Face Time (38 page)

“Just you,” he whispers into my ear. “I just want you.”

THE END

Thank You!

Thank you so much for reading
Face Time
. I hope you enjoyed your time with Lee and Laura!
 

Would you like to know when my next book is available?
 

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.

Please consider leaving a review of
Face Time
on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or wherever you find reviews. Your review can help other readers find books they’ll enjoy. I appreciate all reviews, positive or negative.

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Want more of Lee and Laura? You can find them online at their travel blog at
http://www.toleefromlaura.com
.
 

This is the first book in the Love in the Digital Age Series. You can learn more about this series and my other works of fiction at
http://www.spajonas.com

Thank you for reading!

Acknowledgements

Sometimes an idea hits me for a story, and I have no idea where it came from, but not this time.
Face Time
is special to me for a few reasons. In this modern day with technology interfering in normal day-to-day activities, it’s hard to remember that technology also connects us to the people we love. I have a good friend, Sharon, who is in the Air Force, as is her husband. When her husband was on deployment a few years ago, she would post screenshots from their FaceTime sessions and show us (via Facebook and Twitter) that he was alive and well. I could tell how much she missed him and that the FaceTime session were sacred for them. Neither of them felt as lonely as they might have if they hadn’t had this wonderful technology to keep them close. I thought, “I wonder what it would be like to FaceTime date someone? Have all the conversations, the sexual tension, the confessions, and not be able to connect physically with the person on the other end.” I ran this idea by my friend, Skylar, over FaceTime (she lives in CA and I live in NJ), and she, in no uncertain terms, told me I had to write it.

I have a few people to thank besides Sharon and Skylar for the original idea.
 

Tracy Krimmer. I’m not sure how our conversations about planks on Twitter turned into this great partnership, but it did. Tracy is also an author and has become my critique partner and biggest support. Thanks for reading so many versions of
Face Time
!

Sarah LaFleur. Another Twitter friend who has become a writing friend and critique partner. She read
Face Time
several times and gave me great feedback as well.

Carli Bandeira. Carli is someone I know both in real-life and on Twitter. She read
Face Time
on the plane home from Portugal even though her mother was next to her and all the sexy parts made her blush. She gave me invaluable feedback about fleshing out Lee and not rushing them along their natural path.

Thanks to my beta readers Heather McCoubrey (she had great ideas of when to bring Lee and Laura together), Gisele LeBlanc (she pointed out all the things that weren’t working and I made major changes to Laura’s parents and her friends based on her feedback), Rebecca Mongrain (she clued me in to Seattle weather), Annika Barranti Klein (she pushed me to work on the first chapter until it gleamed), Jessica Fomin (she laughed at the Adorama bit), Cori Wilbur (she provided me with a wonderful name and begged me not to kill Lee’s father), Sarah Heath (she also provided me with a name for Lee’s ex and cheered me on), and Laura Taylor (she has read every draft of everything I have ever written and Laura is named after her).

Thanks to my sister-in-law, Stella, who is Korean and provided me with lots of funny stories that inspired me to write about Seoul and Lee’s family.
 

This is my first adult contemporary romance but my SCBWI buddies continue to cheer me on. They all heard about this book at last year’s NESCBWI conference. Thanks to Kim Sabatini, Jodi Moore, Carli Bandeira, Megan Gilpin, and Katie Carroll.

Thanks to Lolita Verroen of Lola’s Blog Tours. I hire her for book blitzes, cover reveals, and blog tours, and she has been so helpful in trying to get my name out there. I’m so happy I found her.

I continue to be grateful for my family especially my mother and father, Claire and Ray Bush, my brother, Brendan, and his family, my Pajonas side of the family, Vic and Karen, all of my husband’s brothers and sisters. Thanks to my girls, C and D, again for letting mommy work while you danced to Disney songs or played hide-and-go-seek in the closets. My husband, Keith, still thinks I’m nuts but that’s okay. I still love him.

And finally, this book is for all the interracial and multicultural couples out there! You are all inspiring.

About the Author

S. J. Pajonas
loves all things Asian and has been in love with Japan and the East for as long as she can remember. Writing about Asia and Japan came naturally after studying the culture and language for over fifteen years. She studied film and screenwriting first and eventually segued into fiction once she was no longer working a full-time job.
 

Face Time
is the first novel in the Love in the Digital Age series, and Pajonas’s first foray into Korean culture and families. Along with
Removed
and
Released
in the Nogiku Series, she continues to take the cultures of Asia and weave them into stories that appeal to people from around the world. Her writing is described as unique and unpredictable. Expect the unexpected.

Stephanie lives with her husband and two children just outside of New York City. She loves reading, writing, film, J- and K-dramas, knitting, and astrology. Her favorite author is Haruki Murakami and favorite book is
The Wind-up Bird Chronicle.

Visit her on her website at
http://www.spajonas.com/

It’s New Year’s Eve 3103 in Nishikyō, and I’m ready to celebrate my twentieth birthday with my two best friends. Well, almost my twentieth birthday. It’s actually tomorrow, yet I always tend to think of New Year’s Eve as my birthday because that’s when I go out with Helena and Miko. This way we can eat, drink, and be merry as much as we want because everyone but essential services has tomorrow off from work. On the second of January, plans start back up in earnest. No more time off after this — there are too many things to get done before colonization begins next year.

People in my ward, Ku 9, have been prepping for New Year’s Eve for the past week. Walking by the local Japanese restaurant the last two mornings on my way to work, I could hear the old men and women chattering away while pounding and making
mochi.
My aunts buy mochi from them and eat it on New Year’s Day after going to the temple for
hatsum
ō
de
, our first temple visit of the year.

The streets are cleaner than they have been in months. In fact, I’m sure every apartment in the ward is completely clean. I know I wasn’t the only one on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor this morning. At home, we divided up the work. Aunt Kimie cleaned the bedrooms, and Aunt Lomo got the bathroom. After I was finished, I ran into several neighbors in the alley outside while taking out the trash, and they were all sweaty and dirty, sleeves rolled up to their elbows. Some traditions just never die.

I take a shower, trying my best not to mess up the bathroom, and pick out my new favorite kimono to wear tonight. I bought this one a month ago with some extra money I had set aside. For having been passed down through so many consignment shops, the kimono is in excellent shape. I only had to repair a few ripped seams under the arms, and I consider that a blessing. The silk fabric is a lovely, bright amber with a darker burnt orange hashmark design that makes the freckles on my nose stand out.
 

I have to admit I’m quite attached to those freckles. They remind me of my mother. My mother was Japanese. From her I got my most favorite features including my straight black hair and the freckles. She also gave me her thin figure which I was fine with until two years ago. My Aunt Kimie says I look just like her. My father gave me his wit that always makes Aunt Lomo laugh, his English pale skin, rounder eyes, and the temper I have to keep in check at all times.

Once I’ve twisted my hair back in a knot, put on a little makeup from Aunt Lomo’s beauty stash, and pulled on the white
tabi
socks, Aunt Kimie comes into my room through the rice paper screen and helps me into my kimono.

“Ah, Sanaa-chan. Twenty. Where does the time go? You’re so grown-up now.”

She sniffs and, oh boy, she’s stopping herself from crying again. I give her a quick hug.

“Don’t cry, Aunt Kimie. You do this every year.”

“Don’t make fun of your aunt’s New Year’s Eve tradition, Sanaa-chan,” Aunt Lomo calls from the other room, and we both laugh.
 

Aunt Kimie turns to my wall drawers and opens the top one she knows contains the obis. “Which one, Sanaa? The cream?”

“
Hai.
” Yes, I love the cream colored obi with the fan design. This was also my mother’s, one of the many things I inherited from my parents when they died. Aunt Kimie wraps the long, heavy silk around me and ties a drum bow in back before wrapping an
obijime
around my waist. She hands me a fan I tuck in to the front, in case the evening gets hot.

Aunt Kimie smiles at me and sighs, giving my face a soft pat. “Have fun tonight. Be a good girl. Eat a lot of food and don’t drink too much.”

“Auntie,” I say with a groan. “Aren’t I always responsible?”

“
Mochiron.
Still. You know I always say it.”

I purposely leave my everyday bag with my tablet in my room, grab my small red silk purse, slip into my
geta
at the door, and wave as I head out for the night.

“Don’t wait up!”

The streets of Ku 9 are filled with people. This may be the Science and Engineering Ward but the local council always sponsors gatherings here for those who don’t want to travel on New Year’s Eve. The sidewalks are a colorful, moving wall of people in kimonos and other citizens in normal Nishikyō wear, the double-breasted gray tunic shirts over loose pants of the same material break up the assault of bright colors swirling around me. I edge past a young couple carrying a small boy who is dressed up in his own little kimono and
hakama
pants (he is adorable) and head directly down into the transitway before I get sucked into people watching.
 

Ku 7, the Entertainment Ward where Miko’s family
izakaya
is located, is two wards away. It’s not a long ride on the train, but so many people are heading to Ku 6, the Japanese Ward, that the cars are filled to the brim. I have to wait for two trains to go by and hope I can get on the next one.
 

Ugh, I’m going to be late. I hate being late.
 

I check the tunnel over and over until a train finally comes. Nishikyō Transitway Authority runs more trains this time of year but it’s never enough. With the possibility of having to shuttle around over six million people on the biggest holiday of the year, you’d think they’d run the trains non-stop. Have they learned nothing in the past three hundred years? Apparently not because these big holiday delays happen again and again.

When I finally get on a train, it makes every stop between Ku 9, Ku 8 (the Extinction Ward where people in normal work clothes get off the train to work), and then Ku 7 where I exit at the second stop and head straight for the izakaya.
 

Most days Izakaya Tanaka does normal business from 10:00am to 3:00am. It’s a long day but izakaya staff and Nishikyō workers on multiple shifts enter and leave at all hours. Night and day have no meaning when the city needs regular maintenance. Even though the lights brighten and dim to maintain normal circadian rhythms, your night is someone else’s day and vice versa. It’s not like anyone sees regular sunlight anyway. The domes that protect us from the elements block out all light and most radiation.

Stepping up to the large picture window at the front of Izakaya Tanaka, I tap on the glass and wave my fingers at Helena who is standing right inside. She jumps up and down with a girlish scream,
sake
sloshing out of the cup in her hand.

“
Irrashiamase!
” All the staff shout welcoming me as I walk through the door.

“
Konbanwa.
” I say back as Helena jumps at me with a forceful hug.

“Happy birthday, Sanaa-chan!” Helena’s face is bright and gleeful. She’s probably been laughing and chatting up these people standing right by the door for some time. She’s so outgoing and, gods, so tall! My neck hurts looking up at her sometimes, but I’m a measly 160 centimeters tall and she’s at least 180 centimeters. Tonight she’s twisted her long, blond, curly hair up and is wearing a bright pink kimono which suits her pale complexion nicely. Her cheeks are a little flushed, but that could be the sake too.

“Thanks, sweetie. You look gorgeous, as usual. Where’s Miko?”

“Behind the bar with Sono. Where else? Anyway, you’re late. I thought you’d be here by 7:30? I was ready to call in a search team.” Helena knows how much I hate being late.

“Trains were packed, and Aunt Kimie was giving me the sad eyes as I was on my way out.”

“She helped you get dressed? Your new kimono is lovely.
Utsukushii desu ne!
”

“Thanks,” I say while smoothing out the front. The hurried walk from the train loosened up the obi a little. I hope the bow holds up all night. “Let’s go talk to Miko. Maybe if we’re loud enough the men sitting at the bar will leave.”