The Hero Next Time: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 4)

Chapter Four: Lauren, Saturday

"That's quite the whistle you have," Regan remarked as she and Lauren watched Sunny descend from the stage. She dug in her ear with her finger. "My ears are still ringing."

"Sorry. I learned it from my dad. That, along with aikido and swordsmanship."

Regan's eyes widened. "He taught you how to use a sword?"

"Well, we trained with a bokken when I was a kid so I didn't kill myself. Later, though, he gave me his father's sword as a wedding present. I have it in my office and practice iaido with it regularly."

Regan gaped at her in wonder for a second. "You have a sword," she said. "How old?"

Lauren noticed Regan didn't ask what kind of sword. "World War Two, unfortunately, so not that old, and mass produced. It works, though. Still sharp."

"You said it was your grandfather's? Did he fight in the war?"

Lauren nodded. "He took it home as a trophy. My dad wouldn't tell me if he killed a Japanese soldier for it or if he just found it on the battlefield."

"So, he fought for Canada."

"Yup, and they still fucked him over."

"Fuckers." Regan hissed. "Still, what an heirloom. And your dad trained you to use it. He sounds like a cool dad."

Lauren smiled and felt the sting of tears as she said, "The coolest. He's training my kids, too." She'd pointed out her kids to Regan before Sunny had given his speech.

"Hey, have you ever visited the Nikkei National Museum and Cultural Centre in Burnaby?" Regan asked. "It's basically a repository of the Japanese Canadian experience. Lots of exhibits and programs, for children and for seniors especially. Language classes, martial arts, ikebana, tea ceremonies, everything you can think of."

"Huh," Lauren said, surprised. "You know, I haven't visited. I feel embarrassed to admit it never crossed my mind. And my dad, well, he's kind of an exile from his heritage even though there's no one prouder of it, so he's never visited either, but maybe it's time we all go, me, my kids, and my dad. It might be good for all of us."

Regan's brow furrowed. "When you say he's an exile..."

"He fell out with his family by marrying a white woman."

"Ah." Regan nodded. "That's too bad. Mine did too, but his family's more understanding, I guess."

"I think they just saw her as a representative of everything that happened to them, and couldn't understand how he could betray them like that, never mind that my mom's family came over from England after the war, and had nothing to do with the government at that time. Who can control biology, though?" 

"I get it." Regan looked at Sunny as he mingled more with the crowd. "What did you think of his speech?"

Lauren put her hand to her chest and sighed. "I never knew he could speak in front of a crowd like that. I'd be too nervous."

"Not a side of him you see, I guess?"

"No, when we all get together, it's usually just us and our kids. Pretty intimate."

"What about his platform?"

"I can't argue with any of it. I love the idea of the women's housing. It's the main barrier women have leaving abusive relationships, not having anywhere else to go. I live in Burnaby, though, so I can't vote for him. Or you. It's too bad."

Regan was only half listening to her, because she was paying attention to Sunny talking to one of the rare white men in the crowd aside from his friends. He was a young man, too, relatively, maybe in his thirties, though it was hard to tell. Floppy hair, chiselled jaw. He was pretty hot, if Lauren was being honest. He had the whole stubble thing down to just sultry enough without being a slob about grooming. It was his eyes, though, that captured her. Hauntingly blue. Sunny was talking to him, but he didn't look happy.