The Winter Quarters

by Anna Veriani

  JUST like that, Kai was gone. Hiro didn’t even get to drive him to the local airport, as there was a car waiting out front in the morning. One kiss when Hiro still had morning breath, and Kai trudged off to meet his fate.

  Hiro lay on his futon next to Kai’s empty one, exhaling frosty air. It was rapidly getting colder. A snowstorm was on its way.

  He was so alone.

  Hiro would have to distract himself—between Christmas, which Kai had gotten Hiro’s mother all excited about, and New Year, there were plenty of preparations for Hiro to dive into. He needed to focus on something that wasn’t Kai on a private jet, returning to stardom.

  He had to trust Kai would do this. Kai had never properly stood up for himself before, but he’d also never kissed Hiro before, never admitted to his fantasies or expressed interest in commitment. New things could happen. Hiro just had to persevere until they did.

  KAI’S security team met him on the tarmac of JFK Airport and led him to an SUV with tinted windows. Kai knew they weren’t properly in the city, and every airport in the world was pretty terrible, but he looked around and saw only concrete, steel buildings, and the expressway. No beautiful mountains in the distance, no rice paddies nearby.

  This sucks.

  Someone opened the car door for him, and he slid in.

  He gaped.

  “Ledging,” Duffy greeted in his bored, drawling tone, lounging in the seat beside Kai’s.

  Sometimes when Kai saw Duffy out of the corner of his eye, he thought he was looking at a wax model. There was a plastic dullness to him, an overall synthetic quality that began at the eyes: flat blue voids. He gave Kai something that wasn’t quite a smile, his lips pale, curling worms. His yellow hair was slicked back, darker at the roots, like it was gilded with cheap gold. His hands were stuffed into a velvet smoking jacket.

  “Duffy,” Kai said evenly. “I thought my mom was going to meet me here.”

  “Kimi texted you.” Duffy half closed his eyes like Kai was too boring to look at clearly. “She’s busy with her sonic whatsit. Clothes thingy. She sent me instead.”

  “Great.” Kai reached into his pocket, wondering when she’d sent that text. His pockets were empty.

  “Not really.” Duffy sighed. “She said you’re trying to pull some bullshit with your contract.”

  Kai had given his mom permission to forewarn anyone relevant. It needed to be a secret from the network producers until his lawyers could handle it, but the show had so many moving pieces, so many participants, that some people needed to know ahead of time. It was obvious now that Duffy was one of those people. Somehow Kai just hadn’t considered it.

  “I’m quitting the show.” Kai opened his duffel bag, which he’d packed hastily just before leaving the inn, and dug around for his phone.

  “You’re not going to screw me over, Ledging,” Duffy said. “Is this some attempt to get me sacked? Because I’m not leaving. If you go I’ll spend the next season crying over your absence, and then I’ll pretend to fall in love with your mother to keep up my relevance.”

  “Good. Cool. I don’t care what you do.” He had his charger, but his phone definitely wasn’t in his bag. He must have left it in the Winter Quarters—probably in one of Hiro’s slippers or something. Damn it.

  He had his tablet too, which he’d been using to read on the plane. It was nearly dead, but….

  “Can tablets make phone calls?” he asked.

  “With Wi-Fi,” Duffy said gruffly. “Which this shitty car your mom’s assistant booked does not have.” He glared at Kai. “Don’t change the subject. You’re not actually leaving the show, moron. They’ll never let you go.”

  Kai’s heart stammered. He’d been trying not to think about this the entire plane ride: he still had no exit plan. Saying he’d get out was a lot easier than saying how. He unlocked his tablet, trying to distract himself. Maybe there was a way to call Hiro on it without Wi-Fi. But he didn’t even know his number. Damn it.

  “Did my mom send you to convince me to stay?” Kai asked. Because if so, she really should have sent anyone else.

  “No. You’ve somehow convinced Kimi to help you.” Duffy’s upper lip twitched. “But it doesn’t matter. You’ll be in front of the cameras on Christmas Day, with me, pretending not to hate your life, and I’ll be pretending not to hate you.” He laughed a hollow laugh.

  Kai was far past the point of caring what Duffy thought of him. He messed with the tablet, and it continued not to be a phone. Then Duffy, because he was Duffy, looked out the window and mused: “They should really clean this part of New York up.”

  “You mean Queens?”

  Duffy ignored him. “You know, while you were in Buttfuck, Japan, I went to Abu Dhabi. That’s a city to look to. Why can’t New York be more like that?”

  Kai wondered if he meant the good weather and multiculturalism, or maybe the towering skyscrapers of gold and enormous income inequality. When Duffy looked out the window again, Kai was struck with a memory of them in a stalled limo in Harlem last autumn, Duffy going, I don’t understand why they let hideous people out onto the street where we can see them.

  He wondered what Duffy would say if he knew that moment had triggered a recurring nightmare in Kai for the past four months. That Kai had woken up in a cold sweat in the Japanese countryside, terrified he’d one day look in the mirror and see Duffy staring back at him.

  He never would. He was certain now. As long as he chose to get off of the show, he was saved. The Big D was merely odious to him; he wasn’t a harbinger of what Kai could become.

  It was barely a decision to pull up the recording app on his tablet. Pressing Record wasn’t a debate. He just did it. His tablet alerted him that it was dying, but the recording started.

  Kai tried to think of something to nudge Duffy into a rant, but before he could come up with anything, Duffy continued unprompted: “I heard rent is cheap in this area. It makes it too… accessible.”

  Duffy said “accessible” in the way other people said “rotted and diseased.”

  “I read that Flushing, Queens, is the most linguistically diverse neighborhood in the world,” Kai offered.

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Duffy said. “Plebeians littered on the street with the rats.”

  He continued, not even looking at Kai, to flagrantly insult every conceivable demographic of New York, from the homeless to hipsters. Kai was vaguely surprised Duffy was even in touch enough with the city to know whom, precisely, to insult.

  “If they rid the city of the subway system, it’d be a lot better off,” Duffy finished airily, leaning back, pleased with his ingenious city planning idea.

  Kai assumed Duffy forgot who he was talking to, but after a few moments, Duffy turned to him. “Is that why you want off the show? Feeling stuck in this shithole?”

  “No—”

  “I wouldn’t mind moving to LA or something,” Duffy said. “Or at least we could summer there.”

  “I’m not spending my summer on the show,” Kai said quietly but sternly.

  Duffy rolled his eyes. “You’ll get over this. Kimi will come round, and then you’ll follow after her like you always do.” He shook his head. “You know, I only ever signed on to your stupid show because of your mother. And now she’s fucking me over by taking your side in all this shit you’re stirring up.”

  Kai glanced down. His tablet was at 7 percent battery, but the recording was still going.

  Duffy continued, “I thought, ‘Kimi Takahashi. That woman is a goddamn mess, but she does business like no one else.’ I never would have expected her to opt for something as obviously stupid as you leaving.”

  “The show will be fine without me,” Kai said. “It’s still got you and Kimi, your parents, and Carlos.”

  “Viewers like us, idiot. Kimi appeals to straight men and older women—we appeal to queer men and all women. I’m not going to let you tank our fucking views because of Hot Mister Hiro.”

  Kai stiffene
d. He stopped the recording. Whatever he might do with Duffy’s words, he didn’t want to drag Hiro into it. “How do you know about Hiro?”

  “Because he told me to go fuck myself, maybe?”

  Ah. The email Hiro had sent and never let him see. Kai had to suppress a snort because he didn’t want to annoy Duffy more than he had to. God, he missed Hiro. What would he say right now?

  “You think he’s hot?” Kai grinned. He tucked his tablet into his bag.

  “I saw his picture,” Duffy sniffed. “I’m not blind.” Kai was still grinning, which made Duffy snap, “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. Christ, you’re actually that fucking smitten, aren’t you?”

  Kai always felt small around Duffy—Duffy was taller than him and had a certain musculature and girth that just wasn’t in Kai’s DNA. But Hiro definitely had a good few inches on Duffy. This pleased Kai enormously. He could imagine Hiro staring Duffy down with that wonderful mix of genial and intimidating that only Hiro could pull off, a little bit scary and a little bit funny, like a grizzly bear that told knock-knock jokes.

  Kai ached for his stupid phone. In Kaga it was the tool through which New York could reach him, and so he had wanted it off. But here it was the best way to contact Hiro, and he needed Hiro.

  Outside, the JFK Expressway rolled out before them. Billboards for divorce lawyers and cosmetic surgery flashed by. Kai rubbed his temples. Welcome home.

  THE first two days were hell. Kai didn’t call him, and every time Hiro dialed Kai’s number, it went straight to voicemail. He felt sentimental about vacating the Winter Quarters, the only place where he and Kai had ever had any kind of sex. But with Kai leaving early, it only made sense to clean it.

  The snow was pounding down hard, sticking to the ground in layers so dense it would become ice by morning. The winds blew, too, shaking the doors and windows.

  Hiro cleaned out the Winter Quarters until it smelled like fresh peppermint and brought in pine branches for the flower arrangement in the alcove. He did one last scan of the room before handing it off to his mother for final inspection. He was glad he was thorough, because one of his own socks had snuck behind the toilet.

  “What—?” The sock was oddly heavy.

  He shook it out and caught a phone midair. Kai’s phone.

  “Damn you, Kai-kun,” he whispered fondly. To his surprise, it started buzzing.

  He opened the lock screen. The phone was nearly dead, killing itself faster by buzzing over a missed call alert. It’d logged one call from Kimi and several from an unknown New York number.

  Hiro quickly called the number back.

  “Hiro?” Kai picked up on the first ring.

  “Oh, thank God,” Hiro blurted. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

  Kai murmured inarticulately.

  “What’s that, babe?”

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” Kai said softly. “God, Hiro, I need you here so badly. The lawyers—”

  The phone beeped in Hiro’s ear.

  “Your phone is dying, Kai. I don’t have a charger for an iPhone. Do you have my number?”

  “No!” Kai said. “That’s why I was calling my own phone.”

  “Let me give it to you before the line goes dead,” Hiro rushed. The phone beeped again.

  “Okay. I just need to find pen and paper….”

  “Type it on your new phone, Kai!” Hiro said desperately. It was beeping every few seconds.

  “Right! Fuck, my head is so clouded,” Kai said. “Give it to me n—”

  Silence.

  “Kai?” Hiro said. “Kai?” It was useless. He tried restarting Kai’s phone, but it refused to light up. He hadn’t gotten Kai’s new number either. Where was his charger? Damn it.

  He scrambled for his own phone, emailing Kai his number. The email said sending but wouldn’t deliver; the internet must be down. Hiro deflated.

  Someone knocked outside the room.

  “Yes?” Hiro said.

  “Big cousin?” It was Risa. “Kai just called the front desk for you. He’s still on the line.”

  Hiro slid open the door and rushed out. “Thank you, Risa!” he said breathlessly, wheeling past her.

  “Wait, Hiro!” Risa called after him. “The storm—”

  “We’ll talk later!” Hiro said. “Kai first.”

  He bowed hastily to the guests he passed and slid smoothly behind the front desk. One phone was off its hook. He grabbed it and said in polite Japanese, just in case it wasn’t Kai, “Hello. Asada Hiro speaking.”

  “Hiro,” Kai said. “I called the inn earlier, but the—”

  The line went silent. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Kai?” Hiro sighed.

  He hung up. A moment later the phone rang. He tried again. “Hello. Asada Hiro speaking.”

  “It’s me. Is there something wrong with your phone line?” Kai’s voice crackled in and out.

  That must have been what Risa was trying to warn him about. “There’s a snowstorm,” Hiro said.

  “What?”

  “There’s a snowstorm here,” he said more slowly. “The wind—”

  “What?”

  “Never mind! How are you?”

  “Are you asking….” Kai’s voice faded.

  “What’s that?” Hiro asked. “Kai, you mentioned something about your lawyers?”

  “—email you—”

  “No, I don’t have internet,” Hiro said desperately. “Just tell me how you are.”

  “It’s a—” Crackle. “—Kimi tried to fight, but—” Crackle. “—army of lawyers—”

  The phone went dead. Hiro waited for Kai to call back. Whatever Kai was saying, it clearly wasn’t the news Hiro wanted to here. The phone rang again.

  “Hello. Asada Hiro speak—”

  “So I can’t get out of my contract,” Kai interrupted. “Because of all that.”

  “Because of all what?” Hiro said, his stomach sinking. “I missed a lot of what you said.”

  “I was saying that there are exit clauses in my contract,” Kai explained, his voice mixed with static, “but they can only be used in the case of me finding a higher-paying job than the show.” Kai snorted, or maybe that was the line crackling. “It never dawned on my lawyers to insert an exit clause in the case of me falling in love with an inn owner on the other side of the world.”

  “So what does that mean?” Hiro asked. Two guests passed him, and he inclined his head and smiled. The moment they were down the hall, he leaned against the desk, covering his face with one hand. Pressure was building behind his eyes.

  “I can’t get out of the show,” Kai said. “Not without majorly screwing over absolutely every single person I work with, including my mom. I’d be destroying the entire show. And I’d be in a—”

  Crackle.

  “No. Fuck. Fuck!” Hiro whispered so that no one around him would hear his increasing desperation. “Fuck, Kai, I can’t hear you—”

  “—ton of legal trouble—”

  “Kai, can you hear me?”

  Kai was still talking, only the words kept fading in and out, overcome with static. Hiro spoke louder and louder, but it was obvious Kai wasn’t hearing anything on his end.

  “—that’s why I need to ask you—time sensitive—your permission first—”

  “Ask me what?” Hiro said.

  “Are you there?”

  “I’m here, Kai,” Hiro said.

  “Hiro, you there?”

  It was no use. Hiro hung up the phone. This time when Kai called back, Hiro just said, “Kai? What are you asking me?”

  Static answered.

  “I can’t hear you,” he said, more frustrated than he’d ever been with the distance between them. “In case you can hear me, you have my permission for anything you need. Do what you think is best. I love you.”

  This time, when he hung up, the phone didn’t ring again.

  Risa emerged at the front desk a few minutes later. Hiro stood there, unable to summon the will to mo
ve.

  “That wasn’t good news,” she said immediately, frowning. “Is he still coming back for Christmas?”

  “His show.” It was all Hiro could say. He looked up at the ceiling, fighting the heat behind his eyes. “It’s not possible for him to get out of his work contract. And filming starts up on Christmas Day, so I guess that means….”

  “He can’t come,” Risa said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Hiro shrugged. He felt like he weighed five hundred pounds. Not knowing how Kai was doing was bad before, but he almost missed that tense uncertainty. It was better than whatever budding grief was now forming in his chest.

  “I feel sorry for him,” he said. “And I miss him. And I wish he hadn’t promised he’d be here, because it was a stupid promise. But also I wish it was a promise he could keep, because he sounded miserable on the phone.”

  Risa put a hand on his shoulder. “He really loves you, Hiro.”

  “I know,” Hiro said. “Just worried that’s not enough right now.”

  KAI hung up the phone, feeling jittery. They’d shut down the men’s suit store so that he and his mother could browse with their stylist in privacy.

  “What did he say?” His mom had listened in anxiously on his botched attempts to talk to Hiro.

  “He didn’t seem to care,” Kai said, frowning. “I’m not sure if he even heard me clearly, but he said, ‘Do what you think is best.’”

  “That’s wonderful!” Kimi exclaimed. “I feel all buoyant!”

  Kai didn’t. He smiled at his mother, but his heart was sinking.

  “Look at this tie.” Kimi gestured toward a shimmery metallic one on display. “It suits you.” She laughed her chime laugh. “Ah, Kai! Just think: tomorrow we’ll be working out the details with Jonathan and Goro, and then you’ll be off to Japan!”

  “Off to Japan,” he echoed numbly.

  “To shoot your half of K and K at the inn,” she said.

  This had been her solution: ship an extra crew out to Japan with him, to bring Kai’s fame into the countryside. It was a way of being with Hiro while not having to break his contract.

  And hadn’t Hiro just given him blanket permission to do anything he needed to? Kai should have been happy—at least as happy as his mom, who was currently working hard to find the best armor, a.k.a. fashion, to face their producers tomorrow. But it didn’t sit right with Kai. He hadn’t realized it until just now, but he’d been betting on Hiro objecting.