Page 3 of For The Record

“Raina,” I say, trying to imitate our mother’s warning tone. It doesn’t work. Probably because, as Raina loves to remind me, I’m not her father. I’m her constantly exasperated, older brother.

She sports a mischievous,devilishgrin. “Naoya!”

“Do you want a selfie?” Naoya asks as Raina’s yellow-nailed hands wave wildly in the air. He probably thinks she’s a crazed fan wanting a picture or an autograph. I don’t even know if she is one, which says a lot less about our age difference and a lot more about the lack of time I spend with her. Our outings went from weekly to monthly when I moved out of the suburbs. “Youarea fan, right?”

“Nah, but my brother is.” Raina gestures toward me. “Do you know Leo Perez?”

“Hey, Leo. What’s up, man?” He gives me a complicated bro-handshake that I do my best to replicate, my inadequacy making me feel far older than my twenty-nine years. Naoya jerks a thumb toward Raina before running a hand through his blue-dyed hair, which stands out against his pale skin. His expression is far too appraising for my sensibilities, eyeing her as though she’s a piece of meat on a butcher’s block. I have the urge to get out of here or throw a drink in his face. “Is this your little sister?”

“Raina Aguilar, meet Naoya Sugawa,” I say, gesturing between the two in place of a response. “This is mysixteen-year-oldsister.”

Raina rolls my eyes as I emphasize her age. “Nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure.” He shakes her hand. “Mind if I sit down?”

Iwouldmind. But in this city, telling lies only improves people’s career prospects. “No, not at all. Please, take a seat.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“So, did you just happen to be in the area? Or do you just like the food here?” Already, I can sense the frenzied hordes of paparazzi lying in wait outside, ready to ambush him with questions about what he ordered and whether his latest date is his girlfriend. Nobody wants to get caught up in that crossfire. “

“Oh, well, you know, I just…” To my surprise, the usual playboy charmer is silent. Naoya rubs the back of his neck, where a temporary tattoo of a dancing bear rests. Part of his image is that he only has temporary tattoos, always causing fans to speculate about where and when he’ll put his next one. It’s good publicity, I guess, but to me, it just seems like a hassle to constantly put on and remove them. “I’ve heard good things about this place. I guess my friends weren’t wrong.”

To my surprise, Raina stares sullenly at her phone. I open my mouth to tell her to put it away, before stopping myself. She’s right. I’m not her father. And I’d hate to draw attention to her lack of manners in front of one of the world’s biggest pop stars.

Still, I wonder who she’s waiting for a text from. Part of me feels guilty that I don’t know, and that I’m not even sure she’d tell me if I asked. I brush off the concern, the shame wedging into a locked compartment of my mind that I refuse to open.

“Yeah,” I say. Maybe Naoya is here to talk about Ryder Black, him and every other pop artist worth their salt in a ten-mile radius. “Are you coming to the party?”

There is no other partythat I could be referring to. Naoya knows this. Yet he scratches his chin like he’s trying to remember what I could be talking about. I drum my fingers under the table, tapping on my knees as I wait for him to speak. Though to be fair, the man probably has received a dozen invitations to ten different parties in the past hour, so he really might not know which one I’m talking about.

“Ryder Black’s party,” Raina says for emphasis, her voice dripping with disdain. For Naoya? For me? For whoeverisn’ttexting her?

“Why? Will your sister be there?” Naoya asks, gesturing toward Raina.

I lose my appetite immediately.

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Raina says, her nose practically pressed against her phone screen. “You could ask me to my face.”

I quirk a smile. That’s the sister I know and love.

“Nah, I already know. You’re sixteen years old and your brother has a stick up his—” he pauses, as though reconsidering his words for once since he’s in the presence of a minor. Then I realize it’s just so he can pop his gum. “Butt. You’re probably not going unless you sneak out.”

Never mind. Raina’s eyes light up and her phone clatters to the counter. She sizes him up. Is she… batting her lashes and twirling her hair? I’m going to be sick. “Maybe I will.”

“Then maybe I’ll see you there, Raina.” He lifts his water glass as though in a toast. “To teenage rebellion.”

Naoya is twenty-four. When he was a teenager, my sister was still in elementary school.

“To not doing dumb crap like encouraging a sixteen-year-old girl to go to a Hollywood party,” I say. “Naoya, I think I see a TMZ reporter calling your name. Why don’t we get lunch sometime so we can catch up?”

We lock eyes and we both know we will never get lunch together. Still, the cue gets him to leave, at least. “I’ll see you around, Perez. And maybe your little sister, too.”

My hands clench into fists. Before I can think about swinging a punch, he walks off. Is it just me, or did that last sentence sound like a threat?

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@TMZ: Watch @NaoyaS confrontation with @LeoJPerez in L.A. restaurant! Video below

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