The Enforcer and his Princess Ch 03

Despite the chaos that is Toronto traffic, Kenji deftly found a parking spot close to the Art Gallery of Ontario. He ensured that he parked with the passenger side on the sidewalk. When he exited the car, Kenji ensured to button his suit jacket before he opened the door and presented his hand to his awaiting princess. The brown doe eyes she wore met his with a smile that caused his heart to leap. She pulled herself up and kissed his cheek as she waited for him to retrieve her purse and cardigan.

Hera laced her fingers with his as she instructed him to hold her things as they walked towards the entrance of the AGO, a melted metal and glass art piece that almost looked like a wave. She leaned in closely to him and whispered into his ear, "I loved coming here with you as children."

He almost responded, the words barely contained on his tongue when she frowned.

"The door, Kenny," she said with an exaggerated sigh and frown.

He blinked and grabbed the long handle and pulled it open. She waited for him to grab the secondary one before she walked into the awaiting foyer. The large, bright entrance was inviting and Kenji walked in long strides to purchase their tickets. He accepted the offered map of the exhibits, returning to his date. He offered her the map, but she shook her head.

"We start at the top and work our way down," she proclaimed.

And so, they did. They spent hours walking the galleries, Hera full of information on the painters and their relevance to which movement; cubist, landscape, and so on. Kenji just let her talk and very slowly the girl he had once known appeared in the shadow of this fantasy she played. The artist and their work morphed into the time in society they live and what were the great social issues of the time. He saw the sweet who cried when an animal was hurt in a movie or television, softly expunging the evils of capitalism and the patriarchy. He saw as she righted herself, pulling back on the costume, but it continued to happen over the course of the afternoon.

After they had finished the gallery once, they returned to the top floor, to the cushioned bench in a tucked away corner they had found and sat for quite a while discussing their other shared love, Godzilla and all of his movies. Hera continued to keep her voice very low, but would be occasionally swept away by Kenji's wit and quietly snorted a laugh. Her cheeks reddened each time. He smiled so much his cheeks hurt. She had undone the laces on her platform sneakers and had placed her stocking feet against his leg, like she had when they were children and discussing the latest fantasy story that they were creating together.

"What's this, eh? Kenny, my boy! Fancy meeting you here."

Kenji's eyes withdrew from Hera and fell upon four large men he hadn't notice arrive.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" His voice was tight. Reflectively, he stood and placed himself between the men and Hera.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, bud. We're here because my wife sent me to buy her some jewelry from the gift shop," the one who had spoken before said.

"Then why are you on the third floor? The gift shop is in the atrium, attached to the entrance," Hera's accent was strong. She grabbed her sneakers and began lacing them as she kept her eyes on the men.

"Been here before?" Another man chimed in.

"No, but we passed it when we entered and I commented Ken may need to buy me a souvenir," she pulled on her sweater and grabbed her purse. She maneuvered behind Kenji and placed a hand on his arm.

"Eh, are you Luma?!" The first man said excitedly. "My wife loves you! Can we get a picture together?" His wide smile was off-putting.

"No, I do not take pictures with fans. If your wife is truly a fan, she will know that."

He scowled. "Too stuck up?" Kenji tensed.

"No. My likeness is my art. I curate a very particular look and style. I have no control over fan pictures so I simply do not do them. It is clearly written in my social media description." Hera's face was impassive, stone, the men's attempt at subtle intimidation fell flat. "Ken, I'm growing hungry. You promised me dinner."

"Gentlemen, I'd say it was nice to see you, but I don't lie in the presence of my lady." He beamed internally at calling Hera his lady. Her fingers tightened on his arm and he stepped forward to move between the group.

"Ken," the leader, Danny said. "Your cousin is in town. You should come to our bar and see him."

Kenji hesitated. "I don't have any cousins."

"Yes, you do. Yer Ma had a few siblings. Finn's in from Belfast. Wanted to meet his Jap cousin."

Kenji fought the urge for violence. He hated his parents and refused to be a part of any of their extended family. Fionn Weir was just another brute. They had tried to corner him into a meeting in the past, but the broken noses and bloody lips had been a good enough deterrent for some years.

His dark eyes narrowed, "I don't have any cousins." He pushed through and quickly moved Hera to his front, again placing himself between her and the thugs.

As they made their way to the stairs, Danny called out. "You may not like us, bud, but we are more family to you than the Backovics. You should think about that meeting."

(2)

Safely back in the car, Kenji's hands held the steering wheel so tight the scabs on his knuckles began to peel away, tiny streams of blood began to leak from them. Hera, without looking, took one of his hands and squeezed it gently. Her touch brought him back, relaxing his grip. She continued to hold his hand, her eyes staring out the windshield.

He sighed. "There's a Russian place not far. We go there a lot."

"No," she replied. "No more Russian food. In your letters you mentioned finding a really good Indian place. Take me there."

"It's pretty far."

"Good."

They drove in silence. Hera had turned on the AC again so Kenji flicked on his seat warmer. After some time, she turned on one of the streaming radio stations that came with the car, 'dad rock'. Nickleback, Slipknot, and Tool became the thing that drove the silence away as Kenji spiraled into thoughts of the Irish. He was angry and bitter. He had wanted to punch out every one of Danny's teeth before sending him back to his Italian overlords. He was so engrossed in his fantasies of violence that he nearly missed the parking lot to the restaurant. He turned the car off in a spot that faced the front window. The large space had a few families dining, but appeared pretty quiet.

"Are we eating in?"

"No," she replied as she grabbed her purse. "You stay, I will go in."

She held out her hand. He reached out to touch it when she slapped it. "I want your credit card, Kenji." He shuffled and pulled out his leather wallet, placing one of his cards in her awaiting hand.

He watched her walk in and grab a menu. After a few minutes, she spoke to the staff member. She pointed out the window to Kenji seated in the car and they both smiled and appeared to laugh. His cheeks burned. What had she asked? What had they said in response? Sullen, he grabbed his phone and started texting Sasha.

K: Long day.

S: I can't imagine why.

The left back door opened and Kenji startled, turning off his phone and placing it into the centre console. The smell of warm spices enveloped the small space and he breathed it in, finally realizing he had only had coffee all day. His stomach growled as he realized she hadn't asked him what he wanted, she simply ordered. He loved Indian, but had failed to mention he only ever got butter chicken, mild. Hera placed the food in the back and buckled it in for security.

When she got back into the passenger seat, she pulled open the glove box again and handed him the address as well as his unadorned set of keys. He took that for instructions and thumbed the address into the GPS. They drove in silence again, the pleasantness of their afternoon was gone.

When Kenji pulled into the assigned space at the front of his new building, he sighed and turned off the car. He got out and opened her door, his hand waiting. She ignored it and stood, grabbing her purse.

"My suitcase is in the trunk. Grab that and the food," she said as she fished out her bedecked set of keys. He did as he was instructed as she waited by the entrance. The doorman held the door for her as they waited for him and his full hands.

The condo unit was on the third floor. It was a large one bedroom with an open concept front room that included the kitchen. The bedroom had double glass barn doors, curtains hanging behind the glass for privacy. The couch was set in the middle of the room, away from the walls. A large TV was mounted between the two prominent windows. Once entering, Hera moved around the apartment closing all the blinds and pulling the curtains as well. Once done, she pulled off her wig with some effort. She kicked her shoes off into a corner and peeled off her cardigan. The dress fell to the ground shortly followed by the turtleneck. Kenji expected her to be naked, but she had more things underneath. A bra, shape wear as well as tights. She stood for a moment just breathing as she released her natural hair from the wig cap.

"I'm going to shower," she stated as she grabbed her suitcase from Kenji and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door.

He sighed deeply and placed the bags of their food on the marble island in the kitchen. He unlaced his shoes and pulled them off, grabbing Hera's discarded sneakers and placed them neatly by the front door. He saw that two pairs of slippers had been left so he shuffled his feet into the larger pair and made his way to the couch. He didn't sit so much as allowed his muscles to give way and fell into the cushions. For a moment he was disconcerted, the sofa was boneless, one of the popular ones you could order from a website and have shipped to you. It was a comfortable corduroy, light grey. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

Kenji must have fallen asleep because a moment later, to his mind, droplets of water began to drip on his face. He opened his eyes to see Hera leaning over him, her wet hair the cause. Her eyes were grey once again, the scar on her lip and her tattoos all present.

"We eat, then you sleep."

Hera has pushed the glass coffee table out of the way and placed some pillows on the floor. Two plates were waiting, rice and foods portioned on each. Kenji shuffled off the couch and sat cross legged on a cushion, Hera did the same. She broke a piece of naan in half and offered him a piece. He took it, grabbing his spoon and digging in. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. It was delicious, but quickly he came to realize his mouth was on fire.

He coughed and cleared his throat, "it's good." Hera's cold eyes stared at him as she ate some of her aloo ghobi.

"It is. I love cauliflower."

He tried to eat more, his face becoming increasingly red and sweaty. Hera let out a good natured laugh and stood. She padded over to the kitchen and retrieved an untouched container. When she returned, she placed it in front of him. He opened it and realized it was his normal meal.

"Butter chicken, mild. The waitress knew you and your order," she smiled.

Kenji coughed and grabbed one of the two bottles of water he saw by her and chugged.

"I, uh... Thank you," he said as she scooped the small bits of his remaining food onto her dish, giving him space for the chicken. "Is that all vegetables?"

"Yes. I no longer eat meat."

"Oh? Why?" She was silent for a while, so long that Kenji assumed she wouldn't answer.

"There is enough death in this world," she said softly. "I don't wish to add to it." And there she was, the girl he loved. She wouldn't meet his eyes as she finished her food.

"Hera..." He began, at that moment his phone lit up, a rhythmic ring tone with the name 'Marcella'. He quickly declined the call. He cleared his throat, ready to try again when it lit up ringing again. Hera's grey eyes looked from the phone to him.

"You should take that in the bedroom. Don't bother coming back out, I will sleep out here."

She picked up the plates and his container and dismissed him.

It had only been a ten minute call, but it had been enough. Marcella didn't care for being ignored and told Kenji to delete her number. He sighed and sat on the bed, his face in his hands. He was far more upset that Hera believed he had a girlfriend than he was that Marcella had dumped him. Truth be told, he had only found her beautiful. They had nothing in common, his heart didn't race when he saw she messaged. Not like when Anna would bring him Hera's latest letter. He had only really been dating her because Sasha had insisted he put himself out there.

With an exasperated sigh, he had fallen back on the bed and after a few minutes, was asleep.