by Z. Allora
Zen cracked up, and Haru joined in.
Sage asked, “Do you have time to meet with him?”
Zen sat up straighter. “Who? Watanabe? Is coming here? When?”
Nodding, Sage said, “After lunch, if you have—”
“I’ll be here.”
Daiki grinned at him, making Sage’s heart full and happy. Things were clicking into place… on many levels.
Chapter 9
ON THE short walk to the restaurant, Daiki admired how easily Sage engaged both Haru and Zen in conversation. Several times, Sage caught Daiki’s gaze and gave him a sinful smile.
Images of Daiki’s wanton behavior last night splashed over the storyboards in his mind, leaving him aroused and more than a little impressed with himself. He had done what he wanted with whom he desired, and the world hadn’t fallen apart.
Talk about living a BL fantasy. Daiki couldn’t have drawn a better night. There didn’t seem to be much morning-after strangeness between them. Even better was that Sage had implied they might be doing it again.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Daiki readjusted himself. How could simply looking at Sage get him aroused like one of his needy ukes?
In the light of day, Sage had only a passing resemblance to Daiki’s 2-D fascination. Sage was much sexier, and his personality twisted Daiki in circles. He was smart, easy to be with, kind, and while he respected traditions, his uniqueness satisfied Daiki’s love for the unpredictable. His confidence was heady, and the way Sage used his mouth….
Sage licked his lips as if he could see the explicit pictures Daiki’s brain painted in his head, both dirty and sweet.
After adjusting himself discreetly one more time, he held the door of the restaurant for the others to enter. Zen and Haru did so while Sage stood close behind him.
“After you.” Sage’s deep voice did unreal things to Daiki, and the way his breath tickled the back of his neck…. Mm, chills.
Daiki forced himself into the restaurant and didn’t lean back against Sage to rub all over him.
Inside he sat next to Suzuki Zen, who had been one of Japan’s top idols. Without his disguise of baseball cap and face mask, no one could say Zen wasn’t handsome, but Daiki couldn’t stop staring at Sage. Everything about Sage captured his imagination.
His mental storyboards kept flashing through his mind, growing more graphic and sweetly serious by the moment. He probably shouldn’t crawl over the table to end up straddling Sage’s lap, and—
“What may I get for you?” The waiter’s tone suggested this might possibly be the third time he’d asked.
“Um, the chicken yakitori meal and the Kiraka White tea.”
After they ordered, Daiki excused himself from the table. Maybe splashing some cold water on his face would calm him down.
Sage grinned at him, turning his heart inside out.
The bathroom was occupied, so Daiki stood in the hallway leading to the men’s room and studied the abstract paintings. The artist had been angry when these were made. Didn’t the restaurant owner feel that? Or were they simply trying to match red-washed walls?
A quick movement in one of the private rooms, adjacent to the hall where Daiki stood, caught his attention. An older man in a business suit grabbed another man trying to leave a booth and yanked him back.
Harsh words cut across the space. “If you think I won’t release that video clip of you tied up getting your kinky ass beat, you’ve got another think coming. You owe me.”
Did Daiki need his glasses? That couldn’t be…. The guy being pulled around looked a lot like him, but he was dressed in a glittery pink T-shirt, not black leather.
The man ducked his head submissively. “I know. I just—”
“You’d better get into this band, Wayuu. I’m getting my money one way or another.” The guy’s growl worried Daiki.
Confirmation—that was their two o’clock interview being terrorized.
Watanabe Wayuu nodded. “I’ve got to go get changed.”
“Go…. And be ready to pay me some of interest you owe me this evening.” The words made Daiki’s insides prickle with wrongness.
Wayuu sagged and sank back onto the bench seat. He shook his head. “You know I don’t have any money.”
“I’m not looking for yen.” The suit’s voice dropped into a lower range as if he were trying to convey sexy, but he came across all creepy.
“But—”
“I’m in the mood for the same as last time.” The guy’s sinister smile made Daiki’s skin crawl.
Watanabe Wayuu pushed himself out of the booth and toward Daiki’s hallway. Bumping into Daiki, he muttered, “Sorry,” as he exited out the back door.
Daiki ducked his head and hoped the guy didn’t get a good enough look to recognize him when they met.
BACK IN the conference room, Zen popped out of his chair and began pacing. He glanced at his cell phone. “When is he supposed to be here?”
“Two o’clock,” Sage said as he fussed with the elastic keeping his hair back.
Daiki followed Zen’s circuit around the room with his gaze.
Haru chuckled.
“What are you laughing at?” Zen growled.
Arching an eyebrow, Haru said, “You. Are you worried he’s not going to show up or that he is?”
The door opened, putting Zen behind it.
Watanabe Wayuu stalked in and swiped off his sunglasses. His dark hair was feathered back from his face. He might have put a bit of eyeliner or mascara on, making his eyes the focal point. Even though this was a business meeting, he wore his leather pants and matching jacket over a tight black T-shirt like a rock idol fresh off the stage, making Daiki’s fingers itch with the urge to draw him.
If Daiki hadn’t seen a different side of him in the restaurant, he would have thought this was the true Watanabe Wayuu. The duality of subdued, submissive, and bullied versus rock legend was nothing short of miraculous.
The man who’d yanked him around the restaurant like a rag doll entered the room and introduced him. “Watanabe Wayuu needs no introduction, but I am Fumio Ito.”
Greetings and cards were exchanged, but before they were finished, the agency representative whispered something in the man’s ear.
She turned and said, “I’m sorry for the abruptness, but I must speak to Ito-san immediately.”
“Of course, take your time,” Sage said, as if it wasn’t unusual to disrupt a meeting like this.
The two gave a quick bow and left the room.
When the door closed, Zen said, “I have a bet for you, Watanabe-san.”
Heat seemed to slide across Watanabe’s entire being, and the brightness could have eclipsed the sun if it hadn’t been swapped in a flash for placid indifference. Watanabe’s duality might short-circuit Daiki’s artist’s brain.
Watanabe did a slow turn to Zen and scanned him with his gaze. “Wayuu, please. That goes for everyone. And now, what would that bet be, Suzuki-san?”
Zen strutted forward and got into Wayuu’s space. “Call me Zen. I bet you won’t work with me.”
Either way, it was a win for Zen. Win the bet or get Wayuu to join the band. Daiki needed to find ways in the story to highlight how well Zen used this strategy and was glad he was on Kashi-sei’s side.
“I’ll take that bet.” Wayuu’s words came out breathy. He cleared his throat and added, “That is, if the other members are interested in me… joining.”
Haru smirked and leaned toward Sage and Daiki. “We should have some popcorn about now.”
As inappropriate as that comment was—Hello drama!—Daiki had no doubt parts of this manga would be dictated; he would simply draw what he witnessed. At times, his manga muse was kind to him.
Zen folded his arms over his chest. “What are the stakes?”
Neither spoke—they only engaged in some sort of staring contest. The silence went on for a bit too long.
Finally Sage tapped the table. “How about the winner gets the forfeit of c
hoice from the loser.”
Wayuu glanced at Sage and stood straighter. Then his gaze traveled to Haru and to Daiki.
His eyes went huge as recognition wound through him.
Nothing Daiki could do would change that he’d overheard that mess in the restaurant, so he smiled, trying to reassure Wayuu, but Wayuu’s face fell, and all his confidence seemed to deflate.
Wayuu hurried to sit in the empty seat.
Zen gave Wayuu an arched eyebrow. His expression was a mix of amusement and possessiveness. “It’s a bet. I already know what I want.”
Wayuu dropped his gaze and stared at the table in front of him. He chewed on his lower lip. Gone was the brash and bold personality who strutted across the stage, and only a quiet man who seemed lost and out of his depth remained.
Daiki found himself wanting to help. His mental storyboard simply opened a new window on the page, and a character redirected the conversation. He’d be that character. “Sage, why don’t you tell Wayuu about Kashi-sei.”
Sage jerked a bit in his chair as he dragged his attention from the intensity and snapped around to smile at Daiki. “Thanks,” he said, and then he launched into his pitch.
Daiki had heard Sage’s ideas of the band several times, but each time he got in deeper. He wished he could play an instrument. Picking up the pen in front of him, he smiled, glad he had a part to play.
Haru spoke up. “So, you interested?”
Zen leaned forward, obviously hanging on Wayuu’s openmouthed pause.
Smiling as if it didn’t matter, Sage said, “No pressure if you want to think about it.”
“Are you serious about allowing each of us to be ourselves?” Wayuu’s voice cracked.
Sage nodded.
Wayuu gestured to his clothing. “What if ‘myself’ is not leather and all dominance? Still interested?”
Zen smirked. “I especially want you to be you… because I am all dominant.”
If Daiki had to capture Wayuu in that moment, he’d have drawn a puddle, but he’d never replicate that breathy little whimper Wayuu made.
Haru rolled his eyes. “Keep your domination to yourself, Zen. We gonna do this or what?”
Wayuu opened his mouth, but the door opened at the same time, admitting that man again, along with the representative.
“Before he accepts, let me see the contracts.” Ito-san bumped into Wayuu as he grabbed the detail page off the table.
Sage frowned. “Are you his agent, Ito-san?”
Wayuu pressed his lips together, his eyes went big, and he shook his head.
The man shot daggers at Wayuu and then through clenched teeth said, “Manager, actually.”
Zen studied Wayuu for a moment, then glared at the man. “Is that right?”
Ito-san turned over the sheet and cocked his head in Sage’s direction. “I don’t see a page for rules, consequences, or physical expectations.”
Wayuu sank lower in his chair.
Shaking his head, Sage said, “There isn’t one. We are all professionals. I don’t—”
Ito-san’s chuckle had a mean tone as he rested a hand on Wayuu’s shoulder. “That’s a shame. Wayuu does much better when there are penalties. Don’t you?”
Grimacing, Wayuu shrugged off Ito-san’s hand, shrank down in his chair, and stared at the table as if lyrics he’d need to memorize were etched into the top.
Sage frowned. “That will not be a part of this band, ever.”
Shaking his head, Ito-san exhaled. Then he glanced around the table. “Suzuki Zen will be part of this band as well?”
Sage gave him a small smile. “If we’re lucky. Yes, Kashi-sei will have two of the finest singers in Japan… if they agree.”
“The world, actually, but I’m too modest to correct you,” Zen deadpanned.
Wayuu turned to him with a cocked head and a grin that reached his eyes for the very first time since Daiki laid eyes on him.
“Yes, well… this seems to be reasonable.” Ito-san looked up from the detail sheet.
Wayuu shifted away from the guy’s hand when it tried to land on his shoulder again.
Ito-san said through clenched teeth, “We will meet tonight at seven to finish our discussion.”
Daiki couldn’t stand it. The guy and whatever hold he had over Wayuu felt incredibly wrong. “I’m sorry, that won’t be possible.”
All eyes turned to him… including Sage’s.
It was a risk, and he wasn’t even channeling a character, but he couldn’t stop himself. As crazy as it sounded, he wanted to protect Watanabe Wayuu. “Sage wanted everyone to leave here and go directly to my studio for the night.”
“For the night?” Haru and Ito-san asked at the same time.
Sage’s warm expression had morphed into a wide-eyed stare.
Daiki sent follow my lead through his brain waves and eyeballs, along with a small nod.
“Yes, um, yes. It’s incredibly important for us to begin to meld as a band as soon as possible.” Sage pulled that out of nowhere, but it sounded credible.
“Yes, from this point forward it’s Kashi-sei twenty-four seven for a few weeks, if not longer.”
“Yeah, right.” When Ito-san saw the firm set of Sage’s chin, the expression devoid of amusement on Haru, and Zen throwing him death wishes with his eyes, he added, “Well, with this salary, I guess we’re on your timetable.”
“We’re? Don’t you mean Wayuu is?” Haru clarified.
Sage stood. “Thank you for your time today.”
The company rep stepped in and led a bemused Ito out of the room.
Daiki smiled at the band. They had rallied around Wayuu, even if they didn’t know why.
WHEN THEY slid into the car Sage had requested to pick them up, Wayuu sat beside Daiki.
“Give the driver your addresses so we can stop for your stuff.” Sage smiled at Daiki but didn’t ask any of the questions about the impromptu slumber party that were in his eyes.
Somehow Daiki had gained Sage’s trust, and that made him feel great. They were playing on the same team, even though Sage wasn’t clear on all the details yet.
Once the addresses were given, Haru asked, “For one night or…?”
Sage tilted his head to Daiki; his eyes were just—no, not the time to get lost in Sage’s kind eyes. “Um, oh, I guess a couple of nights, right? The band will probably find an apartment quickly?”
“The agent has several apartments to show us. I’ll see if she can do tours tomorrow. Sound good?” Sage glanced around.
“Great,” Zen mumbled, and he stared out the window. “Hey, where will Kashi-sei debut?”
“Good question. I only know what was recommended to me. I obviously don’t know the scene here.”
“I’d be happy to help arrange some shows,” Zen volunteered.
Haru nodded. “Hey, if it’s not stepping on toes, I’d love to participate.”
Sage caught his breath, but then he nodded with a smile. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be a big help. Thanks.”
Haru and Zen had specific ideas, so a friendly debate began. Sage questioned them about locations and club owners.
When they got to Wayuu’s apartment, he leaned in and asked, “Can you help me?”
Unexpected, but Daiki said, “Sure.”
“I’ll help you,” Zen and Sage offered.
“That’s okay. I’m closest.” Daiki slid out of the seat and shut the car door before anyone tried to follow.
The apartment building was old and didn’t have an elevator. Apparently Wayuu was used to this, as he bounded up the stairs.
Daiki hiked up the stairs a little more sedately and found Wayuu reading a notice tacked to his door.
“Is that an eviction notice?” That meant he was months behind in rent.
Wayuu shrugged and opened the door to his apartment. “Makes moving a good thing.”
The small room was dark, so Daiki flicked the light switch, but nothing happened.
“Power was shut off a while a
go.”
Looking around the mostly empty room, Daiki tried to understand how an idol like Watanabe Wayuu lived here, but he failed. The tiny room had a kitchenette. A tattered sofa with bedsheets and a pillow on it, a lamp sitting on top of a cardboard box, a small scarred chest of drawers, a guitar case, and a shoe rack that had seen better days were the only furniture.
Wayuu glanced away from Daiki. “I sold everything to try to pay down Fire’s debt. At least there’s not much to pack.”
He grabbed a suitcase plastered with tour stickers out of the only closet and began packing his clothing into it. “By the way, I know you overheard in the restaurant.”
Daiki couldn’t lie, so he nodded.
Wayuu shook his head. “I can’t imagine what you think of me.”
“That you’re one of the most talented singers in Japan—ah, no, the world.” Daiki smiled but failed to lighten the mood.
Wayuu gave him a small chuckle and went into the bathroom. He came out and added the few toiletries in a plastic bag to his suitcase. “Fire’s overseas tour was canceled, and because of that, the band got into debt. Ito-san rescued us. The other guys escaped, but I’m on the hook… and recently, Ito decided the money I owe him isn’t enough.”
“From what I overheard, he’s using a private clip to blackmail you.”
Wayuu crossed to the chest of drawers. He grabbed the contents out of the top drawer and added the items to his suitcase. “Mm, sounds like a plot in one of your manga.”
For lack of anything else to say, Daiki let his “I’m sorry” echo around the empty apartment.
Shrugging, Wayuu opened the bottom drawer and smiled as he pulled out a framed picture. He traced his fingers over it and then turned to display the picture of Fire. “This was after our first big show.”
Didn’t have to tell that to Daiki. The band appeared to have made it, and they were floating in a sea of what seemed like unstoppable happiness. “We’ll have to take one of your first big show with Kashi-sei.”
“Mm.” Wayuu set the apartment keys on the table, grabbed the suitcase that seemed to contain his entire life, and picked up his guitar. “Thank you,” he said as he walked out of the empty room.
