The Book of the Pearl

by Carrie Asai

  “Look,” Cheryl said, flashing me a look that said,I’ll handle this, “it’s a sweet offer, but maybe later, okay?” Her voice had softened, and she slid out of the guy’s grasp slowly. “I’m really flattered.”

  “I may hold you to that,” he said with a smile. I breathed with relief. Cheryl had diffused the situation like a pro.

  “Great. Later.” Cheryl waggled her fingers at him, and he moved toward the bar. I stepped forward.

  “Good work,” I whispered.

  Cheryl tugged at her skirt. “No big deal. You’re going to have to get used to stuff like that—Miss Feisty.”

  “Hey, hey!” I turned around. The short guy with the tight shirt was trying to get our attention again.

  “Jeez.” I rolled my eyes at Cheryl. “What iswith these guys?”

  “I kind of feel sorry for him—he looks so lost.” Cheryl smiled at Shorty and I pulled on the back of her shirt.

  “What are you doing?” I said under my breath. “He’s the only guy here who looks as nervous as I feel.” He gestured wildly with one hand, biting his nails with the other.

  “Come on…,” Cheryl coaxed, “he looks so lonely. Rule one: If you’re going to accept a free drink, accept it from someone harmless.”

  I sighed. “Okay.” I sure knew what feeling out of place was like. And Cheryl was right—this guy was nerd city.

  “Come on,” he wheedled, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Don’t mind if we do,” she said. “I’m Cheryl. And this is Heaven.”

  “I’m Dubious,” he said, and held out his hand.

  I looked over at Cheryl. Was this guy for real?

  “It’s a nickname,” Dubious explained. “My real name’s Gerald.” He couldn’t stop tapping the table with his fingers. I wondered what he was so worked up about, but I was too shy to ask.

  Cheryl wasn’t. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Just nerves,” Dubious replied. “I don’t quite know what to say to a couple of pretty girls like you.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet,” Cheryl said. “Why not try, ‘Hey, let me buy you a couple of drinks’?” I kicked Cheryl’s leg under the table.

  Dubious frowned. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Drinks. Yes. I’ll be right back.” He scurried off.

  “Cheryl! That was so mean! The poor guy!”

  “What? He said he wanted to buy us drinks, so…let him!” Cheryl whipped out her compact and reapplied her lipstick.

  “I know he did, but he seems so…young. He’s about as good at talking to women as I am at talking to men.”

  “So maybe you guys can practice on each other.” Cheryl laughed, raising an eyebrow.

  “Thanks alot, jerk.” Cheryl laughed again.

  “Drinks?” Dubious placed two red drinks on the table. Cheryl began downing hers immediately. I could tell she was already bored with Dubious and wanted to head for greener pastures. I sipped my drink just to be polite. “What is this?” I whispered to Cheryl.

  “Vodka cranberry,” Cheryl said, then turned to Dubious and raised her glass. “Good choice.”

  “So what do you do?” I asked Dubious, whose tics seemed to have intensified. He reminded me of Farnsworth, this guy I used to work with at Life Bytes. Maybe I just had a soft spot for nerdy types. They were usually a lot nicer than the hot guys—in my limited experience, anyway. I wondered what Dubious’s story was.

  “I’m a performer,” he said.

  “Were you onAmerican Idol ?” Cheryl asked. I kicked her again. Why was she giving him such a hard time?

  Dubious’s face lit up. “No, but I tried out for that show!”

  “Youdid? ” I asked, amazed to have run into someone who would actually subject themselves to that kind of humiliation. Maybe Dubious was just a glutton for punishment. After all, millions of Japanese were. On our reality shows, a lot worse things happened. Like, they’d film this guy walking up to people and screaming in their faces, scaring the crap out of them. Literally. And that was the least of it.

  “Yep. Paula liked me, but Simon said I was a ridiculous excuse for a human being, let alone a pop star.”

  “Ouch,” I said.

  “What did you sing?” Cheryl asked.

  “ ‘Lady Marmalade,’ ” Dubious said, then launched into a falsetto rendition,“Mocha-choca-latta-ya-ya.” I chewed my lip in a desperate attempt not to laugh, and I saw that Cheryl was digging her nails into her arm for the same reason.

  “Wow,” Cheryl said, trying to keep a straight face, “I can’t believe you didn’t make it.”

  “I know.” Dubious sighed. “But someday I will.” He gulped at his drink, slumping in his chair a little bit.

  “You will,” I said, and patted his shoulder.

  “You really think so?” he asked, his face brightening.

  “Definitely,” Cheryl chimed in. “Okay, Dubious, we gotta go.”

  “So soon?”

  “Sorry, things to do.” Cheryl stood up.

  “Bye!” I yelled over my shoulder as Cheryl dragged me away from the table. When I looked back a moment later, Dubious had already found another unsuspecting victim, so I didn’t feel that bad.

  “What’s up withthat guy?” Cheryl asked, and we both burst out laughing.

  “Do you think he comes here a lot?” I asked.

  “Probably. Every club has its weirdoes, even the cool ones. There are some very lonely people in L.A.”

  Don’t I know it,I thought as Cheryl and I wove through the smoky club toward the bathrooms. Two girls cut in front of me after Cheryl went in, but I was too much of a wuss to say anything. Loneliness washed over me. I thought about Hiro and how he’d hate it if he knew I was at a place like this. Sometimes it seemed like Cheryl was the only person I could be real with—and that was pretty pathetic, considering there were a million things about myself I couldn’t tell her. What kind of friendship was that?

  Cheryl picked up another drink for herself on our way back to the dance floor. The bartender who served her had a shaved head and huge hoop earrings and looked like she would be at home on a Milan runway. She was cool, calm, and collected. The opposite of how I felt, which was about twelve years old. Cheryl downed her drink as quickly as the one Dubious had given her.

  “Are you sure you should be drinking all that?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “Don’t be so…,” Cheryl said, tracing a little air square with her fingers. “Come on, let’s dance.”

  So we did. I had no idea how long we were out there; I only knew that it felt incredible to let loose and dance. My mind went totally blank as I let my body follow the beat all on its own. The only time over the last few months I’d even come close to such mental peace was when I tried out some of Hiro’s meditation techniques. Dancing at Vibe blew meditation away.

  When I opened my eyes, Cheryl was gone. I had no idea how long I’d been dancing, but it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. This was the America I’d wanted to be a part of so long ago, and I felt miles away from all my troubles. Somehow I didn’t feel as lonely anymore. I scanned the dance floor and caught sight of a pink-streaked head. A slow song had come on, and Cheryl was dancing with someone. Actually, dancing wasn’t the right word—they were so close, it was hard to tell where Cheryl ended and the guy began. He turned, and I saw that he was gorgeous. Tall and trim, with skin the color of a mocha latte.

  When the song ended, Cheryl whispered something in her new friend’s ear, then walked over to me.

  “Marcus and I are going to go talk,” Cheryl said, and winked.

  “That’s Marcus, I presume?” I giggled.

  “Isn’t he adorable? I love a man with style.”

  “That suit he’s wearing looks like Versace,” I said. I used to follow high fashion back in Japan. Actually, I used towear high fashion back in Japan. My father wasn’t always the most lovable man in the world, but he wasn’t stingy. Of course, I was rarely allowed to get the kind of cutting-edge outfits I wanted, but I made do. At l
east my father didn’t usually object to Juicy Couture hoodies and Seven jeans.

  “Here.” Cheryl squeezed a twenty-dollar bill into my hand. “Get a drink. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Be careful,” I said, smiling. “And thanks!” I yelled as she walked away.

  “Okay. But nottoo careful,” Cheryl said, looking over her shoulder with a grin.

  I figured I’d burned off my other two drinks with all that dancing, so I ordered a vodka and cranberry juice, which tasted delicious. I was so thirsty that I ordered another one, drank it down, then surveyed the scene. It was three in the morning, according to the bar clock, but I wasn’t tired at all. I felt more relaxed then I’d been since—well, since ever. I slid off my stool and got back on the dance floor, totally giving myself up to the music and the soft red light that made all the dancers look like ghosts. It felt so good to use my body this way, so different from the rigidity and force required by my martial arts training. I let the music flow through me, imagining I could feel it tingling all the way down to my toes. I feltreal at Vibe. Not exactly safe, but more like the old Heaven, the one who would dance around in her room by herself just for fun, the one who dreamed of coming to college in the States, the one who dreamed of new adventures. I wanted that Heaven back, and on the dance floor it actually seemed possible to find her. I never wanted the music to end.

  Suddenly I felt a pair of arms slide around my waist.

  “Hey!” I yelled, trying to see behind me. Some guy had latched himself around me like a python.

  “You’re too hot,” he whispered in my ear, still bumping and grinding against me.

  I gulped and scanned the dance floor. I was on my own. So the question was: What would Cheryl do in this situation?

  I eased out of his grip and turned to face my pursuer. He was one of the Rastafarians, with dreads and a knit cap. He put a hand on my hip and tried to draw me closer.

  “H-Hey, now,” I stammered, trying to keep it light, “you can look but don’t touch.”

  He let go of my waist and held both hands in the air, smiling. It was working!

  “But you look so fine,” he said, leaning toward me. I was flattered in spite of myself. Why not dance with him? I had nothing better to do, and if Cheryl could take care of herself—maybe I could, too.

  Eventually my new partner excused himself to get a drink, and I stayed on the dance floor, fending off more partners. After a while I got downright slick about it. A guy would come up and start rubbing himself all over me, and I’d just smile, hold out an arm, and push him gently away—still dancing with him but at a safe distance. They’d stay for a song or so and then move on to greener pastures. It was kind of fun learning how to flirt this way.

  “Hey, Dancing Queen!” Cheryl tapped my shoulder. I looked around and noticed the club had cleared out considerably.

  “What time is it?” I asked, feeling a little out of it. How long had she been gone?

  “Just after four. Closing time.”

  “I can’t believe it. I feel great.” I stretched out my arms and blinked. I was sweaty and tired, but in the best possible way.

  “Me too. Listen—before we go, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  I trailed Cheryl back to the bar, where Marcus was talking to a bartender. His suit was cut to perfection, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. Very Vin Diesel. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my sweaty forehead. Not the sexiest maneuver, but I was feeling too good to care.

  “Heaven, meet Marcus. And this is his friend A. J.,” Cheryl said, gesturing to the bartender.

  “Hi.” Marcus smiled. I reached out to shake his hand and noticed he was wearing a large gold ring studded with rubies.

  “Great to meet you, Heaven,” he said, looking down at me. He had to be six-two at least, and Cheryl looked almost like a little kid next to him. “We hear you’re looking for a job.”

  “Ummm…yeah,” I said, a little embarrassed. I wondered why Cheryl had felt the need to tell them I was unemployed.

  “We’re really hurting for some help,” A.J. said, leaning over the bar. “Do you think you’d want to work here?”

  “At Vibe?” I said stupidly.

  “Yep. We need someone to pass out shots on the dance floor. No experience necessary. All you have to do is give out the shots and collect five bucks apiece. I’ll even teach you how to make them.”

  “Uh—”

  “Doesn’t that sound awesome?” Cheryl interrupted before I could get a word out. Marcus draped his Versace-clad arm around her and smiled his strange smile at me again. “And A. J. said then you’ll get in for free whenever you want. Obviously.” Cheryl seemed as excited as ifshe was the one who was going to work here.

  “Itdoes sound great…,” I mumbled, “but…”

  “Listen,” A. J. said, running his hand through his hair in a gesture that reminded me of Hiro, “Cheryl told us you have a little documentation problem, but it doesn’t matter. We pay strictly under the table. You’ll get four bucks an hour plus all your tips. And I think you can look forward toa lot of tips.” A. J. gave me an approving look. “On a busy night you’ll make three hundred bucks—easy.”

  “Excellent,” I said, trying to keep from smiling like an idiot. I hadn’t been sure about how to bring up the whole “illegal alien” thing, but Cheryl seemed to have worked all that out, too. “When do I start?”

  “How about tomorrow at ten?”

  “Perfect.” I wanted to dance. I’d gotten lucky again! Someone had given me a job even though I had no experience and no papers. And I’d get to come to Vibe almost every day! I couldn’t imagine a job more fun thanthat.

  “Okay. See you tomorrow, then.” A. J. moved away to finish closing down the bar, and Marcus gave Cheryl a slow kiss. I looked away, concentrating on the bottles lined up neatly behind the bar. I couldn’t help thinking that I’d never been kissed like that. An image of Hiro flashed across my brain.Don’t be greedy, Heaven, I told myself,you’ve got a job, and that’s enough for now.

  “It was nice to meet you, Heaven,” Marcus said. His voice was as slow and smooth as his smile. Cheryl grabbed my arm, and with one last longing look at Marcus and his hot bod, we were off.

  2

  “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” Cheryl squealed, doing a funky little two-step in the middle of the street. “Isn’t Marcus the hottest thing you’ve ever seen?”

  “Totally.” I laughed, linking arms with Cheryl. “And you are thebest roommate in the universe. I can’t believe you got me a job at Vibe!”

  “Thass right,” Cheryl said, slurring her words a little bit. I wondered how much she’d had to drink. I was feeling a little giddy myself, but Cheryl was really unsteady on her feet. “We both got something we needed.” She whirled out of my grasp and spun around in the abandoned street. “Marcus is sofine !” she yelled, her words echoing through the abandoned neighborhood.

  I laughed, but I couldn’t help thinking of Hiro. Why was love so easy for everyone else?

  “What’s wrong?” Cheryl asked, latching onto me again as we continued down the street.

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about Hiro. And Karen.” Karen was a teacher at the same dojo where Hiro trained. More importantly, she was now Hiro’s girlfriend—and she was beautiful. Cheryl knew all that. What she didn’t know was that a few weeks ago, Karen had been accidentally kidnapped by the people who were after me. I’d barely seen Hiro at all since we rescued her. Long story.

  “Forget him!” Cheryl yelled. “What does she have that you don’t? A thousand guys at Vibe were checking you out tonight. You need to expand your horizons. Play the field. Besides, Karen sounds like a boring little lame ass. You need a guy who knows how to have fun. Like Marcus.”

  I laughed. It was impossible to be jealous of Cheryl. She had a big heart, and without her I’d be both homeless and jobless. “I’m so happy for you,” I said. “He really seems great.”

  “He knows absolutely everybody,” Cher
yl raved. “He has his own events company. He planned a party for P. Diddy.”

  “Seriously?” I asked, impressed.

  “Yes. If things work out with us, we’re going to be hitting some of the hottest parties in L.A. Won’t that be awesome?”

  “Totally.” I readjusted my hold on Cheryl, who was leaning on me pretty heavily now. When my brother, Ohiko, and I used to talk about coming to the States together, we’d just assumed we’d meet lots of celebrities, but I hadn’t seen even one since coming to L.A. I guess that wasn’t too surprising, given that I’d spent most of my time at Hiro’s apartment, or in the dojo, or getting attacked by ninjas. I indulged in a quick fantasy of myself at a swank celebrity party, the kind I was always reading about inUS magazine, chatting up Maggie and Jake Gyllenhall or having a drink on the balcony with Leonardo DiCaprio. Maybe this was the beginning of a totally new life for me.

  A loud noise ripped through the early morning silence, jolting me back down to earth. I broke out in goose bumps. Cheryl and I stopped in our tracks.

  “Wha…?” Cheryl whispered, confused. The noise had sounded like something being overturned—a trash can, maybe, or a Dumpster? I came back to reality with a thud. I let go of Cheryl and concentrated on the sounds of the street, listening for any changes in the pattern of noises—the faraway rumbling of the highway, the creak of a loose street sign moving in the night wind. Samurai training was teaching me to use my senses to the fullest—so much so that sometimes it seemed like I was using a new, sixth sense. The streets were empty, but I sensed someone lurking in the shadows. I just knew it wasn’t safe here.

  “How far are we from the bus stop?” I whispered. L.A. was a real pain in the ass without a car. Not that either of us was in driving condition—and not that I had a driver’s license. I vowed to take a driver’s ed class as soon as my life calmed down. Whenever that might be.