The Book of the Pearl

by Carrie Asai

  “It’s not that bad, Hiro,” I said. “I mean, nothing’s broken.” I looked down at my bruise. It had gone an even deeper shade of blue-purple. But Hiro’d seen me in worse shape.

  “Let me get something for that.” Hiro rifled through the kitchen drawers, pulling out stacks of herbs to form a hot compress. “What are you doing?” he asked, seeing me still leaning on the chair. “Go lie down on the couch.”

  I hobbled into the living room, and Hiro followed a few minutes later with the compress. He knelt at my side and rubbed some kind of cream into my bruise, then placed the compress over it. It smelled minty.

  “What’s in that?” I asked, staring at his beautiful face.

  “A bunch of stuff,” Hiro said gently. “Mint, aloe…different herbs. It’s more effective if you can get it on the point of contact earlier, but this should ease the pain enough to make you more comfortable.”

  “I am comfortable,” I said, my eyes feeling heavy. I wanted to stay on that couch forever, with Hiro’s hands on my side, his face next to mine, taking care of me. Just the two of us. Maybe I could learn to be happy with what Hiro had to give me. Maybe in time he’d see…

  “Actually, Heaven, there’s something I have to tell you. Something I’ve been keeping from you.” Hiro shifted his hold on the compress, and I opened my eyes. Now I didn’t feel tired at all.

  “Yes?” My voice trembled. Two competing Heavens were clamoring for attention in my brain. The first said,He’s going to say it—he’s going to tell you how he’s attracted to you, but he feels like he can’t leave Karen right now because of everything that’s happened. The second chastised,Don’t be an idiot—this isn’t about Hiro’s supposedfeelings for you. We’ve been there before.

  Hiro sat down next to me. Was he actually nervous? Was he blushing? Heaven number one was chattering incessantly now—He’s going to tell you! He’s going to tell you he loves you!

  “It’s hard for me to tell you this….”

  I tried to look sympathetic and helpful, but my hands were shaking. I tilted my head and tried to ignore the voice that screamed,This is it this is it this is it!

  “A few days ago I got a phone call.” Hiro cleared his throat.

  What?It took my brain a few seconds to process that sentence. What did this have to do with our relationship?

  “It was Mieko.”

  “Mieko?”I gasped, trying to sit up. “When did this happen?”

  “Lie down,” Hiro ordered, pushing gently on my shoulder. “Last week.”

  “And you didn’t think that I shouldknow? You thought it was okay to keep that from me?” My anger was growing, and even though part of me sensed it was fueled by disappointment at Hiro’s “revelation,” I couldn’t control it.

  “I know, Heaven. I just—I wanted to protect you, and I wasn’t sure how to do it. I needed time to think. Eventually I realized I was wrong—”

  “You bet you were.”

  “—and so I’m telling you now. I’m sorry. It was dishonest of me.”

  “How did she get your number?” I asked coldly.

  “She said she got it from Konishi’s cell phone.” A month after fleeing the wedding, I’d called my father from Hiro’s phone to arrange a meeting. A mistake. “Is he still in a coma?” I asked, annoyed that I had to ask Hiro for information about my own family.

  “Yes. No change. I’m so sorry, Heaven. I know you loved him.” I’d never heard Hiro sound like that. Guess he wasn’t as used to screwing up as I was.

  “Why are you using the past tense?” I yelled. “He’s not dead!”

  “I know, I…” Hiro looked pained.

  “Forget it,” I snapped. “I can’t believe you. All your talk abouthonesty and thesamurai code —what a laugh. I can’t believe my mother called and you didn’t think that was something I needed to know! It’s unbelievable!”

  “Heaven, you know you’ve been impetuous in these situations before—I just thought that you should consider it carefully before you contact your family.”

  “No—you thoughtyou should consider it! I’m not a baby, Hiro! I’m sick and tired of you trying to make decisions for me!” I sat up.

  “Please lie down, Heaven.” Hiro put his hand on my shoulder, and I shook it off. It was a little late for another intimate moment.

  “Forget it! I’m fine.” I threw the compress on the floor. He was lucky I hadn’t chucked it at his head.

  Hiro’s mouth pursed, and he straightened up. “Look, Heaven—I said I was sorry. And I am. But you’re the one who came here asking me to solve your problems, so don’t pretend that I’m the one treating you like a child. Take some responsibility for yourself.”

  I stood up. That was it.

  “You know what, Hiro? You can take your training and shove it.” I pulled on my sweatshirt. “Sorry to have been such aburden to you. How about this? I’ll take full responsibility for myself from now on, okay? You won’t have to do a thing because you won’t see me.”

  “Heaven…” Hiro’s voice was stern—why did he always have to play the father? I didn’t need another father. I needed a friend.

  “Goodbye, Hiro,” I said. “You’ll let me know if Mieko calls again, I hope. You have my number.”

  “Don’t you want to know what she said?” Hiro asked as I headed for the door.

  I stopped. “Tell me,” I said, without turning around.

  “She just wanted to talk to you. She said Konishi had mumbled your name.”

  Tears. I turned quickly toward the door to hide them, leaving without another word. Outside, I stumbled down the stairs, noticing gratefully that the pain in my side really was better from the compress, and made it around the corner before giving in to the crying fit. I sobbed like a baby. Crying was about the only thing I was doing well on a regular basis these days. Maybe Hiro was right—I needed to grow up.

  But so did he. I wasn’t the only one who’d screwed things up. I was sure as hellfinished with taking the blame.

  I can’t help it. I know it’s awful.

  But I hate her.

  She’s completely destroying my life. Everything was going so well before she showed up. I loved my job, I was totally content in my apartment—loved Echo Park, was having a great time hanging out with Sami and some of the other girls from the dojo. Then Hiro came along, and our feelings for each other just seemed to blossom so naturally, so beautifully.

  We were made for each other. We both love what we do. We are committed to our physical training. He likes to do yoga with me, and he cares about the environment and the world we live in. Whether we’re just sitting around reading the Sunday paper or going on a bike ride—we have fun. We’re on the same wavelength.

  At least we were.

  Look at me! I’m cowering in my apartment like a baby! Ever since the day they kidnapped me—right from Hiro’s doorstep—nothing has been the same. I was so relieved to see him after the whole ordeal. I thought the nightmare was finally over. Hiro’d already been beaten up by the thugs who were after her, and after the kidnapping, well…I thought he’d be infuriated with Heaven for messing up our lives that way. I thought he’d tell her to leave us alone.

  But he didn’t. He wasn’t mad at all. In fact, all he could talk about was how guilty he felt for sending her into the kidnappers’ lair on her own to save me!

  I finally said, “I’m sorry my being here makes you feel so bad. You could have just left me with them.”

  Thatgot his attention. He shut up about Heaven after that, for the most part. But I can tell he’s distracted. Before this happened, we’d spend hours fooling around, watching movies. Cooking soup together. Now he wants to be alone. He’s meditating a lot.

  So where does that leave me?

  It’s obvious something between us was broken that day. And it’s all Heaven’s fault. She needs to find someone besides Hiro to give all her problems to. And if he won’t tell her so…I will. I refuse to play second fiddle to a manipulative nineteen-year-old girl who got h
erself mixed up in some bad business.

  I may be nice, but I’m no pushover. And if Hiro wants action, well, that’s what he’s going to get.

  Karen

  7

  By the time A. J. counted out my Thursday night pay, my week’s total came to $758.

  “Not bad for a week’s work, huh?” A. J. asked with a smile.

  “Not at all.” I grinned. “Where’d Nina go, by the way?”

  A. J. looked disgusted. “She had to leave early again. You know, if this keeps up, you may get promoted to bartender. And that’s where thereal money is.”

  “That would be awesome,” I said, avoiding A. J.’s eyes. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a bartender at Vibe—it seemed too…permanent or something. (Although not having Nina around would unequivocally rock.) What Hiro had said in our last fight was still with me—maybe Vibe wasn’t safe. I didn’t want to get too attached. Even though I still wasn’t training, it seemed to me likesomething had to give. It was only a matter of time.

  I’d decided after leaving Hiro’s that I wouldn’t try to contact Mieko just yet, even though part of me wanted to reach out to her in spite of our problems in the past. It felt good to know that someone in what was left of my family wanted to find me, but I still wasn’t sure if I hadn’t called because (a) I was still trying to prove to Hiro that I wasn’t the impulsive, irresponsible teenager he thought I was or (b) because I really thought it might be wiser to wait. I still wasn’t sure about Mieko’s role in everything that had happened, and knowing that my father had ties to the yakuza made me wary of further contact. The last two times I’d been with my family, I’d been attacked by ninja, and that madeany communication too risky. Whatever the reason, I’d made my decision. It just felt safer right now not to have contact with home.

  I glanced over at Marcus and Cheryl, who were making out in a corner booth. A. J. had flipped on some overhead lights for cleanup, so I could see them all too well.Stop looking at them, pervert, a voice in my head scolded. But it was fascinating. Would I ever get kissed like that? Ever? I couldn’t help wondering what Hiro and Karen were doing right now. Probably sleeping. Or reading to each other from the bushido. Hiro could be such an old man.

  “She better watch out with him,” A. J. said, breaking into my thoughts.

  “What do you mean? I thought you and Marcus were friends.” I leaned against the bar. Over the past week I’d really come to like A. J. He was a genuinely good-hearted guy, and he was patient with my klutziness. Quite a few of Vibe’s shot glasses had met an early death at my hands.

  “In this business, Heaven, ‘friend’ is a term used very loosely. Know what I’m saying?”

  “Not really,” I admitted, feeling a little nervous. I hated not “getting” things.

  A. J. leaned closer to me across the bar. “It’s all about favors, Heaven. Who can do what for who—who knows people. Marcus knows everybody—and you don’t want to be on his bad side.” A. J. raised his eyebrows. “He’s gotconnections. You understand?”

  I glanced over at Marcus, then back at A. J. I was having a foreign language moment. My English was damn near perfect, but there were still some nuances and lingo that went over my head.

  “Um—you mean, he’s got a shady business? He’s a party promoter, right?”

  “Sure. But that’s not all he is.” A. J. widened his eyes. “You know what I mean?”

  I was hopeless. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to help me out here, A. J….”

  “You know he’s a banger, right?”

  A cartoonish image of Marcus wielding a mallet against some helpless pumpkins popped into my head. That couldn’t be right. My face must have looked blank because A. J. quickly added: “Agang banger.”

  “He’s a gang member?” I whispered. “You’re kidding.” I shot another look at Marcus and Cheryl. He certainly didn’t look like the gangbangers in the movies. No baggy pants, no bandanna. Marcus’s style was more P. Diddy wanna-be thanBoyz ’N the Hood.

  A. J. shook his head. “Nope. It’s true. He has his fingers in a lot of pies, and he controls a pretty big crew. And they’re not exactly nice boys, if you catch my drift.”

  My heart sank. How many different kinds of organized crime was I going to have to deal with? And Cheryl—did she know?

  “It’s cool, Heaven,” A. J. said. “Marcus has no beef with you.”

  “What about Cheryl?” I chewed my lip. A. J. patted my hand.

  “I’m sure it’s fine. I didn’t mean to freak you out. She’s just a girl he’s seeing—he sees lots of them. He’ll go out with her for a while, then move on. The only people who have anything to worry about with Marcus are the people he’s in business with, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, but I wasn’t comforted.

  “And hey—keep it on the d.l., okay?” A. J. asked with a look toward the make-out booth.

  “Sure,” I said, and stood up. That was some lingo I knew—Ohiko and I’d hada lot of use for a phrase like that with a father as controlling as Konishi. Besides, sometimes it felt like my wholelife was on the down low. Regardless, it was time for me to take Cheryl home. I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her much that night, and I hoped she hadn’t overindulged.

  “Hey, wait,” A. J. said as I walked away from the bar. “Slavo burned me a copy of that hip-hop song he was telling you about. Let me know when you figure out the lyrics.”

  “Oh,” I said, still distracted by A. J.’s revelations. “Thanks. I’ll listen to it later.” I stuffed the CD into my messenger bag. “See you Saturday.”

  “Cool.”

  I walked purposefully over to the table and cleared my throat. Marcus opened his eyes and gently pushed Cheryl away. Her glittery bandeau top was sliding down, and I resisted the urge to yank it up like a mother hen.

  “Hey, guys. Cheryl, I think it’s time to take off.”

  Cheryl looked irritated. “How about I catch up with you later?”

  “Itis later.”

  Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “Heaven—”

  “No, baby, that’s cool,” Marcus said, grabbing Cheryl’s chin and turning her face toward his. “I’ll catch you later. Call me tomorrow and we’ll make a plan.” He gave her a long, lingering, kiss, opening his eyes and glancing at me before he broke it. I looked away.

  Cheryl sighed. “Um…okay. Catch you tomorrow.”

  Marcus nodded. “Bye-bye, ladies. Be good.” A slow-motion smile.

  Just before I put my foot on the first step out of Vibe, I glanced back at Marcus. His face had lost the lovey-dovey expression. Something else was in its place. Something that looked a lot like hatred. I shuddered and bounded up the stairs, Cheryl behind me.

  “Slow down, Power Puff!” Cheryl yelled.

  The cab was waiting at the front door. We hopped in, and I sighed a breath of relief as we pulled away. Things were getting downright wiggy, and I wasn’t relishing the thought of having to tell Cheryl what I’d found out about Marcus.

  “Wanna go have breakfast?” Cheryl said, leaning her head back on the seat.

  “Are you drunk?” I asked, trying to sound like I was kidding around and not nagging.

  “Drunk on luuuuv, kiddo.” Cheryl laughed. “Believe me, the three drinks I had tonight got sweated out of my body a long time ago. Did you see me tearing up the dance floor?”

  “I did. I was jealous. Working is great, but I want to do some dancing one of these nights.” I ran my hand over my side, testing the bruise to see how it was feeling. The truth was, it had been a struggle just to do my job the first couple of nights after the attack. But I was healing well now, and the bruise was entering the faded, greenish phase. I’d be in dancing form soon enough.

  “So—breakfast?” Cheryl asked again, tipping her head toward me.

  “Sounds good.” I stifled a yawn. I would have rather gone straight home, but I didn’t want to hurt Cheryl’s feelings. Ever since I’d refused to let her in on my training, she’d been tiptoeing around me—it was nothi
ng she’d specifically said, but I could feel a tension between us that depressed me. Now that Hiro was out of my lifeagain, I couldn’t afford to lose my only other friend.Maybe I should keep my mouth shut about Marcus, I considered.

  Cheryl directed the cabdriver to an all-night diner, and soon we were seated at a fifties-style table in red vinyl chairs with all the other club-goers finishing up their nights. I loved kitschy spots like this one, with the waitresses in little pink uniforms with white aprons and hats and things like “malteds” on the menu. In Tokyo there were a bunch of places that imitated the rock-’n’-roll diner theme, but it wasn’t the same. Just being in the States made it feel more authentic.

  We ordered tall stacks of pancakes, and I added bacon on the side and a Cherry Coke.

  “So what’s up with you and Hiro?” Cheryl asked. “You haven’t been training the last couple of days.”

  I sighed. I’d wanted to tell Cheryl about the fight, but I couldn’t think of a way to do it without bringing up Mieko. Cheryl knew I wasn’t in touch with my family, but without telling her the whole story, my argument with Hiro would just seem sort of psycho.

  “He’s busy with Karen,” I said, which was true—in a way.

  “That sucks.” Cheryl looked at me sympathetically. “What about A. J.?”

  “A. J.? What about him?”

  “I think he’s got the hots for you.”

  “No way,” I said. “That’s crazy.”

  “Why? He looks at you all the time! He was telling Marcus just tonight what a great job you were doing and how you’re good for business.” Cheryl fumbled through her bag, looking for change for the mini-jukebox on our table.

  “Did Marcus tell you that?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s nice.” Now I felt really guilty. I wondered again if I should even bring up the whole gangbanger issue. But did it really change anything? Even if Marcus had given me some props, it had nothing to do with Cheryl’s right to know about how he spent his time. And what kind of friend would I be if I kept something like that from her?

  “So—what do you think?” Cheryl asked, punching numbers into the jukebox.