Living In The Shallows (UK Crush #1)

Chapter One

I was awakened from a light, uneasy, half-sleep by the voice of a flight attendant telling me in Japanese we were going to begin our descent into Narita International Airport. I raised my window shade, letting in the late May morning sunshine and getting the first glimpse of Japan I'd had in seven years. I never thought I'd return here, until an amazing stroke of good luck landed this incredible job in my lap, translating for actors who were filming a movie.

The past three days had been a blur of packing, emails, signing contracts, and saying goodbye to my friends. Ben, my roommate, had been full of endless questions, few of which I'd been able to answer, simply because I didn't know the answers myself.

As I stood in line at customs, it occurred to me that, in the whirlwind of the past week, no one had actually told me the names of the actors. Or the name of the movie. Or even the name of the production company, for that matter. It was that hush hush. I knew the name of the English movie studio that had hired me, and that was it.

I cleared customs, found my driver, and settled down for what would be my first ever ride in a limousine. Very posh. I opened a complimentary bottled water and looked at my reflection in the window as we sped toward downtown Tokyo and the super fancy Ritz-Carlton Hotel in the upscale Roppongi district. My appearance, never of much interest to me in Los Angeles, always came to the forefront of my thoughts whenever I was in Japan. I mean, I didn't exactly blend. I was average height, maybe 5'5" or 5'6", I was never sure; in Japan, however, I could be considered a tall girl. The only measurement I knew for sure was my hand span, which was a disappointing nine inches, too small for a concert pianist, especially for some of the major composers, like Rachmaninoff. Hair, dark brown, trimmed when the split ends got too bad, not exactly straight, but not curly enough to be curly. Boobs, a little too big for piano or swimming, my other passion, but what could a girl do? Shoulders broad from all the swimming. And I had a tendency to gain weight when I wasn't in the water. Which I hadn't been for a few months. My brown eyes were probably my best feature. They looked Asian to Westerners, Western to Asians; they'd been called "expressive" once by a drama teacher, which I thought was nice.

We were coming into the city; I caught a glimpse of Tokyo Tower, so we had to be getting close to the hotel. Surely someone there could give me some information on this great job I'd landed. We pulled up under the covered entrance of the hotel, and I stepped out with my luggage and walked into the lobby, feeling a bit lightheaded from the lack of sleep and the long hours spent on the moving, swaying airplane.

**********

"So...here we are!" She turned to me. "Tiny thing you are. You don't look old enough for this job, love," she joked.

Then she got down to business. "Normally I'd at least sit in, but everything's a bit confused right now, with the other interpreter just, disappearing like he did. But they're nice lads, you should be fine, and I have two other places I have to be right now." She patted my arm reassuringly. "Here's a list of phone numbers and emails you'll need to input as soon as you can." She put a folder of papers down on the desk in my room. Her name was Betsey, she said she was the "tour manager" (tour manager?), and she had a lovely British accent, like a friendly extra on Downton Abbey. "I'll be your main contact if there are problems, and I'm easiest to reach by text. Everyone on this list is here to help you and make your job easier. Your job is to translate for the boys and just be with them wherever they go. This isn't like being in France or Germany. They can't read the signs, they can't communicate at all, and they stand out like a sore thumb here. If one of them were to get lost or in trouble, it could get very bad very quickly. You're high up on the food chain, so if anyone gives you any trouble at all, you tell me, and I take care of it. Got it?" I nodded for about the tenth time. "Good." She put out her hand again, and as I shook it, she said, "Welcome to the team!" She walked to the door, turned as she got to it and said, "Oh! Nearly forgot! The boys will be waiting for you on the fifth floor, in conference room 3, the Sakura Room, I think it is." And with that, she was gone.