were covered in red cloths that reminded her of an Italian restaurant.
There was a bandstand, instruments and microphones in the center of the room, but near the front wall. The band that was playing when she entered had just finished a set and was walking around, mixing with the crowd. A picture of a Japanese shrine covered the wall behind the bandstand. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, each decorated in pictures of Japanese culture from the past. The rest rooms were located on the north side of the room away from the bar and the dance floor, and there were a few private booths nearby that were crammed full of young people in their early twenties, all dressed in faddish club clothes.
Dancers moved past them and returned to their seats as canned music filtered out of the speakers. Another band appeared. This time, it was four young men in their twenties. They moved into position near a piano. She stared, recognizing one of them as the guy who'd come to her aid in the hallway upstairs when she arrived. Wait. She knew all of them. It was Aomori, the guys from the photo Charlotte showed her in her office back in New York. Her stomach did that clenching thing again. She almost didn't recognize them because their hair was different...longer and untamed. The clothes they wore were more contemporary, low riding jeans and chest revealing T-shirts. Okay, they had her attention.
One of them sat down at the piano and then someone dimmed the lights, leaving the spotlight on them. The audience quieted as the piano intro began. Dorothy, Jackson and Riley turned on their stools to watch and listen.
One of them raised a mike and a beautiful tenor voice eased out. A few seconds later, three more soulful voices joined his.
They can sing too. Shit. She'd hoped they could so she would have an excuse for thinking about them. Shaundra settled back, watching the way they moved, listening to their harmony and wondering why the sound was getting to her. Hopefully, it was just her imagination.
The next song was a more upbeat tune, which had the crowd back on their feet, including Dorothy and Riley, who looked a bit out of place with the youngsters. Jackson ordered a beer. "Would you like something else?"
he asked her.
"No, I'm fine." She paused. "These guys are good."
"They're okay. Cute too."
Shaundra smirked. Jackson never hid the fact that he was gay. In fact, he built his writing career on the sexuality. His Facebook page was crammed with young gay males trying to get to know him.
"Yeah, but young," Shaundra finally answered.
The band performed a few more songs and then Dorothy and Riley returned to their seats. Dorothy frantically fanned herself to cool off as she hopped back onto the bar stool. She ordered a Long Island Iced Tea.
"Those guys are so good," she said once she had her drink in her hand. "I wonder who they are."
"Our pet project," Shaundra announced. "That's Aomori, the group Harper told us about."
Dorothy looked back over at the band that had finished playing and had moved on to a table close by. No other band appeared, just music for the speakers. "Do you know them?"
"Not really, why?"
"Because two of them are looking at you."
"I'm the lone African American in a Japanese lounge. I'm bound to draw attention." Shaundra raised her eyes. Sure enough, the lead singer and the one who played the piano were staring directly at her. "Oh, them.
They nearly knocked me down when I arrived earlier. They were running down the hall, playing like a bunch of kids. I guess they remember me from that."
"Look, one of them is coming over." Dorothy adjusted her clothes and smoothed down her hair.
Shaundra smirked. Dorothy was older than she was and had no business getting all excited about meeting some boy band member. It was the piano player.
He stopped before them and bowed from the waist. "My name is Satoshi Hayashi. Are you a Ms. Shaundra Morrison?"
"Yes," Shaundra said coolly, wondering how the handsome Japanese youth knew her name. "How can I help you?" She looked him over.
Satoshi was a tantalizing sight, six feet tall or taller with shoulder length black hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans that rode his slim hips like a glove. She raised her eyes up to his face. He had perfect skin, a slender nose and thin lips. He also spoke flawless English.
Satoshi pointed toward his