Chapter 12
Annalise
Three weeks after Melbourne, I find myself walking along the streets of Tokyo. Unable to resist the beauty of cherry blossom season, I once again chose to arrive ahead of Travis and Alyssia.
I’m on my way to meet at a ramen restaurant for dinner. Aside from a quick stop at my hotel to drop off my luggage, I’ve been out wandering all day, snapping photos of the hidden parks that house scenic gardens and the most spectacular trees, including the world-famous cherry blossoms.
“Annalise,” Jen calls, waving as she comes around the opposite street corner.
We meet at the front of the restaurant.
“How are you? Any jet lag?” she asks after we hug, sounding partially out of breath the way that I’ve come to expect from her. As the busy owner of her own sports agency, she’s often hard to pin down.
“You know how it is,” I reply. “As long as I keep moving, jet lag can’t catch me.”
She laughs, her red, wavy locks falling over her shoulder as she does. Our mutual hair color isn’t our only similarity, as we both ended up bonding over our love of sports when we met at the law firm I’d interned at during the summer after my 1L year.
She’s almost ten years older than me, but was one of the few who took me under her wing which helped lead me to getting hired by that same firm after graduating with my degree.
“That’s what I say, too.” She sucks her teeth, her lips twisting sideways. “Though my doctor tells me all of the travel and little sleeping will catch up to me eventually.”
“What do doctors know?”
She laughs before we head into the restaurant where she’s made a reservation. This time of year, Japan is often packed with tourists coming in for the cherry blossoms, and of course the Grand Prix.
Though the location of the race is hours away, most people will make at least a short trip in Tokyo for the sights before heading south.
“How’re you doing?” I ask Jen as we settle in. “I’m sure it’s busy.”
She tuts. “This is the first time I’ve sat down since getting off the plane three days ago.”
“Business is booming, I assume.”
She pauses as our sake is placed at the center of our tables. I hold my cup out for her to fill before she does the same, allowing me to fill hers.
“You assume correctly,” she finally answers, holding up her cup to cheers.
We say the customary Japanese saying before taking our first swigs and then refilling one another’s cups.
The Suzuka Grand Prix often coincides with Jen’s semi-annual trips to Japan, so it’s one of the occasions I have alcohol.
“Tell me about it,” I encourage as we’re served our first course of sushi.
Jen opens up about the three baseball players she’s hoping to sign to a contract with the Japanese league.
“Many of my clients have never even considered Japan as an option.” Most of the athletes Jen works with have contracts with the MLB but those don’t always work out, and players that can’t get into the American league are often a good option for one of the Japanese leagues.
“I’m also working on connecting with the KBO in Korea. I’d like to see how good a fit it might be for some of the players I’m eyeing in college right now.”
“Won’t that add to your already packed schedule?” I ask, twirling my ramen around the spoon I hold in my left hand. “Are you thinking of taking on another agent to help?”
When my questions are met with silence, I look up from my noodles.
I shake my head. “I don’t like that look,” I say in response to the sparkle in her green eyes as she watches me from across the table.
“Don’t be like that,” she playfully whines. “I have been thinking of taking on another agent. I don’t know, say, someone with a stellar law degree, graduated at the top of her class, passed the bar on her first try, and was hired by one of the best law firms in the state.”
“And flamed out barely a year later,” I add, gloomily.
She dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand.
“You didn’t flame out. You discovered working in that type of environment wasn’t for you.”
“No.” I shake my head and point at her barely touched bowl with the tip of my wooden chopsticks. “Your ramen’s getting cold.”
“Can’t have that.” She digs into her bowl, devouring the salty, starchy noodles covered in an amazing broth.
I know the conversation isn’t over, though.
That was just Jen’s opening. She hasn’t gotten as far as a woman in a predominantly male dominated field by taking no for an answer the first time she asks.
We keep the conversation light, talking about the upcoming Grand Prix, which Jen will be able to attend on Sunday with the tickets I got her.
“You’re going to be busy over the next few days, huh?” she asks, spooning some of the matcha ice cream we’ve ordered into her mouth.
I nod as the spoonful of ice cream I’ve eaten slowly melts on my tongue before I swallow.
“Fine, then I guess I have to make my pitch now.”
I sigh. “I thought this was a casual dinner between friends.”
Jen hums. “It is, and it’s a potential job opportunity for you.” She points with her pale pink painted nail.
“I have a job.”
Frowning, she lifts a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Are you really happy working as your brother’s assistant?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, sounding more defensive than I intended.
She shrugs, unperturbed. “Because you didn’t go to law school to be an assistant.” She quickly holds up her hands. “You know I don’t mean that as an insult. We need assistants. Hell, I would’ve never made it onto my plane without mine.
“This reservation would’ve never been made, and my clients would be with someone else. My point is, you can use all of those great executive function skills you have and your stellar legal and negotiating skills along with your love of sports to be a fantastic agent.”
My brain immediately conjures up all of the reasons I would make a terrible sports’ agent with her firm.
“You’re laying it on thick tonight,” I say instead.
“And you’re avoiding something.”
I shake my head. “Have you forgotten that I don’t even like baseball?”
Her frown deepens. “Baseball isn’t your favorite sport, no,” she admits. “But you’d still be a great negotiator on behalf of your clients.” She folds her arms and leans into the table. “I still remember the way you went to bat for our client, Stephens, while you were still an intern.”
That incident took place the second summer I interned with the firm and was ultimately what led to me receiving an offer for a full-time position once I completed my degree.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Which means you’ve only gotten better with age.”
I chuckle before sobering up.
“I can’t leave Travis in the lurch like that. He’s in his first year of marriage and fatherhood, and at the top of a new season to defend his championship title. It’d be shitty of me to quit right now.”
Using my brother’s needs is taking the coward’s way out, but Jen knows how loyal I am when it comes to family. She backs off.
Mildly.
“Give it some thought,” she says, because no great negotiator ever ends on a ‘no’ as the last word.
“I’ll do that,” I lie.
“Who knows,” she says, as we separate from our hug just outside of the restaurant, “I could be persuaded to expand my agency beyond baseball.”
“To what sport?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Motorsports?” She winks.
I roll my eyes, not to dismiss her words, but to suppress the excitement that sparks inside of the pit of my stomach.
“I’ll see you in a few days.” She waves as we go our separate ways.
While it’s the last thing I want to do, I can’t stop the way my mind turns over my discussion with Jen. As I meander through the emptying streets of Tokyo, I think about Jen’s life and work.
The year I started at our old firm was the same time she decided to strike out on her own. We’d already bonded over our mutual love of sports and the law, so it was easy to keep in touch. I admired her for knowing what she wanted and going after it.
In that way, she reminded me of my mother, who’s always been a career role model for me. Which is why it hurt more than I expected when I realized working in big law wasn’t for me and chose to resign.
Switching from thinking about work to my surroundings, I opt to take the long way back to my hotel. It’s well after dark, but I don’t feel unsafe walking around, and it’s something I often do while in Japan. Some might say I should be more cognizant of safety.
Not too far from me is the beautiful Asukayama Park with its famous blossom tree and perfectly pruned bush lined trail. I went earlier today, but I love the idea of walking through at night as the crowds have thinned out.
Per usual, I stop here and there taking pictures and admiring how different it looks at night, although there are lights throughout the park so it’s not completely dark.
In the distance I hear male voices, but don’t pay them much attention. Their English tells me they’re foreigners as well, probably here for the blossoms.
“Hello?” someone says behind me.
Assuming he’s speaking to someone else, I continue to focus on taking pictures and then pausing to scroll through my phone’s gallery, smiling at the pictures I’ve taken since arriving.
“Excuse me?” the voice says closer now.
“What’s the matter? You can’t hear or something?”
My head snaps up and I turn, immediately getting into a defensive position. When I realize three pairs of eyes are focused on me, my stomach sinks and I inwardly curse myself for not being more aware of surroundings.
I should know better than to let my guard down that much.
“What’s your name?” one of the guys asks. By his accent, I can tell English isn’t his first language. But he’s not Japanese. Maybe German, if I had to guess.
I scan the other two, sizing them up before returning my attention back to the one who asked the question. He’s about six-foot and appears to be in pretty good shape. Since he’s the one who asked the questions and stands slightly in front of the other two, I conclude that he’s the ringleader.
Which means he’s the one I’d have to take out first if these three decide to act stupid tonight.
“I don’t give my name to strangers,” I reply, watching him carefully.
He chortles. “How can we stop being strangers if you don’t tell us your name?” His voice is a few decibels too loud, and I can smell the alcohol emanating off of all three of them.
“Maybe you should take it for the hint it is,” I suggest.
He glances back over his shoulder at the other two, laughing. “We’re just trying to be friendly. You look lost.”
“I’ve lived in Tokyo for two years,” one of the guys in the back says. “I can help you wherever you need to go. What’s the name of your hotel?”
Yeah, these guys are drunk as hell if they think I’m going to give them the name of my hotel.
“I’ll find it on my own. You can go be a good Samaritan elsewhere.”
This angers the ringleader and he takes a step closer. His face has compressed into a scowl.
“We were just being nice. But we can become not so nice if you want to be a bitch,” he says through clenched teeth at the same time he attempts to reach for my arm.
He never would’ve gotten the chance to touch me under normal circumstances.
But circumstances get even more abnormal when I go to send a palm strike right to the guy’s throat but he’s already on the ground.
Thwap!
My brain registers the sound of the punch moments after it’s happened.
I look from the guy now on the ground up into a familiar pair of hazel eyes that I’ve never seen this angry.
“You have two seconds to get your sorry arses out of here or I will finish beating you all to a pulp,” Max seethes.