Crimson Footprints Part 3

"I-I know that you think it's an affront to the senses," she rushed up to him, blocking his way with her body. "But if you ask me, all architecture is an affront to the senses."

Daichi paused, lowered his gaze to the car, and returned it to her.

"I'm listening," he said quietly.

Deena swallowed. She'd half expected his next words to be a shout for security.

"Architecture isn't nature and it can't replace it. Nature stimulates the senses whereas architecture a.s.saults them."

Deena paused.

"Take Miami, for example. A place that seduces the senses. It's where blistering heat drenches you in sweat, where sweltering, breezeless nights leave you panting and where ocean waves pound against the sights, sounds and flesh of the city."

Deena fell silent; her cheeks flushed red. Had she really just said that? To Daichi Tanaka?

He turned on her, nearly smiling.

"And architecture? What does architecture do?"

She lowered her gaze again.

"Not that."

"Then why are you here? Why aren't you-an environmentalist?" He spat.

But she raised her head anyway.

"Because I'm going to make it do that."

She met his gaze, and found that his dark eyes danced. "Make it do what?" he said quietly.

Somehow, she was no longer afraid. She'd been laughed at most her life. What difference did it make who was doing the laughing?

"I'm going to make architecture like nature. I'm going to make it stimulate the senses."

Daichi's gaze traveled the length of her body. Were he another man, she might've thought it suggestive. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Much as I'd love to finish this conversation with you, Ms. Hammond, I've a flight to Nepal and as it is, I'm already late."

He nudged her aside and climbed into the Lincoln. Door closed, Daichi lowered the window. In his hand was a thick ecru business card with a gilded logo in gold flourish.

"Call me when you graduate."

Daichi peeled off, leaving Deena to clench the crisp card in her fist as she stood in that snow-covered parking lot, wondering just what happened.

When Deena worked up the nerve to contact Daichi she was two weeks past graduation and back at her grandmother's house in Liberty City.

"I take it you're in Miami now," he said dully.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Meet me at my firm in two hours. Bring some drafts with you."

"Sir?"

"One more time since I'm feeling particularly patient today. Firm. Two hours. Portfolio."

He hung up.

Deena borrowed the cab fare from her cousin Keisha, and rushed to meet the architectural icon at his office in Brickell.

The Tanaka Firm had twenty-five locations, in cities that included London, Rio, Mumbai and Tokyo. The U.S. headquarters, in Miami's posh Brickell district, reflected Daichi's affinity for forward thinking. A re-envisioned variation of modernism, the thirteen-story Tanaka Firm formed a right-angled triangle, with a glistening waterfall running the length of its straight side. Sheathed in mirror-surfaced steel and brushed aluminum, the building gleamed with the rise of the sun each morning. Among the perks of the office was the dock at the rear, with its access to Biscayne Bay, and ultimately, the Atlantic Ocean. Some days, Deena eventually discovered, Daichi took his yacht to work.

When Deena stepped into the firm's brilliant gold lobby for her initial meeting with her future boss, she had fifteen minutes to spare.

"Can I help you?" asked the security guard behind the desk.

Just past the sensory automated gla.s.s doors with the gold inlaid Tanaka logo, an automated message welcomed her in English, Spanish, French and a few other languages she was too uncertain to name. Deena wiped the sweat from her brow and took a deep breath, muttering a silent mantra of encouragement before stopping to survey her surroundings.

Turkish marble onyx covered the floor-the first time she'd seen in any person. She was surprised by how much she liked it. It should've been presumptuous, over-the-top, obnoxious. But when paired against the gleaming, una.s.suming maple walls, and an ultra-high vaulted ceiling, the gold and chocolate marble suddenly seemed bold and elegant.

To her right, was a broad and high bra.s.s desk, so polished it bore her reflection. Behind it was a security guard, short and thick chested with dull black hair and a big bulbous nose.

"Can I help you?" he said too loudly and she dropped her tubes.

Deena bent to retrieve them, shuffled to the desk and nearly lost a single navy pump on the way. Tubes back in hand; she brushed a tuft of hair out her eyes and smiled.

"I'm-I'm here to see Daichi Tanaka," she breathed.

The thickset Cuban man had a p.o.r.n moustache that quivered with a smile. Deena had never actually seen an adult movie, but a.s.sumed that thick moustaches were standard in them, as that was what her old roommate used to call them. That and lip afros.

The Cuban guy raised a brow. "Here to see Daichi Tanaka? Is that so?"

Her tubes clattered to the floor for an encore and she cursed.

"Yes. It-"

Deena disappeared from view and reemerged with the plastic cylinders.

"Yes it is."

"Listen, sweetheart. You can't just walk in here and expect to-"

"It's all right, Carlos. I'm expecting her."

Deena turned, sweaty-faced and surprised, at the sound of Daichi Tanaka's voice.

He'd stepped in from the street, as urbane and intimidating as ever in his tailored Armani. Daichi stood motionless as Deena's work clattered to the floor for a third time. She retrieved them and brushed the sweat heavy hair from her face yet again.

"About done?" Daichi said.

She him gave a weak nod.

"Good."

He took off, across the s.p.a.cious lobby, his Versace-loafered stride confident. Deena glanced at Carlos, though she wasn't sure why. When he nodded for her to follow, she scurried for the elevator. Daichi punched the bra.s.s up b.u.t.ton and turned to face her.

"Why don't you have a portfolio case?"

Deena lowered her gaze. She couldn't even afford cab fare, let alone the $200 to $300 those things cost.

When she opened her mouth to make up an answer, he held up a hand to stop her.

"Let me see something," he said, nodding at her tubes.

"Anything?"

"Well. I certainly can't request anything specific, now can I?"

Mumbling a calming mantra in her mind, Deena reached first for one tube, then another, before deciding to show him drafts for a small-scale sub-division she'd created in a senior level drafting cla.s.s. Just as Daichi unrolled the sketch the elevator doors opened at the top floor, and he stepped off without looking. A healthy brunette with a stack of manila folders toppled in an effort to avoid him.

"What am I looking at?"

He stared at her drafts as though they were the blueprints for madness.

Deena rushed to his side, stepping over the folder-laden lady on her hands and knees.

"It's a-a mimic of nature."

He handed the draft back to her.

"You have thirty seconds to tell me what this is."

He fished out his cell phone and began to punch keys.

"It's-it's a luxury community," she blurted. "I-I planned it with Miami in mind. There'd be lush tropical foliage, bird life and cul-de-sacs. The plan is for an eco-friendly construction and green building practices."

Her words were frightened fragments, but she hoped they made sense. The phone was at his ear and she presumed another one, somewhere else, was ringing. She needed to do better.

"The exterior of each town house would resemble a thatched roof bungalow and the interior would have an open air approach. Cathedral ceilings. French doors. Huge Palladian windows. Also, there'd be views of a manmade semi-tropical jungle. The foliage would...keep heating and cooling costs down." She trailed off lamely.

He wasn't even looking at her.

"I also plan to use hammocks, wildlife, true to the habitat and safe, of course, and a waterfront setting to give the homes a sense of privacy and seclusion in the community setting," she mumbled automatically, certain she was jabbering to herself.

Daichi glanced at her distractedly.

"Is that your best design?"

She blinked back the sting of tears.

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. Start a preliminary proposal. Angela'll show you to your desk."

Deena followed Daichi's gaze to the brunette still on her hands and knees. When she turned back, it was just in time to see his office door slam.

And that, in a gist, was Daichi Tanaka.

A few short years later, with the first test behind her, she sat at her desk just as anxious as ever.

"Shall I send in Mr. Tanaka?"

The intercom jarred her back to reality. The notion of Daichi Tanaka having to ask twice to enter her office had a sobering effect whose only equivalent was a pink slip.

"Jesus, of course!" Deena cried. "Tell Mr. Tanaka that there's no need to ask. Please, send him in."

Breathless, she stood and rushed to the door, opening it with a potent sort of dread. A short pause later, she was met not with the senior Tanaka, but the decidedly more favorable junior.

"If only I were welcomed so warmly everywhere I went," Tak sighed as he stepped into her office.

Deena stared after him.

"I thought you were your father. I thought-"

He held up a hand. "Don't. You'll spoil the warm feeling your gus.h.i.+ng invitation gave me." He turned to the flowers.

"Did you like them?"

Her eyes widened.

"They're from you?"

Tak shrugged. "Thought you could use a little suns.h.i.+ne. Was I right?"

The corners of her mouth turned up just a tad.

"Yeah."

She turned from him, eyes suddenly wet. Counting backwards, Deena waited until the tears abated, pretending to fuss over the larkspur. Once safely dry-eyed, she turned back to him.

"So, Mr. Tanaka, what brings you here?"

"Stopped in to see my dad, the a.s.shole, as you like to call him."

He smiled at her sudden blush and ventured over to the flowers. Tak fingered them half-heartedly.