| Detective no Arashi |
| itsOK | Дата: Суббота, 03.12.2011, 21:12 | Сообщение # 1 | Полковник Группа: Администраторы Сообщений: 220 Награды: 33Репутация: 38Статус: Offline | И еще один ориджинал, не смогла удержаться - очень люблю эту историю...
Title: Detective no Arashi
Author: helenmaldon
Length: chaptered, this chapter is about 2800 words
Pairing: Juntoshi
Rating: PG? Lots of (cigarette) smoking.
Genre: AU. Drama. Crack? Attempts at humor.
Disclaimer: Of course I don’t own Arashi!
Summary: AU. Ohno is a private investigator in late 1940s Los Angeles. Inspired by (and sometimes parodying) detective fiction and film noir, especially the movie The Big Sleep. Very different from my first fic!
Chapter 1
It wasn’t a dark and rainy night. It was a bright and sticky LA afternoon in the middle of summer. Sunlight broke in through the venetian blinds like thick slabs of butter while the broken ceiling fan rotated half-heartedly overhead. I was sitting alone in my office with my feet on the desk, dreaming of salmon, when I got the call from Aiba that would turn my seedy little existence upside down.
Most people are surprised to learn that I’m a private investigator. A Sam Spade. A gumshoe. A private dick. A…whatever else they call a detective. I suppose my personal appearance could best be described as slight, even unassuming. But that’s the key to my (moderate) success. Unassuming. Meaning that other people don’t make assumptions about me. I may not be the biggest, or the toughest, or the smartest, but I’m the quietest dick in all of Los Angeles. And I’ve found that if you keep your mouth shut long enough, secrets just start pouring out of people like water. The work suits me---I’ve never had much to say anyway.
I came to LA from the sticks---my parent’s orange farm---wanting to be an artist. But then I discovered that there wasn’t a big demand in the art world for clay and resin models of our nation’s greatest Jazz singers. Even though I hand-stitched the clothes myself. The museum doesn’t know what it’s missing.
What were in demand were forgeries. So I did that for a while, painting a Van Gogh in the morning, a Monet in the afternoon, and a Rembrandt in the evening. It wasn’t a bad life, but I guess I took too much artistic license because I ended up in San Quentin. If I thought finding work was tough before a trip to the pen, it was nothing compared to finding work as an ex-con.
So I went into business for myself. I had a lucky break---I inherited the agency from a friend. And then Aiba came along and dusted the place out and plugged in the phone. I don’t know where I’d be without the guy. Sure, he’s not the greatest secretary---I’m not the greatest detective. But he keeps us running and makes sure we get enough per diem to scrape by. And the guy’s got intuition like no other. Some days he’ll come in with his jacket on inside out, but with just one sweep of those big brown eyes he can tell you who’s trouble and who’s just in trouble. I listen to Aiba.
So even though I was in no mood to see a new client that Friday afternoon---I’d just wrapped up a case the night before, and I’d spent the morning breaking it to three different wives that yes, their husband was in Redondo Beach with the secretary---I agreed when I heard Alba’s breathy voice crackling over the intercom, “Boss, you’ll definitely want to see this client.” His voice was raspy with excitement.
“Send him in.” With a sigh, I took my feet off the desk and my hat off my face---dreams of ocean-caught salmon would have to wait. It was ninety degrees at five in the afternoon. Suffocating. I’d thrown my jacket off and started rolling up my sleeves. I could feel where sweat had soaked through my white dress shirt, collecting under my arms and at my lower back.
The guy who walked into my office, on the other hand, looked as cool as a cucumber. Or maybe an iceberg. After a glance at him (okay, maybe I gave him the old elevator eyes), I realized that Aiba’s intuition had finally failed us. Or that he was screwing with me. Because this client was trouble. With a capital T.
I think I described myself as unassuming. Well, one look at this guy’s face and you could pretty safely assume that whenever he walked into a room, heads turned. In fact, people probably got whiplash from craning their necks to get a good look at him. And now this car wreck was smoldering in the middle of office.
He was taller than me, with legs that went on just long enough and a surprisingly broad chest, considering how narrow his waist was. His shoes were shined and his dark brown suit fit him to a T, hinting at muscular thighs and shoulders. I wondered what was underneath that pink oxford shirt---I caught a seductive glimpse of collarbone where he’d casually unbuttoned his shirt at the top. Even indoors, he wore a pair of black sunglasses embellished with rhinestones at the corners.
He reached up an elegantly-manicured hand to remove them. I won’t say my mouth dropped open, but I watched with considerable interest as he removed the glasses and shook out his perfectly-styled black hair. If his body belonged in a museum, the curator would have held a special exhibition for his face. A pair of thick, black eyebrows complimented his sculpted features, their perfect regularity contrasting with his soft lips. I automatically licked my own lips as I studied the small shadow cast on his chin by his full lower lip.
But he still wouldn’t have been half so dangerous if it weren’t for the dark brown eyes he’d revealed---a man could get lost in eyes like those. Though their current expression suggested that he’d shoot you down before you took the first step.
Flustered, I walked around my desk and leaned against the front (okay, I wanted a better look at the kid) and pulled out a cigarette to calm myself down (hopefully Aiba wouldn’t smell the smoke from the front office). Noticing the client’s impatient expression, I gestured for him to take a seat. He lowered himself gracefully into the chair, one beautiful eyebrow raised in expectation as he crossed his legs.
Remembering my manners, I offered, “Cigarette?”
He looked surprised but nodded. I pulled out another one and placed it next to my own, lighting it and then removing it from between my lips. He accepted it carefully, using two fingers. “How very unsanitary,” he observed, raising his other brow. But he still placed the cigarette between his own gorgeous lips, and I felt my heart start going like the morning express train. I puffed away in desperation.
After a few long drags, he leaned back in the chair and rolled his eyes, letting out a noise of frustration. It was adorable. “You are Detective Ogura, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“No?” he frowned, brows knitting together. “But isn’t this the Great Detective Ogura Agency?”
“Yes. But he was my predecessor. We kept the name, but I’m Ohno Satoshi. I’m just a pretty good detective.” I extended a hand. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the contact far too brief.
“Matsumoto Jun,” he replied. Something about the name was familiar. Aiba would know why.
He looked as if he was struggling to get to the point---the cigarette was at his lips again. I decided not to press him---after all, I wanted him in my office for as long as possible. “Do you like art?”
His face showed that he was thrown off balance, and he suddenly looked younger. I’d asked the question expecting a protest, but instead his eyes widened and he responded, as if automatically, “Yes. I’m a photographer.” His expression turned sour, as if annoyed with himself at the admission. But he quickly resumed his usual attitude of cool boredom.
“Really? Has your stuff been exhibited?”
“Only in the Matsumoto Gallery.” The look of irritation returned.
This time the name clicked. “Ah, so you’re that Matsumoto.”
“Yes. That Matsumoto,” he glowered.
I turned away. “Would you like to take a look at some of my work?” Without waiting for an answer, I opened the top drawer of my desk and started pulling out the pen-and-ink numbers I’d been working on during downtime at the office. I spread them out across the top of the desk, and suddenly he was standing beside me, taking long drags from his cigarette while he studied them seriously. I could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and different emotions---wariness, curiosity, excitement---flitting across his expressive eyes. No wonder the kid wore sunglasses. For all his icy beauty, he was as easy to read as a dime store novel. I felt myself growing even hotter at the awareness of his body only inches from mine. He wore a lightly citrus-scented cologne.
“These two are good,” he finally offered, gesturing towards a pair of seascapes. He turned away and re-seated himself, now looking less wary than bemused. “You’re not like the PIs in detective novels.” He paused mid-drag to size me up. “And you’re pretty short, aren’t you?” He turned his head to release a stream of smoke rings before stubbing out his cigarette.
“Well, I try not to be,” I responded, stubbing out my own cigarette. His eyes glinted with amusement.
I returned to the other side of the desk. “If you’re not too disappointed with my performance so far, would you like to tell me what kind of detecting you were hoping for?”
He frowned and studied his glossy fingernails. “You were recommended to me by a friend.” His eyes flicked up briefly. “Oguri Shun.”
I nodded. The case I’d finished last night. One of the few investigations I’d taken on where the client wasn’t being taken for a ride by his lover. Toma wasn’t cheating---he was taking acting classes in secret twice a week at MGM. Wanted to be a star.
Jun continued, “Shun said that you were very…discreet. And this case will require all the discretion at your disposal.” He hesitated for a moment, then reached inside his jacket and removed a brown envelope. He threw it on the desk. “I received that this morning.”
I sent him a questioning look, and he nodded, so I opened the envelope and dumped out a letter and some photographs onto the desk. The letter was made up of words cut and pasted from the newspaper. The sender wanted five thousand for the negatives. I took a look at the pictures.
They were pretty fantastic. They featured a slight man with dark hair in a series of what I guess you would call provocative positions. In some of the shots, he wore a tight-fitting red silk qipao, but in most he was wearing nothing but a smirk. Not exactly art, but not half bad. The white glow of the sunlight in the photo where he stood naked by the window was surprisingly classy.
I remembered the face from the font pages of the papers a few months back. The guy was a notorious playboy and an even more notorious gambler, but he’d finally been arrested on an assault charge. The city had been outraged when he walked away with nothing but a slap on the wrist and a fifty dollar fine. He was also heir to the Matsumoto corporation, the empire that currently owned half of Southern California. “Your older brother Kazunari?”
Jun nodded. “I’m surprised they didn’t send the photos to my father, but perhaps they knew that he would have disowned Kazu the moment he saw them. I don’t think these can be recent---my father’s put Kazu under twenty-four hour surveillance until his marriage to Nozomi.” I vaguely recalled the engagement announcement in the paper. It was next to a picture of a blonde heiress with a small Chihuahua tucked under each arm.
So someone who knew about Kazunari's past. And about the inner workings of the Matsumoto family. That narrowed the list of suspects down to just about everyone in Los Angeles County. “Why do you think the threat was sent to you instead of your brother?”
Jun grimaced. “Kazu would probably laugh and publish them himself. I know he wants to break his engagement. But I’m not ready to let him grace the cover of every tabloid rag in town again. And I’m not ready to see him disowned by our father.” His eyes softened. “Kazu is wild, but he’s actually a vulnerable guy.” I could feel Jun’s love for his brother---his expression transformed when he talked about him. He was suddenly looking pretty vulnerable himself.
There was no way I could turn down the case if he looked at me like that---suddenly all wide-eyed and appealing. I wondered if he was turning on the charm on purpose. “So you want me to find out who the blackmailer is?”
He nodded. “They want the five thousand tomorrow. I don’t care about the money, but I want them found.”
“You want them arrested?”
“No. I want them found. Once I know who the bastard is, I’ll have him taken care of.” His eyes were cold again.
“Can you give me the names of any of your brother’s...er…associates?”
Jun shook his head. “Kazu and I have never discussed his personal life.” He looked bitter. “I only hear the same rumors as everyone else.”
“And what do the rumors say?”
“Nagasawa Masami, Nishikido Ryo, Matsuyama Kenichi, Suzuki Anne, Toda Erika, Matsuura Aya, Inoue Mao, Yoshitaka Yuriko, Tabe Mikako, Okada Junichi, Matsuoko Deluxe…”
He showed no signs of stopping, so I interrupted him and asked him to leave a list with Aiba. “And how much truth do you think there is to the rumors?”
He looked meditative, but his hands were restless---he started twirling his sunglasses in his left hand. “Honestly…” he looked up to meet my eyes. “None. I’ve never believed any of the rumors about Kazu.” He looked too young again, and dangerously sincere. I got the feeling that underneath the expensive suit and sunglasses (and the face like a matinee idol), this kid was a real marshmallow.
Glancing from his earnest expression to the proof of his brother’s exploits spread out across the desk in front of me, I couldn’t bring myself to point out the irony. “Where will your brother be tonight? I’d like to take a look at the characters that hang around him.”
He looked surprised but answered readily, “The Black Lotus. We’ll both be there tonight.” His expression turned sour again.
Johnny’s place. It figured---anything in this town that was both expensive and disreputable was sure to go down at Johnny’s club.
“I’ll see you there tonight?” he asked as he stood to leave. Was I imagining the slightly hopeful note in his voice?
“Not if I do my job.”
“Oh. Then I’ll look forward to not seeing you later,” he responded coolly. But I could read his tension in the way he held his jaw. I bet he grinds those perfect teeth at night.
“Jun!” I burst out as he turned to leave.
He turned back, obviously surprised. I was surprised myself. I wanted to tell him that the case was a piece of cake, and that he shouldn’t worry about his brother. And I probably could solve it. But I’ve learned that in cases like these, the answer is never the solution. That’s what my clients don’t get---nine times out of ten, it’s already over before they even set foot inside my office. Whatever truth they pay me to find out isn’t going to bring them any more comfort than the lies they’re already caught up in. I wanted to reassure him, but I’ve never been too good at expressing myself. Aiba’s the guy for that. “Show me your work sometime, will you?”
He looked baffled, but then his face relaxed and he nodded slowly, “Sure. Come by the gallery sometime.”
After he closed the door, I leaned back in my chair with a groan, tugging at my already-loosened tie. This case was going to be a tough one. The kid really got to me. Sure, he was beautiful, but it was more than that. Some fragile part of him lay too close to the surface, his vulnerability rising up into his eyes like some terrible fish looking to break my heart.
And I’ve had my heart broken by quite a few flounders in my time. | | | |
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| itsOK | Дата: Суббота, 03.12.2011, 21:32 | Сообщение # 2 | Полковник Группа: Администраторы Сообщений: 220 Награды: 33Репутация: 38Статус: Offline | Chapter 2
Aiba was in my office seconds after Jun’s exit. “A real knockout, right?” he grinned as he plucked the cigarette from my lips and stubbed it out on a nearby ashtray. An ashtray that was, in fact, made by Aiba in his freshman ceramics class. But he insists that its purpose is purely decorative. According to Aiba, I don’t smoke.
“You working the Black Lotus tonight?”
Aiba looked surprised. “Yeah. You know I always work Friday nights.”
I get a kind of pang in my side whenever Aiba and I compare schedules. He works nine to five with me (overtime on sensitive cases), bartends at the Black Lotus, and keeps his family’s Chinatown restaurant going on weekends. The guy used to be a student, if you can believe it, studying zoology. What a life. He had to quit school after his mom got sick and the family business almost went under. It’s still going under---just at a lot slower pace. To be honest, I wish I could play the big shot and give him the tuition money, but our pretty good agency is still just getting by.
“You need some help at the Black Lotus tonight?” Aiba asked, waking me out of my ruminations. His eyes were already lighting up in anticipation. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah. Take me to dinner and I’ll tell you all about it.”
*
Aiba and I ate at the dive across the street. It’s dark, dingy, and empty, so we can talk about clients there. The bartender’s an old grandpa, and the grandma who cooks the food (to use the term loosely) is hard of hearing. Other people can’t stand the food, but Aiba and I have always thought it tasted fine. So what if the ketchup’s a couple of years old. And you’d be amazed at how long a bottle of Coca-Cola lasts. Besides, nobody in town mixes a better Long Island ice tea than gramps.
Aiba maintains that a drink doesn’t count as long as it’s also an ice tea. I’ve never been able to convince the guy that a Long Island ice tea doesn’t actually have any tea in it. We have the same conversation a couple of times a week:
“But that doesn’t make any sense, boss.”
“Well, the world doesn’t always make sense, Aiba. Especially in Los Angeles.”
Aiba giggled and ordered another round. “I don’t know. Sometimes things make more sense than you’d expect. Like this case. If you’d asked me what kind of dirt existed on Matsumoto Kazunari, I would’ve said that he was probably involved in some kind of underground pornography ring. And that it involved a red silk qipao.”
“So he gives off that impression at the club?”
“Yeah. He comes in a couple of times a week. Cute. Real flashy. Always with a different guy or girl, usually a celebrity. Does card tricks. He’s done them for me a couple of times at the bar.”
“He does card tricks?”
“Yeah, he’s amazing! You should see it sometime.” Aiba bit his lip and stirred his drink meditatively. “You know, I can’t really see him as a bad guy. I mean, someone who comes to the Black Lotus to do card tricks? Seems like kind of a hopeless case. And I still can’t believe he put a guy in the hospital---he’s almost as short as you.”
I was big enough to ignore Aiba’s last comment. “And the playboy image?”
Aiba pulled out Jun’s list of Kazunari’s rumored associates, smoothing the crumpled paper out on top of the bar and running his finger down the columns. “I’ve seen him with these names at the club, but never with anyone else. Which makes me think that he’s putting on a show.” He didn’t have a lot to go on, but I’ve learned to trust Aiba’s instincts.
“So what’s your read on Jun?” I asked, trying to appear absorbed in my sketch of grandma. Sure, I should be trying to figure out the identity of Kazunari’s blackmailer. But a brief detour into Jun’s character couldn’t hurt, right? I started sweating---I’d let Aiba order me one ice tea too many again.
Aiba was also flushed, and he leaned dangerously far back on his barstool, laughing as I grabbed for his lapel to pull him back up. “Why?” he asked, eyes glinting. “You interested in the prince of southern California?”
I pretended not to hear him, concentrating instead on grandma’s hands. But my pencil was shaking. And not just because I was getting progressively more sloshed. Aiba leaned over his drink and slurped up the melted ice at the bottom. “Not as many rumors about him. I’ve only seen him at the Lotus a couple times, never on the same night as his brother. A trendsetter. Comes in with artistic types---you know, the kind of guy who wears a beret and means it. I heard he used to gamble and play the races, but he never bets at the Lotus. Likes jazz and drinks wine---the expensive stuff. I think he’s all right,” he concluded. “He can’t help having a doll-face like that, can he? He’s all right,” he repeated confidently. My stupid heart was starting to resemble a balloon. I was hoping that tonight wouldn’t pop it.
“He asked about you,” Aiba offered smugly. I couldn’t stop my pencil from grinding to a halt.
“Is that so?” I managed, trying to keep my voice level.
“Yes,” he smirked. “When he came out of the office, he said ‘Is he always like that?’”
“What did you say?”
“Yes. Only worse.”
I groaned. Aiba nodded happily and gave me a few slaps on the back. “Don’t worry. He’s definitely interested.”
As usual, I picked up the check, setting down the cash on top of my sketch of grandma. Grandma took the money and gave the drawing an indifferent glance before tossing it to the side---she’s already got a couple of them pinned up on the walls of the kitchen.
“Wear your gray suit tonight!” Aiba called over his shoulder as we stumbled off in opposite directions. “And don’t forget the cufflinks!”
*
I slept for a few hours and managed to (mostly) sober up. I drank a cup of coffee while I dressed, savoring the bitter taste. I guess it reminded me of Jun. I wore the gray suit, silk tie, and pale gray hat that Aiba had me buy for jobs like this one. Unobtrusive yet fashionable, according to my secretary. Aiba usually looked like a million bucks, so I let him pick out my work clothes. Then again, only Aiba could look like a million bucks and not a pimp in a leopard print tie and feathered hat.
I smoked my last cigarette of the night as I made my way to the Black Lotus, turning over the case as I walked. I didn’t expect any big revelations tonight, but I wanted to get a look at Kazunari and the crowd he ran with. I didn’t have much chance of finding the blackmailer until Jun met him with the five thousand tomorrow. I was guessing an ex-lover seeking money or revenge (or both). Or the guy Kazunari put in the hospital with a broken jaw a few months back. Then again, the photos were sent to Jun---who else knew that his brother’s honor was the crack in Jun’s icy façade?
I stepped on my cigarette and kicked it out of the way as I knocked on the door of the club’s staff entrance. Aiba let me in, sighing and slapping my wrists lightly when he noticed that I’d forgotten my cufflinks again. He led me through the hectic kitchen---it looked like the place was about to go up in flames---and dumped me on the main floor.
I’ve never understood the name of the joint----it looks more like a Hollywood knock-off of the Moulin Rouge than a Black Lotus. There’s a glittering windmill at the club’s entrance, and inside its all glitz and marble, decorated in pink, red, white, and black exclusively. There’s a bar and tables, a dance floor and a floor for cards and roulette. The place is famous for its rotating stage and the acts that go with it. Johnny always provides the best---or the most outrageous---in entertainment. Matsuoko was getting started on her burlesque number when I walked in; the stage would rotate before she removed the last fan.
Most suckers in LA would give anything for a night at the Lotus---and some did. I don’t know what they think they’ll find here. All I’ve found is a bunch of doped-up starlets. Well-dressed people swimming through a sea of gin. Guys chasing the American Dream in the bottom of a roulette wheel. I guess you could say I don’t care for the establishment. Then again, I’ve only visited it in a professional capacity.
I spotted Kazunari seated in the VIP room, roped off from the rest of the club but visible to all comers. As memorable as his photos were, he was even better looking in real life. As slight as he seemed in a silk dress, he possessed a solid handsomeness that surprised me. He looked kind of rough to me, with his shirt buttons undone, a bright yellow scarf around his neck, and his hair tousled. He was seated in a booth, fanning out a deck of cards across the table while three wide-eyed girls watched, occasionally letting out little squeals of excitement.
“Who are the skirts?” I asked Aiba, who started wiping a glass near my spot at the bar.
“Perfume.” Seeing me draw a blank, Aiba sighed and looked at me pityingly. “You really need to keep up with Variety if you’re going to work in this town. Perfume. Hottest new dance act in town. Kashiyuka. Nocchi. A-chan. They say Kazu was with all three last night. What would you do without me, boss?” he finished with a smile.
“I’d be lost without you, sugar. And who is ‘they’?”
Aiba gestured vaguely outward, managing to suggest both everyone and no one in the room. “You know. Jerks. Wise guys. They.”
I nursed my drink while keeping a furtive eye on Kazunari (and occasionally sweeping the floor for a sight of Jun). It became increasingly difficult to concentrate, however, when I realized that I wasn’t the only one in the club staking Kazunari out.
I couldn’t help but smile as I moved down the bar, slapping a heavy hand on the guy’s shoulder with a cheerful, “Officer Sakurai! What brings you to the Black Lotus? I didn’t think they let just any one in.”
Sakurai squeaked when I called out his name, glaring at me. “I. am. undercover. tonight,” he whispered.
I leaned in. “Everyone here knows that you’re a cop.”
His eyes went wide. “How?”
“You’re not drinking, and you’re wearing a cheap suit.”
Sho frowned and motioned to Aiba for a drink. “I can’t do much about the suit. Department-issued.”
I bet it was. I give the guy a hard time, but I really respect Sakurai. I like him enough that I wish he’d quit the force. The guy is the last honest cop in LA. He polices by the book, and he never takes bribes. He also doesn’t have any family pull, so of course the chief has had him cooling his heels without a promotion for the past four years. Not to mention that he’s a washout when it comes to apprehending the criminal. The guy’s too soft to go around slamming suspects against brick walls and working them over in the interrogation room. But I’d rather get obstructed by an honest sap like him than the big shots currently running our cozy little society of cops and robbers.
I let Sakurai get pretty far into his white wine spritzer before I put the screws to him. “So why are you interested in Matsumoto Kazunari?”
He choked on his wine. “Interested?” he spluttered.
“Yeah. Why are you following Kazunari tonight? What’s the department got on him?”
Sakurai’s brows knit together. “That’s confidential police business.” I think he was going for tough, but the effect was more like that cute school teacher you kind of enjoy getting scolded by when you’re a kid.
I decided I’d have to give it up in order to get some information from him. I knew he wouldn’t spread it around town. “I’m following Kazunari tonight. His brother hired me to figure out who’s blackmailing him. Somebody’s got pictures that would be very damaging to the heir of the Matsumoto empire. If I know why your crew is after him, maybe I can figure out who’s harassing his family.”
Sakurai looked like he was strapped into a chair in the interrogation room himself. With the hot light swinging overhead. He glanced anxiously between my face and Kazunari’s for a full minute before finally coughing it up. He pulled me in close. “Okay. I know you’re a good man, Ohno, and I don’t want his family hurt. I’m checking on Kazunari because we think he might be dealing smack with Johnny. He’s been a silent partner in the Black Lotus for a couple of years, but now we think he’s funneling money into Johnny’s drug trade. Maybe even about to take over. He’s clever, but he’s also hotheaded, less cautious than Johnny. We think we can…” Whatever Sakurai was about to spill was lost as the crowd started going wild. Seeing heads turn, I turned mine in the same direction.
It was Jun, gliding in as if he owned the joint. Face expressionless and eyes shuttered, he looked more terrifying than I remembered. And even more like he belonged in a wax museum. The kind where slobs like me can go and pretend to get a look at the beautiful people. What really made me check out from Sakurai, though, was Jun’s jacket. Aiba had mentioned that Jun was something of a trendsetter, but nothing could have prepared me for a suit jacket made up of nothing but pale blue sequins. With nothing on underneath it. The sequins shimmered as he moved across the room, shining like the scales of a beautiful fish.
I watched him head straight for the blackjack table at the center of the gambling floor, seating himself and laying down his chips with a look of boredom. I managed to tear my eyes away long enough to realize that Sakurai had given me the slip---the jerk was skulking around behind some fake palm trees near the VIP room.
I ordered another drink, my head spinning. So Kazunari was dealing drugs with Johnny? If it was true, it widened the pool of potential suspects. Were the cases connected, or two separate phenomena in this guy’s far-too-gaudy life? When I first started this job, I used to think that everything was connected. But now I know that things don’t usually tie up so neatly---in my experience, life is all about loose ends.
I decided that I’d have to talk to Kazunari. But for now I’d keep an eye on the two Matsumotos. I didn’t look too strange---sitting at the bar, sipping my drink and going back and forth between Kazunari and Jun---since they’d arrested the gaze of pretty much everybody else in the club. I have to admit my focus on Kazunari started slipping, though, especially after he took to the dance floor with Perfume, swinging all three girls around the club. I couldn’t look away from Jun, who was playing big and winning big. He played like there was a gun held to his head for over an hour, and he kept pushing his chips back in. I noticed that he was clenching his jaw again. So far the brothers hadn’t exchanged a glance.
Then I watched Jun’s eyes. He held his head high and still, like he was a prince. But his eyes were flickering.
I knocked back my drink and headed for his table. I wouldn’t say I had a plan, but I ignored the crowd and slipped in beside him, draping an arm across his shoulder. I smelled citrus again.
He didn’t flinch, but he looked up at me with an expression of amazement. “So if I can see you, does that mean you’re off the clock?”
“Buy me a drink.” He raised a hand to signal for a waiter. “No. Buy me a drink at the bar.”
He looked at me for a moment---it was all I could do to return the gaze of those deep brown eyes---then murmured, “I’ll sit out the next few hands,” before standing up and following me to the bar. I knew that the eyes of every Dick and Jane in the joint were on us, but I didn’t feel it. All I could feel was the tingling in the palm of my hand from where I’d held Jun’s shoulder.
At the bar, I flagged down Aiba and ordered a drink. Jun asked for a club soda.
“You play the tables a lot?”
He raised a brow. “Sometimes.”
“From what I’ve heard, you haven’t played in years. Why tonight?”
He glared, obviously expecting me to cower under the ice queen act. “I felt like it.”
“And this has nothing to do with the five Gs you owe for your brother’s negatives?”
He glowered back at me. I moved in closer, so that I was speaking directly into his ear. I must have been getting more buzzed than I thought because the whole left side of my body went numb when I felt Jun’s breath on my cheek. “And counting cards, is that a trick you picked up from Kazunari? What else do you two have in common?”
Jun stiffened and wrenched himself back, his expression slipping just long enough for me to know that I’d hit the mark.
“Why don’t you get the money from your father, Jun?” I continued softly. His hand tightened around his glass. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I don’t want any more debts with my father. And I don’t owe you an explanation. I hired you to find the scum, not to investigate me.” I have to admit, there was something a little disconcerting about so much rage conveyed in such a quiet voice. It kind of throws a guy off-balance.
He set down his drink and swept past me---I’d never really seen anyone sweep past before, but Jun definitely had the posture for it.
I turned back to the bar, kind of breathless. What I wanted to do right now was close my eyes and spend a few minutes thinking about Jun’s hair and the sight of his collarbone underneath the pale blue jacket. But I needed to pull myself together and one, make sure Jun didn’t get busted; two, figure out whether the bad blood between Jun and his father had any bearing on this case; and three, have a private chat with Kazunari. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long.
I felt a small but firm hand on my ass and jumped back from the bar, crashing right into the man of the hour. “You’re cute,” he slurred, removing his hand to run it through my hair, tugging lightly. And then tugging a little harder. “I like you. Are you Jun’s new artist?” His eyes glinted dangerously as he smirked down at me. It made you appreciate all over again what Aiba called the influence of environment on a person. Kazunari and Jun both seemed to have been trained to kill---or at least, to seriously intimidate---from a very young age.
A hand on the ass I can take, but the tug on my hair was a surprise. I squeaked like Officer Sakurai before choking out, “No, I’m his private dick.”
Kazunari dropped his hand and raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. I was getting another flash of the Matsumoto charm. “His private detective,” I amended, straightening my tie and pulling down my sleeves in an effort to regain the dignity of a tough guy.
“Is that really something you should be telling me, detective?” he grinned.
I decided to just lay it out for him. “You may not know it, but this morning your little brother got some pictures sent to him that could ruin the life of his beloved older brother, and the sender wants five thousand for the negatives. And now he’s knocking himself out to find the guy.”
Kazunari rolled his eyes. “Before you get all choked up about it, remember who we’re talking about. I’m sure Jun can just run to daddy if he needs something,” he sneered.
“Then why is he about to get busted for counting cards? I don’t think he’s the type to defraud a joint just for kicks.”
Kazunari’s gaze shifted to Jun, and for a moment he looked confused, even angry. The whole club was gravitating towards Jun’s table, cheering wildly as he continued his winning streak. The staff was having a fit, not that you could tell from their stone faces. But management was on the floor, and an old geezer in sunglasses was coming out of a backroom---Johnny.
“You don’t know anything about my brother,” he finally hissed, talking off towards Jun before I could get another word in. It seemed like tonight I was the one pouring out secrets as soon as I opened my mouth. I had a reputation for discretion to uphold, but something about tonight’s line-up just brought out the goof in me.
Aiba was back by my side. “Uh, boss,” he muttered, “remember the “How To Be A Detective in Ten Easy Lessons’ textbook? It said that keeping a low profile was critical to private investigation. In the past ten minutes, you ordered Matsumoto Jun to buy you a drink and were…uh…manhandled by Matsumoto Kazunari. This might be the time to leg it.”
What Aiba said made sense. In fact, it made so much sense that I felt like an anvil labeled “sense” had just been dropped on my head. Suddenly I couldn’t take another minute in that hothouse. The lights were glaring. Perfume had taken to the stage and was leading half the crowd in a series of strange-looking dance moves while the stage glittered and sparked around them. On the other side of the club, the crowd around Jun broke into another round of applause while the hum of speculation throbbed through the room. I must have hit a speed bump in the road of martinis I’d been cruising over all night. I turned to the bar to close my eyes for a minute, trying to imagine that the roar of the club was the sound of waves crashing against the shore at my favorite beach.
The I felt a hand on my lower back. I turned around, expecting to find Kazunari. Instead, I found myself face to face with a fiend in human form. At least, that’s how he features in my dreams, where he usually has a set of horns and rakes me over the coals with a gem-encrusted pitchfork.
“Satoshi,” he smiled. I shivered at the familiar tone---the deep voice that hooked me the first time I met him. While I stood gasping like a fish on the end of a line, he moved another hand to my shirtsleeves, dragging his fingers across my wrist. “Still no cufflinks. You haven’t changed a bit. Tequila must still be your favorite,” he smirked, motioning to the bartender for two shots while I stood by like some dumb hick who’d stepped off the bus to LA that morning. Which was how Gackt usually made me feel, even when we were together.
Yeah, he was that kind of a guy---such a jerk that he can’t be bothered with two names. What can I say? I was practically a kid at the time. He was beautiful. He was sophisticated (I thought). He wined me, dined me, bought me flowers and drove me up to park at the Hollywood sign. He even gave me a ring on my birthday. And he had a waterfall in his bedroom.
We split because we had different ideas about our relationship; I wanted to be with him, and he wanted to be with me---and the five other guys he was seeing. I think I said that I’ve had my heart broken by a couple of flounders. Well, he was the shark that started it all. I guess you could say he was my mentor in more than one field---not only did he demonstrate the serial infidelity I now spend most of my time tracking, but he also introduced me to the business of art forgery.
I hadn’t seen him since leaving for the big house. And now I was meeting him again for the first time without my cufflinks. It hit me all over again how priceless a treasure Aiba’s intuition is---I should have cut my losses and left when I had the chance.
His hand on my back was making my flesh crawl, but I still stood there like an idiot while the bastard smiled down at me. “I usually try to avoid meeting with old flames, but I’m delighted to have found you again, Satoshi. You may not believe it, but you were always my…”
Before I had a chance to tell him to get his hands off me and that my drink was a dry martini (or a Long Island ice tea), I was jerked back into an oddly-familiar, citrus-scented embrace.
“Satoshi,” Jun murmured in my ear, slipping an arm around my waist, “I’m back.” Surprise shot through me like a spicy dose of wasabi, and I got kind of light-headed for a minute. I thought I was hallucinating. But then Jun gave me a look and somehow I got it. Despite appearances, I can be pretty quick on the uptake.
“Jun,” I purred, slipping an arm around his waist while his thumb started tracing slow circles just above my hip. “Finally.”
Gackt took a step back, his smile in place but his eyes cold. “Matsumoto. Seems like you’ve had quite a night.”
“Yes,” he smiled sweetly, turning his head to nose my ear briefly. “And now I’m taking my lucky charm home to celebrate.” I was trying to play it cool, but his soft breath on my ear almost sent me through the roof. Not to be outdone, I slid my hand down his lower back. I felt him jump, but he kept the poker face he’d been wearing all evening intact.
“I had no idea you two were together.” Gackt smiled like a vampire baring his fangs.
“Six months,” Jun lied smoothly. The bartender set down the shots of tequila. Jun’s eyes lit up. “Tequila shots to celebrate. Perfect,” he grinned. I wished I could get a photograph of Gackt’s face as Jun grabbed the drinks he’d ordered. I’d frame it and put it on my desk, maybe use it in some kind of blackmail scheme.
I’m pretty sure what Jun did next was punishment for my hand on his ass. It wasn’t until he reached up and started unbuttoning my shirt that I realized what he was getting at. My mouth gaped open, and Jun used the opportunity to place the lime between my lips. When I felt the broad, hot sweep of his tongue on my neck, my mind shuddered to a halt. For a moment there was nothing but Jun---Jun’s dark eyes, Jun’s full lips, Jun’s surprisingly pretty teeth---as he delicately removed the lime. Our lips never touched.
After that, I have only a dim memory of tossing back my own shot and being dragged out of the place by Jun, who threw something about “Needing to get home” over his shoulder at Gackt. Too bad I was so distracted by the fireworks bursting over my head that I missed the look on Gackt’s face when Jun pulled me out of there.
By the time we reached the coatroom, I was so crazy that I was looking for a plastic palm tree to pull Jun behind. But the second we reached the entryway, Jun snatched his hand out of mine like he’d been touching a hot stove and started fussing with the sleeves of his jacket.
I stood there trying to catch my breath. And blink the fireworks out of my eyes. “What was that all about?”
Jun studied his fingernails---a habit of his, I’d noticed. “Why? Are you grateful?”
“Yes.”
Jun smiled, like no smile I’d seen on him before (well, I guess there wasn’t much to compare it to). But it was a smile so wide and sweet that it broke my heart, picked up the pieces, and glued it back together again in three seconds flat. It disappeared pretty quickly though---the boredom was back in place. “Well, you looked like you were about to start sobbing all over the counter. And there’s no crying at the Black Lotus.” He grimaced. “And I loathe Gackt. We belong to the same club, and he’s always trying to get me to exhibit his work at the gallery. Pretentious ass,” he snorted. He looked away again. “So, do you spend most of your stake-outs getting chatted up by characters like that?”
“He’s an old boyfriend.”
Jun’s eyes were cold. “So you really are that dumb. I thought maybe it was an act to disarm your suspects.”
“What can I say,” I shot back, “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.” Somehow the air had turned sour between us. I wondered if Jun regretted his last remark as much as I did mine. Jun swung around to leave.
I grabbed his wrist. “Wait a second, kid, you can’t just waltz out of the Black Lotus with five thousand in cash on your person.” I gestured towards the locked leather suitcase that held his winnings.
“I. am. not. a kid,” he grit out, eyes murderous. He seemed to rein himself in before continuing, “Don’t worry, I parked valet.”
I can’t remember the last time I was so worked up. Or so loud. “Yeah, I bet you did. And I bet Johnny’s got his valets all ready to jump you, too. And you’re younger than me, and kind of cute when you’re not being a goddamn tease and a pain in my ass, so I’ll call you kid when I want to.”
I think Jun was a little dazed by my speech. He looked confused, but his eyes became gentler, and finally he offered calmly, “You want to walk me to my car, detective?”
“Sure,” I said, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Lead the way.”
It’s funny---I was expecting a brawl. I was even expecting that I might have to take on a couple of thugs at once. But they say those old bosses get meaner the older they get, and apparently Johnny was more ticked off than even I expected, because within minutes I found myself with a gun in my face and Jun knocked out cold at my feet.
Staring down the barrel, I thought about the wonderful fact that Jun had already saved me once that night. The least I could was try to return the favor.
To be continued…
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| itsOK | Дата: Суббота, 03.12.2011, 21:36 | Сообщение # 3 | Полковник Группа: Администраторы Сообщений: 220 Награды: 33Репутация: 38Статус: Offline | Chapter 3
I eyed the mug holding the gat. More than the gun, I worry about the guy holding it. This guy looked like he could handle himself. So no accidental discharges, but not much chance of just knocking it out of his hand either (you’d be surprised at how often that works---guys don’t expect you to just reach up and grab the barrel). Personally, I rarely pack heat when I’m working a case. More trouble than it's worth. But at times like these, I wish I wasn’t such a responsible citizen.
The valet had pulled up Jun’s car, no problem, and Jun had slid in and turned on the ignition, then paused to pull out a cigarette. “Give me a light, will you?” I pulled out my lighter and leaned in, examining his downcast eyelashes.
“You know, I think you should hire a new PI.”
Jun finished lighting his cigarette and looked up. “Why?”
By now I was leaning half-way through the car window, and I felt my eyes getting half-lidded as he started moving his face closer to mine. “I tend to get kind of distracted when I’m around you. And “How To Be a Detective in Ten Easy Lessons” says that focus is a detective’s best friend…”
It was then that the lights outside the Black Lotus switched off. Even the damn windmill stopped turning. And it was then that I felt a hand on my neck, wrenching me backwards and throwing me to the pavement. If Jun had half a brain he’d have stepped on it, but instead the kid opened the car door and made a grab for me. By the time I’d punched my attacker senseless (I guess I might have broken his nose, judging from all the blood), another guy (where’d he come from?) had knocked out Jun and pulled me up to stick his gun in my face.
“Is this how Johnny treats his guests?” I panted, trying to move so that I was blocking Jun.
“The suitcase. Now,” he ordered. I could tell he meant business. Maybe enough to put a bullet through my head. Holding up my hands where he could see them, I leant back slowly and reached to pull the case out of the front seat of the car. “First put the piece away.”
He barked a laugh. “You’re not in any position to bargain right now.”
He sort of had me there. Reluctantly, I passed him the case. To my relief, he slipped the gun back into his jacket. My relief evaporated when his hand re-emerged with a switchblade. “Get the hell out of here. Don’t worry, Johnny just wants the pretty boy taught a lesson.”
After that, it was hand-to-knife combat between the mug and me. I had to admire Johnny’s taste in henchman---he was pretty good. Not so good that I couldn’t break his knife, though. Then, it was just your standard working over---he played my ribs like a xylophone and shook my head like it was a tambourine. After a while, he got tired of the performance and left me lying on top of Jun, taking the case with him as he left.
I was hoping to pass out soon since my nose stung like hell where he’d sliced it with the blade, but then Jun started moving, sitting up and clutching his head with a confused expression. His eyes finally focused when he caught sight of my face, and those black eyebrows shot up higher than I would have thought possible.
“Oh my god,” he choked out, pulling me towards him for a better look. “Just what kind of an idiot are you, Satoshi?” he cried raggedly. He’d sort of pulled my head into his lap, which was nice, so I shifted to move in closer.
“I told you," I rasped, unable to control my voice, “I’m only a pretty good detective. I couldn’t save you and the dough.”
“Fuck the money,” he muttered, rummaging through his pockets until he pulled out a blue silk handkerchief. He held it to my nose, which I guess was bleeding. “I have to take you to the hospital.” His voice was shaking, and he was white as a sheet. I could feel him trembling all over. I figured it’d be more dangerous to let him drive.
I shook my head. “No. Aiba’ll take care of me. Just sit with me like this for a few minutes, okay kid?” I could tell he wasn’t going to shut up, so I reached up and pulled at the lapel of his jacket. “Please. It’s all I’m asking.”
After about a minute of that tense jaw action and a disapproving glare, he finally nodded. “Just for a few minutes,” he warned.
I closed my eyes with a sigh and pressed the side of my face into his cool palm. I’d been looking forward to passing out, but now I thought I’d try to stay awake for a few minutes---especially when Jun started running a light hand through my hair and rubbing circles on my temple with his thumb.
“I thought that the heirs of vast fortunes were supposed to have bodyguards,” I mumbled.
“I never thought I’d need one. Since I’m such a charming guy and all," Jun laughed shakily. “Why, you want the job?”
I moved my head a little in something resembling a shake. “Too dangerous.”
It was all pretty idyllic, so of course the moment had to be cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps. I felt Jun tense. I opened my eyes and tried to pull myself up (even though Jun was trying to hold me down) only to discover my secretary, panting, flushed, and clutching Jun’s case with an expression of triumph.
“Look what I found, boss,” he offered, with a smile so wide it could have split his face in two.
Jun was slack-jawed. He looked pretty cute when he was being dumb, too. “How…” I started.
Aiba obviously couldn’t wait. The words tumbled out all at once, “Well I saw you and Jun leaving the club---nice show with the tequila by the way---and I felt this shiver go through me---you know, like I get when something’s about to happen---and then I saw Johnny give the signal to one of his thugs, so I grabbed the gun behind the bar…”
“Johnny keeps a gun behind the bar?”
“…and then I snuck out the back and around to the front and I ran into this ugly-looking guy with Jun’s case, so I just kind of hit him over the head with my gun and look!” He pushed the case forward again eagerly. Then his eyes widened as he finally started to take in the scene. “You look a little rough, boss. Good thing I was here, right?” he smiled.
“Remind me to give you a raise, sugar.”
He laughed. “Believe me, you couldn’t afford it.”
I stood up to embrace him, but then my legs crumpled out from underneath me, and I finally met the cold kiss of oblivion.
*
I woke up in what felt like an icebox. I actually shivered, something I couldn’t remember having done in months. I was surrounded by blue and white. A soft white couch, white carpeting, white walls, white furniture with touches of pale blue throughout. The place felt bare, except for the opposite wall, which was covered floor to ceiling in photographs and prints.
Through the slivers of pale blue, early morning light breaking in through the blinds, I caught sight of Jun. He was seated in a blue chair beside a glass table. The table held a blue vase filled with dark red roses. I wondered if they’d been a gift, or if Jun had bought them himself. The table also held an empty glass, and Jun held a cigarette loosely between two fingers, smoke from his last drag curling slowly up towards the ceiling. His feet rested on the case holding the five thousand. He gazed at me through half-lidded eyes.
“Air conditioning?”
“It’s for the art,” he replied, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “My place is above the gallery.”
I licked my lips. “Could you give me one of those?”
He stood and made his way to the sofa, looking a little unsteady on his feet. He sat beside me, pulling out a cigarette and placing it next to his own between his lips. “You do it like this, right?” he mumbled as he lit it, removing it and placing it gently between my lips.
“Thanks.” I took a drag and assessed the situation, shifting around a little. Yeah, my sides and face still felt like they’d been bludgeoned. I could feel where Aiba had wrapped my ribs, and there was a bandage over the bridge of my nose. “How are you feeling, kid? Any injuries?”
He ignored my question. His head drooped, and I realized just how drunk he was. I thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he lifted his head. I felt like the air had been sucked out of me when I saw how desperately sad his big eyes looked. “You know…I’ve been sitting here all night…thinking…” And drinking, I guessed. “And I realized that no one…no one,” he repeated, slurring a little, “has ever talked to me like you did. You called me cute,” he poked me in the chest, “a tease,” another jab, “and a pain in the ass.” I grabbed his hand before he could get me again---he was going to leave a bruise.
“I can’t believe no one’s ever called you a pain in the ass before.”
“It’s true!” he protested, eyes shining. “And then you took a beating for me.” Suddenly he fell down beside me, so that we were lying face to face on the sofa. His dark eyes sparkled in the pale blue light, and I wondered if this was what it felt like in the calm at the bottom of the ocean. “I don’t get it,” he sighed, closing his eyes, “what’s your game?”
I thought he’d feel cold, but his breath (which smelled like bourbon) was warm against my face. I slipped an arm around his waist to stop him from falling off the sofa (and, okay, because I wanted to put my arm around his waist), and I could feel that he was hot all over. “There’s no game,” I whispered. “I’m not even very good at cards.”
He laughed softly and opened his eyes. “You know, in detective novels, the PI always falls for his client.”
“They had the right idea.” Both our chests were rising and falling as we moved even closer.
“But in the end, the knock-out always betrays the detective.”
“Those writers are hacks,” I breathed, and then we were kissing. It wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t cool or elegant, or even very skilled, the way I remembered it with Gackt. It was hot, wet, and messy, our mouths sliding apart and then finding each other again until my mind was empty of everything but Jun. It was even better than fishing.
When Jun’s thigh started grinding against me, though, I had to break it up. The guy was wasted---I was practically getting a contact high just from kissing him. I may be a private dick, but I’m still a gentleman. I grabbed his shoulders and broke the kiss, panting. Jun didn’t protest---he just went limp against me, lips resting on my neck. I buried a hand in his hair. “You have pretty teeth,” I murmured.
“Braces. And caps,” Jun mumbled into my neck. He managed to lift his head and gave me a half-hearted glare, “If you ever tell anyone that, I’ll have you killed.” He lay back down again, and within seconds he was asleep.
*
When I woke up again a couple hours later, I was still on Jun’s sofa, but now his place was filled with sunlight, and I could smell bacon frying. It smelled delicious. Jun was at the stove, wearing a red and black print knit shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. He was also wearing the largest pair of black-framed glasses I’d ever seen, and his hair was a mess. I felt like my heart might stop at the sight.
I sat up, noticing for the first time how small his place was. It was really just a single room, with a sofa and two chairs, a table, a bed, a desk, a kitchenette, and two doors that led (I guessed) to a closet and a bathroom.
Jun turned around when I sat up, his brows knitting together. “You can lie back down. I’ll bring you breakfast.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.” It was mostly true---I felt a lot better than when I’d been hugging the pavement last night.
Jun turned back to the stove. He seemed nervous. At least, he had a cigarette between his lips and cup of coffee in his left hand while he worked the spatula with his right.
“You don’t have to make me breakfast.”
He shrugged without turning around. “You helped me out of a tight spot last night. It’s the least I can do,” he replied, his voice even.
I stared at his back for a few minutes, trying to get a handle on the situation. I tried to imagine what Aiba would do, but all I could come up with was jumping Jun and pinning him to the sofa, which didn’t seem like it would be well-received. All I got from Jun’s stiff back was the feeling that if I said one word about last night, he’d kick me out of his apartment faster than one of Johnny’s bouncers. I wondered if he even remembered last night. Just a few hours ago the kid had been doing an amazing impression of a barnacle, but now it was like he’d put himself in a plastic bubble.
So I decided not to mention it. Instead, I’d just snoop around his place. My first stop was the wall covered with photographs. “These yours?”
He shook his head as he dished up the bacon and started in on something that looked like French toast. “No. My stuff’s in the closet.”
“You keep your photographs in the closet?”
“I don’t want to inflict them on innocent guests.”
I took that as an invitation to open the closet door and step in. Inside, there were rows of pressed and meticulously arranged jackets, shirts, and pants. There was a small table covered with jewelry. Like the rest of the place, the room was immaculate. And the room’s four walls were covered with framed photographs. I started at one end and began working my way around.
The photographs were interesting in that they were beautiful takes on ugly subjects. The shadows were rich and sometimes pitch-black, the whites glaring in contrast. There were shots from around the city of gutters, garbage, buildings breaking up, junkyards, highways. He also seemed to have gone through a period where he was trying to capture different effects of smoke on camera.
There were only two that really caught my eye. One was a tight close-up of what I suspected was Kazunari’s face---the picture was out of focus, but it gave me a funny, sad kind of feeling when I looked at, maybe because of the lack of clarity. The other was of a little kid leaning on the handle bars of his bike, dressed up for some swanky occasion in a suit and hat. He was doing his best to look like a tough guy, and an unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. I laughed out loud at that one.
I’m not sure how long I studied the photographs, but when I came back out, Jun was setting down two plates on the glass table, and he’d pulled up a couple of chairs. “Sit down and eat,” he ordered. He didn’t ask me what I thought, but he was blushing up to his ears.
I started eating. “This is the best French toast I’ve ever had.”
Silence. I have to say, it was a new experience for me to be the chatty one in the gang.
“Who’s the little kid in the picture?”
He looked up, surprised. “My nephew.”
I nodded. “All your pictures are beautiful, Jun. But I think you have a real talent for portraits. You should always take pictures of the people you love.”
He looked at me sharply, as if trying to decide if what I said was a compliment, then broke into one of his goofy smiles. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” Like a sap, I felt all warm and fuzzy inside.
We ate mostly in silence. It really was the best breakfast I’d ever had. We finished with a cup of coffee, and Jun immediately lit another cigarette. “Aiba says those things will kill you.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Then why do you smoke them?”
“I get restless if I don’t have something to do with my hands. I don’t really feel comfortable unless I’m working on something.” Jun nodded as if he knew the feeling. “You must need them for your jaw.”
“What?” he looked annoyed.
“You clench your jaw.” I was kind of starting to enjoy getting a rise out of him. “And you grind your teeth. Smoking must help you relax.”
He stood up and snatched my plate away, muttering something about “the great detective at work” as he dropped the dishes into the sink with a bang.
He wouldn’t let me help with the dishes, saying something about paying me back for saving his face last night. It was pretty clear that he wanted me to show myself out, but I decided to stick around until I got the orders to march. I went back to shamelessly examining the objects on his desk (I’m a detective, give me a break).
I noticed a silver dog tag hanging from his desk lamp. “You serve in the war?”
“That’s actually my grandfather’s,” he said over his shoulder, “but yes, I served for a while in ’45. I was too young to get drafted before that. I was stationed in England for most of it.” He turned, drying his hands on a dishtowel. “What about you?”
“Yeah, I was in for around two years. Stationed in Hawaii. Were you near your brother?”
Jun shook his head and looked away. “Kazu couldn’t serve. He has a bum right wrist and a slipped disk in his back from falling off a horse when we were kids. He tried to join up, but they kept rejecting him.”
“Aiba was the same way. The guy’s lungs are bad. One of them even collapsed when he was in high school. I know he wanted to join up, but I also feel kind of relieved that he couldn’t.”
Jun met my eyes and smiled. “I know what you mean. Kazu hated it, but I was always happy, knowing he wouldn’t get hurt.”
“You do a lot of worrying for a younger brother.”
Jun turned and walked to the window, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the frame with one arm, staring out at the bakery across the street as though it were the most fascinating spot in all of Los Angeles. “I guess I still feel pretty guilty about it.” His voice got kind of thick---I got the impression that this wasn’t something he liked to sit by the fire and talk about on long winter evenings.
He took a drag before continuing. “That was when things changed. My father’s got some ideas about family honor, and he decided that Kazu had let the family down. And that he was no longer man enough to run his precious empire. I was his next victim---now he wants me to take over. Kazu spent his whole life being groomed for the position, only to become the family black sheep in the space of a year. That’s when he started going wild. I spent my whole life free from the responsibility, and now I’m getting it all handed to me on a silver platter.” Jun sighed. “At least, that’s what Kazu thinks. I don’t want it. I don’t even think Kazu wants it, but he still wants to get back at our father.” He turned to look back at me. “The real kicker is that we’ve got an older sister, Riisa, who wants the company and would be dynamite at it, but Dad thinks that a penis is one of the qualifying requirements for a CEO.”
I laughed, and Jun rewarded me with a small smile. But I could read the frustration in his eyes as he continued, “So now I spend most of my time trying to get Dad to give the company to Riisa, and stop him from disinheriting Kazu. And Kazu resents the hell out of me for it. Poor little rich boy, right?” he finished with a sarcastic half smile, his eyes shuttering again.
“Have you told Kazunari how you feel about all this?”
He brought the cigarette back to his lips and looked out the window. “It’s not something we can discuss.”
There it was. Angst. I’d stumbled across it several times in my investigations, and I still didn’t get it. Why torture yourself instead of just saying what you felt? “I could talk to your brother for you, Jun.” I’m not sure where that offer came from---I generally try to avoid talking to anyone about anything.
Jun spun around, looking exasperated. “Detective…”
“Satoshi.”
“Satoshi, would you quit the knight-in-shining-armor act? It’s not what I hired you for.”
“Then stop acting like a princess,” I countered.
We stared each other down for a minute, then I turned on my heel to leave. And then I felt Jun’s hand on my shirtsleeve.
“Wait,” he said a little breathlessly, “don’t go just yet.” My heart turned over. The kid was going to put me into an early grave with this hot and cold treatment. I turned around. He looked as surprised as I felt. “I…I…” he fumbled. Confused Jun had to be my favorite. “I remember last night,” he finally burst out, looking shocked by his own words.
I tried to suppress a grin. “Good. I’m glad I’m not that easy to forget.” I started moving towards him. He started backing up. “You look cute with those glasses.” His eyes widened. “I bet you looked cute when you had messed up teeth, too.” Now his back was against the fridge, and our faces were inches apart.
“Sure,” he breathed, “and what happens when you meet someone even cuter than me?”
“No one is.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I leaned in. Only to hit the icebox. He’d slipped out from under me.
“Wait,” he said, holding up his hands almost desperately. “Wait. What I’m trying to say is that I like you. I even think you’re kind of wonderful, but…”
My heart had graduated from somersaults to cartwheels. “I think you’re pretty wonderful, too,” I interrupted.
“…but you’re so wonderful that I almost can’t stand you.” Seeing my confused expression, he bit his lip and frowned. “I can’t explain it, but…have you ever been so afraid of having your heart broken that you decided not to fall for someone?”
There it was again. The angst. I considered it for a minute. “No,” I decided. “For me, love is like a banana peel in a comic strip---yeah, it’s painful and humiliating, but it’s also inevitable. I've never been able to avoid falling, even when I wanted to.”
Jun blinked, then started to smile. “Well, if you’re the guy who slips on the banana peel, then I’m the guy who walks around with his eyes glued to the ground. I even carry a broom and a dustbin around with me, just so I can sweep up and dispose of any bananas I come across.”
“Then I’ll be the guy who comes up behind you while your eyes are glued to the floor and chucks a banana at your head.”
Jun burst out laughing. Then he looked at his fingernails, considering. I held my breath. Finally, he looked up at me with one of his heartbreaking smiles. “I guess I can’t dodge that. After we get the negatives, how about we meet up for a drink, and you can chuck a banana at my head?”
“I’d love to.”
*
All things considered, I was in a pretty good mood when I waltzed into the office around noon. Sure, I’d been roughed up last night, but I’d also had the chance to spend the night with wonderful. Who must really like me if he’d agree to hold my banana when you take into account the shape I was in this morning. I scared myself when I got a look in the bathroom mirror. I was slightly more presentable after a shower and a shave, but I still had the butterfly tape crisscrossing my nose.
I’d no idea what Jun saw in me that he thought was so wonderful. I’m a two-bit private dick, an ex-con, a failed artist---not exactly a catch. But I wasn’t about to turn him down for his own good. As I said before, I don’t believe in angst. Besides, I was pretty sure he was kind of a basket case, which would explain a lot. I mean, he takes gorgeous photographs of garbage floating in the gutter. And then he frames them and hangs them up in his closet. Where he probably dusts his wingtips and arranges his socks by color. While grinding his teeth and knocking himself out trying to think of ways to help his brother. Who doesn't even speak to him. Like I said, wonderful.
And I guess if Aiba can stand me, then I must be doing something right. He greeted me with an enthusiastic shout of “Morning, boss!’ from behind the filing cabinet when I stepped into the office.
“Morning,” I returned, jumping out of the way as he emerged with an enormous stack of files. He dropped them in the middle of the room, sending up a cloud of dust. It dawned on me that the office was a wreck. “What’s with the dust-up?”
“Spring cleaning!” he called from underneath his desk.
“I thought it was July?”
“Yeah, well, it’s been on the to-do list for a while,” he replied nonchalantly, reaching for a feather duster. His eyes started twinkling dangerously as he set about busting some dust on top of the filing cabinet. “So how were things at Jun’s place last night? You guys come to an understanding?”
“Yeah…” and then I had another epiphany. “Hey, why’d you drop me off at Jun’s place anyway?”
Aiba’s grin was just this side of maniacal. “I told Jun his place was closer, and that we shouldn’t move you too far because of your ribs. You two looked pretty cozy in the parking lot, so I figured you could use some time together.”
“Are you sure there’s no money in the budget for you to give yourself a raise?”
“Well, if you insist, I can take it out of your paycheck.”
“Have at it, sugar.”
“I’ll take that to mean you had a swell time last night?”
“Yeah. There were bananas flying all over the place.”
“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds disgusting.” Aiba paused in his dusting to pick up a memo pad and a newspaper, his face suddenly assuming a solemn expression. “Now that we’ve covered that, I’ve got some news to deliver. Just keep thinking about the prince of Southern California while I give it to you straight.” He cleared his throat and paused for dramatic effect before beginning, “First, Gackt called. Says he wants to buy some of your artwork.”
I groaned. “I bet he does.”
“Second, you made the morning paper.”
“Come again?”
He threw down the paper, where he’d underlined the relevant section of the gossip column. I groaned as I read it.
Not only did this columnist get an eyeful (and a lapful!) of the ever-popular Perfume, but the Black Lotus was buzzing with the commotion caused by a mysterious tan gentleman, who seems to have won the affections of our city’s elusive Masumoto Jun. Other than his taste for tequila, not much is known about this petite charmer---let’s hope for a repeat performance tonight at the Lotus!
I looked up to discover Aiba shaking, his eyes filled with tears of mirth at my expression. “That’s one for the scrapbooks, you petite charmer you.” I threw the paper at his face while he cracked up. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he pulled himself together enough to offer, “And now for the good news. Your mother called.”
I felt myself brighten. “Really? Call her back and put her through to my desk.”
I had a lot to do before my meeting with Jun tonight, but I had at least a few minutes (or more) to put my feet up and catch up with Mom. I figured she deserved the inside scoop.
“Mom, I think I’m in love…”
*
The exchange was set for eight at a back alley in Chinatown. A lucky break for us, since Aiba knew the ins and outs of the place like the back of his hand. According to the letter, a little kid in a red shirt would meet Jun and, after seeing that the suitcase held the five thousand, would lead him to where the negatives were hidden, and they’d exchange. The plan was as full of holes as a piece of Swiss cheese, which made me think it really was one of Kazunari’s ex-lovers rather than one of Johnny’s pros. Aiba and I would watch the scene from a distance, then follow the kid to the blackmailer or get some information from the kid---Aiba was pretty fluent in Chinese. At least, that’s what he’d told me. I hoped this wouldn’t turn out like the time he’d claimed to speak Italian.
We spent the afternoon looking into Kazunari’s associates and hanging around some of Johnny’s haunts. But we came up empty, so we showed up at seven with all our hopes pinned on catching the jerk red-handed. Aiba was ecstatic because he got to use the binoculars he’d sent away for a couple of months ago, and because I’d relented and let him carry a gun. Though I think he was more interested in beaning guys over the head with it than actually firing the thing.
I kept my own piece close while I watched Jun through a second story window, more anxious than I’d been at a stakeout since I first started this gig. At least I could enjoy staring at Jun while he waited with the case at his feet. Though I guess I should have been scanning the area for suspects. I’d leave it up to Aiba and his binoculars.
I watched Jun wait. And wait. And then wait some more. I’m not complaining, but at midnight we threw in the towel---Jun was falling asleep standing up. No one had entered the damn alley for over five hours. Even Aiba was at a loss to explain it.
We met back up outside Chinatown. My heart contracted when I caught sight of Jun’s troubled expression. I tried to reassure him. I’m getting better at it, but it’s still not my forte. “They could have known you were being watched. But I think this means that the whole thing’s a bluff---a practical joke by someone looking to hassle the Matsumotos. You should consider yourself lucky that you’re up five thousand,” I tried. Jun tried to smile, but, as usual, I could read the whole story in his eyes. He was still bothered.
I wanted to take his hand, so I did, but he blushed and glanced at Aiba, trying to pull away. I guess it is kind of uncomfortable to have Aiba leering down at you when you’re not used to it.
Looking at Jun’s face, I couldn’t let it go just yet. “Aiba, take Jun home, and I’ll take a walk around the place. Just check if we missed anything, or if someone saw something.”
Jun stopped trying to pull away and squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to do that.”
I squeezed back. “It’s my job. And it’s not a problem. I’ll just have a smoke while I walk around, and then I’ll head back home.”
“You can come by my place after, if you feel like it,” he murmured, so low I almost didn’t catch it, his eyes downcast.
“Okay,” I grinned, waving him off crazily as he left with a similarly-grinning Aiba (who’d snatched the cigarette pack out of my jacket before he left, the bastard).
I had kind of a spring in my step when I turned around to head back, and I guess I may not have been as attentive to my surroundings as I should have been. I was ignoring Focus, my best friend, in favor of trying to relive the feeling of Jun’s lips against mine for the hundredth time that night. So naturally that was when a hand shot out from a darkened alley, seizing me by the throat and pulling me in, knocking the wind out of me as I was slammed against a brick wall.
“Sakurai?” I spluttered.
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| itsOK | Дата: Суббота, 03.12.2011, 21:37 | Сообщение # 4 | Полковник Группа: Администраторы Сообщений: 220 Награды: 33Репутация: 38Статус: Offline | Final
“Oh Jesus,” Sakurai gasped, snatching his hand away. “Ohno, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…I’ve been looking for you for hours and I panicked and I don’t always know...my own strength,” he finished lamely, looking pretty depressed about it.
“It’s all right,” I coughed, clutching my ribs. “I guess those muscles aren’t just for show,” I managed dryly. Well, as dry as I get while gasping for air.
“I am sorry,” Sakurai repeated, looking so miserable that I decided to be a nice guy and forget about it. Besides, Sakurai was out of uniform, in a hat and trench coat, roaming around Chinatown’s back alleys at midnight. I wanted to know the score.
“So what’s with the VIP treatment?”
Sakurai glanced from side to side briefly before leaning in, his eyes gleaming in the soft light cast by a streetlamp. “I got a tip for you. You’re looking for Matsumoto Jun’s blackmailer, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’ve got the guy who knows him. And he wants to meet with you.” Sakurai couldn’t stop himself from looking a little smug. I guess it’s pretty rare for him to get a lead like this. I raised one eyebrow skeptically (a gag I’d picked up from Jun). “Yeah, I know, I don’t have the best record,” Sakurai sighed, “but this is on the up and up. Will you meet him?” He abandoned whatever professional dignity he had left to give me his best puppy-dog eyes. After seeing Aiba’s, though, I’m pretty immune to all lesser forms.
But right now, I had no leads, no evidence, and no suspects. I figured I didn’t have much to lose. “Okay. But first, I need to make a phone call.”
*
A light rain had started up. I watched the raindrops slide down the sides of the phone booth, tracing their paths with my fingertips while I waited for Jun to pick up.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Jun? It’s me.”
“Satoshi.” I smiled. I could hear the quiet inhalation as he took another drag on his cigarette. I pictured him sitting by the phone, smoking a cigarette, waiting for me.
“Satoshi?” Now his voice sounded unsure---I guess I’d gone silent for too long. I’d been too caught up in listening to his breathing.
“Yeah, I’m here. I just called to let you know that I’ve got a lead. I’m not sure yet, but I think it might get us closer to the guy. I might be out all night, so don’t wait up.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” he answered quickly. I smiled again, picturing his eyebrows knitting together. In the small glass box, with his soft voice in my ear, Jun felt strangely close by.
“Okay. See you later, kid.”
“Satoshi…” he breathed, just as I moved to hang up.
“Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself.”
I smiled wider. “Don’t worry. It’s my-“
“Yeah, I know it’s your job. Just don’t do anything crazy, okay?” He paused. “I’m the only guy you’re allowed to take a punch for, got it?”
“I got it. Only for you.”
Another pause, another inhalation. “Goodbye, Satoshi.”
“Goodbye, Jun.”
*
It was pouring by the time we reached the all-night diner. Sakurai and I were both soaking when we walked in. Sakurai scanned the place anxiously while he removed his hat and shook out his hair, his face lighting up when he caught sight of the guy in the back booth.
I’d noticed the guy the minute we walked in---it was Kazunari, looking warm as toast and smirking at us from across the restaurant. I was surprised, but not too surprised---if anyone would know who could get his hands on nude photos of Matsumoto Kazunari, it would probably be the man himself. And apparently he’d finally decided to cooperate in getting them back. What I couldn’t figure was how Sakurai entered into all of this.
Sakurai slid into the booth beside Kazunari while I took the other side. Kazunari had a cup of coffee and a towering stack of blueberry pancakes with whipped cream sitting on the table in front of him. He pushed the plate over to Sakurai, who immediately started in on them. I could see that Kazunari already had Sakurai’s number---I’d watched Sakurai polish off a whole box of doughnuts during an hour-long stake-out.
“Sorry,” Sakurai mumbled between mouthfuls, “I haven’t eaten in hours.”
“Would you like anything?” Kazunari asked politely.
I shook my head. “Just coffee.” Kazunari motioned to the waitress. After she left, he smiled and looked at me expectantly.
I decided that we really needed to get this little interview underway---Kazunari’s friendly smiles were giving me the creeps. He and Jun shared some of the same glacial charm, but if you looked close enough, you could see the sweetness or the seriousness in Jun’s eyes. Kazunari’s eyes were unreadable to me---or, I guess they gave me the feeling that he was laughing inwardly at some private joke, probably at my expense. Not exactly a shark, I decided, but maybe a really cunning dolphin.
Sakurai finally put his fork down and started in on the explanations. His voice was quiet and earnest, and he glanced at Kazunari occasionally as he spoke. “You know I’ve been investigating Kazu, right? Well, last night he approached me. He…uh…knew I was an undercover cop.” Sakurai looked slightly crestfallen at my lack of surprise. “Kazu wants to split with Johnny’s crew and become an informant. And he’ll let me bring him in and handle the case, in exchange for a favor…”
“Why’d you decide to part ways with Johnny?” I interrupted.
Kazunari shook out a cigarette. “First, and most importantly,” he began, his voice terse, “I told the old man not to touch my little brother. And then he sent one of his thugs after him. Second, I found out from one of my guys last night that Johnny’s got an envelope with my name on it in his safe, containing a set of negatives. So I thought it was time we parted ways.” When Kazu talked about his brother, his eyes flashed, and for a moment I felt like I could read him. I believed him.
“So you’re telling me Johnny’s the blackmailer? Why would he send the letter to Jun?”
“I haven’t been investing as much in his…business ventures as I used to. In fact, I’ve been collecting, running more of the guys than Johnny. This is his way of getting his hands on some of the Matsumoto fortune.”
I must have looked doubtful because he leaned forward before continuing, “I bet no one showed up for the ransom tonight, right? Think about it---why would Johnny have someone show up for five Gs from his own casino?” He leaned back, smirking. “He didn’t expect Jun to head to the Lotus for his ransom.”
I had to admit that it made a certain amount of sense. I must have looked like I was breaking because Kazu leaned forward again, shaking his dark hair out of his face as he took another drag before continuing, “So now I’d like nothing better than to let our capable Officer Sakurai here”---Sakurai nodded eagerly---“bring me in so that I can rat out all of Johnny’s evil deeds to the Los Angeles County authorities. But first, I want the negatives. I want Jun to see them destroyed so that he can sleep at night. And I want you to help me get them.”
I sucked in a breath. This guy looked like he was used to getting what he wanted. I thought of how he’d reacted to losing the company to his younger brother, even though he clearly still cared about him. If Jun was trouble with a capital T, then Kazunari had to be dangerous with a capital D.
“You want me to break into Johnny’s safe?”
“The two of us. I can’t do it alone, and I can’t trust any of my guys not to clean the place out in the process. Nor do I really trust our Officer friend here with the job, capable as he is,” he gave a slightly apologetic nod to Sakurai, who was looking chagrined.
“And what makes you think I’m up to the job?” I was genuinely curious. I’m no criminal mastermind. I’m not even a great detective. And I was soaking wet and had a bandage across my nose---not my toughest look.
“Jun hired you to get the negatives, right? So get them.”
“He hired me to find the blackmailer. Not the same thing.”
Kazu rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, clearly irritated. “Fine. Now I’m hiring you to get the negatives. I’ll pay double.”
“I’ll decline your offer, as it constitutes a conflict of interest with a current client.”
Kazu smiled, and for a moment sadness flickered in his dark eyes. “And you don’t think that my interests and Jun’s interests coincide?”
I had to think about that one. “Not always,” I concluded.
“Okay, so I won’t hire you. But I think you’re the man for the job. You took a beating for him, right? And you managed to get the five thousand back.”
I decided not to mention Aiba. I couldn’t call him up for this job---Sunday dim sum is the restaurant’s biggest money maker of the week, and he was probably chopping up vegetables in preparation right now. And I was kind of afraid of the risks that Aiba might be willing to take for double our usual pay.
“So I’m asking you,” Kazu continued, “please help me get the negatives. For Jun,” he pleaded, eyes big.
“Now you are dangerous,” I sighed. I knew he was turning on the charm. But he had a point.
He must have caught me wavering because suddenly he grinned. “Let’s get out of here," he smiled with an expression of triumph.
Sakurai, who’d finished his pancakes while we talked, pushed the bill towards him. Kazu’s face transformed instantly. “All I had was a cup of coffee,” he growled.
“Yeah,” Sakurai leveled a stare at him, looking more intimidating than I’d ever seen him, “and I bought you five drinks last night.” The two held a staring contest for about a minute, and then Kazu finally reached for his wallet with a noise of disgust.
As he opened his wallet to pull out some cash, I caught sight of something. “What’s that?”
“Huh?”
“The photograph.” I grabbed for it while Kazu cried “Hey!” and Sakurai looked at me like I had a screw loose.
I grinned and then burst out laughing once I got a good like at the fraying picture. It showed Kazu as a kid---he looked about twelve but had exactly the same face as the one currently staring at me from across the table. He was sandwiched between a tiny Jun and girl who looked a little older---I figured it was Riisa, the older sister Jun had mentioned. She was pretty, but she also looked like Kazu wearing a wig; they could have been twins. I started laughing at that, but then I was really cracking up over the younger Jun, with thick eyebrows exactly the size they are now and his huge smile revealing a jumbled mess of teeth. “You carry this around with you?”
Kazu was blushing. Sakurai looked at me in awe.
“What’s it to you?” he challenged, shrugging his shoulders in annoyance.
“Does Jun know about this?”
Kazu wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s not something that we can discuss,” he replied, puffing away on his cigarette as if desperate to end the conversation.
I groaned. “You two really deserve each other,” I muttered. I studied the picture for a few moments. “Okay. I’ll help you get the negatives. But in exchange,” I looked up to meet his eyes, “ I want this photograph.”
Sakurai gaped while Kazu just shook his head, eyeing me warily. “Okay, detective. It’s a deal.”
*
I guess it was a two-man job. I’d stood on Sakurai’s shoulders, breaking open the window that led into Johnny’s office while Kazu chatted with the guards. Kazu insisted we take the place tonight, and while the Lotus was in full swing. Somehow the whole heist was more disturbing when accompanied by the distant strains of Perfume’s latest hit---I found myself humming along while I stood on Johnny’s leather chair, waiting to pull Kazu in through the window. He was still bickering with Sakurai---the two hadn’t stopped since we reached the Lotus.
The reality of the situation seemed to have hit Sakurai pretty hard as we approached the club; he broke into a cold sweat and started fumbling for a cigarette. “You sure you don’t want me to be the look-out? We could have Ohno wait with the car.”
“No,” Kazu hissed for the hundredth time that night as he climbed onto Sakurai’s shoulders. “There’s no way in hell you’re going in there. You’re a nice guy and all, but I am not pulling a job with a sap who can’t even eat pancakes without dropping one on the floor.”
“It’s okay, Sakurai,” I whispered hoarsely from my spot at the window after I pulled Kazu in. “I’ve got a line on this one.” He stared up at me uncertainly for a minute, finally skulking off when Kazu threatened to throw a paperweight at his head.
Johnny’s office looked like your standard, MGM-issued villain’s lair. You know the drill: fine leathers, rich mahogany, a box of cigars on the table, a tiger skin rug on the floor---the old guy thinks he’s kind of a big deal. The fact that the place practically oozed corruption and misdemeanors made me feel a little better about the whole breaking-and-entering aspect of the plan.
Once inside, Kazu and I used all of our combined strength to pull back an enormous bookcase, revealing a safe built into the wall. Kazu went to work on it while I stood with my ear pressed against the door, my gun out, watching the sliver of light at the bottom of the door for the shadow of a footstep.
It hit me that this was probably what Jun meant when he told me not to do anything crazy. And Aiba would knock me into next week if he knew I’d taken on a job like this without consulting him. But I was intoxicated by a vision of myself knocking on Jun’s door early this morning, presenting an astounded Jun (in gray sweatpants, his hair mussed) with the negatives and the picture I’d found in Kazu’s wallet.
The lock clicked and the door to the safe swung open. Kazu and I sucked in a breath simultaneously, and Kazu let out a low whistle of appreciation. The safe held more green than I’d ever seen in one place---I guessed there was at least fifty thousand in there.
Which Kazu promptly began stuffing in the satchel at his side.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed.
Kazu’s lips quirked as he continued to stuff the cash into his bag, his eyes never leaving the money. “I’m taking what Johnny owes me.”
“What about the negatives?”
“Not here,” he breathed.
I left the door to hold my gun to his head. “I’m going to have to call a time-out until you explain a few things to me.”
The bastard didn’t even flinch. He just continued taking the cash while he smirked, “Come on, detective. We both know you’re not going to plug me. You don’t have it in you to shoot anyone, let alone Jun’s older brother.”
Damn it. He was right. I lowered my gun and thought about shooting him in the leg instead.
“You know, detective,” he continued as he reached for another stack of bills, “I actually kind of like you. I’d like to think that, had we met under different circumstances, we could have been friends.”
I threw my gun to the floor and tackled him. He shrieked as we hit the floor, and I’d just got my hands around his throat when I froze at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Kazu struggled beneath me. “The last guy Johnny caught in his office without permission lost seven fingers,” he choked out. “And he was only trying to bum a cigarette. So I suggest you get off me so that we can focus on getting the hell out of here.”
I slackened my grip, and Kazu sprang up. My head was still spinning with a sense of fast-approaching doom when Kazu leapt for the room’s other bookcase, grabbing a copy of How To Win Friends and Influence People (a book Aiba was always suggesting I read sometime). The moment he pulled down the book, the bookcase shifted, revealing a way out of there. Kazu bolted while I followed, hot on his heels.
Only to be detained as the door to Johnny’s office burst open and a guy caught me by the back of the neck.
I’d heard the expression “fighting for your life” before, but I never really got it until that night. I’m not sure how I broke out of that joint, except that I fought harder and crazier than I’d ever fought before. And it may have involved a paperweight and a letter-opener grabbed from Johnny’s desk. And I may have pulled the tiger rug out from under the gang at some point. I busted out of the office and took off like a shot down the hall, pushing guys out of the way and ducking under arms. As the gossip columnist for the Los Angeles Times had reminded me earlier that day, sometimes it pays to be petite.
I was just about to show myself out the back when I ran into an old pal---the guy I’d had the knife fight with Friday night. I gave him a left-hook to the jaw and a jab to the kidneys before flinging myself past him, but not before the two of us shared a sickening moment of mutual recognition. He knew my face.
Finally outside the Lotus (and hoping never to return), I ran blindly for about a mile in the rain, just trying to get as far away from the joint as I could. After I'd calmed down and started breathing again, I slowly circled back, heading for the alley were Sakurai was waiting with the get-away car.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that when I reached the place, Sakurai was gone.
I stood in the alley, soaked to the skin, panting, and just let it kind of fall over me like a ton of bricks that the two of them had played me like a piano (I’d heard that Sakurai was classically trained, and Kazu was known to give a performance or two at the Lotus). Now that I’d screwed up the gig beyond all recognition and showed my dumb face to just about every member of Johnny’s crew, the mystery had suddenly cleared itself up for me.
Johnny didn’t have the negatives---Kazu did. He must have sent the pictures to Jun himself, hoping for an easy five thousand from their father. When he figured out that Jun had hired a PI---and one that would do anything for him---he saw a chance to take more than a lousy five thousand; he’d rather have Johnny’s fifty thousand. And I was just the sap to take the fall for him.
What really got to me was Sakurai’s role in the whole thing---yeah, we weren’t family or anything, but I’d thought of us as colleagues, almost pals. How much had Sakurai known about Kazu’s plan? Was he a dupe, or had he (clumsily) planned to stab me in the back?
My stomach churned at the thought, and then I had another one of those epiphanies that kept crashing over me no matter how hard I tried to avoid them.
Jun. How much did Jun know about Kazu’s scheme? I remembered that night at Jun’s place, his big sad eyes as he mumbled, “the knock-out always betrays the detective in the end.” Was Jun seducing me part of the plan? I couldn’t believe that everything between us had been a lie, but I could believe that Jun would do almost anything for his brother. And what else would Jun want with a guy like me?
I closed my eyes, and suddenly I was back in the phone booth, with Jun purring in my ear, “I’m the only guy you’re allowed to take a punch for, got it?” I opened my eyes and remembered the spectacular performance he’d put on for Gackt that night at the Lotus.
I threw up in a trashcan before stumbling back home in the rain.
*
When I got home, I peeled out of my suit and threw myself into bed. But I was too feverish to sleep, and it wasn’t just because of the rain. When I closed my eyes, I saw Jun, and when I slept, I dreamed of Jun standing on the deck of a fishing boat, sailing away from me while I stood on shore, calling for him.
At eight AM I called him. No answer. I looked like hell, but I pulled myself into a suit and made it over to his place. I entered the gallery’s side door and climbed up the stairs to his apartment. I knocked. Then I knocked again, calling his name. And then this shiver went through me. It was just the way Aiba describes the shiver he gets just before something goes wrong---it crawled from the soles of my feet to the top of my head.
I tried the door. Unlocked. I pushed it open and walked in. I wasn’t surprised, but it was no less sickening to find my old pal with the knife in Jun’s apartment. Sitting in Jun’s chair. Next to Jun’s roses. Smoking (I was certain) one of Jun’s cigarettes. The expensive kind.
He smiled when I stepped inside. “I love dumb guys like you. They always show up. Here,” he said, dialing the phone (Jun’s phone) that was sitting in his lap, “I’ve got a call for you.” He held out the receiver.
I took it. “Jun?”
I heard his breath rasping over the line, and then a strangled gasp. “Detective.” As if by magic, his voice was clear and cold as ice, like the first time we’d spoken in my office. “I’m having a conversation with Johnny. I’m not in any danger, so just concentrate on finding the blackmailer like I hired you to-“
A new voice took over, high-pitched and quavering with age. It made my skin crawl. “I’m afraid your friend can’t speak any longer. He’s in a bad condition, and if he stays here any longer, I’m afraid the damage might be permanent. If you’d like to visit him, come by my office at the Lotus---I think you know the way. And be sure to bring the twenty thousand.” The line went dead.
I didn’t know how much Jun had known about Kazu’s plans. And right now, I didn’t care. What I did know was that I was sick of talking to Jun over the goddamn telephone. I needed to see the kid in person.
What can I say? I’m a sucker for a pretty face. | | | |
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| itsOK | Дата: Суббота, 03.12.2011, 21:37 | Сообщение # 5 | Полковник Группа: Администраторы Сообщений: 220 Награды: 33Репутация: 38Статус: Offline |
The city was quiet as I was escorted to the Lotus. It was a Sunday morning, so everyone was either in church or nursing a hangover. Maybe both. Aiba was probably getting ready to serve up plates of the restaurant’s special mabo tofu. I hoped his name wouldn’t get mixed up in this. The temperature was already climbing as I stepped out of the car in front of the darkened Lotus. All the lights were switched off; the windmill had stopped turning.
I let the mug lead me to Johnny’s office. I had to stick my hands in my pockets to hide the shaking. To be honest, I was terrified of what they might have done to Jun. But I was trying to play it cool---no need to give them any more evidence that they had me behind the eight ball.
After the goon checked me over (no need, I’d left my piece on the floor of Johnny’s office a couple of hours ago), he opened the door and invited me in. Too bad I couldn’t appreciate the VIP treatment.
The second I entered the office, all I saw was Jun. The bastards actually had him tied to a chair, and his face was a bloody mess---it looked like they’d given him a real working over, trying to make the kid look as beat-up as possible. My chest contracted, and my heart stopped---it felt like a knife had gone through my chest when my blood started pumping again. I started to reach for him, but then he sent me one of his icy glares, and I froze.
I couldn’t throw myself at him. Yeah, his face was a mess and he was tied to a chair, but Jun was sitting there as if he could get up anytime he wanted. He wasn’t even panting, and he didn’t flinch when blood trickled from above his eyebrow down his face. It hit me that Jun really was a tough guy. A lot tougher than me. And that he’d kill me if I touched him right now.
So I just stood there trying to think of ways to kill the guys who’d done this to him. Grab another paperweight? Push a bookcase on top of them? I was wondering what had happened to Johnny’s letter-opener when the man himself coughed, sort of calling for my attention, I guess. I’d sort of forgotten that there was anyone else in the room---I’d been too busy looking at Jun. But now I saw that the old geezer was there, along with a couple of his gorillas. He looked the way I remembered him from that night at the Lotus---thin and balding, his skin dry and papery. He wore a hideous orange suit and his trademark black sunglasses. It must be killing Jun to get tied up by a guy with no fashion sense.
“Glad you could make it." He was as smug as hell---he knew he had me backed into a corner. His voice was thin and reedy as he continued. “As you can see, your friend’s a little tied up right now.” Jun snorted and rolled his eyes at the pun, earning him a smack across the head from one of Johnny’s goons. I couldn’t stop my hands from balling into fists.
Johnny smiled. “But you’re in luck. Today I’m running a special. I’ll return your friend to you for the one-time only price of twenty thousand dollars.” He leaned back in his chair, dropping the smile. “Believe me, you’re not going to find a better deal than that,” he hissed.
Then Jun had to open his big mouth. I could tell it was painful for him to talk---he looked like he’d been hit a couple times in the jaw. But he shook his hair and surveyed the room contemptuously, his voice cold, “Don’t buy it, detective. Johnny’s crazy if he thinks he’s going to get away with laying a finger on Matsumoto Jun. My father will have him killed for his,” he managed just before he started coughing, small flecks of blood appearing at his lips.
“You’ve got a point, Jun,” Johnny wheezed, standing up and casually picking up the letter-opener I remembered from last night. “Matsumoto Jun is a pretty valuable commodity. For example,” he grabbed Jun’s chin and turned to face me. I went for him, but two thugs appeared at my sides to restrain me. “How much would you say this face is worth, detective?” He paused, pretending to examine it critically while Jun struggled. “Maybe not so much, now.” He dropped his hand. “But these,” he seized Jun’s hand. Now I was fighting the guys like crazy. “He’s a photographer, right? Let’s see, ten fingers at, let’s say, two thousand each. He’s a valuable guy, after all.” He faced me, and I could see my own desperation reflected back at me in the dark lenses of his glasses. “So if you can’t give me the twenty thousand, I’ll have to take these fingers instead.” Jun didn’t flinch, but I saw fear in his eyes as Johnny raised the knife.
“I don’t have the money!” I shouted, struggling. “I’m not the guy you’re looking for!”
Johnny didn’t hesitate. He just started pressing the knife against Jun’s skin.
I couldn’t get an angle on the situation. I knew Kazu had the money, but I had no idea where he was. For all I knew, he was sailing in international waters this very minute. And even if I did know, could I give him up while Jun when was sitting right there? And there was no way I could pull twenty thousand together. Unless I knocked over a bank. Since my brain wasn’t doing much to help the situation, I decided to stop thinking and just go with my gut. I took a cue from Jun and improvised.
“Okay,” I cried, “Okay, you’ve got me.” Johnny paused. I continued, panting, “I’ve got the dough. But not with me. I hid it this morning after I busted out of here.” Jun’s eyebrows shot up, and Johnny looked at me expectantly. So I just kept jawing. “I can take you there. I’m the only guy who can get to it, but if you take me, I’ll give it all up. And you have to bring Jun,” I added, starting to get a feel for my new role. “I’m not taking you to the cash and then coming back to find Jun missing a couple fingers.” If there’d been anything in my stomach, I might have lost it after the last sentence.
Johnny looked at me appraisingly for a minute. I tried to let my face go as blank as possible---Aiba says I’ve got a real talent for that. Jun was staring at me like I’d suddenly grown a second head.
Finally, Johnny snapped his fingers. “Naruse.”
My old pal stepped forward. “Yes, boss?”
“Get the boys together and take this guy and Jun to get the cash. If it’s not there, or he tries anything, dump their bodies off the pier. You know the one.”
“Yes, boss.”
Well, Jun still had all ten fingers. And now all I had to do was lead Johnny’s crew to the nonexistent twenty thousand.
*
Jun and I rode side by side in the back of the car, facing Naruse and two of Johnny’s goons. I told them to take us down to the waterfront.
“What, you want to make it more convenient for them to dispose of our bodies?” Jun grit out. His hands were tied tightly behind his back. Jun wasn’t trembling. I was. But I could feel the fury radiating off him; if he could have beaten me up using just his eyebrows, he would have. As it was, he was making a pretty good effort to.
But he let me mop up his face with my handkerchief. He looked even worse without the blood---now I could see the purple bruises underneath. The kid could take a beating like champ. I was feeling like kind of a failure as a boyfriend. I wasn’t sure if I could ever ask him to accept my banana again after this.
When we reached the spot, we all piled out of the car, one of the thugs holding Jun’s arms, and Naruse’s gun was at the ready. “Okay,” I started, “I have to get the key. And only I can get it, see. So why don’t you keep that gat under wraps and I’ll ask for it real pleasant-like. And let’s untie Jun and pretend we’re out for a Sunday stroll instead of this forced march.”
Naruse laughed. Man, was that guy ugly. He slid his gun underneath his jacket. “Untie him. But keep a hand on him. And if you make one wrong move, detective, he’s going to lose more than fingers."
I nodded. “Okay. Everybody try to act human while I visit the takoyaki stand.”
I’m pretty sure Jun thought I’d lost it. “Takoyaki stand? Here?” Naruse reached into his coat threateningly.
“LA’s finest,” I responded, turning the corner to reveal a single takoyaki stand on the otherwise deserted boardwalk, staffed by a young guy I recognized. Chinen.
His eyes went wide as he caught sight of me. And the crew shuffling behind me.
“Hey kid,” I tried to smile cheerfully. It must have looked pretty grotesque because he took a step back. “I need the key to the storage shed, okay? I’m going out fishing with some pals.” I gestured toward the crew. Jun raised a dejected-looking hand. “Don’t mind him. Fell down the stairs this morning.”
“Sure, Captain, right away,” he squeaked, going for the locked box of keys inside the booth. He found the one labeled “Ohno” and passed it.
“Thanks.” I started to turn, then stopped as if I’d just remembered something. “Oh yeah. And I’ll take an order of takoyaki. But without the mayonnaise. Seriously, kid," I said, practically boring holes into his forehead with my gaze, “I don’t want to see any mayonnaise on it.”
He turned away first. “Sure, captain,” he murmured quietly. “One order of takoyaki. No mayo.”
The crew behind me groaned. Jun looked torn between being genuinely puzzled and wanting to throttle me. Naruse just made a noise of disgust as Chinen handed over the stuff. I think he was convinced that I was just a dumb hick in over my head. Which was pretty close to the truth. “Okay, gang,” I said, my voice sounding hollow in my own ears, “I’ll show you the way.” Now, all I could do was pray that she would show up in time.
It ended up with me and Jun walking a couple feet in front of the gang, with Naruse’s gun behind us and the other guys surrounding us as we threaded our way through the deserted waterfront buildings.
Jun lost it after I offered him a bite of takoyaki. “You decided to share your last meal?”
I didn’t answer. “I’m assuming you have a plan,” he continued to whisper furiously.
“Maybe.”
Jun let out a breath. “I would kill for a cigarette right now,” he muttered.
“Jun?”
“Yeah?” he sighed, looking out towards the sea. It was a bright, hot day, and the blue water shimmered in the afternoon haze.
“I’m sorry that I let you get hurt. In fact, you got hurt because of me. I told you that you should get a new PI.”
Jun didn’t look at me, but I could see his expression soften, and he murmured, “Not your fault. Besides, I like the one I’ve got. Unless you really did steal twenty thousand.” I shook my head. “Do you know who did?”
“I thought you’d know,” I replied.
“What are you taking about, Satoshi?” he asked, looking confused.
I could feel my heart starting to fill up like a balloon again. “I thought that maybe Kazu and you were in this together. That you seduced me so that I’d help Kazu with the take.”
Jun looked even more confused, his dark eyes frustrated. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he breathed. He wanted to punch me. “You seduced me.”
I smiled, starting to enjoy the fact that he couldn’t strangle me right now, no matter what I said. “Then why’d you throw yourself at me when I was injured and helpless on your sofa?”
His jaw was tensing. “That was after you grabbed my ass.”
“But you ate a lime out of my mouth.”
“After you made me buy you a drink.”
“After you kept licking your lips in my office.”
“Because you lighted my cigarette between your lips.”
“Yeah, but that was because you were the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen,” I muttered. Was it strange that I was considering grabbing him in for a kiss right now?
He shook his head. “I can’t read you, Satoshi," he whispered.
“Are you kidding me? You’re not exactly an easy guy to get to know.”
“You're the one kidding me. You know exactly what I’m thinking, but I don’t have a clue about what goes on in your head.” I think there might have been tears at the corners of his eyes. He blinked a couple times, staring straight ahead.
“I love you. From now on, I’m the only guy that’s allowed to read you, okay?”
Jun froze in mid-stride. Good thing we’d reached the place. “We’re here,” I announced, wondering what the odds were that Jun and I could share a kiss (or, preferably, a quick one behind the shed) before they shot us and threw our bodies off the pier.
It was an old storage shed that I used for fishing gear, and some of the bigger paintings that I couldn’t fit in my shoebox apartment. I unlocked the door as slowly as I could with Naruse breathing down my neck. I think Jun could tell that I wasn’t sweating because of the heat---he grabbed my hand in his own and squeezed when we walked inside.
“Okay, what’s the gag?” Naruse growled, brandishing his gun around, as usual. I wondered if had a complex about it or something.
“No gag. I…uh…buried the cash underneath the floorboards this morning. I’ll need this crowbar,” I muttered, reaching for one nearby.
“Hold it,” Naruse barked, looking pretty pleased with himself for outsmarting me. “You,” he gestured to one of the gorillas, “Take it and start tearing up the floor."
My vision started going kind of blurry around the edges. In about three minutes, he’d have torn up the floor to reveal a big fat pile of nothing. I doubted there was even a nickel dropped from my own pocket down there. The only thing keeping me together was Jun’s hand in mine. But I still couldn’t stop my stomach from twisting as I imagined Aiba calling up Mom with the news.
Then again, Mom always said that it’s important to have faith in both yourself and in your friends. As usual, she was right. Because at that moment, Yankumi and her gang busted through the door, her flying-kick first. It was pretty swell to see Naruse drop his gun in surprise. “Who are you?” he spluttered.
Yankumi tossed back her hair, reminding me of Jun for a moment. “Who am I?” she smiled. “I’m the dame about to put you under.”
Johnny’s guys never stood a chance. Yankumi and her gang had them taken care of in under five (I also had to pull Jun off Naruse---the kid doesn’t know when to stop). We left them knocked out cold and tied together under the pier. Maybe they’d wake up before nightfall.
*
I may only be a pretty good detective, but I’ve got some pretty great connections. Johnny’s isn’t the only criminal syndicate in town, and I’ve helped out the princess of one of the local crime families on a couple different occasions; Yankumi is a great lady, but she’s got terrible taste in men. First she was a client. Then after she bought some of my artwork, and I introduced her to the guy she currently runs around town with (he’s a jazz musician in a club I know), we got to be friends. She let me in on her family’s waterfront property, and told me about the distress signal involving takoyaki without mayo. She swore it could get a crew down here in fifteen minutes or less---I’d never tested it out before today.
Jun listened to my explanation with his mouth open, then pulled me into an embrace. Now he was shaking a little. It made me feel a little better about my cowardly attitude in general; I’d been pretty sure that I'd never be able to compete with Jun’s stoicism. For example, I was getting kind of choked-up while I stood there with Jun. After all, it seemed like the kid really did like me.
After we said goodbye to Yankumi, Aiba showed up to drive us to the hospital. Jun said he was fine, but I insisted; I’d seen him cough up blood. Aiba drove us to the hospital as requested, and then he slapped me around while I waited for Jun. I’m not kidding---he had me in a headlock at one point, and then he held my face against the wall until I swore never to take on a job without his permission again. I’d never seen Aiba angry before---I can’t really describe it, except to say that he was even scarier than Jun. Which is saying something. The he sobbed into my shoulder that he forgave me for about twenty minutes, so I guess we’re okay.
After Jun got the go ahead from the doctor, the two of us weren’t exactly sure where to go. Yeah, we’d escaped this afternoon, but how long until Johnny came after us? We decided to head to Jun’s place and pack up a few things, then spend the night at my place, since we didn’t think Johnny knew it. We both needed a couple hours of sleep.
Aiba drove us to Jun’s, insisting that he’d be lookout, and I went up with Jun. I helped him pack his glasses, his blue sequined jacket, his gray sweatpants, and the photographs of Kazu and his nephew. I think Jun may have thrown in a couple of other items (like socks, and the five thousand dollars), but I made sure to get the essentials.
We spotted it on our way out. A thick manila envelope labeled “To Jun” on the glass table. Our eyes went wide, then Jun grabbed it and stuffed it in his bag. We opened it the minute we got to my place. We sat on the bed (there’s not a lot of elegant seating at my place) and dumped out a set of negatives and several sheets of paper---covered in handwriting this time, not a cut and paste job. Jun held the film up to the lamp and ground his teeth---yeah, it was Kazu’s notorious photo shoot. The letter was also from Kazu.
J,
Maybe you’ve figured it out by now. Or maybe not. You were always slow on the uptake when we were kids---no matter how often I pulled the same pranks, you always fell for them. Every time.
So I guess I better confess. I sent you the photographs and the letter. I didn’t realize you’d take the whole thing so seriously---I was just looking for a quick $5,000 out of Dad’s spare change. Also, I used your private dick to collect some money that Johnny owed me (watch out for that guy, I think he’s in love with you). The heist didn’t go exactly as planned, but Sho saw the detective make it back to his apartment, so he should be okay.
I guess I should apologize, but I’m not sorry. Now Sho and I finally have the money to blow this town for good.
That’s the other thing I have to tell you about, Jun---Sho. I met the guy. The guy. You know, that “from here to eternity” kind of love. You’d like him---he’s a cop, he’s a sap, and he worries about me even more than you do. Believe me, he’ll keep me on the straight and narrow once we reach Rio. So do your orthodontist a favor, and take a break, okay?
That’s what I do want to apologize for, Jun---that I let things get like this between us these few years. I was always lucky to have you as a brother. It wouldn’t kill you to be less stubborn, though.
So, you can give this letter to the police. Or to Johnny. Or publish the photos (they came out pretty classy, right?). And you can take the company. Or not. Just don’t live your life trying to fix our messed up family anymore, okay? Because Riisa can stand up for herself. And there’s nothing wrong with me that Sho can’t fix.
Your older brother,
Kazu
P.S. Tell Nozomi it’s nothing personal, will you? She’s a classy broad.
P.P.S. Sho enclosed a note for your detective---do me a favor and see that he gets it, will you?
I got it.
Dear Ohno,
I hope this letter finds you well. I realize that my behavior last night was unforgivable, so I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I’ll just say that I’ll always regret having double-crossed a good guy like you. You're the most honest detective I've ever met. You can sock me in the jaw if we meet again.
Sincerely,
Sakurai Sho
Jun was white with anger when he finished the letter. His mouth was opening and closing uselessly (like a cute fish) as he tried to form words in the midst of his rage. “That guy,” he finally ground out, starting to twist the letter. I grabbed it out of his hands before he could tear it apart. He might want to read it again later. “That brat…thinks he can…you could have died…twenty thousand…”
“Loosen your jaw up, kid, before it sticks that way.”
He’d been staring forward unseeingly, as they say in the novels, but now he turned his big eyes towards me. “You know I’m not going to let this go, right?” he pronounced slowly. “I consider this far from over.”
“I know. But we can plot revenge in the morning, okay? For now, let’s just sleep.” I grabbed his shoulder and tugged him down, so that we were lying face to face. Being with Jun made me feel like waves of happiness were crashing over me, but right now there was a serious undertow of exhaustion---I’d barely slept in the past forty-eight hours.
“I have to change-“ he started.
I put my arms around him. “Just stay with me like this for a few minutes, okay? It’s all I’m asking.”
I could feel Jun’s smile against my forehead. “Okay,” he answered softly. “Just for a few minutes.”
To be straight with you, when I invited Jun over, I’d hoped that we’d be able to get down to business. Start chucking a few bananas around, if you get me. But Jun’s face was all beat up, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I figured it was okay, though---we had all the time in the world ahead of us.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait that long. I found out later that Jun’s not really a morning person. But that Monday he made an exception.
*
Like I told Aiba, things don’t always make sense, especially in Los Angeles. Think about it---this real knock-out walks into my office on a Friday afternoon, and we’re in love by Monday morning. Doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? Jun and I fell for each other even faster than Romeo and Juliet. But unlike those kids, we’ve got a much longer epilogue.
Jun and I decided pretty quickly that LA had gotten too hot for us. The phone was ringing off the hook with calls from Gackt, and word on the street was that Johnny was still looking for the twenty thousand. Which Jun is still determined to get out of Kazu.
So we blew town in Jun’s old Cadillac and haven’t been back since. We’ve hopped around to different places in Mexico on our way to Rio, and we’ve decided to settle down in this little town called San Miguel for a while. There are a lot of artistic types here, and I’m back at the clay figures while Jun’s started a new series of portraits. I wasn’t sure how Jun would adjust to life outside glamorous LA, but he says that he brings glamour with him wherever he goes. He’s building a new wardrobe that should put him on the cutting-edge of Mexican fashion.
Before we left town, Jun gave the five thousand he won at the Lotus to Aiba. After all, he said, Aiba was the one that saved the dough. So now his mother’s medical bills are paid for and the family restaurant is expanding. He went back to school like I expected, but he surprised me by taking over the Great Detective Ogura Agency. Says he’d miss the excitement too much. Student by day, detective at night---can you believe it? At first, I was up at nights worrying about him, but apparently he’s got a new secretary---this tough-as-nails dame called Becky---that keeps him in line. She’s already rejected three of his marriage proposals, but Aiba’s sure it’s just a matter of time before she succumbs to his charms. In Aiba’s mind, he and Becky, Sho and Kazu, and me and Jun will all be vacationing together in Hawaii someday. I wouldn't bet against one of Aiba’s hunches.
Jun carries the picture of the three Matsumoto siblings around with him in his wallet now. He says that when we get to Rio, he’ll crumple it up and throw it in Kazu’s face. And then I’ll give Sho a sock in the jaw. But I get the feeling that after that, Jun will smooth the picture out and put it back in his wallet, and the four of us will go out for a drink.
But for now we’re satisfied with just the two of us. I was never really cut out to be PI, anyway, and now that Riisa’s ruling over the Matsumoto empire with an iron fist, Jun and I are just a pair of loose ends tying ourselves more tightly together everyday.
Sure, there are a lot of things about Jun that drive me crazy. Like the way he scrapes his fork across his plate. Or the way he always takes my favorite chair when I leave the room. Or how he describes everything he likes as “superb.”
But he’s also the only guy in the world who gets as excited as me over a new hat for my model of Louis Armstrong. And who wants to take sixty-four different pictures of my face. And who doesn’t care if I go for six hours without speaking. And who actually feels better when I try to comfort him. And who thinks I’m wonderful.
Just as I suspected. Behind that face, the guy’s a real marshmallow.
Bonus Epilogue:
Six Months Earlier
Around me, Kazu has a way with words. For example, he convinced me to take nude photographs of him by describing our first meeting as “kismet.” Kismet, meaning fate, destiny. Specifically, a preordained set of circumstances that deliver two different lonely souls to the same place at the same time.
I guess that’s a fairly accurate description of our first meeting. I just happened to be the cop who arrived first on the scene to pull Kazu off the guy whose jaw he was breaking. It was three against one, and he was half the size of all of them, yet somehow he had the guy on the ground when I showed up. Not that he was unscathed. But he was still struggling and shouting while I pulled him off the guy, “And if you ever even think about touching Anne again, I’ll hire someone to have you castrated!” he spat, swinging wildly. I pushed him against the alley wall and had the cuffs on him by the time my partner arrived. We shoved him in the back of the car, where he complained all the way to the station. “I’m not the guy you should be arresting,” he growled, “I’m not some sick rapist like the bastard back there.”
“We’ll certainly look into those allegations after we’ve processed your arrest,” I informed him. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror for a moment. He threw himself back against the seat with a noise of disbelief.
When I saw him again later in the hallway, he’d calmed down significantly. He was sitting handcuffed to a bench, and I noticed that he was sporting two black eyes and a patch of blood on his forehead. It looked like there was a cut at the side of his mouth, too.
“Nobody’s cleaned him up, yet?” I wondered, turning to a colleague.
He smirked. “No. We thought we’d let him cool his heels for a while. You know, have Matsumoto Kazunari see what life is like for the litle people,” he laughed.
Without knowing why, I walked towards him, hesitating as I got closer. It was then that his eyes met mine. He suddenly looked so fragile, his soft brown eyes pulling me in. “You got a cigarette?” he whispered hoarsely.
Dazed, I nodded, offering one to him. He nodded towards his cuffs. So I placed the cigarette between his lips, lighting it carefully. Then I knelt down and held it in place with two fingers while he inhaled deeply. He turned his head to the side as he slowly exhaled.
“Thanks,” his eyes flicked to my name badge. “Officer Sakurai,” he smiled.
And that was it. Kismet.
I’d spent so long trying to be good. Maybe it was time to try something bad.
The End | | | |
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