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Chapter 5: That Stupid Banner

After lunch, Marc and Joan went to a park, where he showed her some stick fighting basics. They were still going through drills when Mokuba arrived. The raven-haired man stood quietly watching until Joan noticed. "Oh, hey!"

"Hey," Mokuba replied.

Marc put away their sticks and wrapped his arms aggressively around Joan's waist as he faced his boss. "Same rules as your brother. My girlfriend. Your whore."

Mokuba rubbed the back of his neck. "I've never actually done this before."

Marc's glare hardened. "Good. You are now experiencing what American teenagers feel when they meet their date's father for the first time."

As this sunk in, a smile spread Mokuba's lips. "All right, good one."

Marc smiled as well and released Joan. "Have fun now!" He waved as he walked off.

Joan watched Marc walk away and focused on preserving the memory of his touch. He never kissed her goodbye, only hello. Turning back to Mokuba, she slung her backpack and purse over one shoulder. "So what's the plan?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that. You're the American," Mokuba said.

Joan eyed the almost-stranger before her. He dressed casually in jeans and a striped shirt, approachable. The best way to make him less of a stranger was to get closer to him. "OK, let's start with a hug. Americans do that a lot."

"OK." The last time Mokuba had hugged even his brother was when he was a little kid. He stepped forward awkwardly and held his arms out.

Joan leaned in and wrapped her arms around his upper back. "You're so rigid. Relax. Smell my hair or something."

Mokuba inhaled and caught a subtle whiff of lavender mingled with fresh pheromones from the light sweat she'd worked up with Marc. "Yeah, that is nice."

Joan gently broke the hug. "See? A hug can tell you a lot about a person."

"What did you learn about me?" Mokuba asked.

Joan couldn't put into words most of what she felt while hugging him, but it was a nice hug once he loosened up. She settled for saying, "That you need more practice. Are you a virgin?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"If you see it as a problem, I can help you fix it, but if you'd rather stay that way, it's not my place to judge."

"So have you had a lot of virgin clients?" Mokuba asked.

"During college, four virgins, but not as clients. You and Seto are only my second and third clients ever."

"Really?" Mokuba's eyes went wide.

Joan slipped her hand into Mokuba's and they began strolling through the park. "It was just a blowjob, but yeah, he paid me, so it counts. What about you, though? Have you ever even had a girlfriend?"

"Kinda, for a little while."

"What happened?"

"She left for college. I think I could have kept her if I'd gone with her, but Seto said it wasn't worth it."

"The college or the woman?"

"Both. Seto wanted me to stick around and run Kaiba Corporation's side ventures, so that's what I did. First I ran some tournaments, then Kaiba Land, then Duel Academy, and now Seto's decided to call our American branch Super Kaiba Megacorp because it's way smaller than our office in Japan and he thinks it's funny." Mokuba's breathing quickened.

"Are you doing all this to please him, or do you actually enjoy the work you do?"

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"It's a little of both. If he let me run the show more, I could have more fun with it. Even though this is his first visit to Silicon Valley, he's been bossing me around over the phone. I mean, you saw that stupid banner. Marc had to handle that one personally to get it right, and it was a complete waste of time for him. I can't bring myself to display it on the street, so what's the point?"

Joan stopped walking and drew Mokuba down to a bench, encircling him in a comforting embrace. "You know, it's pretty, so it's not going to scare away anybody. If you put it on the street, you wouldn't have to look at it inside all day. And who says you have to have only one banner anyway? Get Marc to make something you actually like and put that where you can see it on your way into work."

"I guess there's always that, and I'll probably do it after Seto leaves. I'm just tired of having to find sneaky ways of doing what's right for the company. Like our narrative designer Laura. I wanted someone who could really play up the dark history of Duel Monsters and bring it to life, and I knew Seto would hire some stiff if I put out an open call for applications, so I gave Laura a try and it worked out. Then she introduced me to a friend who became our video content manager and he's amazing, but now that Seto's met them, he wants to fire them both."

"Seriously? I mean he kinda threatened Marc too, but . . ." Joan trailed off.

"Marc is practically untouchable. He's a frontrunner in the industry and we stole him from a rival company. Seto had a lot of fun rubbing it in their faces afterwards. I was the one who wined and dined Marc, though."

"Yeah, he told me about how you basically gave him and Laura an all-expenses-paid California vacation before he came to work for you."

"All true." Mokuba leaned back against the bench. "It was actually a lot of fun for me too. It made me feel like I had real friends again."

"Aren't they still your friends now?"

"Kinda, I guess. It's not like we do anything outside of work now, but they make work fun. Like how they invented this game with Kuriboh plushies. Kuribohs are basically these little brown furballs. For every day someone is late or misses work, they get a Kuriboh on their desk. Then they can't get rid of it until someone else is late, so now anybody with Kuribohs shows up extra early."

The practice struck Joan as a public humiliation tactic, but at least it was more benign than the backstabbing she'd experienced at her erstwhile internship. "Why don't you ask Marc and Laura to hang out sometime?"

"It's different now that they actually work for me."

"OK then. There are lots of other ways to meet people: hobby classes and dating websites."

Mokuba sighed. "I know. I just don't want to leave too many people behind when I go back to Japan. I know how it feels to get left behind. I mean, you have someone, more than just one someone, right? So when I go, you'll still have someone."

"So that's why you've hired me?"

"Um, well, yeah. Can we not talk about that, though? I want to pretend."

Joan felt that she had gathered enough information from Mokuba to go on. "In that case, maybe we should start over."

"What do you mean by that?"

Joan stood, walked five paces away, spun five hundred forty degrees, and approached the bench. "Hey there. Have you seen my bicycle by chance? I'm sure I locked it up here an hour ago."

"Uh . . ." Mokuba paused as he got his head in the game. "Sorry. I didn't see any bicycles when I got here."

"Damn. That means I'll have to walk home. It will be dark by the time I get there."

"I could give you a ride home," Mokuba offered.

"No way, really? Let me buy you dinner first then. I'm Joan, by the way." Joan extended a hand.

Mokuba stood and shook it. "I'm Mokuba."

"Cool. What do you like to eat?"

"Burgers and fries."

Joan suppressed a giggle at his stated preference for American food. "I passed a place that looked good earlier. It's not far," Joan gestured north.

"Lead the way!" Mokuba said.

"OK."

Mokuba stood and walked beside her, feeling awkwardness in the swing of an empty hand no longer touching hers. "I know this is stupid, but have we met before?"

Joan shook her head. "Not a chance. I would have remembered eyes like yours."

"Really?"

"I edit novels, and one of my clients wrote a historical fiction story about violet-eyed Klondike Kate. I'd never seen someone with violet eyes and I had to check the internet to see if it was even possible. You're the first one I've met in real life, and your eyes are incredibly captivating."

Mokuba blushed. "Oh. Thank you."

"So, do you live around here?"

The conversation went on like that as they ordered food and stuffed their faces, sticking to surface-level topics. Joan refrained from mentioning her other guys as they got an overview of each other in terms of favorite colors, animals, cities they'd visited, and music.

"I haven't been to a dance since prom," Joan said as they were picking through the last few fries.

"Prom is not even a thing in Japan, but I went to some corporate galas. My guardian made sure I took formal dance lessons, but I never got to, you know, just dance, like to popular music and stuff."

Several times now, Joan had noted the use of the term "guardian" and decided to avoid asking about his parents. That conversation could be saved for a later date. "You know, I've never been clubbing. Most of my friends are too nerdy to do that with me."

"Me neither. That sounds like an adventure."

Joan's phone buzzed. "Hold that thought." It was Roland, asking for her location. Joan texted him back quickly. "That was my, uh, roommate wondering why I'm not home yet. She's on her way to pick me up. I guess you'll have to give me that ride another time."

"How about a ride to and from the club?" Mokuba suggested.

"Perfect."

"How about this Friday?"

"Um . . . my weekends are pretty much booked for the next month." Joan pulled up the planner on her phone. "Would a weekday evening work for you? It would be less crowded then anyway."

"I might wind up with a Kuriboh the morning after, but hey, why not?"

"Wednesday then?"

"Sure."

Joan finalized the note in her planner and looked up to see a limo outside the wall-to-wall windows of the burger joint. "I think that's my ride. I gotta go." She slipped Mokuba a business card with her phone number on it and gave him a peck on the cheek before scampering away.