"Jake," Elizabeth greeted, giving him a saucy smile. "Didn't expect to see you until at least one o'clock today. Katie told me you were pretty crocked last night."
"I'm pretty crocked every night," Jake replied, telling her nothing she didn't already know. "You can't keep a good man down."
"He is a good man," Kate said with a smile of her own. "But I must say, he stayed down for quite a stretch last night."
"Hush yourself, little missy," Elizabeth told her daughter. "You don't have to flaunt it, you know."
"The hell I don't," Kate said indignantly.
Elizabeth gave her a motherly glare for a moment and then turned back to Jake. "Ah well," she said with a shrug. "At least it's my turn next, isn't it, Jake?"
"That would only be fair," Jake agreed. In truth, he found sex with the elder Crawford woman more physically enjoyable than with Kate. Though Kate was smoother, firmer, and prettier, Elizabeth was experienced. She knew how to move and when, what to suck and why, and how to manipulate certain muscles in such a way that they brought tremendous tactile stimulation to whatever part of his anatomy they were gripping.
"How about tonight?" Elizabeth asked hopefully. "Are you going to come down to the Lazy Eye?"
"Afraid not," he said. "I have something else going tonight. A business dinner, if you know what I mean."
"Ahh," Elizabeth said with a grin. She certainly knew what he meant. "I see."
"A business dinner?" said Kate. She certainly did not know what he meant, and probably wouldn't be happy about it if she did.
Jake had no intention of enlightening her. Neither would her mother, he was sure. "Yes," he told Kate. "Someone from the bank where I keep my New Zealand accounts. We need to go over some of the latest exchange rate fluctuations."
"Ahh, I see," Kate said.
"Fluctuations," Elizabeth said with a little chuckle. "That's rich."
"So anyway," Jake said. "I was thinking that sushi and sashimi would be the thing to serve. What do you got for me?"
Both women made a sour face. "It's beyond me how anyone could eat raw fish," Elizabeth said, "but I think we can do business. We have some bluefin tuna and some salmon that just came off the boats yesterday."
"Beautiful," Jake said. "How about Marlin?"
"I have some filets in the freezer out back," she said.
"I'll pass on the frozen," Jake said regretfully. "I'll take half a kilo of the bluefin and the salmon though. Oh, and how about a kilo of that squid? I'll use some of it tonight and then cook up the rest tomorrow night."
"You got it," Elizabeth said, pulling out one of her knives.
Jake went out to his truck to retrieve the ice chest he carried for such errands. By the time he returned, Elizabeth had his order cut and packaged in plastic bags. While Kate rang him up at the register, Elizabeth filled the bottom of the ice chest with crushed ice, put the packages on top of it, and then added another layer of ice on top.
He bid farewell to the two fishmongers and carried his ice chest back to this truck. A short drive brought him to the Lyttelton road tunnel that led under the Port Hills. Jake entered the tunnel. 1.9 kilometers, or, just over a mile, later, he emerged from the other end and was in the city of Christchurch. The streets here were a bit more crowded with traffic. He wound his way from the tunnel to the southern portion of the city, entering a neighborhood where large numbers of Japanese — a sizable minority group in Christchurch — made their homes. Here, he parallel parked his truck on a small side-street and walked half a block to the small market owned by Kenjiro and Miliko Nishimura, native Japanese who had lived in New Zealand for the past twenty-two years and had run Nishimura Market for the past eighteen.
The middle-aged couple spoke heavily accented but understandable English. They greeted Jake warmly when he entered, as did many of the Japanese customers who were wandering the aisles, picking out items that were generally not for sale in traditional New Zealand markets. Jake returned their greetings and spent a few moments talking to Kenjiro and Miliko's twenty-year old daughter, who worked part-time in the store. Hatsumi — called Hattie by everyone but her parents — had been born and raised in Christchurch and was currently a student at The University of Canterbury, where she was working on her undergraduate degree prior to applying for the School of Law there. She was short and petite, with large, doe-like eyes, small breasts, and a gorgeous set of legs. She had visited Jake's house on several occasions since he'd discovered the market — a fact her parents and the rest of the Japanese community knew nothing about.
"When can I come over for dinner again?" she whispered to Jake as she helped him pick out seaweed wraps, rice vinegar, sake, and wasabi for his meal tonight.
"How about Saturday night?" Jake said, mentally checking his calendar and finding an opening on that evening. Hattie was fun. She was relatively new to the whole sexuality thing, but a quick and inquisitive study. Nor did she have that annoying Christian morality issue to get in the way of some of the more interesting aspects of getting it on.
"I'll be there," she said. "Seven o'clock again?"
"Perfect," Jake assured her. "What should I make for dinner? Do you want steak again?"
She smiled. "Yes," she said. "You know how much I love your meat."
"It's all in the seasoning," Jake told her. "All in the seasoning."
Chapter 21b
Jake put the wasabi and the seaweed in his ice chest, the rest of the groceries on the floorboard, and climbed back in his truck. He worked his way south until he was just out of the city proper. Here, he entered State Highway 1 via an onramp and continued south into the heart of the Canterbury Plains — a vast stretch of cattle grazing and farm land.
A fifteen minute drive brought him to a small farmer's market where the local landowners hawked fresh produce, freshly butchered meat, farm-fresh eggs, and locally produced honey. There was a farmer's daughter who regularly staffed a booth at this market that Jake had made very personal acquaintance with. She was not here today. Jake was not terribly disappointed by her absence. His social calendar was pretty much as full as he wished it to be for the next two weeks. He chatted with a few people he knew (and a few he didn't know), bought some tomatoes, lettuce, celery, mushrooms, corn, and cauliflower, and then climbed back in his truck and headed north again. It was time to go home and start the next phase of his daily routine.
He put his groceries away and then made a large sandwich out of wheat bread he'd made himself and some leftover chicken breast from two nights before. Since it was now well into the afternoon hours, he popped his first Steinlager of the day and drank it while eating his sandwich in front of the kitchen television set. It was now just after 6:00 AM in Khafji, and the battle for the town was continuing. CNN reported that the US marines and the Saudis were now getting the upper hand and the Iraqis were starting to pull back across the border. American planes and Cobra attack helicopters were pounding them as they retreated. There were also reports that eleven marines had been killed when the Iraqis destroyed their armored vehicles with anti-tank fire. These reports were so-far unconfirmed, but, if true, would be the first significant US casualties of the conflict.
Jake watched the coverage for almost two hours, until he became bored with the repetition of the same old information. While watching, he drank three bottles of Steinlager and smoked six cigarettes, despite his vow to start cutting down on both vices. He also did not go utilize any of the gym equipment he had purchased and installed in the back room of his house. He had a treadmill, a stationary bike, a stair-climber, a complete Nautilus machine, and a complete set of free weights. The equipment was all brand new and had acquired exactly zero hours of use so far, despite the fact that it was one of Jake's first purchases upon moving in.