EMI
Find my vantage point. Focus. Compose. Re-focus. Wait for it… NOW! Wind, hold… and NOW! Move on. I wander behind the stage to change lenses, and this looks like as good a time as any to shoot from the stage itself – they’re totally in the zone. They shouldn’t even notice me. Ultra-wide it is then. I hide among amplifiers, and creep behind the enormous drum kit. I shoot a few Hail Mary angles, which are pretty safe with a lens this wide, then pop up behind the drummer, looking to get a first-person view of the audience. All I get instead is clipped in the side of the head with a stick. Whoops! Moving on!
I swap out for the 80mm and head to the back, picking my way carefully through the mosh pit. The frame counter reads 27 – I have eleven shots left on the roll, twelve if I loaded it just right, then I’m done with color film for the night. I was warned that the lighting would get ever more moody as the night passed, and I wanted to shoot the Supra before it got too dark and contrasty in here. Next, I want to try shooting from the very back of the place, and try to draw in as much of the crowd as I can.
Now the frame counter reads 38. Last safe shot. It takes me a while to find a spare chair but I carry it near to where Akira and Hanako are seated. Using the back of the chair as support, I line up a shot with the two of them silhouetted against the glow of the stage. Snap. Wind. The lever pulls tight two-thirds of the way through. So much for that extra shot. I approach their table, set the camera down, and flip the chair around so I can take a seat. Akira turns enough to glance at me, then turns back to the stage, while Hanako doesn’t react at all. I hang around long enough to rewind my film, then I’m headed ‘backstage’ to reload, if you could even call it that. It’s really just two small tables and a place to stash instrument cases.
I’m still fetching the next roll of film when I realize the place has gone quiet, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Speed,” says the voice in my ear. “You’re going to want speed the rest of the night.” Daisuke makes his way to the bar, drink tickets in hand, and returns several minutes later with coffee for each of us.
“Coffee for you?” I wasn’t expecting that.
“I’m going to need my wits about me. We all are.” He starts tuning an acoustic guitar.
I can see Ken standing by Akira’s table, hands on hips. “Something to do with that?”
Daisuke jumps to his feet just as Akira does, and he crosses the space like a striker picking his way through defenders before jumping in between the two of them, guitar still in hand. Ken’s hands go up as if to say ‘hey, I wasn’t doing anything’ before he turns and walks away.
I load up with TMZ and dial in my X-comp at -2. Speed. That’s something I know a little bit about.
Nekonomicon series continuation?
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
HANAKO
I’m busy staring into my drink (number five? six?) when trouble arrives.
“«I guess you can’t hook ‘em like you used to, you little Christmas cake. Gotta cross the fence? I suppose this is that so-called new ‘boyfriend’ you dumped me for.»” Kenichiro stands next to the table, hands on hips and a sneer on his face.
Anxiety and anger together wash over me, running up my back like a wave breaking on shore. I let the anger win. “«It’s not my fault you’re a m-minute man and h-hung like a gnat!»” I protest.
“«Oh, the smart-ass little bitch speaks English! Just you shut your fucking…»”
Akira is on her feet in a flash, finger jabbing into his chest. “Look shithead, if you have a problem with me, take it up with me, but no fucking way I’m letting you abuse my friends. I put up with you for way too long, and I’m not about to start doing it again, so fuck off… minute man! I didn’t dump you for anyone, I dumped you because you’re an asshole – and a lousy lay too!”
Just then, the Dice guy steps in and starts guiding Kenichiro away. “Don’t think I’ll forget this, bitch!” he snaps as he’s taken out of the scene.
I’m shaking like a leaf, and so is the table. Akira grabs my hands. “Hey, that was pretty snappy. I didn’t know you had it in you, but you don’t need to rush to my defense. I know how to deal with this guy. He’s all bark and no bite.” She signals for service as I finish the drink in front of me.
“«Two pints of Beamish, please,»” she says to the barmaid, who nods and drifts away. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”
I’ll learn to like whatever it is, just keep it coming. “What is th-this? It’s not l-like any beer I’ve ever s-seen.” Or tasted. I taste cream, and coffee, and maybe a bit of dark chocolate.
“Beamish Irish Stout. If you think it’s good here, you should get a taste of it when it’s fresh. I know I’m looking forward to it. There aren’t very many other things to look forward to.”
Conversation comes to an end, as the band is back to business.
«Alright! Now dig this baby!
You don't care for me, I don't care about that.
You got a new fool, hah, I like him like that.
I have only one burning desire,
Let me stand next to your fire.»
He’s looking straight at us. I know the heat behind that look. I try to lock eyes with him but he pays me no attention at all. “You don’t need to rush to my defense. I know how to deal with this guy.” I roll this over in my head, using it as a barrier against waves of panic.
«Listen here baby, and stop acting so crazy!
You say your mom ain't home, it ain't my concern.
Just don't play with me, and you won't get burned.
I have only one itching desire,
Let me stand next to your fire»
Is that aimed at me? With that, he climbs down from the stage and winds his way through the mosh pit, still playing. The crowd parts and lets him through, while I bury my face in my pint glass, using both hands to keep it steady.
«Oh, move over Rover, and let Kenny take over.
Yeah, you know what I'm talking about
Yeah! Get on with it baby!»
He’s almost made it out to our table when the drums stop. A few seconds later, everything else stops too, and the drummer walks to the front of the stage. The confused murmur in the crowd dies down as everyone waits to see what’s going to happen next. The stage buzzes back to life, and he grabs a microphone. “Let’s hear it for our former bandmate Kenny. Hell of a way to announce your resignation, dude. Now you can either have a seat, or these nice gentlemen would be happy to escort you to one.”
Kenny begins shouting obscenities as a burly bouncer pulls up on either side of him and each locks an arm. A third relieves him of his instrument and headset and returns them to the stage, while the first two drag him away to a corner booth. Emi follows about three meters behind, documenting the meltdown.
“I would like to introduce to you the band that will be at your service the remainder of the evening – The White Mice. I hope you all don’t mind if we uh… mellow things out a bit. Hit it, Dice.”
«How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.»
I’m busy staring into my drink (number five? six?) when trouble arrives.
“«I guess you can’t hook ‘em like you used to, you little Christmas cake. Gotta cross the fence? I suppose this is that so-called new ‘boyfriend’ you dumped me for.»” Kenichiro stands next to the table, hands on hips and a sneer on his face.
Anxiety and anger together wash over me, running up my back like a wave breaking on shore. I let the anger win. “«It’s not my fault you’re a m-minute man and h-hung like a gnat!»” I protest.
“«Oh, the smart-ass little bitch speaks English! Just you shut your fucking…»”
Akira is on her feet in a flash, finger jabbing into his chest. “Look shithead, if you have a problem with me, take it up with me, but no fucking way I’m letting you abuse my friends. I put up with you for way too long, and I’m not about to start doing it again, so fuck off… minute man! I didn’t dump you for anyone, I dumped you because you’re an asshole – and a lousy lay too!”
Just then, the Dice guy steps in and starts guiding Kenichiro away. “Don’t think I’ll forget this, bitch!” he snaps as he’s taken out of the scene.
I’m shaking like a leaf, and so is the table. Akira grabs my hands. “Hey, that was pretty snappy. I didn’t know you had it in you, but you don’t need to rush to my defense. I know how to deal with this guy. He’s all bark and no bite.” She signals for service as I finish the drink in front of me.
“«Two pints of Beamish, please,»” she says to the barmaid, who nods and drifts away. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”
I’ll learn to like whatever it is, just keep it coming. “What is th-this? It’s not l-like any beer I’ve ever s-seen.” Or tasted. I taste cream, and coffee, and maybe a bit of dark chocolate.
“Beamish Irish Stout. If you think it’s good here, you should get a taste of it when it’s fresh. I know I’m looking forward to it. There aren’t very many other things to look forward to.”
Conversation comes to an end, as the band is back to business.
«Alright! Now dig this baby!
You don't care for me, I don't care about that.
You got a new fool, hah, I like him like that.
I have only one burning desire,
Let me stand next to your fire.»
He’s looking straight at us. I know the heat behind that look. I try to lock eyes with him but he pays me no attention at all. “You don’t need to rush to my defense. I know how to deal with this guy.” I roll this over in my head, using it as a barrier against waves of panic.
«Listen here baby, and stop acting so crazy!
You say your mom ain't home, it ain't my concern.
Just don't play with me, and you won't get burned.
I have only one itching desire,
Let me stand next to your fire»
Is that aimed at me? With that, he climbs down from the stage and winds his way through the mosh pit, still playing. The crowd parts and lets him through, while I bury my face in my pint glass, using both hands to keep it steady.
«Oh, move over Rover, and let Kenny take over.
Yeah, you know what I'm talking about
Yeah! Get on with it baby!»
He’s almost made it out to our table when the drums stop. A few seconds later, everything else stops too, and the drummer walks to the front of the stage. The confused murmur in the crowd dies down as everyone waits to see what’s going to happen next. The stage buzzes back to life, and he grabs a microphone. “Let’s hear it for our former bandmate Kenny. Hell of a way to announce your resignation, dude. Now you can either have a seat, or these nice gentlemen would be happy to escort you to one.”
Kenny begins shouting obscenities as a burly bouncer pulls up on either side of him and each locks an arm. A third relieves him of his instrument and headset and returns them to the stage, while the first two drag him away to a corner booth. Emi follows about three meters behind, documenting the meltdown.
“I would like to introduce to you the band that will be at your service the remainder of the evening – The White Mice. I hope you all don’t mind if we uh… mellow things out a bit. Hit it, Dice.”
«How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.»
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
DAISUKE
Well, shit. Looks like I have to pony up half a month’s salary for that Stick sooner than I anticipated. At least we have six weeks until the next show, since the owner saw fit to trade tonight’s slot with our next one. I don’t know who is going to be more pressed for time, me re-learning a chunk of our repertoire in six weeks or them bringing a new drummer up to speed in two. Neither one is going to be easy. It’s considerably easier to ignore Kenny, packing up on the other side with three bouncers between him and the rest of us.
Emi helps stack cases on the cart, but leaves the amp for me. This is probably best, as one slip could easily mean having to replace tubes that cost a pretty penny and only come from Russia. Oh, damn. I’m gonna have to revive the second amp too. Well, there goes my supply of backup tubes. At least when we play here, they provide the speaker cabinets. They may not be the most expensive part of the rig, but they’re definitely the biggest and hardest to carry.
“So what was that song Akira sang?” Emi asks between lifts. “I didn’t understand a word of it, but I liked it.”
“«Landslide.» It was a bit of a shot in the dark, we’ve never done that song together before.” I’d backed her up a few times in our law school hang-outs, and she often chose Stevie Nicks tunes as they fit her vocal range (or lack thereof) pretty well. She usually sounded better, but then she was also usually somewhat less fucked up than tonight. “Hey… do you happen to know how they got here?”
She pauses and bites her lip for a moment. “No, I didn’t ask.”
“Then maybe I still have one bomb left to defuse tonight. Excuse me.” I make my way over to the table. The place is starting to empty out, and chairs are easily borrowed, so I grab one and take a seat.
“Forgive me for being nosy and all,” I start asking Akira, “but how did you two get here tonight?”
She doesn’t even bother setting down the coffee long enough to speak, instead just aiming her thumb toward herself.
“And how do you plan to get back to… wherever? Or do you have someplace local you were headed after this?” It’s not uncommon for people to drunk-walk to all-night noodle shops and sober up.
She sets down the coffee. “Didn’t really plan ahead that far. I was meaning to stop a while ago, but… well I don’t think I have to explain how that little plan went off the rails.” She nods her head back toward the stage while the quiet girl at the table nurses her pint of stout, probably because it’ll be the last one. Last call went out about ten minutes ago.
“Well I have a suggestion. You don’t have to take it if you’ve got other plans already, but I live literally five minutes from here. The two of you are welcome to hang out and sober up a bit. Collect the car later, or come morning, whatever works.”
“Actually, we have a schedule to keep, so I’m not sure that’s going to work.” She downs the rest of the coffee like a shot.
It’s not worth forcing the issue, not with present company. “Alright then,” I say while pulling a business card from my wallet, “just give me a call if you get into any trouble.” I lock eyes with the quiet one, then push away from the table and return to packing up. There isn’t much left.
“Are we done?” Emi is looking around for any gear we might have missed.
“Yeah, we’re packed, but give it a minute. Someone needs a little time to think things over. You want regular or decaf? I have a feeling this night’s not over just yet.”
“You bet your ass it’s not.” The grin could have told me that without words. “Make it decaf though, I think you can keep me awake just fine all by yourself.”
I’m still waiting for the coffee when I feel a hand on my shoulder. “My wise companion here convinced me to accept your offer. Are we all gonna fit in one car?” Sorta maybe.
Even if the extra company means a temporary cock-block, it’s worth it just to see the look on Kenny’s face when I walk out of Club Shaft with his ex-girlfriend and her date in tow. I show up with one girl and leave with three. Thanks Kenny, I couldn’t have done it without you. July is off to a smashing start.
Well, shit. Looks like I have to pony up half a month’s salary for that Stick sooner than I anticipated. At least we have six weeks until the next show, since the owner saw fit to trade tonight’s slot with our next one. I don’t know who is going to be more pressed for time, me re-learning a chunk of our repertoire in six weeks or them bringing a new drummer up to speed in two. Neither one is going to be easy. It’s considerably easier to ignore Kenny, packing up on the other side with three bouncers between him and the rest of us.
Emi helps stack cases on the cart, but leaves the amp for me. This is probably best, as one slip could easily mean having to replace tubes that cost a pretty penny and only come from Russia. Oh, damn. I’m gonna have to revive the second amp too. Well, there goes my supply of backup tubes. At least when we play here, they provide the speaker cabinets. They may not be the most expensive part of the rig, but they’re definitely the biggest and hardest to carry.
“So what was that song Akira sang?” Emi asks between lifts. “I didn’t understand a word of it, but I liked it.”
“«Landslide.» It was a bit of a shot in the dark, we’ve never done that song together before.” I’d backed her up a few times in our law school hang-outs, and she often chose Stevie Nicks tunes as they fit her vocal range (or lack thereof) pretty well. She usually sounded better, but then she was also usually somewhat less fucked up than tonight. “Hey… do you happen to know how they got here?”
She pauses and bites her lip for a moment. “No, I didn’t ask.”
“Then maybe I still have one bomb left to defuse tonight. Excuse me.” I make my way over to the table. The place is starting to empty out, and chairs are easily borrowed, so I grab one and take a seat.
“Forgive me for being nosy and all,” I start asking Akira, “but how did you two get here tonight?”
She doesn’t even bother setting down the coffee long enough to speak, instead just aiming her thumb toward herself.
“And how do you plan to get back to… wherever? Or do you have someplace local you were headed after this?” It’s not uncommon for people to drunk-walk to all-night noodle shops and sober up.
She sets down the coffee. “Didn’t really plan ahead that far. I was meaning to stop a while ago, but… well I don’t think I have to explain how that little plan went off the rails.” She nods her head back toward the stage while the quiet girl at the table nurses her pint of stout, probably because it’ll be the last one. Last call went out about ten minutes ago.
“Well I have a suggestion. You don’t have to take it if you’ve got other plans already, but I live literally five minutes from here. The two of you are welcome to hang out and sober up a bit. Collect the car later, or come morning, whatever works.”
“Actually, we have a schedule to keep, so I’m not sure that’s going to work.” She downs the rest of the coffee like a shot.
It’s not worth forcing the issue, not with present company. “Alright then,” I say while pulling a business card from my wallet, “just give me a call if you get into any trouble.” I lock eyes with the quiet one, then push away from the table and return to packing up. There isn’t much left.
“Are we done?” Emi is looking around for any gear we might have missed.
“Yeah, we’re packed, but give it a minute. Someone needs a little time to think things over. You want regular or decaf? I have a feeling this night’s not over just yet.”
“You bet your ass it’s not.” The grin could have told me that without words. “Make it decaf though, I think you can keep me awake just fine all by yourself.”
I’m still waiting for the coffee when I feel a hand on my shoulder. “My wise companion here convinced me to accept your offer. Are we all gonna fit in one car?” Sorta maybe.
Even if the extra company means a temporary cock-block, it’s worth it just to see the look on Kenny’s face when I walk out of Club Shaft with his ex-girlfriend and her date in tow. I show up with one girl and leave with three. Thanks Kenny, I couldn’t have done it without you. July is off to a smashing start.
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
AKIRA
Finally, the last piece of gear is stowed, and we are left with the problem of putting four butts in three seats. If we assume the driver needs one to himself, that leaves three of us and two seats. I’m just pondering this and other ancient mysteries when my thoughts are interrupted.
“Food,” says Dice, very matter of factly. “I don’t have any. There’s a 24 hour McD’s around the block. Shall we?” I’m not going to raise an objection. A slab or two of hot dead cow sounds good to me. The other two just kinda shrug too. Consensus by apathy. Then we see a still-angry Kenny, still flanked by security, pushing his own gear cart out to his car. Dice quickly reconsiders. “You know what? Let’s drive.”
It’s obvious he was not prepared to finish the evening quite like this, but in all fairness, I don’t think my car would have been any better for the purpose. It comes down to two choices, really: Emi on my lap in the back seat, or Hanako on my lap in the front seat. Either way I get smashed. I suppose that’s my own fault, I already am. Hanako gives a silly giggle at the second idea, so why not, let’s try that. After tilting the seat back as far as possible with the guitar cases behind it, we just manage to fit as if we were on the log ride at Tokyo Disneyland, but hopefully with a bit less of the getting wet part.
Piling in was bad enough. Getting out is harder. Kinda amusing in a masochistic sort of way, but still difficult. I think I know how circus clowns feel when they have to cram into their little clown car.
It was all worth it when I see the lettering above the menu, reading For A Limited Time – Breakfast Starts At Midnight. I know what I want, then! I grab Hanako by the hand and pull her to the counter, where the clerk looks even closer to passing out than we are. “Two breakfast platters and coffee.” No objections.
Apparently it’s not necessary to be drunk to want breakfast at two-something in the morning. Emi steps forward next, and the only difference in her order is that one coffee is decaf.
We take a seat at the window nearest the parked car. Understandable, considering what’s in that car. The coffee, as usual for McD’s, is much too hot to drink immediately, so all four of us are left to stare at our steaming cups longingly while waiting for them to cool. Or at least that’s the case until Emi comes back with a small cup full of ice chips. Thanks to that, the coffees are half-consumed by the time our breakfasts are prepared, and gone by the time the food is. Not much passes for conversation, as it’s pretty apparent to everyone this is a hit-and-run sort of affair. In fifteen minutes we’re back to jostling for position in the car, except this time Hanako has volunteered to be the one smashed. Fine by me.
It takes only a couple minutes of clown car to make it to Daisuke’s building. “Watch for angry birds,” he offers by way of advice. “I’ll be right back with the cart.”
This at least is good for a laugh, because he really does mean a cart – a stolen shopping cart from a local supermarket. I have to admit though that while it is a bit absurd, it is also effective. We manage to get everything moved upstairs in a single trip without having to carry much. Hanako gets saddled with the milk crate full of cables. Not quite sure how that happened, but it isn’t that big a load. Daisuke carries his amplifier like it was going to explode if shocked, and Emi likewise carries what must be the camera bag. That leaves me to push the cart. Oh well, I can lean on it.
After making our way up in the elevator, we offload the cart without rolling it onto the hardwood floor beyond the door, and Daisuke leaves Emi in charge of getting us settled while he returns the cart to wherever it resides. There’s not much in the way of furniture, since half the room is dedicated to instruments and amplifiers – a couch, two end tables, a coffee table, and a recliner. Half the coffee table is occupied by a keyboard, mouse, and pair of monitors. The only other thing in the room that doesn’t look like it just came off a stage is the entertainment center in the corner. Even his choice of speakers – Tannoy! Scotland in the house! – look like they just came from a production studio somewhere.
Hanako glances around with a bit of an overwhelmed look on her face. I suppose she’s not used to the care and feeding habits of serious musicians. I suspect she’s concerned about how to handle the three-and-one split of the seating accommodations, so I break the standoff and take a seat at the far end of the couch. All four of us can easily fit, provided that nobody stations their arse in the middle to start with.
“Damn elevator takes forever, even at this hour,” Daisuke gripes as he walks in and locks the door behind him. He relieves Emi of the coffee-making duty she had started on, and she takes up a position at the other end of the couch. “I hope you don’t mind, but it’s my habit to take a shower after a gig. Help yourselves to coffee when it’s ready, and I trust you’ll be okay without my presence for a few minutes. There’s a box of cigars on top of the speaker near the back door there. Help yourselves to those as well if you are so inclined.”
Emi gets a mischievous look. I don’t think she knew this was coming either, but she’s not going to miss an opportunity when she sees one. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she has on her mind, and I’m not in much of a mood to listen in, so I slip one of the cigars from the pack, grab a lighter off the table, and head for the balcony. Hanako near-silently slips out beside me.
“I d-didn’t know you s-smoked.” She seems to be avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t, but a cigar isn’t going to kill me now, and it beats sitting around and listening to them fuck in the shower. Because you totally know that’s about to happen.” I light the slim cigar and take a puff. It’s not particularly good, but not awful either, and it doesn’t smell like burning elephant dung. I epic fail a few times at blowing smoke rings before giving up.
“C-could I try?” Hanako has her hand out.
“Why not. It’s not all that good though, so don’t let it put you off cigars forever if you don’t like it.” I hand it to her, she takes a puff and promptly starts coughing wildly. “Hey, you’re not supposed to inhale it! It’s a cigar, not a cigarette.” I slap her on the back a couple times, and she throws her arms around me for support as the coughing continues – except that when the coughing stops, she’s still holding on as if she’s never going to let go. I take the cigar out of her hand and take another puff, then let it rest on a flat part of the rail.
“A-Akira?” Hanako’s voice hangs in the still air like a cloud of smoke. “D-do you l-like me?”
What kind of a question is that? “Of course I do! Why else would you be the last person I spend time with before I head out of this country for a while?”
She picks up the cigar without letting go of me, and takes a puff – this time without incident. “How d’you do s-smoke rings?”
“I’d show you if I knew. I was trying just a minute ago.”
“C-could you t-try again? M-maybe you’ll get it th-this time.”
Why not. I take the cigar out of her hand, noting that it’s already almost half gone, and make another feeble attempt. I don’t even think I have the concept right, the center of the cloud just isn’t clearing. My second attempt is equally pathetic, but comes to an abrupt end as Hanako steals a kiss. Oh! After the initial shock passes, I give in to the moment. Whether this is just a momentary lapse of reason or it was the plan all along, I can’t tell. It sure is going to make the next couple weeks a lot more interesting though.
Finally, the last piece of gear is stowed, and we are left with the problem of putting four butts in three seats. If we assume the driver needs one to himself, that leaves three of us and two seats. I’m just pondering this and other ancient mysteries when my thoughts are interrupted.
“Food,” says Dice, very matter of factly. “I don’t have any. There’s a 24 hour McD’s around the block. Shall we?” I’m not going to raise an objection. A slab or two of hot dead cow sounds good to me. The other two just kinda shrug too. Consensus by apathy. Then we see a still-angry Kenny, still flanked by security, pushing his own gear cart out to his car. Dice quickly reconsiders. “You know what? Let’s drive.”
It’s obvious he was not prepared to finish the evening quite like this, but in all fairness, I don’t think my car would have been any better for the purpose. It comes down to two choices, really: Emi on my lap in the back seat, or Hanako on my lap in the front seat. Either way I get smashed. I suppose that’s my own fault, I already am. Hanako gives a silly giggle at the second idea, so why not, let’s try that. After tilting the seat back as far as possible with the guitar cases behind it, we just manage to fit as if we were on the log ride at Tokyo Disneyland, but hopefully with a bit less of the getting wet part.
Piling in was bad enough. Getting out is harder. Kinda amusing in a masochistic sort of way, but still difficult. I think I know how circus clowns feel when they have to cram into their little clown car.
It was all worth it when I see the lettering above the menu, reading For A Limited Time – Breakfast Starts At Midnight. I know what I want, then! I grab Hanako by the hand and pull her to the counter, where the clerk looks even closer to passing out than we are. “Two breakfast platters and coffee.” No objections.
Apparently it’s not necessary to be drunk to want breakfast at two-something in the morning. Emi steps forward next, and the only difference in her order is that one coffee is decaf.
We take a seat at the window nearest the parked car. Understandable, considering what’s in that car. The coffee, as usual for McD’s, is much too hot to drink immediately, so all four of us are left to stare at our steaming cups longingly while waiting for them to cool. Or at least that’s the case until Emi comes back with a small cup full of ice chips. Thanks to that, the coffees are half-consumed by the time our breakfasts are prepared, and gone by the time the food is. Not much passes for conversation, as it’s pretty apparent to everyone this is a hit-and-run sort of affair. In fifteen minutes we’re back to jostling for position in the car, except this time Hanako has volunteered to be the one smashed. Fine by me.
It takes only a couple minutes of clown car to make it to Daisuke’s building. “Watch for angry birds,” he offers by way of advice. “I’ll be right back with the cart.”
This at least is good for a laugh, because he really does mean a cart – a stolen shopping cart from a local supermarket. I have to admit though that while it is a bit absurd, it is also effective. We manage to get everything moved upstairs in a single trip without having to carry much. Hanako gets saddled with the milk crate full of cables. Not quite sure how that happened, but it isn’t that big a load. Daisuke carries his amplifier like it was going to explode if shocked, and Emi likewise carries what must be the camera bag. That leaves me to push the cart. Oh well, I can lean on it.
After making our way up in the elevator, we offload the cart without rolling it onto the hardwood floor beyond the door, and Daisuke leaves Emi in charge of getting us settled while he returns the cart to wherever it resides. There’s not much in the way of furniture, since half the room is dedicated to instruments and amplifiers – a couch, two end tables, a coffee table, and a recliner. Half the coffee table is occupied by a keyboard, mouse, and pair of monitors. The only other thing in the room that doesn’t look like it just came off a stage is the entertainment center in the corner. Even his choice of speakers – Tannoy! Scotland in the house! – look like they just came from a production studio somewhere.
Hanako glances around with a bit of an overwhelmed look on her face. I suppose she’s not used to the care and feeding habits of serious musicians. I suspect she’s concerned about how to handle the three-and-one split of the seating accommodations, so I break the standoff and take a seat at the far end of the couch. All four of us can easily fit, provided that nobody stations their arse in the middle to start with.
“Damn elevator takes forever, even at this hour,” Daisuke gripes as he walks in and locks the door behind him. He relieves Emi of the coffee-making duty she had started on, and she takes up a position at the other end of the couch. “I hope you don’t mind, but it’s my habit to take a shower after a gig. Help yourselves to coffee when it’s ready, and I trust you’ll be okay without my presence for a few minutes. There’s a box of cigars on top of the speaker near the back door there. Help yourselves to those as well if you are so inclined.”
Emi gets a mischievous look. I don’t think she knew this was coming either, but she’s not going to miss an opportunity when she sees one. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she has on her mind, and I’m not in much of a mood to listen in, so I slip one of the cigars from the pack, grab a lighter off the table, and head for the balcony. Hanako near-silently slips out beside me.
“I d-didn’t know you s-smoked.” She seems to be avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t, but a cigar isn’t going to kill me now, and it beats sitting around and listening to them fuck in the shower. Because you totally know that’s about to happen.” I light the slim cigar and take a puff. It’s not particularly good, but not awful either, and it doesn’t smell like burning elephant dung. I epic fail a few times at blowing smoke rings before giving up.
“C-could I try?” Hanako has her hand out.
“Why not. It’s not all that good though, so don’t let it put you off cigars forever if you don’t like it.” I hand it to her, she takes a puff and promptly starts coughing wildly. “Hey, you’re not supposed to inhale it! It’s a cigar, not a cigarette.” I slap her on the back a couple times, and she throws her arms around me for support as the coughing continues – except that when the coughing stops, she’s still holding on as if she’s never going to let go. I take the cigar out of her hand and take another puff, then let it rest on a flat part of the rail.
“A-Akira?” Hanako’s voice hangs in the still air like a cloud of smoke. “D-do you l-like me?”
What kind of a question is that? “Of course I do! Why else would you be the last person I spend time with before I head out of this country for a while?”
She picks up the cigar without letting go of me, and takes a puff – this time without incident. “How d’you do s-smoke rings?”
“I’d show you if I knew. I was trying just a minute ago.”
“C-could you t-try again? M-maybe you’ll get it th-this time.”
Why not. I take the cigar out of her hand, noting that it’s already almost half gone, and make another feeble attempt. I don’t even think I have the concept right, the center of the cloud just isn’t clearing. My second attempt is equally pathetic, but comes to an abrupt end as Hanako steals a kiss. Oh! After the initial shock passes, I give in to the moment. Whether this is just a momentary lapse of reason or it was the plan all along, I can’t tell. It sure is going to make the next couple weeks a lot more interesting though.
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
HISAO
«No tell, motel, hotel bed
If it wasn't for the sunlight I'd swear I was dead»
I have to pee. That’s why I woke up, right? Where am I? Oh yeah, the ranch. I could have sworn I was alone when I went to sleep though. A three-second limb check assures me it’s Neko that’s crawled into my bed and curled up in front of me. That I can work with.
«I got a girl on the left of me, a girl on the right
I know damn well I slept with both last night»
But that still leaves open the question of just who is behind me. I feel something angular and insistent poking me in the back. There aren’t that many possibilities, but just about all of them seem unlikely to end well. Too bad, this has to be done. I work my way out of the sandwich, to find that it’s Miki who crashed our little party. Oh well, attend to the business at hand.
«Oh my god look what the cat dragged in
Livin' my life sin after sin
Night rolls up and I do it again
Oh my god, look what the cat dragged in»
I’m not gone very long, but in that brief time it seems they’ve forgotten I was ever there – the gap has closed up and Neko is now cradled in Miki’s embrace. What’s a guy to do? Suzu is crashed out in the other guest bed, and I don’t suppose it would help matters any if I climbed in with her, so I quietly work my way down the stairs and crawl into the one place I figure is sure to be vacant – Neko’s bed.
Much nicer! Why didn’t we just start here in the first place? Thinking can wait, dreamland is calling. In this bed, that doesn’t take very long.
When I open my eyes again, there is the light of dawn peeking in around the blinds. I guess I’d better get up and take my morning pills, and something to wash them down with would be nice. I take note of the still-present warning about unmarked containers, but the orange juice says orange juice. That should be safe, right? I grab a small carton. I have no idea how long it will be before anyone else is up, so I grab a cookie off a plate in the back too. It’s not the greatest thing ever, in fact it tastes kinda strange, but it should at least serve to fill the void a little bit.
I have to go back upstairs to get my medications, and note that nothing seems to have changed here since I left. I might as well just take my whole travel bag with me if we’re bed-swapping, so I grab it and head back downstairs. It’s weird sitting in Neko’s room alone. Then again, it’s also weird going to sleep alone and waking up sandwiched between two girls. A lot of things about this place are weird.
Any other day of the week, and I’d be up at this hour as a matter of course, but it’s Sunday. Sundays were made for being lazy. I climb back under the covers before they can lose too much of my heat. I have got to get me a waterbed. When I close my eyes here, they stay that way. Like now…
Huh? Someone is shaking me and filling the water below me with waves. “Hisao! Earth to Hisao, can you hear me?” My eyes don’t want to focus, but I’m pretty sure that’s Neko.
“Mmm, think so. I feel like I’m wrapped in velvet. Kinda nice. Warm. What’s all the fuss?”
Neko squints at me for a moment. “Hisao… did you eat something this morning?”
“Well yeah, not supposed to take my pills on a totally empty…”
“Would it happen to be a kinda funky tasting cookie?” She has one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, they’re not very good. Gotta work on that.”
She laughs, shrugs, shakes her head, and rolls her eyes, all at the same time. “Do you have any idea what those are?”
“Must be some kinda health food, if they taste so bad.”
“Mmm, not exactly. My dear, those were mum’s magic cookies. Good for warding off headaches, controlling seizures, reining in nausea, and a whole list of other uses. Mostly though, they get you fucking high. You only had one, right? Please tell me you only had one.”
“Just one. It tasted too weird.”
“Yeah, palatability isn’t one of their strong points. You might as well enjoy it though, you’re in for a six hour ride.”
A few moments of silence pass as she looks at me with some measure of concern. “I wondered where you’d gone when I woke up without you. You were so cute sleeping, I just wanted to snuggle up with you. Then I woke up with someone else. I’m kinda used to that sort of strangeness, but was more concerned with how you took it.”
“I didn’t even know either of you was there till I woke up and had to pee. Finding you, I half expected, but finding Miki behind me came as a bit of a shock. When I came back, there was no room left for me and I ended up here.” Where everything feels like velvet and swim.
“The whole reason I ended up in bed with you is because Miki was sprawled out over this one, starfish-style. She didn’t leave me any place else to go. That she followed me is as much a surprise to me as it is to you, I thought she was out cold. Funny how it ended up coming full circle, she chased both of us out of our own beds.”
Wait. I missed something. “She was asleep down here.” I get a nod of confirmation. “And I was asleep up there.” Another nod. “And you either had to get her out of this bed, or end up in mine.” That draws a pout instead of a nod.
“Mmm, not exactly. I’d have just climbed in with her, if she’d left me a place to do it. It is my bed, after all. Anyone in it is supposed to make room for me, concussion or not, cookies or not. Speaking of cookies…” She makes her own trip to the kitchen and comes back with two on a plate, and three water bottles tucked under her arm. “We’re going to have company, but she can find her own space.” As if to make the point, she rolls off the edge and onto the water mattress itself, sending waves racing in every direction. A few fidgets later, she’s tossing the leg onto the couch in the opposite corner and burrowing under the covers with me.
Miki pokes her head in the door. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just the disc,” says Neko.
“Disc… oh, yeah, duh.” She closes the door, and returns a minute or so later with a DVD case in her mouth, letting it drop to her hand once she has the door closed again. She ejects the current disc from the wall-mounted television, giggles at it briefly, and swaps the discs out. “«Better Than Chocolate. Maybe we should watch that instead.»”
“«Good thinking. Change of plans?»”
“«I’m cool with it if you are.»” She swaps back the discs she just swapped a moment ago.
I say to Miki as she digs through the nightstand drawer for the remote control, “I didn’t know you spoke English.”
“«Dude, it’s my second native language. Y también hablo español.»”
“What?”
Neko elbows me in the ribs. “She speaks Spanish too. Now she’s just showing off.”
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you, and most of them aren’t flattering. ‘Speaks three languages’ definitely wasn’t one of them.”
“Yeah, so keep it to yourself. You wouldn’t want to ruin my bad reputation, now would you?” She burrows under the covers with us, somehow coming up between me and Neko. The remote emerges from the blanket pile, and the disc starts as the two start in on their cookies. The blankets get flicked several times, and crumbs go flying in every direction. I wonder how often the carpet gets cleaned. “So, man, what do you know about me, and what have you heard?”
“Well… I’ve heard you don’t try very hard in class, something I’ve witnessed myself. I know you like to run, and I’ve heard you’re a slacker, and that you like to smoke up. Now I know you speak three languages. I’ve heard you have a wild past, but nobody has ever gone into any details. Also, I hear you hang out with some guys who are kinda losers.”
“Hey, the guys aren’t so bad – you thought Junpei was okay, didn’t you? Otherwise, guilty on all counts. Part of the reason I can get away with coasting at Yamaku though is speaking English. I don’t flaunt any of my test grades, usually because they’re nothing to be proud of, but I’m particularly secretive when it’s Miyagi handing the papers back. She gives me dirty looks for getting B’s. I can speak it, but I still can’t spell for shit. Bright side, my wrong-handed penmanship is at least passable. If I could write everything in romaji, I’d be okay.”
“Funny, when she gave me a list of native English speakers, she never mentioned you. If it’s something you’re good at, I would have thought she’d want to make a bigger deal out of it.” And maybe give you a career push in that direction.
“Eh, she doesn’t like American accents, particularly not vato-tinted American accents. It took a while for Neko and me to realize we were speaking the same language.” Both of them giggle.
“Yeah, it took us a few minutes to figure out «g’day mate» and «’sup homes» mean the same thing. Ah, shh, movie’s starting.” Neko sort of gestures at the screen through the blankets, sending more crumbs flying.
Twenty minutes or so into the movie, I think I’m beginning to understand a little bit, when hold the presses, there are girls painting each other and rolling around naked. A certain part of me reacts, much to my dismay.
Miki grabs the remote and pauses the movie. “«I’m getting boner-sharked.»” She rubs Neko on the top of the head. “«Young padawan, chosen wisely you have.»”
Neko takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly and drawing another before speaking. “Umm, Hisao… I… we’ve got something to tell you.” She turns to face Miki, and kisses her hard. “If you’re going to be my boyfriend, you need to know about my girlfriend.”
Oh. I petition my anatomy to stop betraying me, but it has a mind of its own. I feel so helpless, like a boat against the tide. There’s no manual for this, no lesson taught in class about what to do when your girlfriend introduces you to her girlfriend – her particularly hot girlfriend, who just happens to be in bed with the both of you, while you’re high as a kite. I try to bend over a bit and hide the evidence.
“Good move,” Miki quips. “You’re not using that on me. I go one way, and it’s not yours.” Well, shit.
“Not sure if it’d work anyhow… I’ve never been…” I make a loopy gesture in the vicinity of my face.
“Ah, yeah.” It’s Neko’s turn. “Pretty sure it still works. It’s just weed. I can think of a number of things that can cause katawa dick, but this isn’t one of them.”
“Switch places with me, gaylord.” I can feel Miki grab Neko’s rump. “Maybe you want his junk all up in your trunk, but it’s getting on my nerves.”
I don’t think this is the best position for movie watching, with the smallest one in the middle like this, but I also don’t think either of them really care. Me, I’m just glad I have someone familiar to hold on to while I try to sort things out, someone who doesn’t mind a little bump from the boner shark.
«No tell, motel, hotel bed
If it wasn't for the sunlight I'd swear I was dead»
I have to pee. That’s why I woke up, right? Where am I? Oh yeah, the ranch. I could have sworn I was alone when I went to sleep though. A three-second limb check assures me it’s Neko that’s crawled into my bed and curled up in front of me. That I can work with.
«I got a girl on the left of me, a girl on the right
I know damn well I slept with both last night»
But that still leaves open the question of just who is behind me. I feel something angular and insistent poking me in the back. There aren’t that many possibilities, but just about all of them seem unlikely to end well. Too bad, this has to be done. I work my way out of the sandwich, to find that it’s Miki who crashed our little party. Oh well, attend to the business at hand.
«Oh my god look what the cat dragged in
Livin' my life sin after sin
Night rolls up and I do it again
Oh my god, look what the cat dragged in»
I’m not gone very long, but in that brief time it seems they’ve forgotten I was ever there – the gap has closed up and Neko is now cradled in Miki’s embrace. What’s a guy to do? Suzu is crashed out in the other guest bed, and I don’t suppose it would help matters any if I climbed in with her, so I quietly work my way down the stairs and crawl into the one place I figure is sure to be vacant – Neko’s bed.
Much nicer! Why didn’t we just start here in the first place? Thinking can wait, dreamland is calling. In this bed, that doesn’t take very long.
When I open my eyes again, there is the light of dawn peeking in around the blinds. I guess I’d better get up and take my morning pills, and something to wash them down with would be nice. I take note of the still-present warning about unmarked containers, but the orange juice says orange juice. That should be safe, right? I grab a small carton. I have no idea how long it will be before anyone else is up, so I grab a cookie off a plate in the back too. It’s not the greatest thing ever, in fact it tastes kinda strange, but it should at least serve to fill the void a little bit.
I have to go back upstairs to get my medications, and note that nothing seems to have changed here since I left. I might as well just take my whole travel bag with me if we’re bed-swapping, so I grab it and head back downstairs. It’s weird sitting in Neko’s room alone. Then again, it’s also weird going to sleep alone and waking up sandwiched between two girls. A lot of things about this place are weird.
Any other day of the week, and I’d be up at this hour as a matter of course, but it’s Sunday. Sundays were made for being lazy. I climb back under the covers before they can lose too much of my heat. I have got to get me a waterbed. When I close my eyes here, they stay that way. Like now…
Huh? Someone is shaking me and filling the water below me with waves. “Hisao! Earth to Hisao, can you hear me?” My eyes don’t want to focus, but I’m pretty sure that’s Neko.
“Mmm, think so. I feel like I’m wrapped in velvet. Kinda nice. Warm. What’s all the fuss?”
Neko squints at me for a moment. “Hisao… did you eat something this morning?”
“Well yeah, not supposed to take my pills on a totally empty…”
“Would it happen to be a kinda funky tasting cookie?” She has one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, they’re not very good. Gotta work on that.”
She laughs, shrugs, shakes her head, and rolls her eyes, all at the same time. “Do you have any idea what those are?”
“Must be some kinda health food, if they taste so bad.”
“Mmm, not exactly. My dear, those were mum’s magic cookies. Good for warding off headaches, controlling seizures, reining in nausea, and a whole list of other uses. Mostly though, they get you fucking high. You only had one, right? Please tell me you only had one.”
“Just one. It tasted too weird.”
“Yeah, palatability isn’t one of their strong points. You might as well enjoy it though, you’re in for a six hour ride.”
A few moments of silence pass as she looks at me with some measure of concern. “I wondered where you’d gone when I woke up without you. You were so cute sleeping, I just wanted to snuggle up with you. Then I woke up with someone else. I’m kinda used to that sort of strangeness, but was more concerned with how you took it.”
“I didn’t even know either of you was there till I woke up and had to pee. Finding you, I half expected, but finding Miki behind me came as a bit of a shock. When I came back, there was no room left for me and I ended up here.” Where everything feels like velvet and swim.
“The whole reason I ended up in bed with you is because Miki was sprawled out over this one, starfish-style. She didn’t leave me any place else to go. That she followed me is as much a surprise to me as it is to you, I thought she was out cold. Funny how it ended up coming full circle, she chased both of us out of our own beds.”
Wait. I missed something. “She was asleep down here.” I get a nod of confirmation. “And I was asleep up there.” Another nod. “And you either had to get her out of this bed, or end up in mine.” That draws a pout instead of a nod.
“Mmm, not exactly. I’d have just climbed in with her, if she’d left me a place to do it. It is my bed, after all. Anyone in it is supposed to make room for me, concussion or not, cookies or not. Speaking of cookies…” She makes her own trip to the kitchen and comes back with two on a plate, and three water bottles tucked under her arm. “We’re going to have company, but she can find her own space.” As if to make the point, she rolls off the edge and onto the water mattress itself, sending waves racing in every direction. A few fidgets later, she’s tossing the leg onto the couch in the opposite corner and burrowing under the covers with me.
Miki pokes her head in the door. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just the disc,” says Neko.
“Disc… oh, yeah, duh.” She closes the door, and returns a minute or so later with a DVD case in her mouth, letting it drop to her hand once she has the door closed again. She ejects the current disc from the wall-mounted television, giggles at it briefly, and swaps the discs out. “«Better Than Chocolate. Maybe we should watch that instead.»”
“«Good thinking. Change of plans?»”
“«I’m cool with it if you are.»” She swaps back the discs she just swapped a moment ago.
I say to Miki as she digs through the nightstand drawer for the remote control, “I didn’t know you spoke English.”
“«Dude, it’s my second native language. Y también hablo español.»”
“What?”
Neko elbows me in the ribs. “She speaks Spanish too. Now she’s just showing off.”
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you, and most of them aren’t flattering. ‘Speaks three languages’ definitely wasn’t one of them.”
“Yeah, so keep it to yourself. You wouldn’t want to ruin my bad reputation, now would you?” She burrows under the covers with us, somehow coming up between me and Neko. The remote emerges from the blanket pile, and the disc starts as the two start in on their cookies. The blankets get flicked several times, and crumbs go flying in every direction. I wonder how often the carpet gets cleaned. “So, man, what do you know about me, and what have you heard?”
“Well… I’ve heard you don’t try very hard in class, something I’ve witnessed myself. I know you like to run, and I’ve heard you’re a slacker, and that you like to smoke up. Now I know you speak three languages. I’ve heard you have a wild past, but nobody has ever gone into any details. Also, I hear you hang out with some guys who are kinda losers.”
“Hey, the guys aren’t so bad – you thought Junpei was okay, didn’t you? Otherwise, guilty on all counts. Part of the reason I can get away with coasting at Yamaku though is speaking English. I don’t flaunt any of my test grades, usually because they’re nothing to be proud of, but I’m particularly secretive when it’s Miyagi handing the papers back. She gives me dirty looks for getting B’s. I can speak it, but I still can’t spell for shit. Bright side, my wrong-handed penmanship is at least passable. If I could write everything in romaji, I’d be okay.”
“Funny, when she gave me a list of native English speakers, she never mentioned you. If it’s something you’re good at, I would have thought she’d want to make a bigger deal out of it.” And maybe give you a career push in that direction.
“Eh, she doesn’t like American accents, particularly not vato-tinted American accents. It took a while for Neko and me to realize we were speaking the same language.” Both of them giggle.
“Yeah, it took us a few minutes to figure out «g’day mate» and «’sup homes» mean the same thing. Ah, shh, movie’s starting.” Neko sort of gestures at the screen through the blankets, sending more crumbs flying.
Twenty minutes or so into the movie, I think I’m beginning to understand a little bit, when hold the presses, there are girls painting each other and rolling around naked. A certain part of me reacts, much to my dismay.
Miki grabs the remote and pauses the movie. “«I’m getting boner-sharked.»” She rubs Neko on the top of the head. “«Young padawan, chosen wisely you have.»”
Neko takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly and drawing another before speaking. “Umm, Hisao… I… we’ve got something to tell you.” She turns to face Miki, and kisses her hard. “If you’re going to be my boyfriend, you need to know about my girlfriend.”
Oh. I petition my anatomy to stop betraying me, but it has a mind of its own. I feel so helpless, like a boat against the tide. There’s no manual for this, no lesson taught in class about what to do when your girlfriend introduces you to her girlfriend – her particularly hot girlfriend, who just happens to be in bed with the both of you, while you’re high as a kite. I try to bend over a bit and hide the evidence.
“Good move,” Miki quips. “You’re not using that on me. I go one way, and it’s not yours.” Well, shit.
“Not sure if it’d work anyhow… I’ve never been…” I make a loopy gesture in the vicinity of my face.
“Ah, yeah.” It’s Neko’s turn. “Pretty sure it still works. It’s just weed. I can think of a number of things that can cause katawa dick, but this isn’t one of them.”
“Switch places with me, gaylord.” I can feel Miki grab Neko’s rump. “Maybe you want his junk all up in your trunk, but it’s getting on my nerves.”
I don’t think this is the best position for movie watching, with the smallest one in the middle like this, but I also don’t think either of them really care. Me, I’m just glad I have someone familiar to hold on to while I try to sort things out, someone who doesn’t mind a little bump from the boner shark.
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
LILLY
“It’s fine if you want to avoid the subject. We’ve only got a sixteen hour flight ahead of us.” I fall silent. I can hear the flow of traffic reverse. No longer are we passing cars, now they are passing us.
“Dammit, I was hoping we’d have time for breakfast before we took off. It looks like that might not happen now.” Mmm hmm. I’m not letting you change the subject that easily. I smile, just in case my sister throws a glance my direction.
I can tell we’ve now entered a tunnel, and the only sound of other vehicles passing comes from far to the right. It must be that nobody else is moving either. Akira rolls up her window and turns on the radio, presumably looking for a traffic report. I roll my window down a few centimeters, wanting something to listen to other than self-important sounding newscasters reading the same headlines over and over. I try to identify each vehicle on the oncoming side by the sound that reflects off the tunnel walls back at me. Car, car, truck, car, motorcycle, and that sounds like a bus. I can keep this up as long as necessary.
“«Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick!» Road construction on a Sunday?” Nope, not taking the bait. Besides, would you rather they do it during rush hour? I can hear her sigh, though I don’t think she’s aware of it herself. “Lils, you okay?”
“Yes, thanks, I’m just fine.” You’re the one with the problem.
I hear another sigh. “Alright, you win. What do you want to know?”
Only the truth. “Whatever you want to talk about is fine.”
Yet another sigh. If we could fly on the power of frustration, we’d be halfway there by now. “She kissed me, Lils. She kissed me. It wasn’t my idea.”
“I see. And you did what?”
“Well… I uh… I guess I sorta kissed her back. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Right. And then?” Keep the questions open. Don’t lead.
“And then we went back inside, and she lost her breakfast.”
“Inside? Breakfast? How much did you… no, never mind. Just start from the beginning.” I can think of worse cases than the two of you together.
“Well I dropped twenty-five thousand on that fake ID, no way we weren’t going to use it.” Nice. Just keep digging that hole. Here, have another shovel.
“It’s fine if you want to avoid the subject. We’ve only got a sixteen hour flight ahead of us.” I fall silent. I can hear the flow of traffic reverse. No longer are we passing cars, now they are passing us.
“Dammit, I was hoping we’d have time for breakfast before we took off. It looks like that might not happen now.” Mmm hmm. I’m not letting you change the subject that easily. I smile, just in case my sister throws a glance my direction.
I can tell we’ve now entered a tunnel, and the only sound of other vehicles passing comes from far to the right. It must be that nobody else is moving either. Akira rolls up her window and turns on the radio, presumably looking for a traffic report. I roll my window down a few centimeters, wanting something to listen to other than self-important sounding newscasters reading the same headlines over and over. I try to identify each vehicle on the oncoming side by the sound that reflects off the tunnel walls back at me. Car, car, truck, car, motorcycle, and that sounds like a bus. I can keep this up as long as necessary.
“«Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick!» Road construction on a Sunday?” Nope, not taking the bait. Besides, would you rather they do it during rush hour? I can hear her sigh, though I don’t think she’s aware of it herself. “Lils, you okay?”
“Yes, thanks, I’m just fine.” You’re the one with the problem.
I hear another sigh. “Alright, you win. What do you want to know?”
Only the truth. “Whatever you want to talk about is fine.”
Yet another sigh. If we could fly on the power of frustration, we’d be halfway there by now. “She kissed me, Lils. She kissed me. It wasn’t my idea.”
“I see. And you did what?”
“Well… I uh… I guess I sorta kissed her back. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Right. And then?” Keep the questions open. Don’t lead.
“And then we went back inside, and she lost her breakfast.”
“Inside? Breakfast? How much did you… no, never mind. Just start from the beginning.” I can think of worse cases than the two of you together.
“Well I dropped twenty-five thousand on that fake ID, no way we weren’t going to use it.” Nice. Just keep digging that hole. Here, have another shovel.
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
EMI
I must have slept through it when he slipped out to drop off Akira and Hanako, but I do rouse just a bit when Daisuke returns to the apartment. It doesn’t take him long to get rid of the light summer clothing and climb in with me.
“How are you doing this morning?” He slips an arm around me and pulls me in close.
“Sleepy. I’d normally be getting up about now for my morning run.”
“Can’t say I blame you. What time should I set an alarm for? Do you have any particular time you need to be back?”
“Don’t worry about the alarm, just keep my phone nearby. I’m sure mom will wake me up soon enough.” If she assumes I’m on my normal schedule, I’ll be lucky if that call comes any later than nine.
“So… eleven as a backup.” I feel him twist around to place something on the nightstand, then take hold of me again. “I’ve been waiting a week for this, to actually spend a night – or morning, as the case may be – with you.” He kisses me on the cheek, and his breath is hot in my ear. It doesn’t take long for us to slip into dreams.
Phone. The brightness peeking around the blinds says we’ve had a bit of a nap. I have to push poor Daisuke onto his back to crawl over him and reach my phone, only to realize it isn’t my phone that’s ringing, it’s his. It soon stops, to be replaced by the chime of an incoming text message. I glance at the time: 10:13. If he doesn’t wake up to that backup alarm, I’ll wake him up myself. I wonder why mom hasn’t called though. I sneak out of the bed, assemble myself, and grab my phone. I start a pot of coffee while I make the call.
“Good morning dear, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Huh? You’re never disturbing me mom, I just wondered why you hadn’t called yet and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Mom launches into a manic rapid-fire barrage. “Well I heard you were temporarily out of training, and it’s Sunday, and you’ve got a new boyfriend, so I didn’t want to assume a schedule for you and wake you up, and I’ve been busy myself making preparations and all that, because you’re not going to be my only child much longer, and oh my God, did I just say that out loud?”
“Oh my God, yes you just did. Totally. What?!”
“I don’t have to explain how that works, do I honey?”
“N-no, not as such.” I flash back to several hours ago, in a shower just a few meters away. “That’s not quite what I meant… umm… congratulations?”
We talk a few minutes more, without saying much of anything important compared to that. My head is spinning. I’m going to have a baby brother or sister. I sit on the couch pondering this for longer than I meant to, because it takes me a while to realize the alarm is going off.
“Hey lazybones,” I say as I shake him awake, “you already missed a call.”
“I did?” He rolls over and squints at his phone as he silences it. “Oh, shit, I did. This one’s important too. Hope he’s still home.” He redials. “Yeah, sorry, really long night. We’re a duo now. Kenny finally went full retard.” Pause, and a laugh. “As a matter of fact, yes, we did get pictures. You’ll have to wait though, they’re on film.” Pause. “Yeah, I know it’s not that far, but it’s not just up to me. Hang on.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and turns to me. “Are you up for a little road trip?”
I’m glad I already made coffee.
***
Once we’re on the road, he’s happy to explain the object of our quest. “It’s called a Chapman Stick, or just the stick. You know how with my guitar, it usually takes both hands to make a sound? The left hand picks the note I want, and the right hand actually plucks it into life. Well with this instrument, I skip the second step. Just putting a finger where I want the string to stop is enough to make it sound too. That means it can be played with one hand, or at its most useful, by both hands doing two different things. Usually that means covering both bass and guitar at the same time.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“I won’t lie. It is, and I’m not ready for it yet. That’s why I’m in such a hurry to get my hands on it. If I’m not ready by the time our next show rolls around, we’ll have to get a sub – or, heaven forbid, let Kenny back in.”
“How did you end up with someone like that in your band anyhow? I mean yeah, he’s good, even I could see that. But he’s… ah…”
“A dick? Yeah. Sad thing is, he wasn’t always. We used to be really good friends. Too much stress, too much drinking, too much ego, and maybe a little too much cocaine. It’s all caught up with him. I’m sure he thought it never would, but I could say the same for half of my office mates. Not all of them are that far down the path, but all of them are in denial that the path even exists. That’s what the profession does to us. That’s why I want something else – not that the music business is any better about chewing people up and spitting them out.”
“Profession? He works in your office? Isn’t that going to be awkward?”
“Oh, no… he’s a lawyer too, but not with my firm. I went to law school with him, and with Danny. That’s how we met in the first place, and that’s why we all know Akira. I’ve never worked at the same place at the same time as any of them, but it’ll probably happen someday. The turnover rate in this business is sky high.”
“Oh. Then you could end up on opposite sides of a case from one of your own bandmates? Wouldn’t that be a problem?”
“Already happened, twice actually. And no, not really. We don’t discuss the band at work, and we don’t discuss work when we’re making music. Adversaries in court are often seen drinking together out of court, this is no different. Don’t you ever hang out with the people you race against?”
“No, not really,” I admit. “I’m not one for just hanging out, period. I don’t see why it would be a problem though. I’ll train with them one day and compete against them the next, so I guess that’s sort of the same thing. I want my opponents to do well. It gives me a reason to keep pushing.”
“That’s a healthy attitude, and one you should take care not to forget. A rising tide lifts all boats. It’s a shame so many people get so focused on winning that they lose the plot. We’re more than a win-loss record or a batting average, but so many things are hard to quantify – like being the kind of person I want to spend time with. The kind of person I know has my back. The kind of person I can love. The kind of person I’d trust with my life. You can’t put a number on that. It can’t be bought, sold, or traded, but it most certainly can be burned. Ultimately, these are the people that really matter.”
“Umm… I love you too?” It seems not quite right, but nothing else fits. Much to my relief, he laughs.
“Yeah I suppose that’s what I was trying to say, in my long-winded, lawyerly way. I do think you’re one of those people, and I want you to know I love you too.”
I already knew that, but it’s good to hear it from you. “I have a little bit of an announcement myself. I just found out this morning I’m getting a new addition to my family.”
“You… wait, what?” I could swear I hear alarms going off again. “But we… how?”
I’m sorry! I don’t mean to laugh at you! “Oh! No, not that! My mom is pregnant!” Really I don’t mean it, but that’s just too funny. “She just told me… oh, about an hour ago, not long before I woke you up. She said we need to come out and see her in her wedding dress before she’s too big to wear it.”
I must have slept through it when he slipped out to drop off Akira and Hanako, but I do rouse just a bit when Daisuke returns to the apartment. It doesn’t take him long to get rid of the light summer clothing and climb in with me.
“How are you doing this morning?” He slips an arm around me and pulls me in close.
“Sleepy. I’d normally be getting up about now for my morning run.”
“Can’t say I blame you. What time should I set an alarm for? Do you have any particular time you need to be back?”
“Don’t worry about the alarm, just keep my phone nearby. I’m sure mom will wake me up soon enough.” If she assumes I’m on my normal schedule, I’ll be lucky if that call comes any later than nine.
“So… eleven as a backup.” I feel him twist around to place something on the nightstand, then take hold of me again. “I’ve been waiting a week for this, to actually spend a night – or morning, as the case may be – with you.” He kisses me on the cheek, and his breath is hot in my ear. It doesn’t take long for us to slip into dreams.
Phone. The brightness peeking around the blinds says we’ve had a bit of a nap. I have to push poor Daisuke onto his back to crawl over him and reach my phone, only to realize it isn’t my phone that’s ringing, it’s his. It soon stops, to be replaced by the chime of an incoming text message. I glance at the time: 10:13. If he doesn’t wake up to that backup alarm, I’ll wake him up myself. I wonder why mom hasn’t called though. I sneak out of the bed, assemble myself, and grab my phone. I start a pot of coffee while I make the call.
“Good morning dear, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Huh? You’re never disturbing me mom, I just wondered why you hadn’t called yet and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Mom launches into a manic rapid-fire barrage. “Well I heard you were temporarily out of training, and it’s Sunday, and you’ve got a new boyfriend, so I didn’t want to assume a schedule for you and wake you up, and I’ve been busy myself making preparations and all that, because you’re not going to be my only child much longer, and oh my God, did I just say that out loud?”
“Oh my God, yes you just did. Totally. What?!”
“I don’t have to explain how that works, do I honey?”
“N-no, not as such.” I flash back to several hours ago, in a shower just a few meters away. “That’s not quite what I meant… umm… congratulations?”
We talk a few minutes more, without saying much of anything important compared to that. My head is spinning. I’m going to have a baby brother or sister. I sit on the couch pondering this for longer than I meant to, because it takes me a while to realize the alarm is going off.
“Hey lazybones,” I say as I shake him awake, “you already missed a call.”
“I did?” He rolls over and squints at his phone as he silences it. “Oh, shit, I did. This one’s important too. Hope he’s still home.” He redials. “Yeah, sorry, really long night. We’re a duo now. Kenny finally went full retard.” Pause, and a laugh. “As a matter of fact, yes, we did get pictures. You’ll have to wait though, they’re on film.” Pause. “Yeah, I know it’s not that far, but it’s not just up to me. Hang on.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and turns to me. “Are you up for a little road trip?”
I’m glad I already made coffee.
***
Once we’re on the road, he’s happy to explain the object of our quest. “It’s called a Chapman Stick, or just the stick. You know how with my guitar, it usually takes both hands to make a sound? The left hand picks the note I want, and the right hand actually plucks it into life. Well with this instrument, I skip the second step. Just putting a finger where I want the string to stop is enough to make it sound too. That means it can be played with one hand, or at its most useful, by both hands doing two different things. Usually that means covering both bass and guitar at the same time.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“I won’t lie. It is, and I’m not ready for it yet. That’s why I’m in such a hurry to get my hands on it. If I’m not ready by the time our next show rolls around, we’ll have to get a sub – or, heaven forbid, let Kenny back in.”
“How did you end up with someone like that in your band anyhow? I mean yeah, he’s good, even I could see that. But he’s… ah…”
“A dick? Yeah. Sad thing is, he wasn’t always. We used to be really good friends. Too much stress, too much drinking, too much ego, and maybe a little too much cocaine. It’s all caught up with him. I’m sure he thought it never would, but I could say the same for half of my office mates. Not all of them are that far down the path, but all of them are in denial that the path even exists. That’s what the profession does to us. That’s why I want something else – not that the music business is any better about chewing people up and spitting them out.”
“Profession? He works in your office? Isn’t that going to be awkward?”
“Oh, no… he’s a lawyer too, but not with my firm. I went to law school with him, and with Danny. That’s how we met in the first place, and that’s why we all know Akira. I’ve never worked at the same place at the same time as any of them, but it’ll probably happen someday. The turnover rate in this business is sky high.”
“Oh. Then you could end up on opposite sides of a case from one of your own bandmates? Wouldn’t that be a problem?”
“Already happened, twice actually. And no, not really. We don’t discuss the band at work, and we don’t discuss work when we’re making music. Adversaries in court are often seen drinking together out of court, this is no different. Don’t you ever hang out with the people you race against?”
“No, not really,” I admit. “I’m not one for just hanging out, period. I don’t see why it would be a problem though. I’ll train with them one day and compete against them the next, so I guess that’s sort of the same thing. I want my opponents to do well. It gives me a reason to keep pushing.”
“That’s a healthy attitude, and one you should take care not to forget. A rising tide lifts all boats. It’s a shame so many people get so focused on winning that they lose the plot. We’re more than a win-loss record or a batting average, but so many things are hard to quantify – like being the kind of person I want to spend time with. The kind of person I know has my back. The kind of person I can love. The kind of person I’d trust with my life. You can’t put a number on that. It can’t be bought, sold, or traded, but it most certainly can be burned. Ultimately, these are the people that really matter.”
“Umm… I love you too?” It seems not quite right, but nothing else fits. Much to my relief, he laughs.
“Yeah I suppose that’s what I was trying to say, in my long-winded, lawyerly way. I do think you’re one of those people, and I want you to know I love you too.”
I already knew that, but it’s good to hear it from you. “I have a little bit of an announcement myself. I just found out this morning I’m getting a new addition to my family.”
“You… wait, what?” I could swear I hear alarms going off again. “But we… how?”
I’m sorry! I don’t mean to laugh at you! “Oh! No, not that! My mom is pregnant!” Really I don’t mean it, but that’s just too funny. “She just told me… oh, about an hour ago, not long before I woke you up. She said we need to come out and see her in her wedding dress before she’s too big to wear it.”
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
HISAO
“How well do you know her, Hisao?”
“I wish I knew. Every time I think I've got a handle on her, she throws me for a loop. It's like she only reveals herself in bite-size servings.”
Miki was right – the very quietest place to have lunch was to never leave at all. Everyone, including Mutou, was quite eager to give us 3-3 to ourselves. At first he had settled in to grade papers, but Ms. Miyagi popped her head through the door and he was off like a turbocharged leopard. “I was mistaken, he's not a gaylord after all,” Miki had commented.
She stops to pick at her donburi, selects a slice of beef, and takes an almost obscene approach to consuming it. If she didn't seem so self-absorbed in it, I'd think she was coming on to me. “Eating is among our most carnal pleasures. Maybe enjoying bite-size servings to their fullest isn't such a bad way to live?”
“You have an excellent point... but at some point all the teasing just makes me... hungry.” My mind floods with memories at the last word. By the time I compose myself, Miki is smiling at me enigmatically. She had to have noticed that I had gotten lost in my own thoughts for a moment.
“Well let's deal with facts then. What do you know about her past?”
“I know her family history, more or less, and whatever she's cared to share about her childhood. But she didn't explain all that much about why she's here at Yamaku, or in Japan for that matter.”
“Mmm. You're aware I don't exactly have a squeaky clean background myself.” I raise an eyebrow and she continues. “After my... accident... I stayed in the same school and classes for a while. I'm not here because I need support for this,” she says, waving the bandaged stump before us, “I'm here because I got myself chased out. I almost got sent back stateside, but everyone figured I’d only get in more trouble there – probably right, too.” Wait, you’re an American? I don’t have time to ponder this before she continues. “Yamaku is my Elba. You can bet your ass I'll be back. I lost the battle but I will not lose the war.” Her eyes harden with an intensity she ordinarily reserves for the track.
“So this is Neko's exile as well?”
“To a degree. My mother wanted to get me away from her because she couldn't deal with me. The Rogers sent Neko here to get her away from some... less savory characters, despite the distance it put between them. Can I trust you to keep a secret, Hisao?”
I cough. Miki wants to know if I can keep a secret? That's a new one. Then I nod my confirmation.
She sighs, then continues. “I was afraid of you, Hisao – afraid you'd take away the one good thing I had going for me here. As different as we are, Neko and I are also a lot alike. At the end of the day, each of us has to find a way to just get things done, and she has been enormously helpful with me on that. I need you to promise you'll keep reminding her what a little bundle of awesome she really is.”
“You have my word on that. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise.”
The lunch bell rings, and she stands up.
“Last thing Hisao – be on the roof at exactly 4:20 this afternoon, and whatever you do, don't look like you were expecting to see me. Got it? Now I have to leave so I can come back with the rest. I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea and think I'm actually starting to study or anything!” She exits with a wink.
Staying inside prevents me from noticing that the sky closed up during lunch, turning an ominous shade of silver-black through the afternoon classes. By the time the bell rings at the end, the conditions are reminiscent of a monsoon, and I have not so much as a windbreaker for protection.
«There's a little black spot on the sun today
That's my soul up there.
It's the same old thing as yesterday
That's my soul up there.»
I am about 20 kilos of Hisao and 90 kilos of wet by the time I make it back to the dorm. I do my best not to track a river across the floors, but I’m not the only one who was caught unprepared.
Once in my room, I take a lesson from Neko and improvise a clothesline to hang up my wet clothes and squishy shoes. Then I get into fresh clothes, find a trenchcoat my parents had insisted on hiding in my closet (I'll have to remember to thank them for that), and choose an umbrella.
No sooner have I stepped out into the hallway, than I hear Misha's unmistakable voice. “There he is, Misha. Wait, I'm Misha. Hic-chan~!”
I head toward Shizune and Misha, since I have no reason to dodge them and that is the most direct exit. “Good afternoon, to what good fortune do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
Shizune signs back with a mild look of disapproval. “Would you care to check your mail occasionally?” Misha translates. Shizune hands me an envelope and the scent is faint but unmistakable.
Iwanako.
I am in no mood to explain so I maintain my best poker face and thank the two of them for bringing me the letter. Then I tuck it into an upper pocket of the trenchcoat where it should remain dry under an umbrella, and head out into the pouring rain.
«There's a king on a throne with his eyes torn out
There's a blind man looking for a shadow of doubt
There's a rich man sleeping on a golden bed
There's a skeleton choking on a crust of bread»
I step out onto the roof expecting to find it abandoned despite the secret invitation, but to my surprise I find Miki, Neko, and two others all hanging out under the cover of the radio room's roofline, smoking. One – it looks like it could be Junpei – has a package in his hand which he bounces a few times as if checking the weight. Then he pockets it and hands Neko some folded bills. What.
Having remained unseen thus far, I decide to approach the radio room from the opposite side. I am familiar enough with the scent of burning tobacco, since it seems that half of Japan smokes. My parents smoke. Mutou smokes. Miyagi smokes. Hell, I think even Nurse smokes. This isn't tobacco.
I step around the corner and announce my presence. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything.” The cigarette is now in Miki's hand. She waves it in my general direction for a moment, shrugs, then takes a drag and passes it back to one of the boys.
“You can keep a secret, right, mister cookie monster?” Miki grunts out, expelling as little breath as possible. She has a point – I'm not exactly in a position to rat anyone out even if I were so inclined.
“What's this?” Neko takes her hand from the forearm crutch I hadn't noticed and plucks the letter out of my coat pocket. “A pocketful of secrets yourself?” She grabs the crutch again before it has time to fall over and leans it against the wall, then tears off the end of the envelope with her teeth and slides the letter out. She skims it quickly.
The boy I don't recognize taps me on the shoulder and holds the funny cigarette toward me. I frown, and he withdraws it.
“Nakai. You have been found not guilty of all charges.” Neko puts the letter back in my pocket and pats it.
“What the bloody hell did I do wrong here? I haven't even had a chance to read that letter, and I would have shared it with you had you asked! Am I not entitled to a few secrets of my own?”
“Duuude,” says the unidentified boy. “You totally need this.” He tries to press the roach into my hand.
Ah, fuck it. I try unsuccessfully to take a drag without burning my fingers before handing it back. Pointing at Neko, I just stare daggers and say “We'll talk later.” I turn and walk away as fast as my soggy shoes can carry me.
«I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain.
I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign,
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain.»
“How well do you know her, Hisao?”
“I wish I knew. Every time I think I've got a handle on her, she throws me for a loop. It's like she only reveals herself in bite-size servings.”
Miki was right – the very quietest place to have lunch was to never leave at all. Everyone, including Mutou, was quite eager to give us 3-3 to ourselves. At first he had settled in to grade papers, but Ms. Miyagi popped her head through the door and he was off like a turbocharged leopard. “I was mistaken, he's not a gaylord after all,” Miki had commented.
She stops to pick at her donburi, selects a slice of beef, and takes an almost obscene approach to consuming it. If she didn't seem so self-absorbed in it, I'd think she was coming on to me. “Eating is among our most carnal pleasures. Maybe enjoying bite-size servings to their fullest isn't such a bad way to live?”
“You have an excellent point... but at some point all the teasing just makes me... hungry.” My mind floods with memories at the last word. By the time I compose myself, Miki is smiling at me enigmatically. She had to have noticed that I had gotten lost in my own thoughts for a moment.
“Well let's deal with facts then. What do you know about her past?”
“I know her family history, more or less, and whatever she's cared to share about her childhood. But she didn't explain all that much about why she's here at Yamaku, or in Japan for that matter.”
“Mmm. You're aware I don't exactly have a squeaky clean background myself.” I raise an eyebrow and she continues. “After my... accident... I stayed in the same school and classes for a while. I'm not here because I need support for this,” she says, waving the bandaged stump before us, “I'm here because I got myself chased out. I almost got sent back stateside, but everyone figured I’d only get in more trouble there – probably right, too.” Wait, you’re an American? I don’t have time to ponder this before she continues. “Yamaku is my Elba. You can bet your ass I'll be back. I lost the battle but I will not lose the war.” Her eyes harden with an intensity she ordinarily reserves for the track.
“So this is Neko's exile as well?”
“To a degree. My mother wanted to get me away from her because she couldn't deal with me. The Rogers sent Neko here to get her away from some... less savory characters, despite the distance it put between them. Can I trust you to keep a secret, Hisao?”
I cough. Miki wants to know if I can keep a secret? That's a new one. Then I nod my confirmation.
She sighs, then continues. “I was afraid of you, Hisao – afraid you'd take away the one good thing I had going for me here. As different as we are, Neko and I are also a lot alike. At the end of the day, each of us has to find a way to just get things done, and she has been enormously helpful with me on that. I need you to promise you'll keep reminding her what a little bundle of awesome she really is.”
“You have my word on that. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise.”
The lunch bell rings, and she stands up.
“Last thing Hisao – be on the roof at exactly 4:20 this afternoon, and whatever you do, don't look like you were expecting to see me. Got it? Now I have to leave so I can come back with the rest. I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea and think I'm actually starting to study or anything!” She exits with a wink.
Staying inside prevents me from noticing that the sky closed up during lunch, turning an ominous shade of silver-black through the afternoon classes. By the time the bell rings at the end, the conditions are reminiscent of a monsoon, and I have not so much as a windbreaker for protection.
«There's a little black spot on the sun today
That's my soul up there.
It's the same old thing as yesterday
That's my soul up there.»
I am about 20 kilos of Hisao and 90 kilos of wet by the time I make it back to the dorm. I do my best not to track a river across the floors, but I’m not the only one who was caught unprepared.
Once in my room, I take a lesson from Neko and improvise a clothesline to hang up my wet clothes and squishy shoes. Then I get into fresh clothes, find a trenchcoat my parents had insisted on hiding in my closet (I'll have to remember to thank them for that), and choose an umbrella.
No sooner have I stepped out into the hallway, than I hear Misha's unmistakable voice. “There he is, Misha. Wait, I'm Misha. Hic-chan~!”
I head toward Shizune and Misha, since I have no reason to dodge them and that is the most direct exit. “Good afternoon, to what good fortune do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
Shizune signs back with a mild look of disapproval. “Would you care to check your mail occasionally?” Misha translates. Shizune hands me an envelope and the scent is faint but unmistakable.
Iwanako.
I am in no mood to explain so I maintain my best poker face and thank the two of them for bringing me the letter. Then I tuck it into an upper pocket of the trenchcoat where it should remain dry under an umbrella, and head out into the pouring rain.
«There's a king on a throne with his eyes torn out
There's a blind man looking for a shadow of doubt
There's a rich man sleeping on a golden bed
There's a skeleton choking on a crust of bread»
I step out onto the roof expecting to find it abandoned despite the secret invitation, but to my surprise I find Miki, Neko, and two others all hanging out under the cover of the radio room's roofline, smoking. One – it looks like it could be Junpei – has a package in his hand which he bounces a few times as if checking the weight. Then he pockets it and hands Neko some folded bills. What.
Having remained unseen thus far, I decide to approach the radio room from the opposite side. I am familiar enough with the scent of burning tobacco, since it seems that half of Japan smokes. My parents smoke. Mutou smokes. Miyagi smokes. Hell, I think even Nurse smokes. This isn't tobacco.
I step around the corner and announce my presence. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything.” The cigarette is now in Miki's hand. She waves it in my general direction for a moment, shrugs, then takes a drag and passes it back to one of the boys.
“You can keep a secret, right, mister cookie monster?” Miki grunts out, expelling as little breath as possible. She has a point – I'm not exactly in a position to rat anyone out even if I were so inclined.
“What's this?” Neko takes her hand from the forearm crutch I hadn't noticed and plucks the letter out of my coat pocket. “A pocketful of secrets yourself?” She grabs the crutch again before it has time to fall over and leans it against the wall, then tears off the end of the envelope with her teeth and slides the letter out. She skims it quickly.
The boy I don't recognize taps me on the shoulder and holds the funny cigarette toward me. I frown, and he withdraws it.
“Nakai. You have been found not guilty of all charges.” Neko puts the letter back in my pocket and pats it.
“What the bloody hell did I do wrong here? I haven't even had a chance to read that letter, and I would have shared it with you had you asked! Am I not entitled to a few secrets of my own?”
“Duuude,” says the unidentified boy. “You totally need this.” He tries to press the roach into my hand.
Ah, fuck it. I try unsuccessfully to take a drag without burning my fingers before handing it back. Pointing at Neko, I just stare daggers and say “We'll talk later.” I turn and walk away as fast as my soggy shoes can carry me.
«I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running 'round my brain.
I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign,
But it's my destiny to be the king of pain.»
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
NEKO
“Careful? Do you really think I don’t know what I’m doing? Do you really think mum would let me do business on her behalf if I was an idiot? I’m missing half an arm, not half a brain!” I make a gesture that would be considered rude, if there was a hand at the end of it.
“You mean… she knows about this?” Looks like Hisao needs another whack from the clue-by-four.
“Do I have to draw you a fucking flowchart? Or would you rather just watch Clerks with me? There’s a reason those two are called Jay and Silent Bob. It would be easier for me to tell you who isn’t involved than to tell you who is.”
“So you mean Junpei and Seiji are…”
“Messengers. Yes.”
“Suzu.”
“She’s moved money from time to time.”
“And Miki…”
“She keeps out of the trenches, but bloody hell, she’s in way deeper than I am. I don’t even…” I just shake my head. “Look, you can’t act all surprised now. It’s a couple days late to be outraged.” I wipe as much water as I can off a seat, tired of pacing. “My family has invested an awful lot in some nebulous real estate proposition known as ‘The Yamaku Foundation’, and we have yet to see any cash flowing the other way – at least directly. We’re the third-largest partner. Care to know who the first two are?”
I can see that he really doesn’t, afraid of having his entire bubble burst at once, but I can’t let him off the hook, not now that I’ve made the effort to walk him clear out to the park, puddles and all. I’m slightly more confident in the privacy of our dorm rooms than I am of my own home… but only slightly. “Do the names ‘Satou’ and ‘Hakamichi’ ring any bells? Not that there’s really any difference between them, they just try to outdo each other for bragging rights.”
He takes a moment to pick his jaw up off the sidewalk. “You mean Kenji… is right, and Lilly really is a Mafia princess?”
“Well he’s not too far off the mark, as far as he goes. Thing is, he doesn’t go nearly far enough. He’s fixated on the one person who wants to get clear of her family history even more than I do, probably just because she’s so obviously gaijin. Oh sure, she has the mannerisms down pat, but she’ll never blend in, no more than I will. I don’t even understand why she tries so hard.” At least when I sit down and shut up, I can hide in a crowd – I’m short, I have black hair, and I can avert my eyes. She might as well be a white crow.
“So… you’re telling me everyone around here is dirty?”
«Some things are better left unsaid
Some strings are better left undone
Some hearts are better left unbroken»
“I’m telling you no such thing. Lots of the people here have no clue who they work for, or who they live amongst. But the big money – fuck, even the ground the place stands on – yeah. Dirty would be a good word for it.”
I let him digest this bitter stew in silence, until he seems to have something to add. “What was in that package today?”
“About a hundred grams of home grown.” No point in lying about it.
“You’re growing it there too?”
“No, not that home, it’s from the ranch back of beyond. I told you it’s no big deal there, and I meant it. I’ve been around it my entire life, and allowed to join the folks at the grown-up table starting at twelve. It almost certainly kept me out of more trouble than it got me into, since there’s fuckall to do out there.”
“And he does what with it, exactly?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” I shrug, less flamboyantly than usual.
«Some lives are better left untouched
Some lies are better off believed
Some words are better left unspoken»
“That’s your answer? To stick your head in the ground and pretend there isn’t a problem?”
“Who said there is a problem? The guy’s an epileptic. His prescribed medication makes him feel like a zombie. So does the weed, sorta, but at least that’s a fun feeling, and it apparently works about as well.” Without the katawa dick. “If he wants to share…” I shrug again.
“Well someone certainly wanted me to think there’s a problem. You don’t think I just turned up on the roof in the middle of a rainstorm because I like cold showers and wet shoes, do you?”
Someone? “Yeah, there’s a problem alright. I thought it was just my problem, but it looks like we’re in this together. «We’ve got ninety-nine problems, and my bitch is one.»”
***
“What’s my problem? You’re the one who opened Pandora’s Box up there, in a misguided attempt to scare off my boyfriend!” I know her neighbors can hear me. You could count the number of fucks I give on Rin’s fingers.
“I know. Fact is, I don’t feel like I have room for him.” Oh is that it? The gloves are off now. Both of them.
“You should have thought of that a long time ago. Do you think I was eager to move over for Hanako? Misha? Rin?” Now that would have been a spectacle: 2 Girls 1 Hand. “How many more did I miss? Did you see me trying to chase them off? Do you see me interrogating Kenta and inviting him to our private business meetings?” She actually looks shocked. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve to demand exclusivity from me, now, when it seems like you’re on the prowl at all times yourself!”
“I… I’m sorry. I had no idea you were so upset by my flirtations. They never went anywhere. I’m not sure what I would have done if they had.” Yeah you fucking do. You would have kept your pie hole shut unless and until I confronted you with it. “Hanako… yeah, you got me there. Misha was only an attempt to provoke Shizune. I don’t know where you got Rin from.” Emi has sharp ears. “Kenta was… ah… a bad decision. I regret that one on multiple levels.” She looks up at me with what she probably thinks is a sheepish look, but I can see the arrogant smirk just below the surface. “What do you want from me?”
Nothing you can give me. “I want my keys back.”
“Careful? Do you really think I don’t know what I’m doing? Do you really think mum would let me do business on her behalf if I was an idiot? I’m missing half an arm, not half a brain!” I make a gesture that would be considered rude, if there was a hand at the end of it.
“You mean… she knows about this?” Looks like Hisao needs another whack from the clue-by-four.
“Do I have to draw you a fucking flowchart? Or would you rather just watch Clerks with me? There’s a reason those two are called Jay and Silent Bob. It would be easier for me to tell you who isn’t involved than to tell you who is.”
“So you mean Junpei and Seiji are…”
“Messengers. Yes.”
“Suzu.”
“She’s moved money from time to time.”
“And Miki…”
“She keeps out of the trenches, but bloody hell, she’s in way deeper than I am. I don’t even…” I just shake my head. “Look, you can’t act all surprised now. It’s a couple days late to be outraged.” I wipe as much water as I can off a seat, tired of pacing. “My family has invested an awful lot in some nebulous real estate proposition known as ‘The Yamaku Foundation’, and we have yet to see any cash flowing the other way – at least directly. We’re the third-largest partner. Care to know who the first two are?”
I can see that he really doesn’t, afraid of having his entire bubble burst at once, but I can’t let him off the hook, not now that I’ve made the effort to walk him clear out to the park, puddles and all. I’m slightly more confident in the privacy of our dorm rooms than I am of my own home… but only slightly. “Do the names ‘Satou’ and ‘Hakamichi’ ring any bells? Not that there’s really any difference between them, they just try to outdo each other for bragging rights.”
He takes a moment to pick his jaw up off the sidewalk. “You mean Kenji… is right, and Lilly really is a Mafia princess?”
“Well he’s not too far off the mark, as far as he goes. Thing is, he doesn’t go nearly far enough. He’s fixated on the one person who wants to get clear of her family history even more than I do, probably just because she’s so obviously gaijin. Oh sure, she has the mannerisms down pat, but she’ll never blend in, no more than I will. I don’t even understand why she tries so hard.” At least when I sit down and shut up, I can hide in a crowd – I’m short, I have black hair, and I can avert my eyes. She might as well be a white crow.
“So… you’re telling me everyone around here is dirty?”
«Some things are better left unsaid
Some strings are better left undone
Some hearts are better left unbroken»
“I’m telling you no such thing. Lots of the people here have no clue who they work for, or who they live amongst. But the big money – fuck, even the ground the place stands on – yeah. Dirty would be a good word for it.”
I let him digest this bitter stew in silence, until he seems to have something to add. “What was in that package today?”
“About a hundred grams of home grown.” No point in lying about it.
“You’re growing it there too?”
“No, not that home, it’s from the ranch back of beyond. I told you it’s no big deal there, and I meant it. I’ve been around it my entire life, and allowed to join the folks at the grown-up table starting at twelve. It almost certainly kept me out of more trouble than it got me into, since there’s fuckall to do out there.”
“And he does what with it, exactly?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” I shrug, less flamboyantly than usual.
«Some lives are better left untouched
Some lies are better off believed
Some words are better left unspoken»
“That’s your answer? To stick your head in the ground and pretend there isn’t a problem?”
“Who said there is a problem? The guy’s an epileptic. His prescribed medication makes him feel like a zombie. So does the weed, sorta, but at least that’s a fun feeling, and it apparently works about as well.” Without the katawa dick. “If he wants to share…” I shrug again.
“Well someone certainly wanted me to think there’s a problem. You don’t think I just turned up on the roof in the middle of a rainstorm because I like cold showers and wet shoes, do you?”
Someone? “Yeah, there’s a problem alright. I thought it was just my problem, but it looks like we’re in this together. «We’ve got ninety-nine problems, and my bitch is one.»”
***
“What’s my problem? You’re the one who opened Pandora’s Box up there, in a misguided attempt to scare off my boyfriend!” I know her neighbors can hear me. You could count the number of fucks I give on Rin’s fingers.
“I know. Fact is, I don’t feel like I have room for him.” Oh is that it? The gloves are off now. Both of them.
“You should have thought of that a long time ago. Do you think I was eager to move over for Hanako? Misha? Rin?” Now that would have been a spectacle: 2 Girls 1 Hand. “How many more did I miss? Did you see me trying to chase them off? Do you see me interrogating Kenta and inviting him to our private business meetings?” She actually looks shocked. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve to demand exclusivity from me, now, when it seems like you’re on the prowl at all times yourself!”
“I… I’m sorry. I had no idea you were so upset by my flirtations. They never went anywhere. I’m not sure what I would have done if they had.” Yeah you fucking do. You would have kept your pie hole shut unless and until I confronted you with it. “Hanako… yeah, you got me there. Misha was only an attempt to provoke Shizune. I don’t know where you got Rin from.” Emi has sharp ears. “Kenta was… ah… a bad decision. I regret that one on multiple levels.” She looks up at me with what she probably thinks is a sheepish look, but I can see the arrogant smirk just below the surface. “What do you want from me?”
Nothing you can give me. “I want my keys back.”
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
SUZU
Even with my radio on, I can hear the door slam. I think even Shizune would have heard that one, or at least felt it. It’s not long before I hear a tap at my door. It’s Miki – Typhoon Neko must have moved on to other pastures. I let her in, and she promptly crawls into my bed and pulls the covers over her head.
“Do whatever you need to do. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”
“I was just studying. Do we really have to know the name of every bone in the body? What kind of a life skill is that going to be?” I take a seat on the bed beside her, knowing that if I go much further I’m liable to end up sideways and unconscious. “So what was that all about? It sure didn’t sound like fun.”
“I dunno, I suppose I deserved some of it. Mind if I stay the night?”
“I’ve never minded before, why should I start now?” Usually you don’t even bother asking.
She lowers the blanket enough to expose her head and shoulders. “Good. I brought you some candy.” She holds up something in a small plastic bag that somewhat resembles rock candy, but I’m pretty sure it’s not.
“Holy sh…”
“Shh.” She puts her finger over my lips, the bag dangling just below my chin. “It’s unlikely, but someone may decide to search my place, and I don’t want to be caught with this. Consider it a gift.” She drops it into my lap, finger still to my lips.
There have to be two or three grams in this bag at a minimum, but it’s obvious she’s not in a mood for questions. “Do you have… gear?” I don’t have any experience or equipment for preparation. It’s always just sort of appeared in front of me before, ready to go.
She shakes her head. “I suppose we could always chase the dragon.”
“Maybe, but that stinks. I think I’d rather…” I put a knuckle to my nose and sniff, and she nods.
She pulls a folding knife in the shape of a credit card from her wallet. Hey, that’s pretty damn useful. “I think we can figure something out.”
***
We’re still playing emulated Nintendo games on my laptop when the sky outside starts to light up. Oh well, if I fall asleep in class later, it’s not like anyone will consider it strange.
“Hey, I need a safety meeting to take the edge off. You wanna take a walk with me, or are you good?”
I’ve never had a ‘safety meeting,’ on the assumption that it would just put me to sleep. Today, I have a feeling it won’t. “You got a safe place? I mean…” I tip my head toward the window.
“It’s not even five. We’ll just look like we’re out having a smoke, and when’s the last time you heard of anyone getting in trouble for that?”
Somehow, it is as if I am seeing the sun rise for the very first time, on a familiar yet entirely new world.
Even with my radio on, I can hear the door slam. I think even Shizune would have heard that one, or at least felt it. It’s not long before I hear a tap at my door. It’s Miki – Typhoon Neko must have moved on to other pastures. I let her in, and she promptly crawls into my bed and pulls the covers over her head.
“Do whatever you need to do. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”
“I was just studying. Do we really have to know the name of every bone in the body? What kind of a life skill is that going to be?” I take a seat on the bed beside her, knowing that if I go much further I’m liable to end up sideways and unconscious. “So what was that all about? It sure didn’t sound like fun.”
“I dunno, I suppose I deserved some of it. Mind if I stay the night?”
“I’ve never minded before, why should I start now?” Usually you don’t even bother asking.
She lowers the blanket enough to expose her head and shoulders. “Good. I brought you some candy.” She holds up something in a small plastic bag that somewhat resembles rock candy, but I’m pretty sure it’s not.
“Holy sh…”
“Shh.” She puts her finger over my lips, the bag dangling just below my chin. “It’s unlikely, but someone may decide to search my place, and I don’t want to be caught with this. Consider it a gift.” She drops it into my lap, finger still to my lips.
There have to be two or three grams in this bag at a minimum, but it’s obvious she’s not in a mood for questions. “Do you have… gear?” I don’t have any experience or equipment for preparation. It’s always just sort of appeared in front of me before, ready to go.
She shakes her head. “I suppose we could always chase the dragon.”
“Maybe, but that stinks. I think I’d rather…” I put a knuckle to my nose and sniff, and she nods.
She pulls a folding knife in the shape of a credit card from her wallet. Hey, that’s pretty damn useful. “I think we can figure something out.”
***
We’re still playing emulated Nintendo games on my laptop when the sky outside starts to light up. Oh well, if I fall asleep in class later, it’s not like anyone will consider it strange.
“Hey, I need a safety meeting to take the edge off. You wanna take a walk with me, or are you good?”
I’ve never had a ‘safety meeting,’ on the assumption that it would just put me to sleep. Today, I have a feeling it won’t. “You got a safe place? I mean…” I tip my head toward the window.
“It’s not even five. We’ll just look like we’re out having a smoke, and when’s the last time you heard of anyone getting in trouble for that?”
Somehow, it is as if I am seeing the sun rise for the very first time, on a familiar yet entirely new world.
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
HISAO
I open the door to the knocking, and Neko pushes her way through without waiting for an invitation.
“I’m not sure I want to be seen…” I begin, before I see her tapping her thumb. Oh? Is she really worried about that? I mean I could sort of see it if her room is bugged, but mine?
She mimes writing on her arm as she takes a seat on the bed – I guess we’re going to do this Shizune-style. I fetch a notebook and a couple of pencils, and she draws a quick sketch. At the top sits a stick figure that I take to be a horse, and on the next row down are a cat and just the letters “M” and “J”. Lines extend from the horse to all three of the second-row figures, and all three figures on that row are in turn connected to each other, but I notice she has doubled the line between the horse and the “M”. She looks me in the eyes, and I nod. She draws a line extending out of the “J” and places an “S” at the other end. Out of both the “J” and the “S” she draws probably a dozen lines, all leading to question marks, and a broken line from the “M” to a cloud of question marks. No further lines extend from the cat. She waits for my acknowledgement that I got the message, then tears the page out of the notebook and shoves it into her purse. I guess she really did have to draw me a flowchart after all.
I’m starting to get used to this little game of cloak-and-dagger when she surprises me by whispering in my ear. “I made her give back my keys. Even so, I don’t know that she didn’t make duplicates. Would you mind terribly if I stayed the night? I promise to be quiet.”
I’m pretty sure that if Miki really wanted to find her, this is one of the first places she’d come looking, but at least she wouldn’t have the key. I wrap my arms around her as a response, but she surprisingly wriggles out of my grasp and crosses the room to where she removes the room phone from the wall, bringing it back to the bed with her.
“If every room is bugged,” she whispers, “this is almost certainly how they’d do it. Do you mind if I have someone take a look at it?”
“No, not really… I don’t think it has ever rung. I won’t miss it for a little while. Will anyone else notice, like the switchboard?”
“Maybe, but they won’t do anything. I’ve had mine off since Sunday and nobody has asked any questions. Anyway, be back in just a second.” She slips out with the wall phone, and I hear her tap at the door across the hall, followed by the sound of multiple locks being opened, then re-locked. She returns without the phone.
I wait until she’s close enough to whisper to. “You just gave my phone to Kenji?”
“He’s the one who pointed out how easy it would be to tap them. I figure he knows what he’s looking for. I couldn’t find anything overtly weird in mine, but I’m having him tear it down just the same. I’ll borrow the scanner to sweep for radio bugs soon enough. Until then, we need to assume the place is insecure, and also that they now know we’re taking countermeasures.” The weight of her message is totally at odds with the way she’s casually undressing, although she does make a point of not throwing or dropping the leg she’s often so careless with.
“It’s a bit early for sleeping, even for me.”
“Who said anything about sleep?” She shoves me onto my back. If we’re bugged, I think they’re in for a show tonight.
***
I’m being elbowed awake by a silent Neko. The sky outside has started to lighten, and I can see what has her so alarmed.
Someone is standing in the middle of my room.
“Wakey wakey, numbnuts.” I don’t know whether to be angry or relieved that it’s Kenji.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” I glare at him, even knowing that the gesture is pointless.
He holds up a key. “Opens every room in the dorm – except mine, of course. Dunno if it works on the other side, but I kinda doubt it. Anyway, here.” He holds up a bag, and fishes one of our phones out of it. “I can’t tell you much, I’m afraid. Both phones were capable of being tapped from the switchboard, but that’s how they come from the factory. It’s impossible to tell if this capability has ever been used.”
“Were capable? What did you do to my phone?”
“Nothing that shows. It’s just that now your mute button locks instead of having to be held down. Make sure it’s down, and anyone trying to eavesdrop will just get silence.”
I take the phone from his outstretched hand, and examine it myself. It looks completely unchanged, but operates exactly as he just said. “Nice work. Did you do that on both of them?”
“Of course, and mine too. You wanna take delivery of both, or should I hang on to Neko’s?”
Neko breaks her silence. “I’ll take delivery now, thanks.”
Kenji visibly jumps back half a step. “Don’t do that to me, man! It’s not funny!”
“No joke was intended, and I’m pretty sure I’m not a man. Remember whose room you’re standing in. Have you been up all night?”
“No… ah… yes. But I slept in extra-late yesterday!” He starts shuffling his feet.
“That wasn’t necessary, but I do appreciate the effort.” She rises out of the bed in the nude, navigates a semi-circle around the room in such a way that she never passes within arm’s reach of him, and fetches something out of her purse. On the return trip, she jumps in close just long enough to deposit it in his shirt pocket before returning to the shelter of my bed. “Now, if you’d kindly get the fuck out…”
If he is aware of Neko’s lack of clothing, he sure isn’t showing it. He tips an imaginary hat as he bows, and leaves us alone together. He even locks the door on the way out – from the outside.
“How much did you just pay him?”
“Pay? That wasn’t money, my dear. It was something he finds far more valuable than money.”
“Aww fuck… he’s in on this too?” Just how deep does this rabbit hole go?
She laughs, then stifles it. “No, he’s not in that business. He’s in the business of knowing things, and that was the list of circuit numbers and passcodes for the Yamaku phone system, including the parts that supposedly don’t exist. Before I dared to show him how to enable the bugs, I had to be sure he couldn’t do it to me. Or you, now. I do plan to inspect the phones again before I trust them, though. Speaking of which, you need another lock or three. So do I.”
“Umm… just how did you get your hands – err, hand – on that list yourself?” I should have just let that initial slip go, as it is the correction that earns me a punch in the shoulder.
“Being on the Emergency Response team has its benefits. Have you checked to see if your callsign is public yet?”
“Actually, I’d completely forgotten about it.” And I’m not real good about checking my mail either. “I guess I’ll look a bit later today.”
“Yeah, no great rush. What do you say we take advantage of being woken up early?”
Oh? Oh… “Are you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we…”
She nibbles at my ear. “Better living through chemistry.”
I open the door to the knocking, and Neko pushes her way through without waiting for an invitation.
“I’m not sure I want to be seen…” I begin, before I see her tapping her thumb. Oh? Is she really worried about that? I mean I could sort of see it if her room is bugged, but mine?
She mimes writing on her arm as she takes a seat on the bed – I guess we’re going to do this Shizune-style. I fetch a notebook and a couple of pencils, and she draws a quick sketch. At the top sits a stick figure that I take to be a horse, and on the next row down are a cat and just the letters “M” and “J”. Lines extend from the horse to all three of the second-row figures, and all three figures on that row are in turn connected to each other, but I notice she has doubled the line between the horse and the “M”. She looks me in the eyes, and I nod. She draws a line extending out of the “J” and places an “S” at the other end. Out of both the “J” and the “S” she draws probably a dozen lines, all leading to question marks, and a broken line from the “M” to a cloud of question marks. No further lines extend from the cat. She waits for my acknowledgement that I got the message, then tears the page out of the notebook and shoves it into her purse. I guess she really did have to draw me a flowchart after all.
I’m starting to get used to this little game of cloak-and-dagger when she surprises me by whispering in my ear. “I made her give back my keys. Even so, I don’t know that she didn’t make duplicates. Would you mind terribly if I stayed the night? I promise to be quiet.”
I’m pretty sure that if Miki really wanted to find her, this is one of the first places she’d come looking, but at least she wouldn’t have the key. I wrap my arms around her as a response, but she surprisingly wriggles out of my grasp and crosses the room to where she removes the room phone from the wall, bringing it back to the bed with her.
“If every room is bugged,” she whispers, “this is almost certainly how they’d do it. Do you mind if I have someone take a look at it?”
“No, not really… I don’t think it has ever rung. I won’t miss it for a little while. Will anyone else notice, like the switchboard?”
“Maybe, but they won’t do anything. I’ve had mine off since Sunday and nobody has asked any questions. Anyway, be back in just a second.” She slips out with the wall phone, and I hear her tap at the door across the hall, followed by the sound of multiple locks being opened, then re-locked. She returns without the phone.
I wait until she’s close enough to whisper to. “You just gave my phone to Kenji?”
“He’s the one who pointed out how easy it would be to tap them. I figure he knows what he’s looking for. I couldn’t find anything overtly weird in mine, but I’m having him tear it down just the same. I’ll borrow the scanner to sweep for radio bugs soon enough. Until then, we need to assume the place is insecure, and also that they now know we’re taking countermeasures.” The weight of her message is totally at odds with the way she’s casually undressing, although she does make a point of not throwing or dropping the leg she’s often so careless with.
“It’s a bit early for sleeping, even for me.”
“Who said anything about sleep?” She shoves me onto my back. If we’re bugged, I think they’re in for a show tonight.
***
I’m being elbowed awake by a silent Neko. The sky outside has started to lighten, and I can see what has her so alarmed.
Someone is standing in the middle of my room.
“Wakey wakey, numbnuts.” I don’t know whether to be angry or relieved that it’s Kenji.
“How the fuck did you get in here?” I glare at him, even knowing that the gesture is pointless.
He holds up a key. “Opens every room in the dorm – except mine, of course. Dunno if it works on the other side, but I kinda doubt it. Anyway, here.” He holds up a bag, and fishes one of our phones out of it. “I can’t tell you much, I’m afraid. Both phones were capable of being tapped from the switchboard, but that’s how they come from the factory. It’s impossible to tell if this capability has ever been used.”
“Were capable? What did you do to my phone?”
“Nothing that shows. It’s just that now your mute button locks instead of having to be held down. Make sure it’s down, and anyone trying to eavesdrop will just get silence.”
I take the phone from his outstretched hand, and examine it myself. It looks completely unchanged, but operates exactly as he just said. “Nice work. Did you do that on both of them?”
“Of course, and mine too. You wanna take delivery of both, or should I hang on to Neko’s?”
Neko breaks her silence. “I’ll take delivery now, thanks.”
Kenji visibly jumps back half a step. “Don’t do that to me, man! It’s not funny!”
“No joke was intended, and I’m pretty sure I’m not a man. Remember whose room you’re standing in. Have you been up all night?”
“No… ah… yes. But I slept in extra-late yesterday!” He starts shuffling his feet.
“That wasn’t necessary, but I do appreciate the effort.” She rises out of the bed in the nude, navigates a semi-circle around the room in such a way that she never passes within arm’s reach of him, and fetches something out of her purse. On the return trip, she jumps in close just long enough to deposit it in his shirt pocket before returning to the shelter of my bed. “Now, if you’d kindly get the fuck out…”
If he is aware of Neko’s lack of clothing, he sure isn’t showing it. He tips an imaginary hat as he bows, and leaves us alone together. He even locks the door on the way out – from the outside.
“How much did you just pay him?”
“Pay? That wasn’t money, my dear. It was something he finds far more valuable than money.”
“Aww fuck… he’s in on this too?” Just how deep does this rabbit hole go?
She laughs, then stifles it. “No, he’s not in that business. He’s in the business of knowing things, and that was the list of circuit numbers and passcodes for the Yamaku phone system, including the parts that supposedly don’t exist. Before I dared to show him how to enable the bugs, I had to be sure he couldn’t do it to me. Or you, now. I do plan to inspect the phones again before I trust them, though. Speaking of which, you need another lock or three. So do I.”
“Umm… just how did you get your hands – err, hand – on that list yourself?” I should have just let that initial slip go, as it is the correction that earns me a punch in the shoulder.
“Being on the Emergency Response team has its benefits. Have you checked to see if your callsign is public yet?”
“Actually, I’d completely forgotten about it.” And I’m not real good about checking my mail either. “I guess I’ll look a bit later today.”
“Yeah, no great rush. What do you say we take advantage of being woken up early?”
Oh? Oh… “Are you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we…”
She nibbles at my ear. “Better living through chemistry.”
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
MIKI
A nosebleed? I haven’t had one of those since… since the last time I got hit in the nose, I guess. Then again, it’s been a while since I was up for 48 hours straight, and never with this kind of help. I’ll blame it on the rapidly changing weather, if anyone cares to ask. Tuesday brought a torrential downpour, followed by a cold, clear night and an absolutely gorgeous sunrise. This morning, the clouds have swallowed up the sun again, and it looks like we’re going to get dumped on at some point today.
Sadly, although my little gift bought me a couple days of companionship, it didn’t get me the kind I would have liked. Video games and movies til dawn are fun, but not quite what I had in mind, and she made it perfectly clear she has no interest at all in that direction. How did she put it? ‘It makes me want sex, but my kind, not yours.’ I’ve got to get my gaydar recalibrated one of these days, it seems to be on the blink.
Oh well, I guess I’ll take a morning run and excuse myself from what is likely to be a very soggy afternoon session. At the track, I see only casuals. No Kenta, no Emi. At least I don’t have to work any harder than I want to, though this morning I feel like I could run through walls if I were so inclined. I wave to a few of the other runners, making note of which eyes follow me around the track. The Saito girl breaks her gaze and blushes every time I look at her, but then I remember why she’s here when she starts signing to her running companion. Nope, signing is not my strength. It does make me wonder though, do deaf girls scream in bed?
Three kilometers is enough for today, even at my fairly leisurely pace. I know better than to push it when I feel this way, or I’m liable to end up hurt, so after seven and a half laps, I grab a quick shower and head off to class, wondering just when the crash will come and how long it’s going to be. I force myself to down a small carton of orange juice along the way, although I don’t feel the need for it.
Both Hanako and Hisao seemed surprised by my early arrival, and I’m surprised by the fact that they seem to have been talking to each other, though from their usual seats halfway across the room. Whatever their discussion was about though, it’s obviously not meant for my ears, as both of them go back to reading.
“Morning, Radiohead. I trust you’re keeping Neko busy in my absence?” I take his blush for confirmation. “Or were you maybe setting your sights elsewhere, hmm?” No blush from him this time, but I think I just elicited one from her. Interesting.
“I’ll have you know she’s been doing just fine, all things considered.” It sounds a bit rehearsed, so that’s probably an official statement from the both of them. “At least I know better than to endanger something good over a long shot.” His eyes dart in Hanako’s direction ever so briefly. Does he mean me… or himself? I have no way to gauge how much Neko might have told him – or maybe she told him, though I find that hard to imagine – so I’ll have to hold both possibilities open for now. Still, how much do these two talk? This could be useful information, and I’ll have to get some eyes on it.
Morning drags on, as it always does, but usually without this degree of restlessness. I’m wondering if perhaps I can excuse myself for a quick safety meeting, when my thoughts are interrupted.
“Today would be good, Miura, or you could just admit you don’t know.” Mutou glares at me from the whiteboard. I take a quick look at the diagram in front of him, which shows a circle with a spiral going twice around it.
“Umm… four times pi?” There’s an audible gasp from around me, and a grumble from Mutou.
“Yes, that is correct, four pi. Yet you can see we’re exactly back where we started. This is why the sine, cosine, and tangent functions are cyclical.”
Suck it, math. I still don’t know why a whole pi only gets you half a pie, only that it’s so. I’m still pondering my leap of logic – not that I knew the answer, but that I seemed to know what the question was even though I wasn’t listening – when the lunch bell rings.
Hanako is among the first out the door, but Hisao hangs back a bit as usual, which allows me a chance to speak to him mostly alone, if briefly. I slide up beside him and keep my voice low. “Look, I’m sorry about that whole fiasco. She’s right, you know. Just let her know I want to talk to her, and it doesn’t have to be alone. You can be there too, if she wants. Just no umm… outsiders, ya know?”
He gives me a long look, and it’s apparent he has something to say but holds it back. Finally, when he does speak, it’s quick and to the point. “Yeah, I’ll give her the message.” He grabs his books and leaves with more authority than he usually carries. Mutou glances up at me from the stack of papers he’s grading, as if expecting something, but I follow quickly enough to catch the door before it closes. I too have someone I need to see.
I tap on Suzu’s door, but there’s no response. I quietly let myself in to find that she’s crashed out, likely to be dead to the world until morning at least. Oh well, I’ll report in for her then. I need just a touch more candy, so I scrape a bit off while noting that the supply has gotten alarmingly depleted just over the last day and a half. Oh well, when I do finally crash, which should be after class tomorrow if I have any control over it, I plan to stay clear of it for a while. It didn’t get me what I wanted, and it’s far too dangerous to toy with – and with that in mind, I pick up a good size shard and drop it in my pocket. Having a bit in reserve when Snoozu hits the end of the supply could literally be a lifesaver.
***
“You’re wearing makeup,” Neko observes. “You never wear makeup. I didn’t even know you owned any.” She pauses to look closer. “How long has it been since you last slept?”
So she saw right through it anyhow. “Tuesday morning. I can keep going through the end of the day tomorrow, I think. I’ve never actually tried before.”
“Well you’re starting to look rather ragged at this point. You just might be able to keep it together that long, or maybe not, but no amount of makeup is going to disguise it by then.” She takes on a more concerned and less lecturing look. “Is it really that bad for you? Sleeping alone, I mean.”
I glance over at Hisao, who is watching the proceedings with a neutral expression. “Hey, I can leave if you want, but you said…”
“I know what I said. Fuck it, I guess you’ll hear about it soon enough anyhow, and you might as well hear it from me. Stay if you want.” I take a drink of water. “I haven’t been afraid to sleep, I just wanted some ah… company. Suzu and I have been… partying, I suppose you could say, but video games and movies weren’t exactly the sort of party I was looking for, and she’s made it abundantly clear she’s not open to my notions of a good time. No matter, she passed out at lunch time. I’m going to need some new company until the ride comes to a complete stop.”
“And by that, I suppose you mean us, because I don’t think I want to be alone with you any time soon. Frankly, you’re really beginning to scare me.” She looks me over. “I can get something delivered, you know, something stronger than wine.”
“Oh sure, that’s just what I need, to turn this into a speedball. No, just let me crash, and I’ll stop beating this dead horse. I’ll feel like shit for a few days, but I earned it.”
She tilts her head at me. “Kinda damned if you do and damned if you don’t, don’t you think? I mean weren’t you supposed to come out again this weekend? If you beg off, mum’s gonna worry. If you go… let’s just say you’d better look a hell of a lot livelier than you do right now.”
“Actually that’s why I wanted to talk to you, to discuss the details. Is it going to be awkward having me around your house? We can arrange things so we don’t cross, and you two can have your space, and…”
“Shh… don’t talk like that.” She takes my hand in hers. “You’re still my friend, and that’s why you scare me. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t worry. As for mum, I think you’re the favorite right now. You worry about making yourself presentable by noon Saturday, I’ll worry about the rest.”
I guess it’s time for both me and Suzu to catch a convenient 24-hour cold.
A nosebleed? I haven’t had one of those since… since the last time I got hit in the nose, I guess. Then again, it’s been a while since I was up for 48 hours straight, and never with this kind of help. I’ll blame it on the rapidly changing weather, if anyone cares to ask. Tuesday brought a torrential downpour, followed by a cold, clear night and an absolutely gorgeous sunrise. This morning, the clouds have swallowed up the sun again, and it looks like we’re going to get dumped on at some point today.
Sadly, although my little gift bought me a couple days of companionship, it didn’t get me the kind I would have liked. Video games and movies til dawn are fun, but not quite what I had in mind, and she made it perfectly clear she has no interest at all in that direction. How did she put it? ‘It makes me want sex, but my kind, not yours.’ I’ve got to get my gaydar recalibrated one of these days, it seems to be on the blink.
Oh well, I guess I’ll take a morning run and excuse myself from what is likely to be a very soggy afternoon session. At the track, I see only casuals. No Kenta, no Emi. At least I don’t have to work any harder than I want to, though this morning I feel like I could run through walls if I were so inclined. I wave to a few of the other runners, making note of which eyes follow me around the track. The Saito girl breaks her gaze and blushes every time I look at her, but then I remember why she’s here when she starts signing to her running companion. Nope, signing is not my strength. It does make me wonder though, do deaf girls scream in bed?
Three kilometers is enough for today, even at my fairly leisurely pace. I know better than to push it when I feel this way, or I’m liable to end up hurt, so after seven and a half laps, I grab a quick shower and head off to class, wondering just when the crash will come and how long it’s going to be. I force myself to down a small carton of orange juice along the way, although I don’t feel the need for it.
Both Hanako and Hisao seemed surprised by my early arrival, and I’m surprised by the fact that they seem to have been talking to each other, though from their usual seats halfway across the room. Whatever their discussion was about though, it’s obviously not meant for my ears, as both of them go back to reading.
“Morning, Radiohead. I trust you’re keeping Neko busy in my absence?” I take his blush for confirmation. “Or were you maybe setting your sights elsewhere, hmm?” No blush from him this time, but I think I just elicited one from her. Interesting.
“I’ll have you know she’s been doing just fine, all things considered.” It sounds a bit rehearsed, so that’s probably an official statement from the both of them. “At least I know better than to endanger something good over a long shot.” His eyes dart in Hanako’s direction ever so briefly. Does he mean me… or himself? I have no way to gauge how much Neko might have told him – or maybe she told him, though I find that hard to imagine – so I’ll have to hold both possibilities open for now. Still, how much do these two talk? This could be useful information, and I’ll have to get some eyes on it.
Morning drags on, as it always does, but usually without this degree of restlessness. I’m wondering if perhaps I can excuse myself for a quick safety meeting, when my thoughts are interrupted.
“Today would be good, Miura, or you could just admit you don’t know.” Mutou glares at me from the whiteboard. I take a quick look at the diagram in front of him, which shows a circle with a spiral going twice around it.
“Umm… four times pi?” There’s an audible gasp from around me, and a grumble from Mutou.
“Yes, that is correct, four pi. Yet you can see we’re exactly back where we started. This is why the sine, cosine, and tangent functions are cyclical.”
Suck it, math. I still don’t know why a whole pi only gets you half a pie, only that it’s so. I’m still pondering my leap of logic – not that I knew the answer, but that I seemed to know what the question was even though I wasn’t listening – when the lunch bell rings.
Hanako is among the first out the door, but Hisao hangs back a bit as usual, which allows me a chance to speak to him mostly alone, if briefly. I slide up beside him and keep my voice low. “Look, I’m sorry about that whole fiasco. She’s right, you know. Just let her know I want to talk to her, and it doesn’t have to be alone. You can be there too, if she wants. Just no umm… outsiders, ya know?”
He gives me a long look, and it’s apparent he has something to say but holds it back. Finally, when he does speak, it’s quick and to the point. “Yeah, I’ll give her the message.” He grabs his books and leaves with more authority than he usually carries. Mutou glances up at me from the stack of papers he’s grading, as if expecting something, but I follow quickly enough to catch the door before it closes. I too have someone I need to see.
I tap on Suzu’s door, but there’s no response. I quietly let myself in to find that she’s crashed out, likely to be dead to the world until morning at least. Oh well, I’ll report in for her then. I need just a touch more candy, so I scrape a bit off while noting that the supply has gotten alarmingly depleted just over the last day and a half. Oh well, when I do finally crash, which should be after class tomorrow if I have any control over it, I plan to stay clear of it for a while. It didn’t get me what I wanted, and it’s far too dangerous to toy with – and with that in mind, I pick up a good size shard and drop it in my pocket. Having a bit in reserve when Snoozu hits the end of the supply could literally be a lifesaver.
***
“You’re wearing makeup,” Neko observes. “You never wear makeup. I didn’t even know you owned any.” She pauses to look closer. “How long has it been since you last slept?”
So she saw right through it anyhow. “Tuesday morning. I can keep going through the end of the day tomorrow, I think. I’ve never actually tried before.”
“Well you’re starting to look rather ragged at this point. You just might be able to keep it together that long, or maybe not, but no amount of makeup is going to disguise it by then.” She takes on a more concerned and less lecturing look. “Is it really that bad for you? Sleeping alone, I mean.”
I glance over at Hisao, who is watching the proceedings with a neutral expression. “Hey, I can leave if you want, but you said…”
“I know what I said. Fuck it, I guess you’ll hear about it soon enough anyhow, and you might as well hear it from me. Stay if you want.” I take a drink of water. “I haven’t been afraid to sleep, I just wanted some ah… company. Suzu and I have been… partying, I suppose you could say, but video games and movies weren’t exactly the sort of party I was looking for, and she’s made it abundantly clear she’s not open to my notions of a good time. No matter, she passed out at lunch time. I’m going to need some new company until the ride comes to a complete stop.”
“And by that, I suppose you mean us, because I don’t think I want to be alone with you any time soon. Frankly, you’re really beginning to scare me.” She looks me over. “I can get something delivered, you know, something stronger than wine.”
“Oh sure, that’s just what I need, to turn this into a speedball. No, just let me crash, and I’ll stop beating this dead horse. I’ll feel like shit for a few days, but I earned it.”
She tilts her head at me. “Kinda damned if you do and damned if you don’t, don’t you think? I mean weren’t you supposed to come out again this weekend? If you beg off, mum’s gonna worry. If you go… let’s just say you’d better look a hell of a lot livelier than you do right now.”
“Actually that’s why I wanted to talk to you, to discuss the details. Is it going to be awkward having me around your house? We can arrange things so we don’t cross, and you two can have your space, and…”
“Shh… don’t talk like that.” She takes my hand in hers. “You’re still my friend, and that’s why you scare me. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t worry. As for mum, I think you’re the favorite right now. You worry about making yourself presentable by noon Saturday, I’ll worry about the rest.”
I guess it’s time for both me and Suzu to catch a convenient 24-hour cold.
Last edited by NekoDude on Thu Oct 23, 2014 5:55 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
EMI
“Sorry honey, the pizza is going to be of the frozen variety today. I don’t feel like ordering.” Daisuke digs one out of his freezer and starts to unwrap it. “It’s one of the better frozen ones though. It just won’t have the toppings we did last time. This one pretty much has the works, but no pineapple.”
I wrap my arms around him briefly. “I’ve got my daily ration of sweet right here. Don’t you have to warm up the oven first?”
“That’s what it says, but I can’t say that I’ve found it to make any difference when it’s on a tray.” He programs the oven and slides the pizza onto the baking tray that’s already inside. “Now to show you the pictures that came back from the lab.” He holds out a hand to point toward the couch, and I see envelopes of photos on the table.
I grab the uppermost one and take a peek. It appears to be the last roll I shot. This should be entertaining. Aside from grain that looks like the dimples on a golf ball, it looks like I made a good choice in pushing the film an additional stop. The prints look ‘artistic’, and these are just 15 cm across. I hope there’s no need to enlarge these much.
Oh look, I got Kenny’s meltdown, and most of them are in focus. The hostility could burn a hole in the paper. “Please tell me you’re not letting him back in.”
“That’s not my decision, but I’d sooner play bass and rhythm myself and call in another guitarist. I’m pretty sure we can find a way to make a reunion not happen.” At that, he rises to retrieve his newest… stringed thing. He insists that it’s not a guitar. It looks a little bit like a koto to me, but those are usually played laying flat. He noodles away quietly while I continue to look through the pictures.
First, for the shameful admission. Half of these pictures suck. More than half, really. I got a few good ones though, and I’d rather have those than to get all of them right but be uninspiring. “Do you mind if I sort these into piles, or are you keeping them in order?”
“I have the negatives, I can re-order them if I need to. Go ahead and pick out the ones you like, since I’m guessing that’s what you want to do. There are some pretty impressive shots in the bunch, and it will be interesting to see if you agree with my picks.”
I start sorting them into three piles – useless, useful, and good. At least that gets my rejection rate under fifty percent. I hesitate on one with a screaming Kenny with a bouncer on each arm, as I was focused long and it shows, but ultimately file it under ‘useful.’ After picking through the first (last?) roll, I have five in the ‘good’ pile, seventeen in ‘useful,’ and sixteen in ‘useless’.
“I have to disagree with one of your picks, darling.” He continues noodling as he talks. “That one you had such a hard time deciding what to do with? That’s prize-winning material right there. Other than that, we seem to pretty much agree. Six ‘keepers’ out of thirty-eight is not bad at all. I’m lucky if I have two. Go ahead and sort the other ones into the same piles.”
While sorting the first of the two bundles of color photos (though I think these were also taken last), the oven timer chimes. Daisuke does… nothing.
I turn to face him. “I think your oven wants your attention.”
“Nope, it just wants to announce it’s shutting off. I could pull the baking tray out to cool off faster, but then we have to smell it the whole time. This may take a few minutes longer, but at least we don’t have to listen to our stomachs rumble while we wait.”
“My mom could use an oven like that. She’s always having to run when the timer goes off, and always fretting when there’s something baking.”
“I didn’t pick it, but this apartment was fitted with new appliances before I moved in. It really is nice. I can take a shower or run an errand while something cooks, and know that it will just be ready and not on fire when I come back. In this case, the new way is distinctly better than the old way. I think I’m warmed up, would you like to hear a song?” He stands up to cross the room and switch on two amplifiers. I thought the place seemed a bit more crowded.
“Of course!”
“I can’t sing most of it for you, I’m already doing two things at once. If you know it, you’re welcome to.” He starts playing, and I can see right away what he meant by doing two things at once, playing what sounds like a guitar part with his right hand, and a bass part with his left.
Okay, yeah, I know this song. I don’t know the words though, it’s in English. Somewhere in the middle, he does start singing.
«There is no pain, you are receding,
A distant ship smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves,
Your lips move, but I can’t hear what you’re saying.
When I was a child I had a fever,
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again,
I can't explain, you would not understand,
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.»
I notice that his playing becomes less busy while singing, but it still looks like he’s doing two things at once – or in this case, three. He does some pedal pushing, and now it somehow sounds like he’s doing three parts at once. This also looks more like normal guitar playing. I have no idea how he does this, but now would not be a good time to ask.
At the end, I applaud like any good audience should when presented with a great performance. He bows a little and unslings his ‘stick’.
“How did you do that thing with the guitar solo? It didn’t look like you had enough hands for that.”
“It’s called a looper. It records me when I play, then plays it back so I can put something else over the top of it. I was already using it when I was just playing guitar, but now it’s twice as useful. Okay, that’s a six minute song. It should be safe to pull lunch out of the oven now.”
As we eat, the topic turns toward me. “I’m really sorry about the committee ruling that you can’t compete on the track. It looks like we might still win our original case, but we’ve already lost the one we hadn’t even started to fight. I’m extra sorry if this means a university is no longer interested in sponsoring you.”
“I hadn’t been approached by anyone, so there are no offers to withdraw.” I can see he doesn’t like that answer either.
“You know, there is one offer, and it isn’t contingent on your athletic eligibility. That’s still very much on the table.”
“But you said you hated working in that office. Do you really want me in the same position?”
“You wouldn’t be in the same position. I’ve put in my time, I paid for my own schooling and licensing, and they still treat me like a human search engine. You, on the other hand, would be sponsored, go to school on their dime, and know that your job was to be a human search engine, at least at first. It’s a little bit different. And you’d only be committing to two years, with some credit given for the time you spend as an intern. If you end up hating the place as much as I do, there is always the option of buying out the contract. It happens a fair bit actually, in both directions. We’ve had interns stolen, and we’ve stolen interns from other offices. They’re pretty fair about these things, since we all know how to read a contract.”
I sigh. I really don’t know what I want to do about this. “I really think I should at least talk this over with my mom.”
He nods. “I can understand that. I’ll back you up if you want, or I can just stay out of the way. We really do need to know before summer break ends though. It takes a little time to arrange for credit transfers and things like that, if you still want to graduate with the rest of your class.”
“I should have an answer for you not long after I take you to meet my mom. It’s really important to me that we have my song together by then as well. I know I’m no Rimi Natsukawa, but please, I just need to be good enough.”
“Sorry honey, the pizza is going to be of the frozen variety today. I don’t feel like ordering.” Daisuke digs one out of his freezer and starts to unwrap it. “It’s one of the better frozen ones though. It just won’t have the toppings we did last time. This one pretty much has the works, but no pineapple.”
I wrap my arms around him briefly. “I’ve got my daily ration of sweet right here. Don’t you have to warm up the oven first?”
“That’s what it says, but I can’t say that I’ve found it to make any difference when it’s on a tray.” He programs the oven and slides the pizza onto the baking tray that’s already inside. “Now to show you the pictures that came back from the lab.” He holds out a hand to point toward the couch, and I see envelopes of photos on the table.
I grab the uppermost one and take a peek. It appears to be the last roll I shot. This should be entertaining. Aside from grain that looks like the dimples on a golf ball, it looks like I made a good choice in pushing the film an additional stop. The prints look ‘artistic’, and these are just 15 cm across. I hope there’s no need to enlarge these much.
Oh look, I got Kenny’s meltdown, and most of them are in focus. The hostility could burn a hole in the paper. “Please tell me you’re not letting him back in.”
“That’s not my decision, but I’d sooner play bass and rhythm myself and call in another guitarist. I’m pretty sure we can find a way to make a reunion not happen.” At that, he rises to retrieve his newest… stringed thing. He insists that it’s not a guitar. It looks a little bit like a koto to me, but those are usually played laying flat. He noodles away quietly while I continue to look through the pictures.
First, for the shameful admission. Half of these pictures suck. More than half, really. I got a few good ones though, and I’d rather have those than to get all of them right but be uninspiring. “Do you mind if I sort these into piles, or are you keeping them in order?”
“I have the negatives, I can re-order them if I need to. Go ahead and pick out the ones you like, since I’m guessing that’s what you want to do. There are some pretty impressive shots in the bunch, and it will be interesting to see if you agree with my picks.”
I start sorting them into three piles – useless, useful, and good. At least that gets my rejection rate under fifty percent. I hesitate on one with a screaming Kenny with a bouncer on each arm, as I was focused long and it shows, but ultimately file it under ‘useful.’ After picking through the first (last?) roll, I have five in the ‘good’ pile, seventeen in ‘useful,’ and sixteen in ‘useless’.
“I have to disagree with one of your picks, darling.” He continues noodling as he talks. “That one you had such a hard time deciding what to do with? That’s prize-winning material right there. Other than that, we seem to pretty much agree. Six ‘keepers’ out of thirty-eight is not bad at all. I’m lucky if I have two. Go ahead and sort the other ones into the same piles.”
While sorting the first of the two bundles of color photos (though I think these were also taken last), the oven timer chimes. Daisuke does… nothing.
I turn to face him. “I think your oven wants your attention.”
“Nope, it just wants to announce it’s shutting off. I could pull the baking tray out to cool off faster, but then we have to smell it the whole time. This may take a few minutes longer, but at least we don’t have to listen to our stomachs rumble while we wait.”
“My mom could use an oven like that. She’s always having to run when the timer goes off, and always fretting when there’s something baking.”
“I didn’t pick it, but this apartment was fitted with new appliances before I moved in. It really is nice. I can take a shower or run an errand while something cooks, and know that it will just be ready and not on fire when I come back. In this case, the new way is distinctly better than the old way. I think I’m warmed up, would you like to hear a song?” He stands up to cross the room and switch on two amplifiers. I thought the place seemed a bit more crowded.
“Of course!”
“I can’t sing most of it for you, I’m already doing two things at once. If you know it, you’re welcome to.” He starts playing, and I can see right away what he meant by doing two things at once, playing what sounds like a guitar part with his right hand, and a bass part with his left.
Okay, yeah, I know this song. I don’t know the words though, it’s in English. Somewhere in the middle, he does start singing.
«There is no pain, you are receding,
A distant ship smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves,
Your lips move, but I can’t hear what you’re saying.
When I was a child I had a fever,
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again,
I can't explain, you would not understand,
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.»
I notice that his playing becomes less busy while singing, but it still looks like he’s doing two things at once – or in this case, three. He does some pedal pushing, and now it somehow sounds like he’s doing three parts at once. This also looks more like normal guitar playing. I have no idea how he does this, but now would not be a good time to ask.
At the end, I applaud like any good audience should when presented with a great performance. He bows a little and unslings his ‘stick’.
“How did you do that thing with the guitar solo? It didn’t look like you had enough hands for that.”
“It’s called a looper. It records me when I play, then plays it back so I can put something else over the top of it. I was already using it when I was just playing guitar, but now it’s twice as useful. Okay, that’s a six minute song. It should be safe to pull lunch out of the oven now.”
As we eat, the topic turns toward me. “I’m really sorry about the committee ruling that you can’t compete on the track. It looks like we might still win our original case, but we’ve already lost the one we hadn’t even started to fight. I’m extra sorry if this means a university is no longer interested in sponsoring you.”
“I hadn’t been approached by anyone, so there are no offers to withdraw.” I can see he doesn’t like that answer either.
“You know, there is one offer, and it isn’t contingent on your athletic eligibility. That’s still very much on the table.”
“But you said you hated working in that office. Do you really want me in the same position?”
“You wouldn’t be in the same position. I’ve put in my time, I paid for my own schooling and licensing, and they still treat me like a human search engine. You, on the other hand, would be sponsored, go to school on their dime, and know that your job was to be a human search engine, at least at first. It’s a little bit different. And you’d only be committing to two years, with some credit given for the time you spend as an intern. If you end up hating the place as much as I do, there is always the option of buying out the contract. It happens a fair bit actually, in both directions. We’ve had interns stolen, and we’ve stolen interns from other offices. They’re pretty fair about these things, since we all know how to read a contract.”
I sigh. I really don’t know what I want to do about this. “I really think I should at least talk this over with my mom.”
He nods. “I can understand that. I’ll back you up if you want, or I can just stay out of the way. We really do need to know before summer break ends though. It takes a little time to arrange for credit transfers and things like that, if you still want to graduate with the rest of your class.”
“I should have an answer for you not long after I take you to meet my mom. It’s really important to me that we have my song together by then as well. I know I’m no Rimi Natsukawa, but please, I just need to be good enough.”
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
HANAKO
Hisao rolls the bottle over in his hands. “I think I know who that might belong to. I also think I know where you’re likely to find him – well, I can give you a short list, anyhow. Oh, and his parents apparently thought it would be funny to send him wine this week.”
Setou. It’s a relief to solve the mystery with the very first person I question, especially since I really didn’t have a second person in mind, and I’m in a bit of a hurry. I barely wait for attendance to be noted before I excuse myself and slip out. The later my existence is acknowledged, the more time it buys me, and nothing of much importance happens on Saturdays, outside of test weeks.
I find him in the same place I found the bottle in the first place, just a couple hours before. At least I think it’s him, somewhere in there. “S-Setou?” I ask while poking the blanket pile with my foot. “A-are you in th-there?”
“Absolutely not, and anything you ever heard to the contrary is a damn lie!” He quiets down. “Oh Jack, oh Jack, why have you forsaken me?”
“Do you m-mean Jack D-Daniels? B-because I may have m-met him r-recently.” I burp a bit, and remember the little bit of Midori I found to start off the morning.
This gets a head to poke out. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Show me the money!”
I start to lift the bottle from my bag, then think better of it. “N-no,” I declare, “to p-put it where y-you can s-see it is to p-put it where y-you can g-grab it. What r-ransom will you p-pay for your pr-pr-precious Jack?” I have half a mind to drink it myself.
“Ransom? Do I look like I’m made of money? Oh hey, could I maybe borrow two thousand yen? Then I could pay you for it.” Wait, he’s actually serious. I don’t think he even knows my name and he’s hitting me up for money… to pay me.
“H-have you heard of al-alchemy and the p-principle of equi-eq- ah dammit, equivalent exchange?”
“What are you getting at, vile temptress? You think I have another bottle in here to offer, maybe ah… girl whiskey or something?” Girl whiskey? I don’t even…
“J-Jack is smiling at m-me. M-maybe he wants a k-kiss. Isn’t that right, J-Jack? I’m a s-sucker for men in b-black suits.” The bottle lies safely at the bottom of my backpack, but I may as well be performing a radio play. “Oh Jack, l-let me undr-dress you. You’re so h-handsome, Jack!”
“Stop!” I can hear him sobbing quietly. “I may have your ransom. Would you accept wine?”
I’m listening. “How m-much? Because J-Jack says he has a b-big party inside. A big, f-forty percent p-party.”
“A whole box.” Box? Eww. “Five liters.” Twenty glasses! On second thought…
I hold out my hand before realizing the gesture is pointless. Even if Kenji could see it, he has a blanket over his head. “D-do we have a d-deal?”
As he hesitates, I wonder what he could actually be debating, then I hear a muffled beeping sound. “Alright, it looks like the coast is clear. «I’ll be back.»” It’s a really poor attempt at any sort of accent, really, but I’ll give him credit for trying. Once he leaves, I pull his blanket pile away from the door a bit.
While waiting, I note an increase in traffic coming through the stairwell door, and a few people coming up to stay, although there are still a few hours of class remaining. I have to hope Kenji’s not a complete idiot, and conceals his parcel. Then again, he left a whole bottle of Jack on the roof, so it may be a bit optimistic to put him at anything less than half idiot.
Half idiot sounds about right when he returns with the box inside a cooler bag with a bright red circle on it, containing a smaller pink circle bearing the words «Pink Dot». It may not scream wine! but it surely shouts picnic!, which is just as bad in a different way. I quickly toss the edge of a blanket over the cooler bag.
“So, we have a deal?” he asks, oblivious to the people who have arrived while he was gone.
“N-not here,” I whisper as I step in close enough for him to hear me. “There are p-people up here n-now. I have an i-idea. Grab your b-blankets.”
I’m now close enough for him to actually see me, which wasn’t the intent, but I suppose some things can’t be helped. He takes a look, and I try not to cringe too much. “Yeah? Ideas can be dangerous. That’s why I try to drown them when they’re born. Those that survive have proven their worthiness.”
You are not helping the situation. “A f-fine plan, but let’s d-drown them s-somewhere else?”
The tea room proves a much more secure location for the exchange, and he cradles his precious bottle of Tennessee firewater like a baby, crooning to it. Meanwhile, I take a look at my spoils. 13.6% ABV. Looks like I hit the jackpot here. It’s even a little bit cold. All cheap wine should be consumed cold, even the reds. Or maybe especially the reds.
Hisao rolls the bottle over in his hands. “I think I know who that might belong to. I also think I know where you’re likely to find him – well, I can give you a short list, anyhow. Oh, and his parents apparently thought it would be funny to send him wine this week.”
Setou. It’s a relief to solve the mystery with the very first person I question, especially since I really didn’t have a second person in mind, and I’m in a bit of a hurry. I barely wait for attendance to be noted before I excuse myself and slip out. The later my existence is acknowledged, the more time it buys me, and nothing of much importance happens on Saturdays, outside of test weeks.
I find him in the same place I found the bottle in the first place, just a couple hours before. At least I think it’s him, somewhere in there. “S-Setou?” I ask while poking the blanket pile with my foot. “A-are you in th-there?”
“Absolutely not, and anything you ever heard to the contrary is a damn lie!” He quiets down. “Oh Jack, oh Jack, why have you forsaken me?”
“Do you m-mean Jack D-Daniels? B-because I may have m-met him r-recently.” I burp a bit, and remember the little bit of Midori I found to start off the morning.
This gets a head to poke out. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Show me the money!”
I start to lift the bottle from my bag, then think better of it. “N-no,” I declare, “to p-put it where y-you can s-see it is to p-put it where y-you can g-grab it. What r-ransom will you p-pay for your pr-pr-precious Jack?” I have half a mind to drink it myself.
“Ransom? Do I look like I’m made of money? Oh hey, could I maybe borrow two thousand yen? Then I could pay you for it.” Wait, he’s actually serious. I don’t think he even knows my name and he’s hitting me up for money… to pay me.
“H-have you heard of al-alchemy and the p-principle of equi-eq- ah dammit, equivalent exchange?”
“What are you getting at, vile temptress? You think I have another bottle in here to offer, maybe ah… girl whiskey or something?” Girl whiskey? I don’t even…
“J-Jack is smiling at m-me. M-maybe he wants a k-kiss. Isn’t that right, J-Jack? I’m a s-sucker for men in b-black suits.” The bottle lies safely at the bottom of my backpack, but I may as well be performing a radio play. “Oh Jack, l-let me undr-dress you. You’re so h-handsome, Jack!”
“Stop!” I can hear him sobbing quietly. “I may have your ransom. Would you accept wine?”
I’m listening. “How m-much? Because J-Jack says he has a b-big party inside. A big, f-forty percent p-party.”
“A whole box.” Box? Eww. “Five liters.” Twenty glasses! On second thought…
I hold out my hand before realizing the gesture is pointless. Even if Kenji could see it, he has a blanket over his head. “D-do we have a d-deal?”
As he hesitates, I wonder what he could actually be debating, then I hear a muffled beeping sound. “Alright, it looks like the coast is clear. «I’ll be back.»” It’s a really poor attempt at any sort of accent, really, but I’ll give him credit for trying. Once he leaves, I pull his blanket pile away from the door a bit.
While waiting, I note an increase in traffic coming through the stairwell door, and a few people coming up to stay, although there are still a few hours of class remaining. I have to hope Kenji’s not a complete idiot, and conceals his parcel. Then again, he left a whole bottle of Jack on the roof, so it may be a bit optimistic to put him at anything less than half idiot.
Half idiot sounds about right when he returns with the box inside a cooler bag with a bright red circle on it, containing a smaller pink circle bearing the words «Pink Dot». It may not scream wine! but it surely shouts picnic!, which is just as bad in a different way. I quickly toss the edge of a blanket over the cooler bag.
“So, we have a deal?” he asks, oblivious to the people who have arrived while he was gone.
“N-not here,” I whisper as I step in close enough for him to hear me. “There are p-people up here n-now. I have an i-idea. Grab your b-blankets.”
I’m now close enough for him to actually see me, which wasn’t the intent, but I suppose some things can’t be helped. He takes a look, and I try not to cringe too much. “Yeah? Ideas can be dangerous. That’s why I try to drown them when they’re born. Those that survive have proven their worthiness.”
You are not helping the situation. “A f-fine plan, but let’s d-drown them s-somewhere else?”
The tea room proves a much more secure location for the exchange, and he cradles his precious bottle of Tennessee firewater like a baby, crooning to it. Meanwhile, I take a look at my spoils. 13.6% ABV. Looks like I hit the jackpot here. It’s even a little bit cold. All cheap wine should be consumed cold, even the reds. Or maybe especially the reds.
Re: The Neko Story: Book 1 (...And Nakai Makes Three) releas
NEKO
“There she is.” I point out the black 750i coming up the hill. Soon enough it rolls to a stop before us – and the driver’s door opens, followed by a flustered Ben stepping onto the curb.
He turns to Miki. “«Por favor, que usted conduce.»”
“What?” Hisao looks at me quizzically, and I shrug. Sorry, I understand Spanish only marginally better than you do. I understood ‘please,’ which doesn’t help much.
Miki also shrugs for reasons of her own, climbs into the driver’s seat, and begins adjusting it for her comfort. Meanwhile, Ben makes his way around to the right and gets back in the car.
I poke Miki in the shoulder. “Umm… trunk?”
“Oh, yeah, right.” She searches for the release for a moment, but soon gives up and presses the button on the remote control. That’s gonna give me a hard time too.
Hisao and I stow all three bags in the trunk, and climb into the back. He looks at me warily, and tips his head toward the driver. I just smile at him.
I wait until we’ve pulled away before I start asking questions. “So where’s mum?”
“Business. She said she might be late, and not to hold dinner for her.” So that explains Junpei canceling on us. “Where’s Suzu? Abe’s going to be very disappointed.”
Miki fields this one, as she reaches the intersection to Route 31. “She’s not feeling too well, some sort of cold bug. I fear I might have been the one to get her sick, too. I just recovered a bit faster.” She cranes her neck to get a better view before making the left turn.
The drive is smooth and uneventful (though you wouldn’t know it from the look on Hisao’s face) and we pull up in front of the house as usual. Apparently whatever was bothering Ben won’t stop him from putting the car back in the garage, as he retakes possession of the driver’s seat and pops the trunk for us again.
“What was that all about?” asks Hisao as we make the walk into the house.
“Ben doesn’t like left hand drive cars. Funny, considering that’s all they have back home.” Miki half-smiles. “Or maybe he just doesn’t like them when driving on the left. You’d have to ask him.”
“That seems like a lot to ask of you, it being Sally’s ride and all.” He reaches the door first and opens it for us.
“Not really. I mean he lets me drive his car, why wouldn’t he trust me with the least-favorite of hers?” She starts to head for my room to drop off her bag, hesitates, and climbs the stairs instead.
I turn toward Hisao to see him returning my slightly stunned look. “I guess we have new sleeping arrangements.” I tip my head toward my room.
Once inside, he whispers to me, “Your mom’s not going to have a problem with this?”
Are you kidding? She’ll probably listen in. “She knew Miki and I were an item, and didn’t seem to care about that. She most likely won’t have a problem with this either. She has made it abundantly clear she’s in no hurry for grandchildren though.” And I’m sure as hell not going to make you share the guest room with her. “Hey, wanna go on a little fact-finding expedition with me? I want to know which car mum took for her business.”
“Sure, why not. I haven’t seen any of your other cars, and logic says there have to be at least three, if you don’t know which one she took.”
“Very astute. Yes, there are three, or four if you count Ben’s. The Bimmer, a fully restored 1987 El Camino SS she had brought in from Hawaii named Pearl, and a 2006 Viper named Cleopatra. I’d advise you not to touch either of them if you value your health – but that goes double for Pearl.”
On our way out, we pass Ben coming in. He stops me. “I wish I had known there were only three of you coming out, I would have used my own car.”
“Sorry about that, Junpei was a late scratch, and Suzu isn’t well enough to take his slot. I would have told you if I’d known you’d be making the pickup.” I give him an apologetic look. “I wanted to show Hisao whatever car mum didn’t take today. Don’t worry, I already told him not to touch.”
“Better not, or I’ll make you wax it again afterward.” Ben glares at Hisao, then gives a gap-toothed smile before turning his attention back to me. “She took Pearl. She said it’s less obvious – as if a twenty year old American muscle car can blend in, let alone that one.”
“Maybe she wanted to make a good impression. That paint job really is a work of art.” I turn to Hisao, and we resume our walk. “We’ll have to make another trip when she comes back. It changes color depending on what angle you look at it from. It could be anything from green to purple to orange-brown depending on where you are, and where the light is coming from.”
“That sounds like something worth seeing, but don’t you own any normal cars?”
“Sure, that’s what the Bimmer is for.” His look seems to say he doesn’t think a left hand drive luxury sedan with a five liter engine is in any way normal, but LHD is all we have in the stable. “Look, in business, your car is like a mask. It’s the first thing you’ll be judged by when you show up somewhere. If there’s anything mum can’t stand, it’s being forgotten. She can live with people not liking her – that’s just the nature of things in a competitive business world – but she’s going to make her presence known.” I key in the access code for the garage, but nothing happens. Did I forget it? I try again, this time slower. Still nothing. On the third try, the panel turns red. Shit.
A tinny version of Ben’s voice comes through a tiny speaker in the panel. “It’s July. Updated codes all around.” Oh, right. The panel goes back to white as I do the mental math, and it works the next time around. The double-wide door starts to roll up, and I catch sight of the front bumper.
“I’m sure glad we weren’t trying to sneak in.” I know what’s coming as the door opens, so I’m watching Hisao instead. I get the reaction I expected: the wider the door opens, the wider his mouth opens. “Pretty, isn’t she?” Shame I’ll never get to drive her, at least without modifications. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight comes from almost overhead, such that the garage is illuminated by skylight alone, but Cleopatra looks angry today. I walk to the workbench in the back and find two pairs of white gloves. I pocket the unnecessary one, and hand the complete pair to Hisao. “Now you can touch.” He still doesn’t.
We make a slow clockwise trip around, and after three quarters of a lap I stop and open the driver’s door. Hisao just pokes his head in, and runs a hand over the seat. “It’s okay, you can get in. It’s just a car.” Unlike the currently missing one, with its million-yen paint job.
“A-are you sure?” By way of an answer, I just walk around the back and get in on the other side.
“What are you going to do without the key? Drool on her?”
“There she is.” I point out the black 750i coming up the hill. Soon enough it rolls to a stop before us – and the driver’s door opens, followed by a flustered Ben stepping onto the curb.
He turns to Miki. “«Por favor, que usted conduce.»”
“What?” Hisao looks at me quizzically, and I shrug. Sorry, I understand Spanish only marginally better than you do. I understood ‘please,’ which doesn’t help much.
Miki also shrugs for reasons of her own, climbs into the driver’s seat, and begins adjusting it for her comfort. Meanwhile, Ben makes his way around to the right and gets back in the car.
I poke Miki in the shoulder. “Umm… trunk?”
“Oh, yeah, right.” She searches for the release for a moment, but soon gives up and presses the button on the remote control. That’s gonna give me a hard time too.
Hisao and I stow all three bags in the trunk, and climb into the back. He looks at me warily, and tips his head toward the driver. I just smile at him.
I wait until we’ve pulled away before I start asking questions. “So where’s mum?”
“Business. She said she might be late, and not to hold dinner for her.” So that explains Junpei canceling on us. “Where’s Suzu? Abe’s going to be very disappointed.”
Miki fields this one, as she reaches the intersection to Route 31. “She’s not feeling too well, some sort of cold bug. I fear I might have been the one to get her sick, too. I just recovered a bit faster.” She cranes her neck to get a better view before making the left turn.
The drive is smooth and uneventful (though you wouldn’t know it from the look on Hisao’s face) and we pull up in front of the house as usual. Apparently whatever was bothering Ben won’t stop him from putting the car back in the garage, as he retakes possession of the driver’s seat and pops the trunk for us again.
“What was that all about?” asks Hisao as we make the walk into the house.
“Ben doesn’t like left hand drive cars. Funny, considering that’s all they have back home.” Miki half-smiles. “Or maybe he just doesn’t like them when driving on the left. You’d have to ask him.”
“That seems like a lot to ask of you, it being Sally’s ride and all.” He reaches the door first and opens it for us.
“Not really. I mean he lets me drive his car, why wouldn’t he trust me with the least-favorite of hers?” She starts to head for my room to drop off her bag, hesitates, and climbs the stairs instead.
I turn toward Hisao to see him returning my slightly stunned look. “I guess we have new sleeping arrangements.” I tip my head toward my room.
Once inside, he whispers to me, “Your mom’s not going to have a problem with this?”
Are you kidding? She’ll probably listen in. “She knew Miki and I were an item, and didn’t seem to care about that. She most likely won’t have a problem with this either. She has made it abundantly clear she’s in no hurry for grandchildren though.” And I’m sure as hell not going to make you share the guest room with her. “Hey, wanna go on a little fact-finding expedition with me? I want to know which car mum took for her business.”
“Sure, why not. I haven’t seen any of your other cars, and logic says there have to be at least three, if you don’t know which one she took.”
“Very astute. Yes, there are three, or four if you count Ben’s. The Bimmer, a fully restored 1987 El Camino SS she had brought in from Hawaii named Pearl, and a 2006 Viper named Cleopatra. I’d advise you not to touch either of them if you value your health – but that goes double for Pearl.”
On our way out, we pass Ben coming in. He stops me. “I wish I had known there were only three of you coming out, I would have used my own car.”
“Sorry about that, Junpei was a late scratch, and Suzu isn’t well enough to take his slot. I would have told you if I’d known you’d be making the pickup.” I give him an apologetic look. “I wanted to show Hisao whatever car mum didn’t take today. Don’t worry, I already told him not to touch.”
“Better not, or I’ll make you wax it again afterward.” Ben glares at Hisao, then gives a gap-toothed smile before turning his attention back to me. “She took Pearl. She said it’s less obvious – as if a twenty year old American muscle car can blend in, let alone that one.”
“Maybe she wanted to make a good impression. That paint job really is a work of art.” I turn to Hisao, and we resume our walk. “We’ll have to make another trip when she comes back. It changes color depending on what angle you look at it from. It could be anything from green to purple to orange-brown depending on where you are, and where the light is coming from.”
“That sounds like something worth seeing, but don’t you own any normal cars?”
“Sure, that’s what the Bimmer is for.” His look seems to say he doesn’t think a left hand drive luxury sedan with a five liter engine is in any way normal, but LHD is all we have in the stable. “Look, in business, your car is like a mask. It’s the first thing you’ll be judged by when you show up somewhere. If there’s anything mum can’t stand, it’s being forgotten. She can live with people not liking her – that’s just the nature of things in a competitive business world – but she’s going to make her presence known.” I key in the access code for the garage, but nothing happens. Did I forget it? I try again, this time slower. Still nothing. On the third try, the panel turns red. Shit.
A tinny version of Ben’s voice comes through a tiny speaker in the panel. “It’s July. Updated codes all around.” Oh, right. The panel goes back to white as I do the mental math, and it works the next time around. The double-wide door starts to roll up, and I catch sight of the front bumper.
“I’m sure glad we weren’t trying to sneak in.” I know what’s coming as the door opens, so I’m watching Hisao instead. I get the reaction I expected: the wider the door opens, the wider his mouth opens. “Pretty, isn’t she?” Shame I’ll never get to drive her, at least without modifications. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight comes from almost overhead, such that the garage is illuminated by skylight alone, but Cleopatra looks angry today. I walk to the workbench in the back and find two pairs of white gloves. I pocket the unnecessary one, and hand the complete pair to Hisao. “Now you can touch.” He still doesn’t.
We make a slow clockwise trip around, and after three quarters of a lap I stop and open the driver’s door. Hisao just pokes his head in, and runs a hand over the seat. “It’s okay, you can get in. It’s just a car.” Unlike the currently missing one, with its million-yen paint job.
“A-are you sure?” By way of an answer, I just walk around the back and get in on the other side.
“What are you going to do without the key? Drool on her?”