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MIKI

I am ridiculously overdressed for the occasion, as Sally insisted, but if I swing back by the school, I’ll have to stay for the remainder of the day’s classes… and might even be forced to make up that English midterm afterward. This will not do. I have to find her again, the one I haven’t been able to get out of my mind for the past week. Of course it wouldn’t work out well to show up before the end of the school day and be accused of truancy, either. I turn on the sound system, to find Sally has left her media player in the car. I had no idea she listened to such mellow shit, but it beats local radio.

«In the mornin' you go gunnin'
For the man who stole your water
And you fire till he is done in
But they catch you at the border»

I settle for taking a roundabout route to downtown Sendai, eating up most of the slack time along the way. I spend the last fifteen minutes or so driving around the area and looking for appealing places to eat, just in case Mira accepts my offer. Then I select a parking spot in a relatively empty corner of the lot to avoid door dings. It may be Sally’s least favorite car, but it’s still her car and not mine.

As usual, it takes several minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the arcade before I can really survey the scene as a whole. I look toward the concession stand and see nobody on duty, though I’m sure someone will come out if I walk up and start pouring myself a drink. I also look toward the area with live action tables – foosball, air hockey, Skee-Ball, that sort of thing – to see if I recognize anyone, but I come up blank there as well.

Next thing I know, a couple hours and a couple thousand yen have passed, and I’m still no better at racing a virtual motorcycle than I was before. I really could use a soda now, or maybe a slush. I head for the concession stand, and there she is. It looks like she has been crying, if her smeared makeup means anything. This time I opt to make it look like business, so I pour myself that soda and take it to the counter to pay.

«You go back, Jack, do it again,
Wheel turnin' 'round and 'round
You go back, Jack, do it again»

“«That offer still stands, if you ever want to escape for a while,»” I tell Mira, then I place the car keys on the counter long enough to fetch out my wallet since everything ends up in a single pocket these days. I see her eyes dart to the keys, but the moment I’ve completed the transaction, she hides in back again. I guess it’s going to take more to impress her than just a set of wheels.

Well, shit. There’s got to be some place in this city a girl like me can go for some action… though I haven’t a clue where to even start looking. Even if there’s a bar around here for those of my inclination, I’m lacking the credentials to frequent such a place. Still, maybe someone else knows. Before abandoning the entire trip, I might as well try.

I pull out my phone and dial. Much to my surprise, it doesn’t go to voicemail. “You missed practice,” the voice at the other end says.

“Good afternoon to you too, Kenta. You knew damn well I wouldn’t be there today.”

“Yeah I know, but I have to give you shit about it anyhow. So how’d it go?”

“Well, I’m in the Ishibancho district, alone, with a car, and I was hoping you knew of some ‘alternative clubs’ in the region who’d let someone in who isn’t old enough to legally drink. I really could use some… companionship.” Companionship not named Steely Dan III of Yokohama, that is.

“Hmm, no, not really. I mean, I know of places, but they card, and they’re not open at this hour anyhow. If you find something though, do let me know. I’m free range myself as of last night.”

“No shit? Wouldn’t we make quite the pair on the club scene?” He could be my puppet.

HISAO

“It was weird staying at your house when you weren’t there. It felt… wrong.” And I missed you.

“It felt wrong sleeping in my own dorm room too. It’s funny how fast we can get habituated to things that feel good, isn’t it? We can learn to accept a new normal so easily at times.” My darling smiles at me. “So, for a chance encounter and a totally unrehearsed sales pitch, I’d have to say that went pretty well. Speaking of which, I need to fetch something from my room before we head back to yours.” We make the slight curve to the right rather than the left and set course for the girls’ dorm.

“I figure I should be the one to tell you before anyone else does, lest it become some sort of scandal – but she crawled into your bed last night, with me already in it. I didn’t kick her out or leave, either, I just made room and went back to sleep. She doesn’t do anything untoward, she just passes out, so I figured, why make a bigger deal out of it than it is?”

“Was she wearing anything this time?” My blush is enough answer to her question. “Didn’t think so. Admit it, you like sleeping with naked chicks. There’s nothing wrong with that, so do I.”

“But my preference is for this one.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “Hopefully, this situation will get resolved tonight.”

“And I don’t have to worry about whether Hanako’s new girlfriend stays over again and they keep the whole second floor awake. I’m not sure which one of them is the screamer, but bloody hell, she sure is loud.”

“Wait, what? You mean Lilly’s elder sister who we just met?” I get a nod in response. “They’re a couple now? Wasn’t it just this weekend Hanako had her eyes all over me, and you were the one making a move on her?”

Now I get two raised eyebrows, a half-grin, and a shrug. “Yeah, well… things happen fast for her too, I guess. Apparently her types are strong girls, and pretty guys.”

Gee, thanks… I think. “You’re forgetting her apparent brief interest in Kenji.”

“Oh, yeah. Add ‘and hard-drinking nutjobs’. Then Miki qualifies twice.”

“There sure is no love lost between the two of you now, is there. How the hell did you ever keep it together as long as you did?” Your mother and I are both still mystified by this.

“By both of us ignoring the elephant in the room at all times. She never loved me, and I wanted nothing less. We both just kept silent and pretended we were getting it our way. Even now, I still worry about her self-destructive habits, but I can’t be looking over her shoulder. I couldn’t manage that even when we were a couple and I’m certainly not about to start now that we’re barely even friends.”

“That sounds like a polite way of saying ‘fuck her, she’s not my problem anymore.’” I am starting to think and sound like you.

“Too right. Mum wanted her, Mum got her, Mum can keep her.”

She opens her door and switches on the light. Aside from the bed, it doesn’t look like anything has been touched since Saturday. She pulls a bin out from beneath the bed and pulls out a black leather case. “Alright, this is what I needed. Could you grab those?” She gestures toward a paper bag, which upon closer inspection reveals three bottles of wine. She slings the strap over her head to cross her body so she can carry the case on her left, and I grab the wine.

“You know, we still have three bottles left from Saturday too. We only drank one before it got too hot and we bailed out.”

“And you’re complaining?” She elbows me in the arm.

“No, not complaining, and I suppose a second bottle of white could fit in the fridge. We might be able to get three in there, if we finish off or throw away the gyoza. Who knows how long they sat in there with the power off?”

“Ugh, you have a point. We should just toss them.” She closes up and checks the door to make sure it’s locked. As we cross the courtyard back to my room, she suddenly doesn’t have much to say.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” It wasn’t very long ago she was asking me the same question, but it seems like an eternity.

“Oh, no… just thinking about this proposal I have to write.”

“Not worried about tomorrow’s test?”

“Hah! Not in the slightest. It’s not like one night of studying will make much difference in a subject I’ve been using for half my life now. Bloody hell, I could teach the course.”

“What, English? That’s what I have to make up tomorrow at lunch.” I’m glad I passed the test I took instead today. That will slightly decrease the pain of having to take two tests tomorrow.

“No, that’s Saturday. Tomorrow is electronics for dummies. I think you’d pass this one without even setting foot in the class. It’s a real yawner. I’m more worried about chemistry on Thursday, but that can wait until tomorrow. Some of those skills I haven’t used since Mum took away my chem set for catching the barn on fire.”

I vaguely remember that story. “Didn’t you say that was the second time?”

“Yeah… but I learned my lesson from the first incident. I had a fire extinguisher ready, and had the fire out before anyone else even showed up. Still haven’t done any hands-on chemistry in four years, unless you count soaking myself and others in ethanol.” She mimes a drinking motion with an invisible hand.

We’ve made it to my room, without running into any delusional neighbors or girls sitting in the hall waiting for delusional neighbors. I unlock the door and let her in first. “I don’t think that counts. If it did, this country would be full of chemists. I mean, not that it isn’t anyhow, we’ve got quite a lot of them, but…”

“A lot of them do work for the breweries and the distilleries. It’s what happens to most of them if they aren’t cut out for research or teaching. There aren’t that many jobs for rocket propellant chemists and the like, but there are always jobs to be had making booze. It’s a recession-proof industry.”

“There’s a cold bottle in the fridge, if you’re so inclined. Lemme get the gyoza out of there, and out of here. I’ll be right back.” I drop the bag in the trash of the common room, the one place I know the custodial staff is expecting to find food waste. I’d hate to have them sit out in the open another day or two before being collected. By the time I make it back, the bottle from the fridge has already been uncorked and poured. “You’re quick.”

“I’m thirsty, and if I’m going to write about food and liquor, I’m bloody well gonna have some wine to go with it.” She opens the leather case to reveal the expected laptop, and starts setting it up. Watching her operate is always interesting because it’s just different, but this is the first time I’ve seen her do this particular stunt as she drops the power brick and lets it uncoil its own cable, then plugs it into my power strip with her toes.

“That was very… Rin-like.”

She shrugs and holds up her foot. “Similar tools lead to similar methods.” She opens the computer and powers it up. I hear the familiar beep, followed some time later by the Windows startup sound. A minute or so after that, she’s typing. I spare a peek at this as well, since I’ve never actually seen her type before. Her hand seems to be centered on the entire keyboard, occasionally reaching outward in either direction, or tapping Shift or Ctrl with her thumb. She also seems to be quite proficient at the use of the little pointing stick in the center of her keyboard, saving time moving in and out of position even though she has a mouse. For larger pointing operations, she does go to the mouse.

I return to my attempts to conjugate English verbs, but the mindset just isn’t there. I sip at the wine and decide to look over the material for the other test, the one everyone else will be taking as well. It’s not like trigonometry and basic calculus throw me for much of a loop though. Never drink and derive. This seems like a waste of time. I’ll be fine on this. So would she, probably.

“Hey, Satou’s an international corporation, right?” Her question seems to come out of nowhere.

“As I understand it, yes. I mean, they have an office in Scotland, that sounds international to me.”

“And this Akira gal speaks English?”

“I would imagine so, otherwise life would be kind of difficult in Scotland. I know Lilly is considered fluent, so I’d imagine she is as well. I can find out for sure though.”

“Could you? It would help me just a bit if I could write this proposal in English instead of trying to look up the kanji for all the stuff Ben wants in the kitchen.”

“Doesn’t the computer help you with that? I mean, you type the kana and it gives you a list, doesn’t it?” That’s the way it always works for me.

“Yeah but… that presumes I know which one is right. Unfortunately, I don’t, and it takes me a couple minutes to search each possibility to figure it out. This really breaks my flow.”

I nod and grab my phone. Ikezawa. Call. Two rings.

“H-hello?”

“Evening, Hanako. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” I can hear Neko chuckle in the background when I say this.

“N-no… I was just b-brushing up on i-integrals.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep this brief and let you get back to it. First, do you think it would be worth borrowing your notes today, or was it all stuff I should already know?”

“I um… s-sorta overslept. I d-don’t have any notes from b-before ten.” Oh, that’s real helpful. “But t-the rest was all r-review.”

“Oh, well, you can only tell me about what you actually know, so… thanks for that much. How was the English test?”

“I didn’t f-find it difficult… «b-but then, Miyagi says I’m one of her b-better non-native speakers. You m-might want to ask s-someone else.»”

Shit. I only seem to know people proficient in English these days. I might as well stick with this though, it just might get me in the right mindset. “«Alright, I have another question and it is not related to class. Do you think Akira will mind if Kat writes the Shanghai proposal in English?»”

“«K-Kat?»”

Oh yeah. She’s not used to the name change to match the language change. “«Sorry, that is Neko’s real name, or real nickname, anyhow. It is short for Katelyn.»”

“«Oh! Th-that’s right.»” I gather from the pause that she’s storing that in her mental files somewhere. “«Uh, from what I g-gather, receiving a proposal in English... w-would not be unusual for A-Akira, or Satou Corporation.»”

“«Thank you.»” It would stand to reason that English would be their inter-office language. “And on a more personal level… congratulations.”

“F-for what?”

For snagging someone who isn’t me or Neko. Or Kenji. “For… for finding someone, I guess. It’s a wonderful thing when it goes right.”

For quite some time I hear nothing, then I catch the tiniest bit of sobbing. “Th-thank you. I w-was afraid of what p-people would th-think.”

“And in some cases, that may be justified. Some people are still small-minded. But… afraid of what I’d think?” I can’t resist laughing out loud. “Not so long ago, my girlfriend had a girlfriend. Why should it bother me if you do?” Face it, Nakai, you’re not ‘normal’ anymore. And for once, that’s a distinctly good thing.

Neko inserts herself into the conversation. “Let her know we’ve got wine if she feels like celebrating.”

I don’t get a chance to repeat this. She must have heard it.

“I’m on m-my way.”

***

The make-up test is in 3-2, and there are two students from that class taking it along with Miki and me, and one from 3-4, for a total of five. Miyagi herself, however, has left us to be tended by Molly, who sits behind the teacher’s desk eating curry and looking bored. I finish the test in fifteen minutes, leaving me plenty of time to head downstairs and get one of those curries for myself.

When the bell rings and I return to 3-3, I find both Miyagi and Mutou behind his desk. Miyagi looks up from the papers they are going over and looks at me. “Ah, Nakai. May I have a moment with you please?”

Bloody hell. The last time she took a moment to talk to me, it was to propose immersion. “Certainly. What is it?”

“Have you discussed this test with anyone else who had already taken it?” She gives me a questioning look.

“Not really. I asked Hanako if it was difficult, but that’s about all. We didn’t discuss any specifics.”

“Thank you. I just wanted to make sure the improvement was solely your own. I figured it probably was, considering the… unique mistakes you did make.”

“What do you mean?”

“One problem with immersion is that nobody stops to draw a distinction between proper use of the language and regional slang.” She must notice my curious expression, because she laughs. “«Nakai… you’re starting to sound, and write, like a bloody Aussie.»”

Too right.

EMI

“Have you done any target shooting?” she asks me after another verse.

“Uhh, no…” And I sure hope you haven’t either!

“Well, we’re still going to try something shooters do. If they are having problems, like maybe the wind is pushing their shots off target, they can either adjust their sights – sometimes not possible, and even when it is, it takes time – or they can simply aim somewhere else. Follow my keyboard, not your disc player.”

I restart the song, and before the first verse starts, she’s playing a note for me to aim for. It sounds awful, and not at all correct, but it’s worth a shot – no pun intended. Actually trying to sing it sounds worse to my ears, not better, but Lilly soldiers on. I can see her pushing on some sort of wheel with her thumb as she plays on her keyboard with the other hand. Finally we make it through the first verse and I pause the disc.

“Lilly, I don’t think…”

“That’s exactly what I want. Don’t think. Just do. I’ve aimed you thirty or forty cents sharp, and it seems to be working. Now let’s see if we can get you doing this without a guide track.”

At the end of the second verse, during which Lilly drops the guide track halfway through, she’s nodding. “Make that fifty or sixty cents, but the idea seems to be working. Aim high and let your natural tendencies correct for it.” This doesn’t stop her from pouring another nip from her flask into her tea, before demonstrating just how far above the target I should be aiming. By the end of the song, she has finished her cup and is pouring another, then she’s pouring a bit from the flask into a teacup, and passing it to me.

“Lilly, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s a tiny amount, and I don’t want you to just drink it. I want you to hold it in the back of your throat as long as you can before you swallow it.” She waits for me to complete this. Holy shit, that burns. “You’re tightening up, and this is a trick every experienced vocalist knows. It doesn’t have to be whisky, any hard alcohol will do, but it does need to be hard alcohol, not wine. Like many other people, you’d probably like rum, so you may want to go that way. If you can’t get your hands on any, you can gargle Listerine, which you can find at any pharmacy. Don’t get the flavored stuff, it’s not as strong. Go for the old-fashioned Gold kind. In this case though, you’ll want to spit instead of swallow, it’ll make you sick if you drink it. The point isn’t to get alcohol into your body, but to relax the muscles of your throat. Having your breath smell nice when in close proximity to others is seldom a bad thing, though.”

At the end of our session, I put her on the phone with Daisuke to reveal her strategy. “Yes, I think we’re on the right path now. All she really needed was an alcohol rinse to open things up, and a fair bit of «Arkansas elevation».” After a pause, she chuckles and continues. “Not quite that far, just a smidge over a quarter tone seemed to be working tonight. Expect that to vary from day to day, of course.” Another pause. “A half a shot, I’d say… how much you need is not for me to decide. Let me pass you back.” She holds out my phone.

“She’s been into that ‘alcohol rinse’ a little bit tonight, hasn’t she? The gods know her sister can sure throw them back, so it probably runs in the family. It’s still a valid point though. Singers really do this all the time.”

“So you’re telling me to do as she says?” Advocating underage drinking hardly sounds like lawyerly advice.

“Oh, absolutely. You can sample from my liquor cabinet next time and decide what you want to use, but we’ll keep some on hand for your big day. I do it, and I don’t even sing that much. Her advice is completely legitimate.”

Using one bad habit to compensate for another seems like a slippery slope, but at this point I don’t see an alternative.

“Hey Lils, would you mind if I had another taste?”

HANAKO

“Sorry to hear she’s back to her usual pace so soon after hitting the ground. Why don’t you come to the meeting tonight? It’ll be fun. It doesn’t obligate you to join the club, and you’ll get to meet the others… well, most of them anyhow.” Neko smiles invitingly. “We have sandwich fixings – turkey, bacon, and avocado – and we’ll have an unofficial meeting after the official one, where I can show you some of the technical aspects. We don’t actually CQ during meetings. And just wait till you hear his call sign. I won’t spoil it, but… try not to laugh too hard when you hear it.”

“B-but I don’t know h-how to t-talk on the radio.” Or if anyone would want to hear me.

“That’s fine, you sort of can’t yet. Transmitting is for people with licenses... well mostly, anyhow. Just get a feel for how it’s done, and you’ll find it’s not terribly difficult. Worst case scenario, you get a pileup.”

“A p-pileup?” Isn’t that something that happens on the roads?

“Yeah. Quite often when you call out to make a contact, nobody is listening. After a little while, you move on and try to find a band where somebody is listening. What’s much worse is when you call out and a dozen people try to answer you at once, meaning you can’t understand any of them, or you just get a word here and there. That’s a pileup… and it happens to us girls a lot more than it does to the guys.”

This I have to see. Or hear, rather.

That’s how I find myself in the little cinder block room on the roof, on a Wednesday evening. I’d seen it many times from the outside, and seen people enter and leave, but never dared to see what was inside. Now that I’m here, it’s not terribly impressive to look at. There’s a whiteboard with some sort of schedule, some seating and a coffee table, and an ancient, olive green desk with a little bit of radio gear on it. I expected more.

When I arrive, there are already a couple students with sandwiches. They would appear to be from one of the visually impaired classes, and although I don’t know everyone in 3-2, I’m pretty sure that’s not where they’re from. They must be first or second years. Neko is already sitting in an ancient, ugly office chair that must weigh almost as much as she does, since it appears to date back a good fifty years. It probably came with the building when the school was established. On the plus side, it looks like it’ll probably hold up another fifty years with a little upholstery work.

“Welcome!” she cheerfully greets me. “Please allow me to introduce our two most consistently punctual Radio Club members, Tadao and Mariko Kawakami. I don’t think either of them has missed or been late to a meeting yet – not that the others are late yet, we still have… oh, nine minutes. I’m not holding out hope of full attendance though. Tadao, Mariko, this is Hanako Ikezawa, a classmate of Hisao’s. I thought she might be interested in our activities.”

Both of them rise from the couch in unison, and I shake each of their hands in turn. Despite their obvious family resemblance, they seem quite different. Tadao takes my hand with confidence, while Mariko may as well have offered me a dead fish.

“Make yourself a sandwich or two, before the vacuum cleaner arrives and the really good stuff disappears.” Neko gestures toward the temporary table laid out with food.

You could just put bacon and avocado between two slices of bread and I’d eat it, but I have a chance to do this right so I might as well. I’m only going to need one sandwich, with these thick slabs of turkey and everything else available. This spread is comparable to what we had yesterday at the Shanghai, making me wonder just what we’re paying them for when we go.

Hisao arrives moments later, carrying a paper bag. He sets it under the desk and comes back to make a sandwich himself. I heard glass on metal when he bumped the desk, so I have a pretty good idea what’s in that bag. “Good evening, Hanako. I’m glad you could make it.”

“M-me too.” And I mean it, this beats what I would have been having for dinner otherwise. As I finish up and cut my excessively thick sandwich in half – hey, I wanted a little bit of everything! – the door opens with a slam and a rather rotund figure comes waddling in.

“«Merde!»” I’m not sure what he says next, but it sounds like he’s mad at someone named Connery.

“How many times do I have to tell you to watch your fucking mouth, Hideki?” Neko chastises him. “You didn’t even stop to see if anyone was on the horn.”

“«Salope,»” he mutters at a significantly reduced volume. “She’s out.”

“Out?” Neko asks. “Like, you couldn’t find her?”

“No, like she said she’s done with us. I told you to send someone else, that I’d just piss her off. «Pute.»” He starts fixing himself four slices of bread. This must be the ‘vacuum cleaner’ Neko was referring to.

“I suppose it was just a matter of time anyhow.” Neko shrugs and makes a somewhat pained face. “She hasn’t shown up for a single meeting this entire term, and I don’t think she’s taken her slot for the last month.” She runs a finger through every slot bearing the name ‘Tomiko’, though not enough to erase it. So that must be what the whiteboard is for. “And I’d appreciate it if you could keep the hostility between you two… between you two.”

He mutters more that I can’t understand, causing Neko to grab him by the back of the collar and pull him down to her level. It also causes her to revert to full Strine.

“«You a fuckin’ deaf cunt, or just dumb as dog shit? Don’t think I can’t figure out what you’re saying.»” She gives him a shove for emphasis. “«Bloody tosser.»” The sight of Neko rough-handling and upbraiding a guy easily twice her size makes me want to bust a gut laughing, but I keep it restricted to a couple fast breaths through my nose. Just as quickly, she slides back into business mode. “Meeting called to order. First, it looks like we’re down to a club of five…”

I hear more grousing from the sumo wrestler impersonator, and I can almost see the steam shooting from Neko’s ears. She flings the door open. “Make that four. «Get. The. Fuck. Out!»” When he hesitates, she pulls from his hands the bread he has been slathering up, throws it to the floor, then steps on it. “«Now! Not another fuckin’ word from your bloody pie hole!»” She points to the open doorway.

Hisao leaps to his feet, and Neko’s pointing finger turns on him. “Sit.” He does. She then grabs Hideki by the collar again and drags him out the open doorway, stepping back inside and closing the door in his face. Then she locks it. “Any questions on that point of order?” she asks in a reasonable imitation of calmness.

“Umm…” Tadao clearly seems hesitant to get involved. I would be too, after that little display. “Is he really gone, just like that?”

“No, but he’s not stepping through that door again unless and until he is prepared to apologize to everyone still in this room. In writing. Especially me, but all the rest of you too. I don’t reckon I need to translate most of that exchange, you all speak passable English. The parts you might have missed… well, whatever happened between him and Tomiko was their business, until he brought it into this room and made it mine. I don’t care whether he was using French to call her a whore and a cunt, or me, or both, but all of them cross the line. Then… well… I know who’s fucking my mother, and so do some of you, but it’s not an open topic for this venue.”

Wow… he went there, and all she demands is a written apology? She grabs a shop towel and starts wiping the floor where she stomped the mayo-covered bread. “As for you, dear,” she continues while shooting a glance at Hisao, “you should know better. I can deal with the shit I start, and I won’t have you endangering your life in some valiant but foolhardy attempt to save me. He’s a fuckin’ cream puff.”

He nods, she shoots me a glance, and I nod too.

“I… should never have doubted you.”

“Spot on, Skippy. When it comes to calculated blow-ups, I was raised by a world-class expert.” Maybe so… but evidently not everyone was equally prepared. Mariko looks thoroughly shaken, and with a couple gestures from Neko, Hisao is out of his seat and fetching a bottle, a stack of paper cups, and a corkscrew. “Next point of business…” She takes a peek through the peephole to make sure nobody is standing outside, while Hisao uncorks the bottle. “...is anyone going to raise a fuss about this?” She waves the open bottle under the noses of Tadao and Mariko, but gets only smiles in response. “I was hoping you’d understand.”

***

Neko gives us the rundown. “So… twenty-seven hours, and no classes to worry about. I know this rig, and this antenna is a poor match for six meters, which is going to be our bread and butter – such a poor match, that I am not sure we could break the power limits of a fourth class license, let alone a third class. Just the same, we’ll keep at least a third class at the switch as much as we can. That means… well basically it means Tadao and I are going to be tag-teaming the heart of the twenty-seven hour window, and cut power to step aside a bit in the early morning hours when we’re unlikely to get any E-skip. That means the fourth class licensees – Hisao and Mariko – will get the O’Dark-Thirty portions at either end of the window: one to lead us in, and one to lead us out.”

“How long were you planning to make each scheduled block?” Tadao asks. “Twenty-seven hours is a long time.”

“Indeed it is. I was thinking of four hour blocks, except for one which will necessarily have to be three. If we put that one near the end, it’ll give us some wiggle room if people need to duck out early. Mind you, this is just a schedule for who is officially on lead. Assistants can come and go as required, and as long as there is at least one assistant, the lead can walk away for a while and leave the desk with an assistant with little worry other than to cut back on the power. Half should be fine, and in fact it’s probably overkill, but I’d rather play it safe.”

“What about band selection, since we only have the one rig?”

“We could try to work both bands, and to a certain extent we probably should… but we’re not going to win this contest. We just don’t have the equipment to do it. Instead, I’d like to just see how many DX contacts we all can pick up, particularly new ones, using the contest as a convenient way to increase the chances that someone is listening for us. That means six meters is our best shot. We can jump on over to two meters when propagation sucks, since it hardly matters there. Mariko, you have seniority over Hisao, so do you want the lead for three to seven AM Sunday, or two to six AM Monday? Either way, you’ll also get some prime time whenever you’re assisting and the lead wants a break.”

“I think… I want the anchor leg.” Mariko nods and smiles. “Put me in for last.”

“But… I haven’t even keyed up yet,” Hisao points out, “and you want me to start? What about Hanako? She’s not going to get any airtime.” He seems sad for me, but I’m just an observer here.

“Oh believe me, there’s plenty to be done without ever hitting the key. Someone has to be noting successful QSOs, and of course some of us have more difficulty than others twiddling controls and writing at the same time.” She flails about with a hand that isn’t there. “Accurate logs are extremely important. As for you, we’ll get you some experience soon, don’t you worry.”

“What do you mean by ‘soon,’ if I may be so bold as to ask?”

Neko smiles, and I can sense a bit of mischief behind it. “How soon is now?”

***

She was right, it’s very hard not to laugh the first few times Hisao takes to the air.

“«CQ CQ Calling CQ. This is JO7TIT, Juliet Oscar Seven Tango India Tango.»” He repeats this a few times over the course of a minute, then moves on to another frequency and tries again. The childish novelty of his unfortunate call sign has mostly worn off by the time he gets his first response.

“«JO7TIT, this is 7N4TTX, Seven November Four Tango Tango X-Ray.»” A brief puff of static follows the voice.

“Woo!” Neko shouts out in excitement and starts to dance while humming a tune, but Hisao motions her to hush for a moment.

“«Roger. I thought you might want to know, you have the honour of being my first contact.»”

“«I am indeed honoured. Welcome to the club, and I hope to hear you for many years to come.»” Then another puff of static.

“Can I dance now?” Neko asks in a mock-offended tone.

“Uh, sure, if you really want to. What’s the big deal?”

“Well let me look this up.” She picks up a chart and starts scanning it. “Aww, fuck a duck. Now I feel kinda stupid. I was dancing because I thought you had a DX. 7N4 is just an old allocation for Japan, District One. Oh well, you still earned this.” She goes digging in a desk drawer and pulls out something she quickly conceals, then hurries over to the coffee table and sets out five cups. Cracking open a can, she pours a little of it into each one and starts distributing them.

Why did she open a can of something when we have wine? Then I give it a taste.

Cherry soda. I should have thought of that.

EL JEFE

I do see the greasy spot on the floor, that much is undeniable. At the very least, I know Hideki wasn’t making the whole thing up, so I’ll have to discuss it. It is my jurisdiction after all, in more ways than one. I notice that the right side of the whiteboard has time slots for the upcoming VHF contest, and that all seven are filled. Sorry guys, you can sort this out later, but I’m claiming mine. I draw a line through Tadao’s name in the 3 to 7 pm slot and leave my mark, by way of the club call sign. I also leave a manila envelope and a box of colored pins on the table. I’m sure they’ll figure out what these are for.

They’ve packed out any consumables from the meeting, since we still haven’t caught the rat. The administrators decided not to attempt to poison or trap it though, once they found out it is almost certainly an escaped pet that someone is afraid to take responsibility for, and not the vanguard of an invasion. He (or she) even has a name now: Jean Valjean. Very cute, guys. He’ll probably be the school mascot in a month or two. I check the waste bin, and find far more paper cups (ten) than there are club members (four or five, depending). Is that… yes, those are the dregs of cherry soda. It looks like someone got their V-card punched tonight.

Since I’m here, I might as well attempt to get this matter settled. I pick up the handset of the phone on the desk, and skip over the first name on the call list. I’ll come back to that later. Instead, I call the second, and it is picked up after three rings.

“Hello?” a very confused-sounding voice responds.

“Good evening, Tadao. You sound surprised.”

“Well… nobody uses the room phones any more. So in that way, yes, I’m surprised. Surprised that it’s you? Not so much.”

“I suppose you know why I’m calling.”

“Hideki’s little tantrum? I suppose he went straight to you after Neko threw him out.” I’ll take that for a ‘yes.’ “I don’t speak any French, and until tonight, I didn’t know he did either, nor did I know Neko understood it, but if her translation was even remotely accurate, I think she showed remarkable restraint in handling the situation.”

“He’s claiming she roughed him up.”

It takes a few seconds for Tadao to stop laughing and catch his breath enough to answer that. “Oh yes. That would be like a house cat mauling a bear. The only way that could ever happen is if the bear knows he deserves it. You might want to ask someone who could, you know, actually see it though.”

Hideki is third on the list, and I’ve heard from him. Tomiko wasn’t there. Mariko is fifth, but she would have seen even less than Tadao, if that is possible, so I’ll skip her as well. The last name on the list is the newest member, Nakai. I give him a ring, though I expect his recollection to be a bit biased.

Four rings, a moment of silence, then… “Hello?” That’s not a male voice. Shit, did I just dial the wrong list entry, or is the list itself wrong?

“Neko? You got some ‘splaining to do.”

“Is he there? Tell him we’ll accept a full apology, addressed to everyone at the meeting and Tomiko, in writing, if he wants to get back in our good graces. That includes our newest prospect, who he damn near chased off.”

We’ve got a new prospect? “No, he’s not here, but he says you roughed him up.” Tadao is right though, it just doesn’t sound very plausible.

Her reaction is the same as Tadao’s, if it were filtered through an impertinent gaijin attitude. “Bollocks. He threw a wobbly, and I grabbed his collar. I didn’t grab his ear, I didn’t twist his arm, I didn’t strike him. I grabbed his collar and led him out of the room. He went.”

“I can see the stain on the floor from where I’m standing right now.”

“Oh. I’ll admit to abusing his dinner, but him personally? Pull the other one, it’ll come off in your hands. The guy is more than twice my size and has twice the number of limbs. Just how stupid does he think I am? He already called me a whore and a cunt, he might as well add idiot to the list. Bloody hell, I should make him apologize to my Mum as well, for what he said about her.”

“You know that when he gets stressed out, his Tourette’s acts up. That’s why he learns to swear in these other languages. He can’t help it, so he tries to channel it into something obscure. As for his stress level… let’s just say it was an ugly separation.”

“Oh, like I wouldn’t know anything about those… but cursing in a Romance language? Seriously? He might want to try Klingon or something, I don’t know. I am aware of his tendency to let fly at inappropriate times though. Had it been anyone else, I’d be demanding his hide, not a letter of apology.”

“You know this is my decision and not yours, right? You don’t have the official capacity to expel anyone from the club.” No student has the ability to do that in any club. There are always more hoops to jump through.

“I do know that. I also know I’ll be putting in an official change of residence at the end of the week – nothing to do with this incident, this has been planned for a while now. It’d be a shame if a certain rig were to change residence as well.”

“Hey now… no need to go there.” I mean I could provide a little something, but it’s Radio Club, not QRP Enthusiast Club. “I’ll keep him out of your hair for the moment, and give everything time to cool off. After that… well, it’s up to him whether he wants to write that apology or not. If he does, will you be able to keep up your end of the bargain?”

“I wouldn’t be offering it if I couldn’t. We’ve never been close, so it’s not like we’re going to start now.” Just making sure. Everyone occasionally makes promises they can’t keep.

“Who is this new prospect, anyhow?”

“You probably know her – Ikezawa. You know… purple hair, purple eyes, shy, slender, cute…”

Her? She would not have been on my guess list, not even the long version. “I do indeed, though ‘flighty’ would be the first adjective that comes to my mind.” ‘Loud’ would be the second. At least I know who to talk to if I need another eyewitness report. “I was trying to reach Nakai to get his view on what happened tonight before I called you… but you picked up. Is the list wrong or something?”

“No, it’s correct. If you still want him, he’s right here. It’s just that he usually takes the side of the bed that’s against the wall, so I had to grab the phone.”

Gee, could you be just a little more blatant about it? “No, that’s quite alright, it’s too late now. One last thing before I let you off the hook here… check your contest schedule tomorrow. Some juggling may be in order because I’ve made just a slight alteration.”

“Yeah? Who did I forget?”

“Me.” I’m going to have to start attending meetings.

“Oh! Nice of you to join us.”

After locking up, I head toward the two people still on the roof at this hour. “It’s almost curfew, you know… and I’d really appreciate it if you’d use the downwind side of the roof to do that.” They just nod at me, so I leave Miura and… Suzuki!? to their safety meeting. When did she pick up that habit? Whatever, not my problem. As long as she isn’t trying to sleepwalk her way out a window or over the edge again, I’ll count my blessings.

SALLY

I time my departure to coincide with the end of their last class, expecting to wait a few minutes, but when I stop at the curb by the gate, all four of them are already on the move toward the car. They appear to have been chatting with someone else as they waited, though. I wait until everyone is inside and seated, with my lieutenant taking her usual spot in front.

“What was going on with «El Jefe» there? Is he giving you a hard time?”

“On the contrary,” Kat starts as she leans forward from her position between Hisao and Suzu, “we were just talking shop. There’s a worldwide radio contest starting in about fourteen hours and change, so we were just drawing up a battle plan.”

I haven’t participated in a contest since we left Australia, and that was always out of sheer, mind-numbing boredom. I suppose I could have the first year we were here, but after that I needed to have a proper Japanese license. “Fourteen hours? I’ll be somewhere over the Pacific about then. I gave you my flight itinerary. Do you want me to ring you when I’m on the ground in Mexico City, or wait until I get to Peru?”

“Whatever works, or text. It’s not like I’m going to forget the sound of your voice just because you leave the country.”

Miki decides to needle me a bit. “They’re going to get a laugh at your expense in both places. Your Spanish is passable, but it’s hardly what I’d call good.”

“What’s new? They laugh at each others’ accents. The further south you go, the more the language starts drifting toward Portuguese. Once you get south of Brazil, it gets really weird, but I don’t have to deal with that this trip.” We’ve been practicing, and I thought I’d been holding my own. I hope I don’t insult my host’s family while trying to tell him he has a nice suit, or something like that. “Fuck ‘em anyhow. You’d think they’d have heard a Japanese accent a time or two in their lives.” There aren’t a lot of Japanese people in Peru, but they hold a disproportionate amount of power.

“You should have taken me along. Give me a few days and I’d pass for a native in either place, I betcha. Then you could pretend I’m your guide.” And do what, grab the guys you have to shoo off like flies on shit?

“I wish I could, but I need you here. There will come a day when you fly to the Americas and I stay home.” I’m looking forward to it. I’m getting too old for this shit, and Ben’s ceviche is close enough to authentic for me. “I do have a backup plan if the wine trade doesn’t work out: coffee. It’s another hip new thing to buy Peruvian coffee. I guess Colombian coffee has sold out, or gotten too popular for its own good. We’d be able to say we were moving Peruvian coffee before it was cool.” Fucking hipsters. At least they have money. They buy our other products too. Come to think of it, bring on the hipsters. I can love and loathe them simultaneously.

***

“It was very nice of all of you to come along and see me off. If you thought I might have some last minute instructions… I don’t. «You know what you doing, take off every zig.» And for the next month or so, «all my base are belong to you.»” I give each of them a hug in turn, along with a few last words. To Miki, I say “watch the henhouse.”

To Suzu, I just say “behave yourself.” To Hisao, I say “keep the peace.” Finally, to Kat, I say “watch the fox that’s watching the henhouse.” As the bags are unloaded from the boot, I perform a final check – Blackberry, iPod, chargers – to make sure I didn’t pack anything I should be carrying. I give Miki one last dirty look as I hand over the key to the 750i.

This trip better be worth it.

HISAO

Sleeping in Neko’s bed by myself last weekend felt wrong, and it got even weirder when Miki crawled in with me, but both seem utterly normal compared to waking up at two-something in the morning to prepare for this contest – alone. The little log book Neko prepared sits on the desk, and I chug a bottle of my own iced coffee blend to hopefully get the motor jump-started just a little. Neko snores softly even though I had to climb over her, and I let her be. We’re going to be somewhat out of sync this weekend with our sleep schedules, so I hope this is worth all the trouble.

I grab my warmest coat for the brief walk, which would be the trenchcoat. The letter! I’d forgotten all about that. I’ll have time to read it in the radio room. I stick the log book in the same pocket, tuck a spare set of pills in another pocket to take immediately after my shift, grab the paper bag with whatever Neko thought I should have for breakfast, and head out. At least I won’t have any issues with security. They know all about this event.

I’m not the first one there. Tadao already has the rig fired up, and is humming a tune quietly as he runs his checks. I can hear the radio reading its display aloud, combined with the signal it is picking up. Keeping the two apart in my head is possible, but I’m sure glad I won’t have to. I would find it tiring, but he’s probably used to it. I don’t want to interrupt anything important, so I remove my coat and wait quietly.

He starts yet a third stream of chatter in the room. “Good morning. Hisao, I presume?”

“You presume correctly. Are we still going with the original plan?” I wouldn’t exactly be upset if I got bumped to a later slot.

“Indeed we are. You’re up first, I’m assisting. I’ll be up second, and you’ll assist until Neko relieves you. I suppose either or both of us can assist on Neko’s shift until Hanako comes around. I just wanted to make sure everything was operating correctly, and perhaps get an idea what the propagation is like. I’m hearing some pretty distant beacons, so it seems like six meters is relatively open this morning. If it closes down, we can switch to two.”

“Neko gave me this log book to fill out.” I drop it on the desk, and he picks it up and peers inside, holding it a palm’s width from his face.

“Sorry, not gonna be able to help you there. Standard size kanji is much too small for me to read. You can copy entries off the screen when things are slow though.” He opens the lid on the notebook computer on the desk. “I usually leave it closed and just use this,” he says while waving at a device that’s not much bigger than a phone, “but your presence is good cause to keep it open. I hope you don’t mind romaji.”

“Does it read aloud to you?”

“Of course, but I already have two different speech sources I have to deal with, not counting you.” He runs a finger over a black strip on the device. “I have the output going to this.” I hear an alarm going off, and he silences his phone. “«Five minutes to showtime. We should probably get used to speaking English. The hot seat is yours.»” He stands up and wheels it out for my convenience.

By the time I get settled in, he already has a lightweight folding chair set up for himself. The computer is pointed entirely toward me, since I’m the only one that actually needs to look at it. “«This is a very nice computer setup. It’s nicer than mine at least.»”

He shrugs, which always strikes me as odd. Where did he learn to do that, when he can’t see other people do it? “«It’s nicer than mine too. It’s Neko’s backup laptop. The brailler is mine though. Fortunately, these don’t go out of fashion every couple years.»”

Backup laptop? It can’t be much more than a year old, and it’s no bigger than the one she was using to write the proposal. Oddly, neither of us feels much like talking at this moment. Maybe he’s as nervous as I am. His phone beeps again, and he starts nodding rhythmically. “«Five, four, three, two...»” He just nods on the last tick.

Gulp. Before I even have a chance to key the mic, the radio bursts to life.

“«CQ Contest, JJ0LIM calling CQ.»”

I feel a pat on my back, and key up the mic. “«JE7YUV. QSY up five?»” It’s bad form to squat on a calling frequency, even long enough to QSL, especially during a contest. And we’re off.

NEKO

I keep my voice down, whispering in Hisao’s ear. “You started without me?” I point at the open bottle on the desk. He looks back over his shoulder with a huge grin, and points at the screen – DS2IAK – before pointing his thumb back at himself.

I should have expected this, but I am still a little bit disappointed to have missed his first DX. No wonder they opened the wine. I pour myself a cup and take a seat on the couch as Tadao continues to call CQ. I want to put up the map, but it’s far too large to handle by myself, particularly since the only place for it is over the desk. I’ll need a second person to do this.

“Morning, Neko. Mind taking the hot seat for a moment? My bladder is catching up with me and I don’t really feel like QRP right now.”

Since when do I mind taking the hot seat? It’s a shame he’ll miss the excitement though. I poke Hisao. “Hey, what districts have we already worked? Or, if it’s easier, what haven’t we worked?” I’m setting up to work split in expectation of complete chaos.

“We have yet to work Shikoku, Okinawa, or Ogisawara.”

“That’s it? Bloody hell, you guys are efficient.” We’ll probably work Okinawa sometime today, and I’d be highly surprised if we can’t work Shikoku by lunch, but they’ve already done a lot of the heavy lifting. I key up. “«CQ Contest, this is JE7YUV up five.»” The old farts are drawn to a female voice like iron dust to a magnet. It happens every fucking time. I struggle to pick out a single voice, so I have to be more specific. “«CQ Contest, this is JE7YUV up five, fives only.»”

This filters out most of the noise. “«JJ5BTR, Juliet Juliet Five Bravo Tango Romeo.»”

Hisao punches it in. “There’s Shikoku.” Sometimes it doesn’t even take a pretty face to have Magic Girl Powers.

***

Things aren’t any different when it’s my official time in the hot seat, though it’s not the complete insanity it was when I first popped my head up. For the last hour and a half, I have had Hanako assisting, which is something I’d been looking forward to. I wanted her to see what I meant by a pileup, and how to work around it. That gets old though, and I spend a fair bit of time just scanning the band. It’s clearly open, I’m just not sure how open it is. We’ve already had a couple tropos and a probable E-skip, just on my watch.

I hear my assistant gasp for no apparent reason, so I turn to see what she’s looking at. El Jefe is early. This is not a great surprise, he seemed pretty eager to participate. I hear the folding chair skidding across the floor, and by the time I turn back around, Hanako is hiding behind the end of the desk.

“What the… hey, there’s no need to hide, he knows you belong here.”

“B-but… but…” She points at the bag by my feet with two bottles of wine still in it.

“You’re right, it’s rude of me not to offer any. Hey Chief, do you prefer merlot or shiraz? We’re out of white zin, had to drink it before it got warm.”

“I’ll have to pass, I’m still on duty.” He pats his holstered radio. “Carry on, I just wanted to see how things were going. I’ll be back for my shift, I promise, but do me a favor, would you? Jump over to two meters and give Hideki a QSL. Let him know we don’t hate him.” He gives us a half-hearted salute, and wanders out.

“Muh… muh…” Hanako is babbling.

“Yes, Momomoto. «El Jefe.» Chief of security, staff sponsor of the Radio Club… and a really good guy to be friendly with. You can come out of hiding, there’s not going to be any trouble. Yamaku is a great job for him, seeing as how he suffers from selective blindness – if he doesn’t want to see something, then he can’t. I thought you knew that. Go get some fresh air, I can work solo for a few minutes.” And shit bricks somewhere other than behind my desk.

***

“Have we worked all districts?” El Jefe puts his foot on the caster base of the office chair and spins the top around clockwise several times to lower it. It’s so old that it doesn’t even have pneumatic adjustments. On the other hand, that’s probably why it still works.

“Everything but Ogisawara.” I plant myself on the folding chair and spin the laptop around to face me. “It’s been pretty lively.”

“DX?” He cranes his neck around to see the screen.

“South Korea, Russia, Taiwan, a couple in mainland China. Nothing too surprising.”

“What about the map I brought? Is it not pretty enough?”

“I’d love to put it up… but we need cork on the wall first, if you expect to stick pins in it.” I stand up and give the cinderblocks a couple thumps.

“Oh. Yeah. That.” Derp. “You QSL Hideki? I set him up on the roof of the dorm, he’s working QRP as a hilltopper.”

“I tried. He didn’t respond. Kept calling CQ like we weren’t there.”

“I swear sometimes, if brains were gunpowder, that boy couldn’t blow his nose. You tried, the ball remains in his court.”

After twenty minutes of scanning for CQs from DX or our single unworked district, Momomoto is noticeably annoyed. “Y’all did too good a job and didn’t leave me anything. Either that or the band has closed.” He looks to Hanako, who is sort of spaced out on the couch. “Hey, Ikezawa… rise and shine. Sing a siren song and get us some contacts.”

“B-but I’ve n-never…”

“Which is exactly why I want you to. You can, you know. The club license is in my name, so as long as I’m here, you can transmit.” He gives me the signal to take a hike as he vacates the hot seat.

It takes a whopping seven minutes for her to set a new club record – fastest to first DX. This may never get beaten, because we’ve never had someone pop their cherry before they got a license. And I thought I induced pileups. My voice draws moths to a flame. Hers draws lemmings over a cliff, despite the inefficiency of trying to QSL with a stutter.

Well, shit. It looks like the most useful thing I can do right now is make coffee. As if all that wasn’t bad enough, she’s the first one in the club to work Sri Lanka. Ever. On any band. Bloody beginner’s luck. At least it’s an excuse to break into the real celebratory stuff. It would have been nice to drink kirsch out of actual glasses though.

***

“Tadao told me that’s your backup laptop.” Hisao’s tone makes it sound like a bad thing.

“It is, but not by design. Mum bought that for me before we moved back to Japan, without consulting me. It’s not bad, but the lack of a TrackPoint is a serious hindrance for me. It’s also an English-only keyboard. Those are the two main reasons why I got the new one at the beginning of this year.”

“Well… it’s nicer than most of the ones I’ve seen around here, including mine. It’s kind of wasteful for it to be relegated to backup status, don’t you think?” He gives me that head-slightly-tilted, one-eyebrow-up look.

“Are you asking to borrow it? Because if you are, don’t try to be cryptic. Just tell me you want to, because you can. We’d only need to borrow it back a couple times a year, like today, or you could load the logging software onto yours and we’d use that for contests instead.”

“Truth is, I don’t know if I want to borrow it or not, now that you mention the keyboard issue. I’d only been typing romaji on it, so that completely escaped my notice.”

“I can probably do something about that, I just never bothered. I could just buy a set of keys, or a replacement keyboard, or something – nothing with a clitmouse, I already checked before I made the decision to replace the whole computer.”

“A cl… what?” He looks perplexed.

“Think about it, dear.” I wave one finger around as if I were using my new machine. “It’s much more efficient for me if I don’t have to move my hand from the keyboard just to do simple tasks, and it’s quite a sensitive little button.” Will he ever stop blushing at the slightest bawdy reference?

I kind of hope not.

***

“Sweet!” I pat Mariko on the shoulder for working South Korea. It’s not new to us for the purposes of the contest, but it’s new for her, and that’s at least half the point of this. “I’ve got it logged.” Fifteen minutes to go. She continues alternating scanning and sitting on 50.125, and we pick up a few more contacts, but it’s obvious that most stations are just too tired to make a final push. I guess it’s up to us. “Start calling CQ, what do we have to lose?”

Magic Girl Powers. The band hops to life, if only briefly. We don’t even get anything I’d deem a pileup. When we do get multiple responses at once, they manage to queue up in an orderly fashion, and contact each other as well.

Four minutes. “Let’s hop on over to two meters and see if there are any crumbs to pick up.” Mariko nods at my suggestion, and I switch bands. As usual, the calling frequency is right under her thumb, but there is nothing happening and she starts scanning. Three. She starts calling, and we get a response that sounds like it’s coming from right on top of us.

“«JO7RFM.»” No elaboration is forthcoming, but none is necessary. Both of us know who it is.

“«Nice of you to check in. We missed you, big guy.»”

***

“I don’t know about you, dear, but I’d rather sleep this off in my own bed. I’ve got the logs, we can submit them from the ranch.” I set the laptop bag carefully on the desk, since the case padding is no longer set up for the shape of the older machine.

“Yeah, sure,” Hisao responds. “Mind if we get a bite to eat first? I probably shouldn’t ride on nothing but coffee and medication.”

“No problem. Here.” I hand him a brown paper bag with avocados. “These are going to go over-ripe soon if we don’t eat them anyhow, and we only need enough to hold us over until we get back. No point in eating junk when there’s a house full of real food waiting for us.” Once he takes it, I turn back to the desk and pull a small pocketknife from the drawer, passing that to him as well. I am certainly capable of splitting and pitting an avocado, but there’s no shame in admitting it’s easier for him than it is for me.

“You really plan to let that whole incident go? I mean… those were some pretty shitty things he said.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t actually understand enough to know if he was talking about me, so it’s a little easier to bear.” I hand him a plastic spoon and a salt shaker, as he hands me half an avocado. “It sure sounded like he intended to make amends, asking for the correct kanji for Hanako’s name and all.” When he hands the salt shaker back, I get salt all over my arm, and the floor, but there’s no way I’m eating this without any salt. Besides, we’ll be out of here tomorrow and maintenance will vacuum the floor – or at least I sure hope they will.

“So the waterbed is supposed to arrive tomorrow and… well, I’ve never assembled furniture more complex than a bookshelf from Ikea.” He looks a bit lost. “Do we need to recruit any help for this?”

“Not if they deliver it to the right room. If they send it up here, we might want help moving the pieces back down. Otherwise, I don’t see a problem. If one person can do it with two hands, and I’ve seen it done, then surely two people can do it with three hands. We’ll just have to bring the tools back with us. I know we need a drill to tap holes, and to use as a power screwdriver. It’ll take forever otherwise. Do you know what time it’s supposed to arrive?”

“Between ten and two, they said. Don’t you love it when they’re specific? Then we can start moving the rest of our stuff while it fills.”
Twenty-seven hours. Isn’t that fitting?

AKIRA

“You celebrated what?” I could have sworn Hanako just made some thinly veiled joke about popping cherries…

“My f-first DX!” She quiets down when she sees this hasn’t clarified matters at all. “That means d-distance. International.” I’m still not getting it. “I t-talked to a guy in K-Korea. On the r-radio.”

“And this was cause for breaking out the hard liquor?” Shit, if I’d known that, I might have joined a Radio Club in high school too.

“N-no, just w-wine. The kirsch was for my s-second one, for w-working Sri Lanka. N-nobody in the club had e-ever done that b-before.”

“Three years ahead of schedule, too.” Now it’s her turn to give me confused looks. “‘2010: The Year We Make Contact’ – sound familiar? Arthur C. Clarke, the author, lives in Sri Lanka. I just thought maybe you had reached him three years early.” Bloody hell, now I feel old for knowing all that. I throw the transmission into neutral and try not to stop too quickly and scare the other drivers on the road as I approach the red light. “Hey, I’m really sorry things seem to be awkward between you and my sister now. I understand if you’re having second thoughts about this whole thing, though I hope you’re not.”

“No. I made up my m-mind the d-day you came back that it was m-my decision to m-make. I stand by it. If L-Lilly has a p-problem with us, then she has a p-problem with m-me.”

“Then you may just want to let her calm down, which she will. Part of the reason – maybe even most of the reason – that she’s upset is that we pretty much announced our hookup to half the student body that night, and she’s still getting an earful about it. The curiosity will fade, the questions will cease, and things will start to go back to normal.” It’s also why we’re going back to my place for Round Two.

“And the s-staff.”

What?

“Momomoto, the ch-chief of security, asked me to b-be… ‘easier to ignore’ in the f-future.” She even gives it air quotes.

“I think he means me as much as you. Don’t worry, I know «El Jefe». I’ve known him for years, and I know some of his secrets too. Still, the point is well taken. That’s why you’re heading out with me, instead of me holing up with you. I’m sure he knows, and I’m sure he’s relieved that this makes it Someone Else’s Problem. He’s quite skilled at failing to notice those.” In large part because he’s paid to fail to notice them. “I assure you he will give you no grief about being seen with me, so long as we don’t put him in any more embarrassing binds.”

As soon as we get parked, she practically bolts up the front stairs on her own with my keys. When I get inside, I can hear her sobbing from the bathroom.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m s-sorry…” It’s a bit difficult to make out what she says through the closed door. “...I was h-hoping I had m-more time…” I can hear her digging through her purse. Oh. This need not be the problem it was last week.

“Well then, I’m twice as glad we came back here for our bit of private time. Unlike you, I have the luxury of my own bathtub and shower. Don’t worry, really. I’ve been dealing with this years longer than you have, and I know things that may not have even crossed your mind. We won’t let this get in the way of anything.” Well, maybe some specific things, but we’ll cross that bridge as we get there.

I hear a flush, then a washing of hands, and the bathroom door opens at last. She just clutches on to me and doesn’t let go. It’s not going to accomplish much to just stand here like this, so I suppose it’s up to me to break the impasse.

“Hey, let’s go help ourselves to a little bit of ‘girl whisky.’”

HISAO

“That’s it?” It seems like the computer just got running, and she’s closing it again.

“Yeah, it goes a lot quicker when I don’t have to deal with the VPN bollocks, especially small stuff like this. It’s not so bad for the big transfers, but for the little, interactive stuff, latency is a bitch.”

What? Are we speaking the same language?

Neko pats me on the head. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you tomorrow. Everything I do from the school gets routed through the network here, so I don’t have to deal with the filtering and arbitrary bandwidth restrictions they like to put on popular sites. I’ll set you up too, just don’t abuse it too badly during business hours. Miki’s probably just porn surfing in mum’s giant leather chair, making one hand do double duty, but that’s her right as queen of the castle.”

Thanks. I really didn’t need that visual right now. It’s causing an interesting mixture of arousal and disquiet. No. Stop that. “I think I should make up for some of the swims I’ve missed during the past week.” The pool here only accommodates one swimmer at a time, and it’s loud, so I should be able to avoid further awkward conversation even when I’m not actually swimming.

“That’s not a bad idea. I’m still a bit too wound up to sleep, and shouldn’t pass out on a full stomach anyhow. Got to keep my girlish figure, you know.”

That never has made much sense to me – ‘girlish’ includes everything from Emi to Misha and beyond. It seems to me those things just happen, rather than come as a reward for hard work. I guess she can sense my confusion, or mistakes it for something else.

“Don’t you want me to join you? I know you drop out of the current about half the time, I’ll just take up your empty spaces. I don’t need a hard workout, just something to wear me out – more than you’re going to, anyhow – and the cookie I ate isn’t going to make me magically sink to the bottom.”

Now it’s alright to have that reaction. I change in her room as she strips down and wraps up in a towel. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I ask while she just watches me.

“Like what? We’ve got the place all to ourselves for the day. Ben and Abe won’t be back until late in the afternoon, and the ranch hands that do come around aren’t about to go peeking in the windows if they value their jobs.”

“There’s still one other…”

“...and she’s had over a year to look at me already. I doubt it makes a bit of difference now. What about you? Just who do you think you need to hide from? She’s seen you too, and I’ve got control of the surveillance cameras.”

“I… um…” I stare intently at my feet.

“Oh fine, be that way. Take them off once we get in the water then.”

I knew she was going to get us both naked sooner or later, I just didn’t know it would be this soon. No point in fighting it though. We walk (or hop, as the case may be) to the pool together, clad only in towels large enough to double as bathrobes. Hers drops first, but even if someone were watching, all they’d see is a glimpse of her back as she drops into the water. I do the same as she starts the current.

“This was your idea, so…” She tips her head toward the motor and keeps her hand on the dial to adjust it as I slowly work up to speed. I do wish I had some idea how far I was going, but I’m guessing I’m somewhere around the equivalent of a hundred meters before I drop out of the current. The flow gets bumped up a couple notches before she launches herself into it. Showoff.

Once she drops out, she doesn’t cut back on the current. I guess I’m supposed to pick up at her pace, so I give it my best shot, but feel the burning in my arms sooner rather than later. I’m starting to slip back, and she dials it down. My legs are still doing passably though, and I push on to my best estimate of another hundred meters.

This time around, she leaves the settings alone. It takes me a moment to realize why, because she still hasn’t gotten around to teaching me the breaststroke or the butterfly, and I didn’t realize she’d be that much slower at them. I’m guessing she does fifty meters of each before dropping out to let me back in.

This time, I do the only other stroke she’s taught me, the backstroke. It’s nice not having to watch the lane markers for a clue of where the wall is, because I’ll never get there. I can just get into a rhythm and clear my head. I give a little bit extra this time, since I think this will be my last lap for this session. I slow down and let myself be pushed to the far end, where she’s giggling a little bit. I give her a look.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I was about to say it’s nothing, but that’s not even remotely true.” She tweaks up the current one notch and throws herself into it, staying underwater for long enough to make my lungs hurt, then finishes her individual medley with a backstroke of her own… and if I thought it was a sight when she did this in a wet T-shirt, that was nothing compared to doing it without one. It’s completely hypnotic, and I’m sorry to see it end as she floats to the far end with me.

“Is that enough for you? I think it will be for me.” I reach for the knob that controls the current, and when she nods, I turn it off.

“I was just starting to work up a sweat… not that anyone can tell, of course. Are you ready to hit the shower?”

I was sweating more than a little, and it wasn’t just from the exertion. “Certainly. I just didn’t want to get too far out of the habit.”

She lifts herself out of the water on her elbows and exits in a less than graceful manner, having to throw her knee over the side and roll onto the deck. It probably isn’t too unpleasant though, as she rolls straight onto our towels. I push out with my arms extended and more or less belly-flop my way out, also less than gracefully. Maybe we should have left the towels at the shallow end.

As I stand up, she already has a towel held up for me to step into, and drapes it over my shoulders. Hers is already wrapped around her and tucked in as I dry my hair. “We’ll walk to the bathroom through my room from the side near Mum’s room. That way the only carpet we step on will be mine.” She leads the way, leaving a trail of wet single footprints across the tile floor of the kitchen. As we reach her bedroom door, she casts her towel to the floor just outside the door. “I’ve got dry ones inside, leave these on the tile.” She hops through the door, arm held across her chest to restrain most of the bouncing.

As usual, it takes me a couple seconds to get with the program after a distraction like that, but I leave my towel piled on top of hers and follow across the room, straight to the shower. She pulls the shower head down from the holder and turns on the water, putting the shower head back on its holder once the water is warm enough to be pleasant.

“You go ahead, I have one thing to take care of.” She slides out of the shower, and a moment later I feel the water get slightly warmer for a second or two, just before she re-enters. I’m guessing she just flushed the toilet.

“You know, I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret,” I whisper to her. “Guys pee in the shower. It wouldn’t exactly shock me if you did as well, so…”

“Yeah, girls do too. I’ll keep that in mind in the future.” She kisses me, then puts her arms around my neck and does it again, only this time with feeling. She keeps the one arm over my shoulder but frees up her hand. Oh, hello. My reaction is immediate, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Good, you won’t need much convincing.”

When do I ever? I don’t think I’ve turned down an invitation yet, and you’ve given me plenty. She pulls me in closer with the arm on my shoulder, and leans back against the wall to get a bit of an angle to help compensate for our difference in height as she guides me into position. Suddenly, she seems to think of something better, and stands on the raised lip of the shower, which lifts her enough to make everything work, although it seems like it might not be the most comfortable place to rest all of her weight.

Fortunately, it doesn’t have to bear her weight for very long. She was already in the mood as much as I was, if not more, and it doesn’t take terribly long for her to get there. She’s well on the way to a second time around when I reach my release, and I continue after that to bring her around the second time. It’s a different feeling, having our climaxes sequentially rather than one being directly connected to the other, but it’s not unpleasant by any means. We disconnect, and she clings to me for a moment longer, the water cascading over my shoulders and running between us.

She lets go and leans back against the wall, slowly sliding to the basin. As I watch her descend, I finally realize that something isn’t quite right. There’s blood in the water! “Shit! Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry… you should have said someth…”

“No!” The force of her response causes me to gasp, and she repeats it more quietly. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just that time of the month, and that’s what I had to take care of before I got in the shower. I hope you’re not too weirded out.”

I grab the shower head and spray away any visible signs, then take a seat across from her, shower head still in hand, since I’d rather not have water falling in our faces. I put my fingers under her chin and lift her face slightly, and kiss her gently. “No, not at all. I’m actually glad you did it this way. I didn’t have time to think about it, and now that it’s done, it’s done. You couldn’t have picked a better place, obviously.”

“In that case… you can pretty well count on this happening again. I feel much better after a release like that. It makes the whole experience a lot easier to bear, and it should remain so for a couple hours at least.” She gives me a wink and an elbow nudge. “Just don’t be too surprised if I want another shower when we wake up.”

She does, and this time we have the foresight to bring in a small step for her to stand on. Good thing I’m keeping up with that exercise program, huh? There’s not so much mess this time around, and the third time she’s willing to sacrifice a towel to the menstrual gods to keep the bed clean. It should bleach out, I’ve had minor scrapes that bled more than that. I just don’t know how many times I’ll be able to perform. My heart seems to be less taxed with each repeated effort, but I can’t say the same for my loins.

Note to self: take towels in the morning. I’m quite certain she’s going to want to celebrate the new room and the new waterbed just like this. Maybe we can christen the new shower as well – if I have anything left by then.

BEN

“Thanks for the help. It goes easiest with one person on each corner.” Abe and I get the roof rack strapped to my car, and Neko and Hisao head back to campus on their own, rather than trying to figure out where to attach their bicycles – or where to put the items currently in the back seat. Then it’s time to secure the two poles and the hand truck. This would have been much simpler if we could have used the El Camino, but heaven forbid anyone actually use Pearl to haul cargo. Sally uses it to tow the horse trailer, but actually put something in the back and risk scratching the paint? I don’t think so.

By the time we get to the parking area at the bottom of the hill, not only are they waiting for us, but somehow they’ve managed to secure an electric cart. Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all. We load the safe and the fridge onto the back of the cart, and Abe and I carry the poles between us on our shoulders. They’re bulky and awkward, but not terribly heavy. Neko takes the wheel and Hisao hangs onto the back, using his legs to block the cargo to keep it from falling off during the uphill climb. This will be nice, we won’t have to haul the old fridge back down the hill by hand either.

When we make it to the top, Neko is outside the dorm building to the left, sitting under the canopy of the golf cart. The cargo has already been offloaded.

“Aren’t you going to take it inside?” Abe asks. Someday he may learn to withhold obvious questions long enough to see if they get answered on their own.

“He’s off getting the keys right now. We haven’t been inside this particular room before, so it may take us a minute to decide where to mount those.” Neko gestures toward the poles we’re leaning against the wall. “The only one we were able to tour was one that was already occupied, but it seemed quite nice. It was smaller than my bedroom, but still a huge improvement over sharing a normal dorm room.”

“What about the old fridge?” I ask.

She holds out the key. “Room 216. Just leave the contents on the desk, there won’t be much. There’s a serving tray with wheels in the common area if you want it, though that won’t get you down the stairs. It’s not that big though, Hisao wrangled it up those stairs by himself without the cart.”

I look at Abe. “The stairs are the worst part anyhow, what say we skip the serving tray and just go get it?” He just shrugs.

Room 216. We go up one floor, to find that all of these rooms are numbered one-something. It must be one more flight up. It takes a bit of wandering, as there is no apparent rhyme or reason to the way the numbers are laid out, but we find it across from a door with about ten locks on it. And to think all we’re adding is a deadbolt and a chain. Even for that, we had to confirm in writing that we’d either leave the lock behind in the end or buy one from them to replace it, rather than forcing them to fill the hole in the door we have to create.

She’s right, there’s not much left in the fridge – one bottle of wine, and a paper bag with an avocado in it. I hope they’re normally in the habit of stocking more than this. It’s not terribly difficult to carry it between the two of us, the hardest part is turning the corners in the stairwell. We carry it back to the golf cart, and put it on the rear deck. It shouldn’t be in danger of falling off going downhill, so Abe stands watch over the items we’ve already moved.

We get back to my car, and load the small fridge into the back seat – standing up this time, unlike the larger one we just brought. We never even used the hand truck, which is still strapped to the roof, but I didn’t know we’d have something much nicer to use instead.

“Don’t forget,” I remind her, “the new fridge has to sit overnight before you plug it in because we carried it on its side. You have to let the gas bubbles work out of the coolant or it’ll just seize up on you.”

“That’s life.” We start rolling back up the hill. “Thanks for warning us about that in advance, so we could eat anything that had to be chilled, and we’ll eat the last of it while we wait for the bed to arrive.”

The bed. Shit. We forgot the hose. “Do you think you can borrow a hose, or do we need to go back for it? I completely forgot about it.”

“I think we can get our hands on one. I mean, we got this, right?” She kicks the underside of the cart’s dash as she drives. I look around the grounds as we go, and the place seems almost abandoned. I suppose it’s to be expected that most students want to get the hell out during vacation, but this is slightly creepy. I would have thought they’d take advantage of the time to paint the buildings or something. Still, the place looks so… normal. Maybe sending Abe here isn’t such a bad idea after all. If he had his own room here, that would help keep Sally’s sticky fingers off him. I can’t count on him having a girlfriend to hide behind, although it’s nice while it lasts.

When we make it back, Hisao is waiting to take the cart. “It’s gotta go back to recharge, if we expect to use it again when the bed arrives. It was already in service when we borrowed it.”

“Get us a hose, if you can.” She takes the key as he drives off, and unlocks the door. It takes her a few moments to find the light switch, but once she does, the place is more than adequately lit. “Hmm, might have to take a few of those bulbs out. This isn’t very romantic.” She looks around, then heads for a corner area between the closet and the outer wall. “Do you think they’ll fit here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.” I mean the poles will fit, but will the bikes fit on them? “Why don’t you get one or both and we’ll find out?”

“Come with me, Abe. You can start breaking the rule about being in a girl’s room even before you’re old enough to attend.” I get the feeling this is a very poorly enforced rule, and I doubt they’d really have a problem with it in this case anyhow. Those two are like the brother and sister each one never had.

While they’re out, I move the poles inside and get them extended most of the length necessary to wedge them between floor and ceiling. This way it will only take a few seconds to fit them in place, once we decide what that place is. Then I get bored and start looking at the lighting. It turns out most of the light fixtures have three-way switches, with on, off, and master settings, so I turn off a few of the unnecessary lights. The only one that seems to be hard-wired straight to the master switch is the one directly over the door.

I hear their voices first, then I hear the faint click of the freewheel pawls of the bicycles. “Did you miss us?” Neko asks as she brings the red bicycle through the door.

“So much that I got bored and started nosing around. You know, the lights have overrides. They don’t have to all be run from the master switch, only that one.”

“Oh, nifty!” She leans her bike against the wall and turns around to take the blue one as well. “So how does this work exactly?”

“It’s pretty simple. We wedge the poles between floor and ceiling, then you hang bikes off of them. Each has another bar that can be set at an angle, so it holds the bike straight. For earthquake security, use the velcro straps to secure the bikes to the hanger bars. We could make do with just one pole, but that would mean hanging one of them close to the floor, in which case, why bother hanging it at all? That’s why we got two, so you can hang them both up out of the way.”

“Well they’re here, I guess we can start checking for fit.”

Figuring out where to put the first one is pretty easy, it’s deciding what to do with the second that causes us all the trouble. The second bike would have to be hung vertically if it’s to stay out of the way, at which point there’s not much advantage over just stacking them on one pole. This is not a huge problem, we can use the second pole back at the ranch anyhow. Not only do both bikes fit against one wall this way, but they take up so little space that we’re able to fit the fridge into the same nook, along with what is being delivered with the bed – a microwave, a coffeemaker, and a rice cooker. We also stash the safe in a corner of the closet, and I stand back to let Neko open it for the first time, which only takes two attempts. The drill and drill bits are sitting inside.

“Oh good! I thought we might have forgotten these. Trying to build a waterbed with hand tools would suck.”

“Trying to install a deadbolt without a hole saw would suck even more,” I point out.

The door opens. “I found us a hose, and just got a message saying the bed will be here around twelve thirty. That gives us two hours to move, or grab a bite to eat, or whatever. Oh hey! You’ve already gotten started.” Hisao walks up to the bike rack, and grabs the frame of the upper one – his – and shakes it a bit. It doesn’t go anywhere, thanks to being strapped down. He opens and closes the straps in the span of just a few seconds. “Yeah, that should work very nicely!”

“We brought two,” I tell him, “but there isn’t really room for both so we’ll just use the second one back at home.” That will at least get one of the bikes off the ground, and Junpei generally keeps his, so we only have to worry about two ourselves.

“Leave it to my family to over-plan everything and end up with spares. It happens more often than not.” She says it with such a smile that it’s hard to see this as criticism.

NEKO

“I wasn’t expecting them to actually build it.” Hisao watches the proceedings with a bit of a mixed reaction.

“Me neither, but whatever. Taking it apart is pretty simple, compared to putting it together, and reassembling it when the holes are already there is somewhere in between. Don’t fight it, just let them do their jobs.” I noticed the book one of the workers had brought along – thick as a dictionary, and labeled ‘Waterbed Assembly and Maintenance Guide.’ I looked inside while they were moving parts in, and it’s a bible with a new cover on it.

“I wasn’t planning on fighting it. It’ll probably make your Mum’s insurance company happier anyhow.”

“It would have to be quite ineptly assembled to become a liability issue. That said, I’m sure someone, somewhere, has managed to screw it up that badly – driving the screws from the outside, maybe, so the points break the mattress, or using the wrong screws, or something like that.” For every warning label, there’s at least one idiot who needed to be told.

One of the installers looks back at me, head bent underneath his own arm. “You wouldn’t believe some of the shit we’ve seen, and had to fix.” He drives home the screw he had been placing, and we hear a loud pop. “Fuck! The head sheared off. Whoever decided it was worth the ten yen in savings switching from galvanized steel to aluminium screws should be sacked.” He re-positions the bracket slightly to one side and drills a whole new set of holes for it, then reduces the torque setting on the power screwdriver. “I’ll leave some spares in the holes I already drilled, since chances are you’ll break at least one the first time you have to move this thing.”

I dump out the second pot of hot water used to rinse out the new coffeemaker. “You guys want some coffee?” I ask before refilling the pot for its first actual brew. “We don’t have any milk or creamer, but we do have sugar.”

The two look at each other and nod. “Yeah, thanks,” comes the reply in unison.

“Aiee!” I hear a splash, and Hisao jumps backward out of the shower, quite soaked in front. “The whole thing just came right off the threads with the first test.”

I check out the fixture he’s holding up. When I put my finger inside, it comes out covered in shredded plastic. “Bloody hell, it’s totally stripped. I guess we have to use the generic shower head for now. Put one of these on the list of things to buy, whatever it’s called.” That’s what sometimes happens when recycling spare parts, I guess.

The installers get the frame assembled, the heater in place, the liner unfolded, and the mattress started filling before they stop for coffee. They’re filling it with warm water, partly so we don’t have to wait for it to heat up, and partly so it doesn’t get overfilled due to expansion as it warms. After a coffee break of perhaps a minute and a half, they’re installing the headboard. Mostly it just relies on its own weight to keep it in place, but there are three interlocking tabs as well to keep it from sliding around. The three padded rails they leave leaning against the wall, since they just slip onto the frame and it’s marginally easier to make the bed with them removed. Then we just have to wait for the mattress to completely fill and be burped.

“So what else do you guys do?” I ask as they start to pack up. “I can’t imagine there are enough waterbed installations to make a full-time job.”

“We’ve got to install microwave ovens, custom kitchen deliveries, ya know?” He hands me a ‘How did we do?’ form to mail in once they’re gone.

“I’ll put the aluminium screws on here, but don’t worry, I’ll mark it as a product defect, not an installer issue.”

“They’ve been hearing it from us for a year and a half, and about the only response we get is ‘go stick your head in a pig.’ You’re welcome to try though.” They both give a slight bow as they leave.

I want our new bed… and my MTV.

HANAKO

“F-Friday night. The theme is English P-pub Night.”

“Since when does Yamaku throw parties?” Akira takes her eyes off the road long enough to give me a sideways glance. “I mean you do that Festival each year, but that’s more of an open-air fair kind of thing.”

“It’s n-not a school event. It’s a p-private party.”

“Oh, okay, that I can believe. Where is it going to be?”

“At the school.”

“Wait, you just… since when does Yamaku allow private parties? I’m starting to think I missed out by not going there myself.”

I don’t have a good answer for this. As far as I know, it’s never happened before… or at least, I’ve never been invited before. “You r-remember Hisao, right? You met him l-last week.” She nods, so I continue. “He got a n-new room, a f-fancy one, and Neko is holding a hou-housewarming party.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound like such a big deal after all. What’s it say?” She taps my phone with her short fingernails between shifts.

“Friday. S-sunset to question marks. Food. B-beverages. Games.” Maybe she’s right. Maybe this isn’t that big of a deal.

“Ah, what the hell? Sure, I might run a bit late depending on work, but it doesn’t sound like they’ll mind. If it sucks, we’ll go have our own party, huh?” She parks the car but leaves the engine running, and steps out so we can switch sides. We get secured and I adjust the seat and mirrors before continuing.

“It’s just a parking lot, and an empty one, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still wreck the car… so don’t, ‘kay? Reverse is where it belongs – all the way toward you, then back.” She signals for me to release the parking brake, so I do. Deep breaths. It’s only a parking lot.

I give it throttle and try to feel the bite of the clutch, but I’m too gentle with it. Even I know what it smells like to glaze a clutch, but finally I get it rolling back. Then I can’t find first.

“It helps if you come to a complete stop first. Yes, you can fight it and grab first while still rolling backward, but it’s not good for man or machine. Until you get a feel for it, just assume you should be stopped before you go looking for first gear. This car has plenty of pickup for a rolling start in second.”

I nod, and finally find first. I’m a little more aware of where the clutch grabs now, so it’s embarrassing when instead of glazing it, I stall the engine.

“Relax, no harm done. Even I’ve been known to do that when I’m not paying attention.”

Clutch. Neutral. Brake. Let’s try this again. I re-start the engine. Ah, that’s it. A smooth, controlled take-off. It’s barely necessary to even breathe on the throttle. Second. I take the first turn-around, and suddenly I know what it means to be ‘caught between gears’. Do I shift into third or do I just hang out here? I’ll be turning in a few moments…

My hesitation decides for me, and I stay in second. Another turnaround, and we’re headed back down the row we started on.

“Go ahead and short-shift third next time around. You want to get used to downshifting into turns, since you’ll be doing a lot of it in a lesser vehicle.”

Yeah, most likely. Just about anything I’ll be able to afford in the foreseeable future will be several steps down from this.

Lap. Lap. “I know what I said about not wrecking it, but… it’s a parking lot. You can get a little bit sideways. How about pushing the boundaries just a bit?”

I push a bit harder with each ensuing pass, and I can both hear and feel the rear end getting away from me, yet she urges me on – until we’re completely backward, with the rear wheels in the shoulder, and a cloud of dust drifting on the breeze. I think I need to change my panties.

“Did you feel that? That last, critical moment where the car let you know you were about to fuck up?” I nod weakly. “Good. I wanted you to get there. There is no other way to learn how that feels.”

“I th-think I’m done.” She pats my shoulder, so I unstrap myself and open the door – and promptly lose my lunch.

MIKI

Eight a.m. I didn’t get to bed until two. Fuck my life. But if I don’t get up and do it, it’s just that much more I have to do by the end of the day, or tomorrow. I silence the alarm on my phone, and it beeps at me again. I missed a call. I don’t recognize the number, but I don’t get many random calls. There’s no message, so I return the call.

What comes out of the other end is incomprehensible, except for one small snippet. Miraslava Perov. I’ll play this carefully, in case Boris gets to her mailbox first.

“«Hi Mira, I’m returning your call. Sorry I missed you, but now that I have your number, I will know who is calling.»” I add her to my directory.

I have time for a shower, a cup of coffee, and a bagel, before locking myself in the office a few hours. I have to coordinate staff, dispatch packages for the next few days, and get the returns from the weekend. Then I have to translate it to Sally’s bizarre code and text it to her just to keep her up to date. I also have to get the sporting results from Nori, and maybe have her ‘remind’ some of the less successful punters that we need to even up accounts. I’m not authorized to order any collection activities beyond that, which is a shame. Finally, I have to make sure that our nominal business of supplying the local stores gets done, which means pestering Sam. Fortunately, Sally has told me what his hot buttons are, in case I find I need to press them.

I decide to punt on the other item on the agenda – Ben and Neko can take care of the whole Shanghai thing. As far as I’m concerned, they couldn’t make the place any worse, so as long as they aren’t begging for shitloads of cash, I’ll just rubber-stamp whatever they request. I’m not interested in meeting with Satou. I can barely tolerate dealing with the Satous individually, I think a whole corporation of them would break me. I’m still a bit tickled that a Satou stole Neko’s next target though. I flip straight to the finances page in the proposal on my desk. It’s over budget, but then this expects we’ll have additional backing on board. Fuck it, I’m signing it. I use Sally’s stamp and give it the little flourish just like she showed me.

My desk. I could start to get used to this. What was it Sally said, that if I was comfortable back here, I must be forgetting something?

Oh yeah. Pornhub. Now where was the webcam for this thing? And what did I do with Steely Dan?

ABE

“You have how many? Uh huh… no, we are not prepared to feed fifty. You said ‘maybe a dozen’ yesterday!”

Dad holds the phone almost at arm’s length from his head, but both of us can clearly hear Neko’s voice at the other end. “I didn’t know! I only sent out a handful of invitations! We don’t have enough wine for this crowd either.” She’s crying.

“Alright, stall for time, do what you can. I’ll have party punch and more wine brought out from the ranch, but we actually have to cook the food. Just keep it together.” He hangs up, and turns to the trainees. “Okay everyone, listen up. Whatever you’re doing – do it faster. We’re going to need about four times what we were expecting. This may devolve into cheeseburgers by the time we’re done.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Dad. Not everyone is adventurous anyhow, so why don’t I just grill stuff up on the spot? It’ll help, right?” Please, please, please let me go up the hill.

Dad sighs. “Fine. Call Mareo, and have him deliver our entire supply of Everclear, all the sangria mix, the gas grill and fuel, and anything you can cook on it. Then he’s to stop here and pick up my shopping list. I wonder which horse Sally would miss the least…”

You could start with Clyder, but he’d probably taste as nasty as he acts.

Twenty minutes later, I’m ready to start roasting up the first hot dogs and burgers. The smoke is going to draw out anyone who isn’t already here, but apparently any hope we had of keeping this affair smalll has been completely trashed. Someone has rolled out a portable sound system and cranked up the music, and every now and then, someone from security drives by on a golf cart, not knowing if they really want to interfere or not.

“You’re handling catering?” comes a voice from behind me.

I turn around, and he’s in a full dress security uniform. I’m guessing this is the one Neko calls El Jefe. “No, not really. I’m just buying time until they get here. Apparently, someone sucks at keeping secrets.”

He nods. “I can see that. I can also see that,” he says as he gestures at the bottles of fruit drink and Everclear, “and I need to not see it. Get someone to take that inside, got it?”

Got it. “Hey you.” I don’t know anyone’s names. “Yeah, you. I need you to do me a huge favor and take all of this into that room over there. Let them decide what they want to do with it, but it can’t stay here.” Trusting the honesty of complete strangers with 95% ethanol is risky at best, but I can’t leave my post.

By the time I’m done with the first batch of hot dogs and patties, someone is already rolling up with trays of chicken katsu, rice, and macaroni salad. Good, that solves one problem, seeing as how we don’t have any potatoes or anything. I feel kinda mismatched for what I know is coming… but maybe…

I grab my phone. “Hey dad, next trip, have someone send up what I need to make loco moco. We might as well do that up here instead of down there, since I’m already grilling.”

“You’re a bright kid, you know that? Do you have power where you are?”

“You mean for a hot plate or something?” I look around to see if anyone has run a cord out to where we are, as they evidently did for the sound system. “No, not as such…”

“Right. I’ll send them with fuel cans too.”

A little bit later I’ve got someone next to me frying eggs and heating up gravy to turn mere burgers into authentic Hawaiian cuisine. I fire off a quick text to Neko. “Pls send 1 lg cup party punch stat.”

By the time a cup finds its way out to me, it’s getting dark, but we’re getting ahead of the game on the loco moco. It helps that other dishes are arriving every ten minutes or so now. I put the last of the grilled hot dogs on a tray and push them across the table. I won’t make any more unless someone asks, not when we want to push the kind of fare we plan to sell. The first hit is always free.

I’m so wrapped up in my task that I completely fail to notice when someone sneaks up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. I glance back, expecting to see security again. Instead, I get a face full of kiss.

“You’re cute. Wanna go for a walk?” Suzu blinks at me with a fake innocence. It’s still maddeningly cute.

I look around – the line of people waiting to be fed is now just a swarm walking up and taking what they want from the two large tables decked out in catering trays. “Have you eaten yet? I haven’t had a chance.” Other than the hot dog I snuck off the grill half an hour ago, that is.

“Mmm, yeah, but that was before some of this showed up.” Her eyes go wide as she surveys the offerings. “I may have to find some more room.”

“Then by all means, please let me introduce you to the lau lau pork.” We made small test batches of all of these at home a couple nights ago, and that was by far my favorite – and by ‘small’ I mean ‘feeds a family of four’. My dad knows no other way to do things.

We wander the campus, each carrying a plate. The crowd thins out pretty fast once we get away from the courtyard between the buildings, but she keeps on walking. I just follow, and we end up sitting in the stands at the track.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she begins. “You know, for all the worry I’ve put you through. You really shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“Don’t apologize for what you can’t control. I’m sure if you could change what is bothering you, you would. Please, I just want to see you get through it and feel at peace with… whatever the situation was, or is.”

“I don’t mean just that though. I mean… um… you know I don’t normally stay up for days at a time, and I usually don’t fall asleep for a whole day at a time either.” She grabs my hand.

I nod and squeeze back. “I know, but as far as I can tell, you’re working to get that under control, and hopefully you won’t have that on your back too much longer. With what you said about your dreams, I can understand why you’d go to great lengths to hide from them.”

“You… how long have you known?”

“Since we threw a party waiting for you to wake up.”

“You sure didn’t seem upset with me.” A hint of a smile breaks through.

“Well… I was a little bit angry, but not so much at you. I mean, it’s not like you just conjured the stuff out of thin air. I’m pretty sure I know where it came from… and I’m more than a little ticked off at her for putting you in this position. She had to know it would be horribly tempting to you.”

“But it was just tiny bits in the beginning. I didn’t think it would be a problem. It was just something to keep me going through the weekends, you know? Like coffee, only more fun and less jittery. Speaking of which…” She pulls out a thermos of coffee and takes a long pull, then offers it to me.

“In the beginning? Neko said it’s only been a few weeks.” I accept the thermos, and take a swallow of warm, sweet coffee.

“Oh… that’s just when it got crazy, when Miki dropped that bag in my lap. I should have realized she just wanted to get up my skirt.” She must catch the shock on my face before I realize I’ve shown it. “Oh, no! Don’t worry, it didn’t work, and it never will. We just stayed up all night and played old Nintendo games and watched movies.”

“Well then, what do you mean by the beginning?”

“Back when I first started coming out to the ranch. It was just little bits, already prepared for me and everything. All I had to do was take the straw. I wasn’t given the option of going overboard with it.”

But that would mean you’ve been using for… “A whole year? All this time, and I never realized anything was amiss.”

“She felt sorry for me, being dragged around by my friends, passing out in the back of her car and having to be carried into the house. She felt there was something she could do about it, so she did.”

Her car… “You’re not talking about Miki any more.” She shakes her head. “You mean…”

She grabs my hand again. “See, I knew it would upset you. Miki may have been the one who poured gasoline on the fire… but it’s Sally who lit it in the first place.”