Week 2: Day 11: Guess the Genre

Welcome! Guess the Genre continues. Sorry this is so late...had an appointment. This is a very rough draft of a WIP.



Andoisamu, Incorporated

Copyright © 2012 by Serenity King

Hiroto Andoisamu was sitting in one of his favorite restaurants waiting on his brother, Atsushi, and his three cousins, Akio, Daichi, and Katsumi to arrive. All of which were business his partners, a part of Andoisamu, Incorporated. They were all meeting to discuss their latest assignment.

Andoisamu, Inc. consisted of several different business ventures. One of which was the restaurant he was sitting in now—Kisumu, located in midtown, New York. Kisumu specialized in Japanese and American cuisine. The only person in the restaurant that knew that he was the owner was the manager, Soko. Hiroto preferred to keep it that way. He owned the restaurant in name only the operation of the restaurant was under the sole leadership his manager.

Hiroto looked around the establishment. The place was already filling up. He knew that the restaurant was by reservation only, and some reserved months in advance for dinner—although they took reservations for lunch there was usually enough seating to accommodate patrons without reservations.

The conversations were energetic…not overly rowdy. One could still carry on a conversation with a companion and be heard. The people that patronized this established ranged from the businessmen and women, to actors, actress, and even some reporters. Hiroto’s musings were interrupted by a rather obnoxious group of young men sitting at a table across from him.

“Hiroto, how long have you been waiting?”

 Hiroto looked up into the smiling face of his cousin, Daichi. “Not long,” he responded and watched as Daichi took a seat directly in front of him.

“Good. Akio and Katsumi will be here in a minute. Where’s Atsushi?”

“I don’t know. He said he would be here after made sure everything was secured,” Hiroto said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It is not like him to be late and not call. I will wait for the…”

 Hiroto was interrupted from what he was about the say from a loud noise at the table across from them which held an obnoxious group of stock brokers. He knew that they were brokers just from the conversation they were having—at least most of them were. The table sat 10 people.

“Hmmm, maybe they should slow down on the nihonshu,” Daichi scowled.

“I think so too,” Hiroto commented his left eye twitched something it often did when he was annoyed. He didn’t care for the conversation the young men were having. From the corner of his eye he noticed Soko walking briskly towards the group of men. Hiroto visible relaxed as he watched Soko handle the situation.

“Uh oh. We may have trouble, Hiroto,” he heard Daichi say his voice full of humor.

“What kind of trouble?” Hiroto answered, his gaze following in the direction of Daichi’s. There was their assignment sauntering proud, as if she were walking a runway for a Ms. America contest, could towards them. Shoulders straight, hair pulled away from her caramel face in a clip, black leather dress, and the sexiest pair of black stilettos. Hiroto eyed her from head to toe. She was a sight to behold—a sight that was not supposed to be here.  

“Hm, wonder what she did with Atsushi?” Daichi chuckled.

Hiroto had a headache right between the eyes. This was turning out to be one of the worst assignments they’d taken on yet. Kamora Coleman was turning out to be a pain in his ass. How one woman managed to evade most of his team was beyond him. There was only one thing he could do to keep her safe—guard her himself.

Hiroto braced himself and waited for her to approach their table.

“Hello gentlemen,” Hiroto heard the rich sound of her voice and looked her straight in her beautiful rich brown eyes—eyes that held challenge as she glared at him.

“Where is Atsushi, Kamora?” He asked quietly, noticing the two men that came into the restaurant just as Kamora entered. They’d followed her he knew. Hiroto could tell by their gestures. The fact that they sat down at the table with the rowdy bunch made him uneasy.

“How should I know, Hiroto? He’s your brother. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, my table awaits. Tootles,” she whispered, wiggled her fingers and went to move past him. Hiroto wasn’t having it. He was out of his seat and grabbed her by the hand before she could move past him.

“Daichi fill the others in. I have to get her out of here,” he said, then spoke to him their native language—advising him to watch the two gentlemen that had just walked in, as he swiftly led Kamora out of the restaurant.

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