. Gus would have to agree to it, which he won’t, his uncle would have to agree -- well, he might -- and because I can’t afford to bring along his medical care.” He pushed hair out of his eyes.

“Dee-chan!” The shrill, piercing voice sent Dee jumping to his feet. “What the hell? How dare you not take my calls!” Mariko’s voice preceded her into Dee’s rooms.

“Oh, and your sister called a clan meeting,” said his valet. Dee scowled at him.

TAKEHIRO no Mori entered the Mori clan’s meeting room with his brother and cousin at his back. He stopped abruptly, but his usual harassed expression did not falter. His eyes flickered around the room.

“Oto-san,” said Mariko, bowing formally in greeting. “Please, be seated.” She gestured to a seat half-way down the table from where she stood by the seat normally occupied by her father. Her mother stood on her right, Dee on her left. Their siblings and extended family filled every other available seat.

For effect, she had required everyone present to dress in their clan’s traditional robes. She pulled at the long sleeves and idly adjusted the folder of plas-sheet before her on the table while waiting for her father to take his seat.

“Daiki,” Takehiro began, gazing levelly at his son. “I wish you well on your trip.”

“Kutabare, Papa.” Murmurs filled the room but Dee’s mouth closed to a thin line when Mariko placed her hand over his fist. She would chide him later for giving into a childish desire to curse at their father, however much he deserved it for bringing this shame upon their family.

Jiro, sitting next to their mother, caught Mariko’s eye. As the eldest child, the leadership of the company should have fallen to him, but he’d stepped aside for Mariko when they were still teenagers. His supporting nod gave her courage now.

“Were it not for your many years of loyalty in the service of our clan,” she said, looking directly at her father, “I would have you exiled.”

“You dare …!” Takehiro leaped to his feet, slamming his hand down.

Mariko held up her hand, palm out. Her eyes went to each person around the table. One by one, they all nodded. “This clan has sat in judgment against you and has reached its verdict.”

“You have no right --“

“I have every right, Papa!” Her voice slashed through the tirade. “You have erased all confidence in you as head of this family just as surely as you erased the mind of McKenna-san. You have dishonored this family and we reject you and your leadership.”

“You reject,” Takehiro mocked. His contemptuous sneer raked the room. “You have no idea what honor really is.”

“Since I learned everything watching from your elbow, you may want to reconsider that statement.” She stared at her father until he sat back down. “Do you deny the charges?”

There was a moment of stiff, expectant silence.

“I do not.”

Whispers zipped up one side of the table and down the other. Mariko pursed her lips and waited for them to die down, holding her father’s eyes all the while. “You do not deny coercing George Mookjai in the sabotage of McKenna-san’s personal vehicle?”

“I do not.”

“You do not deny your involvement in George’s murder?”

“I do not.”

Mariko took a quiet breath. “You do not deny giving payment to Aleksi-sensei in exchange for altering the programming of McKenna-san’s nanites?” The doctor had been very forthcoming under the threat of a medical review by his peers. He was a weak man, and Mariko had no patience for weak men. She’d turned the evidence over to friends on the medical review board anyway.

“I do not,” Takehiro continued his formal, stilted replies.

The smaller, harsher, emotional confrontation had finished early that morning. Mariko would be glad when all this was over. She glanced sideways at her youngest brother, a study in cold fury. He could be as stubborn as their father. Certainly, he’d inherited the man’s temper and penchant for holding grudges. It was a good thing he’d be leaving soon. Maybe some time would help mend the rift. Then again, if it’d been her lover … Mariko didn’t know if she’d be as calm.

She stood. “It is the judgment of this clan that you, Takehiro no Mori, are to be stripped of all titles, all positions of power and leadership. Your bank accounts have been stripped and given to the Sato clan as merely a token of our shame and guilt. For the rest of your life, half of all monies you earn will go toward McKenna-san’s medical care until such time as his death, and then turned over to his clan afterward.”

She dropped her eyes to the plas-sheet in front of her. This was the part she hated the most, but Sato-sama had required it and his anger was justified. Her clan had all but ruined his.

“To cleanse this deep shame upon us, our clan shall take a new name.” She saw her father’s face turn white. This news would be all over Mars in seconds. Everyone would know of their shame, and it would be Mariko’s task to earn back the trust and respect of the other clans. “You alone shall retain the name of your fathers. Henceforth, we shall take the name Kurushimi, until such time as the Sato clan has assuaged its grief.” If that ever happened. Mariko had her doubts.

“This is…” Takehiro began, but he could not finish. His throat worked and his fingers curled around the table edge. “I --“

“You have given your justifications,” said Mariko sadly, cutting off not only her father’s words, but all the other whispers and horrified mutterings flying around the table. “We will hear of this matter no more.”

“One last thing.” All eyes turned to the quiet, elegant woman sitting to Mariko’s right.

Mariko paused, uncertain, but then sat, giving her mother the floor.

Ayako fixed Takehiro in an icy stare. “You are no longer my husband.”

Mariko wasn’t the only one who gasped and twitched to face her mother. The long courtship between her father and mother was legendary. As her mother turned to face her, Mariko understood.

“My clan has called me home,” said Ayako formally. “May I be released?”

The weight she’d recently taken onto her shoulders was almost too much for Mariko to stand. Tears streamed down her face as she spoke the ritual words to sever her mother’s connection to their clan. Distantly, she wondered how many others would follow, lest they, too be tainted by association.

“My daughter,” said Ayako, stepping forward to embrace her daughter. “I do not disown you, or my time as part of this clan. Purge this stain from the family.”

Mariko reflected on that. It would never be our family again.

“Yes, Mother.” She nodded and watched through her tears as her mother hugged each of her children and then left. The door shut behind her with a final sound, urging Mariko into action once more.

“Oji-san,” she said softly, but her voice was loud in the oppressive silence. “Please, take my father home.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t had me thrown out of my home, too,” Takehiro spat.

After hours of listening to her father spewing hate in the name of hate-fueled revenge, Mariko could listen to no more. She turned her back and strode to the window. Her father wasn’t sorry for what he’d done. He could see no wrong in his actions. How had they all not seen his obsession with the Sato clan?

Many of their business partnerships would probably dissolve. Their finances were wrecked now that the Sato clan’s debts were now theirs. Everything her father had done, now it was Mariko’s duty to repair. She didn’t know if she was strong enough.

A shadow appeared in the safety glass beside her. She didn’t even have to look to know who it was. “It’s not your fault, otooto.”

Dee sighed. “But I’m leaving you here.”

“I know, but, Dee-chan, your work will do much to honor our clan.” She turned to him and lifted his chin so that he had to meet her eyes. “I swear it, little brother. Do not take his faults upon yourself.”

Duty and desire warred in his expression. “I have to go.”

“I know.” He had already delayed the start of his band’s tour by several days. Mars understood, but the rest of the system didn’t know Martian laws or culture. Further delays would be unforgiveable.

One by one, the rest of the family came to them to say a few words, mostly in support for Mariko, and good wishes for Dee. He weathered them all bravely, Mariko thought. Dee had always been a little too reserved. Getting off Mars would be good for him.

“Dee-chan,” she said to him as the minutes ticked by. She pointedly glanced at the chronometer hanging on the wall.

“Mari--“ He choked up on the last syllable, giving her that watery look she’d seen so often as a child, when playmates and strangers mocked his height. He was the baby of the family, and she loved him dearly, perhaps more than any other sibling.

“You must leave, and you have yet to speak with Gus,” she reminded him of his duty. “The vendetta is over. Please extend our most heart-felt apologies to Sato-sama. And, little brother, you will always be a member of our family, no matter to whose clan you belong.”

Eyes big, he nodded at her. She kissed his cheeks and then stepped back.

THE Sato family’s apartments were in one of Dream City’s oldest towers. Sato-sama’s magnetized key let Dee inside the public doors and lift. He stepped out onto the correct floor and rang for admittance. Music almost knocked Dee over when the door slid open to reveal a rather disgruntled butler.

“Good evening,” Dee began, but he couldn’t hear himself talk. The butler grimaced and waved him in.

There were only a handful of rooms on the main floor. The more they walked, the louder the music seemed to grow. The butler left Dee at the doorway to a room that had all the lights extinguished. Dee could barely drag his eyes away from the beautiful antique piano in the room’s center in order to see the man in the corner.

Gus sat tucked up in a low chair with his eyes closed, feet stretched out before him. He had a blanket tucked around him and wore his high-tech body suit. He could have been asleep but for the way one finger in its glove tapped in time with the music.

Dee sat down on the piano bench and caressed the keys while he listened. As the music started over again, he started to play.

The music cut off abruptly.

“That’s my father’s piano,” sounded muffled in the sudden quiet.

Dee turned around to see Gus’s eyes narrowed on him. Dee ran his fingers along the dark wood. “It’s beautiful, Gus.”

Gus folded his arms across his chest. “Why are you here?”

“Are you angry with me?” Dee leaned forward slightly, frowning as he tried to decipher Gus’s body language.

“You’re leaving. Why come here?” Gus hunched his shoulders, looking away. Hope surged in Dee’s breast with such power he slid to kneel on the floor at Gus’s feet. It was pain that brought out such defensive behavior. Gus didn’t want him to go!

Silently, Dee handed over a slim electric pocketbook. “I wanted to give you this.” He held his breath as Gus slipped off the protective cover and saw the first photo.

Pre-accident Gus leaned against the railing of an exclusive club high above Dream City. He was laughing as the wind blew his hair into a snarled mess. He was all dark in the uncertain light; dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes like a Martian night. A darker pattern of tiny dots sprinkled across his nose and upper cheeks gave him a mischievous air without the elaborate stage make-up to hide the freckles.

Gus flipped through the photos, pausing every now and again. When he looked up, his eyes were wet.

“I was scared,” Dee began, setting his hands palms-up on Gus’s thighs, inviting the hands that slipped cautiously into his. “Your family, and mine, they didn’t want me near you. I didn’t want to hurt you. Your memory -- and everything we were together -- was just gone.”

“Not everything.”

“Yes, well, I’m not going to miss even one more second, even if I have to convince you every day that we’re meant to be together.”

Gus grimaced and tried to withdraw, but Dee didn’t let the delicate fingers escape.

“It’s okay. We’re going to make so many memories that it won’t matter when you lose a few. Your uncle explained everything to me. The nanites cannot undo what’s been done and I know that the treatments are losing their effectiveness, but, since Senator Inokuma got elected yesterday, it’s just possible that by the time we get back they’ll have figured out a way to make you as good as new. In the meantime, we’ll just have to make every day count. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for the chance to love you.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “Sap.”

“And you love me.” He grinned, because, really, what else mattered?

“Do I?”

Seriousness replaced humor. Dee cupped Gus’s cheeks in his palms. “Come with me,” he said. “You prepared so hard for an inter-system tour. I need that expertise, Gus. I need you. Come, and let me court you. Please, I beg you to let me try. I love you with all my heart.”

Gus’s eyes were dark, liquid pools. They broadcast Gus’s uncertainty.

“I swear upon my personal honor that I will let no further harm --“

“Don’t.” Gus’s finger to his lips stopped Dee mid-sentence. “You cannot promise that. No one can.”

“All right.” Dee swallowed. Letting his hands fall to his thighs, he sat back on his heels and waited. “Ask of me. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I promise.”

“I want to come home.” His voice was dry, raspy with need. “No matter what, I want to come home.”

“Hai,” Dee promised, nodded emphatically. “Yes, I swear it.”

“And.” Gus looked away, his throat working. “My uncle told me. He told me all of it.”

“I’m so sorry, Gus. Please hear me. I will work my whole life, and my family theirs --“

“Stop, please.” Gus’s eyes turned back, shocking Dee with their tears. “You did nothing, Daiki-san.”

“I love you.”

“I’m not him. That person, he is gone. Dead. Let him go.”

“If I do that, my heart will shatter into a million pieces.”

“I cannot be that person anymore.”

“Then let me get to know who you are now. I’m not a scared little boy anymore, Gus. You saved me. Now, let me save you.”

The tears spilled over as Gus leaned down to slide his thumb over Dee’s cheek. “You already have. You have restored my family, but even before that, you gave me back my honor. Please sing my songs, Daiki. I wrote them for you.”

“You remember our songs?”

Gus’s fingers tucked a chunk of Dee’s wild hair behind his ear. “It grieves me to know I forgot them at all. I’ve lost so many things.”

“Come with me,” said Dee, clutching at Gus’s wrist to press a kiss into a gloved palm. “Come and take back your life.”

“Life, no,” said Gus. “I just want my heart.”

His eyes were dark, filled with tears, but in them something twinkled. Joy leaped in Dee’s heart and he surged upward. In this kiss were no dark thoughts, memories, or recriminations. Heat surged through Dee at the contact, ripping a moan from his throat. Everything he’d ever wanted in the last three years filled that moan, every longing and desire, every hope and regret. He reached up and curled his fingers around Gus’s collar, tugging his head down further. He shivered when he felt Gus’s fingers in his hair. His lips trembled and opened, a plea that did not go unanswered. This was right. The fit was perfect. It was a promise, and more.

The kiss over, they opened their eyes. Gus smiled a genuine, happy smile. Yes, Dee promised. He would unearth Gus’s heart. He let his promise shine from his eyes. Until then, Dee’s heart was big enough for two.

The End