by Amano, Mia
"We are not a fucking pension scheme, Gavin. I hate the term loan shark, but that is what we are. Loan, meaning that is not your money. Shark, meaning, if you don't pay what I ask, we will fucking eat you alive."
Johnny reaches for the gun laid on the table. He plays with it, making a show of taking the safety off and cocking it. "Now, I'm a reasonable man, Gavin." He smirks. "And I know there's more than one way to pay back what's owed. You have a beautiful daughter there. What's she now; fifteen, sixteen? I'm sure we could find work for her. She'll help you pay off the debt in no time."
"Leave my family out of this." My father raises his head and summons the last bit of his anger. His voice cracks. "I'll do whatever you want, but you leave them alone."
"Should have thought about all that before you went to Vegas, Gavin." As Johnny speaks, his partner stands and moves behind Gavin. He wears a cruel smile.
"So what's it going to be, Gavin? Let your daughter come and work for us, or should we make an example of you?" He pulls a mean looking switchblade from his pocket. "She's upstairs, isn't she? I don't think she'd enjoy hearing you scream."
I don't wait to hear what dad's going to say next. I step into the kitchen. This has gotten out of hand, and there's no way I'm letting these assholes near my baby sister.
"I can get you the rest of the money," I blurt. The two intruders look in my direction.
"Who the fuck are you?" Johnny eyes me with obvious interest. I'm getting sick and tired of that sleazy look.
"I'm his daughter." I can barely bring myself to look in dad's direction. I'm not doing this for him; I'm doing this for mom and Mina.
Johnny's laugh has a ring of disbelief. "Gavin, how does a dipshit like you end up with two beautiful girls like this? You sure you're the father? Though this one looks like she's a scrapper." I know my black eye looks hideous. There wasn't time to put on foundation before I left the house.
"Adele, what are you doing here?" Gavin's shoulders are slumped. All life has been sapped from him. Dark circles ring baleful eyes that are the exact same shade of brown as my own. There's no question I'm his daughter. "This is none of your business."
"Of course it's my business," I snap. "I told you I didn't want anything happening to mom or Mina. You were supposed to give them the advance and ask for more time. What happened to that money?"
Gavin looks down. He doesn't say a word.
His reaction tells me all I need to know.
Johnny walks over with slow steps until he's standing beside me. "Everyone knows you don't give money to a guy with a gambling problem," he says, his voice soft. "Especially one who's desperate." He turns to my dad, who won't make eye contact with me. "Now why did you go and spend your daughter's hard earned cash, Gavin? Thought you could win big and make all this go away?"
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I should have known better. Disappointment twists my insides. "He didn't give you that money."
"No." Johnny's so close I can smell stale garlic on his breath. He bends over to whisper in my ear. "You know we'll have to make an example of him if the money isn't paid back. Maybe you could avoid that by working for us, instead of your sister."
I shudder. I think I know what that "work" means. They'll put me in a porno or in one of their brothels and figure out a way to keep me there. There's no way I'm letting these guys make money off my body.
I'm trying my best to keep my face blank, but my mind's racing. Where can I get twenty grand in a hurry?
I've got nothing valuable to sell, I can't get a loan with my job and there's no way I'm bringing Dio into all of this.
"I told you, I can get the money." I step back out of Johnny's reach. "But you're going to have to wait. Give me some time. Please.”
“I’ll extend the deadline by a week, girl,” snarls Johnny. “And I’m being plenty generous, but that’s only because I like you. Don’t get the cash by then, there’ll be consequences.”
“I’ll get you the money,” I assure him, my voice full of confidence. It’s all a big lie. The truth is, I have no idea how I’m going to come up with twenty thousand dollars in just one week.
I’m screwed.
Adele
When I arrive at work the next evening, I find it hard to focus. The shift starts out badly as I drop a stack of empty plates. They clatter across the floor, leftover pieces of sushi and droplets of soy sauce going everywhere.
Lucky they’re plastic.
Customers turn to stare at me and I mumble a hasty apology.
Rei comes rushing to my rescue. “You okay, Adele?” She pulls out a damp cloth. “Why don’t you go out back and take a break. Make yourself a cup of tea. I’ll clean this up.”
“I’m fine.” I start picking up the mess, but my hands are shaking. Rei gives me a long, pointed stare. I sigh. “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
I disappear into the staff area, heading straight for the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I splash cold water on my face. The bruise around my eye has faded to an ugly brownish-yellow color. At least it’s healing. It’s not as tender anymore, and I’ve gotten better at covering it with foundation.
Rei finds me several minutes later. I’m sitting in the stuffy little office at the back, staring at the wall. Thoughts of Gavin’s debt and mom and Mina’s safety are swirling in my mind, but I feel numb, paralyzed. I have no idea what I’m going to do.
Rei puts a small, gentle hand on my shoulder. “What’s bothering you, Adele? You’ve been acting strange all morning. And don’t try and pretend you don’t have a big bruise around that eye. It’s obvious, even with all the make-up.”
Blunt as usual, bless her.
I lean forward, putting my head into my hands. “Someone I know is in trouble, Rei. I need a lot of money quickly, and I’m stuck.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “What am I supposed to do now? Rob a bank?”
Rei frowns. “Are you sure this is your responsibility, Adele? Sounds an awful lot like you’re taking the fall for someone.”
“It’s family. I’ve got no choice. I’m desperate.” I look up, meeting her gaze. Rei lets out a deep breath. She nods in understanding. We both know that when family’s involved, you do anything. Even if you didn’t get into the mess, even they’re in the wrong, you do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
I can’t let anything happen to Mina and mom.
Rei stares at me for a while, weighing something up in her mind. “I know a way you can make a lot of cash quickly,” she says, after a long silence. “It’s not ideal, but it’s not the worst thing you could do, either. With your looks, you’d have no problem.”
“Go on,” I murmur, not liking where this is heading. But I don’t have a choice.
“Do you know what a hostess bar is, Adele?”
I shake me head, eyes wide. I haven’t heard the term before, but I think I have an idea of what this might involve.
“I’ll show you after work. Mama-san is just going to love you. But it’s up to you to decide if you can do that kind of work. It’s not for everyone, you know.”
Adele
It’s almost eleven by the time we finish at Fat Dragon. Rei and I pile into her car, a blue, older style Volkswagen Golf. Soon we’re downtown, navigating the few blocks that make up Little Tokyo.
I haven’t been here for years. It hasn’t changed much from the way I remember it. We pass by quaint shopfronts with delicate tiled roofs. A string of bright, red lanterns adorns a peaceful laneway, peppered with tiny, manicured trees.
I feel like we’re not even in LA anymore.
Rei finds a narrow parking space and we make our way along the street, passing doorways signposted in English and Japanese. We pass cheap hotels, restaurants and small boutiques, closed for the night, their windows dark.
She stops at a very ordinary looking entrance. There are no bright lights, no welcoming signs. Just a small plaque at the side with the words Black Rose and something written underneath it in Japanese.
<
br /> Rei stops inside the entrance. She takes my hair out of its ponytail, arranging it around my face. “That’s better.” She pulls out a compact and dusts the area around my eye. “You don’t need much else.”
“Uh, okay.” I blink powder out of my eye and we climb the narrow stairs. I can hear the dull thud of bass reverberating through the thin walls. The stale, familiar scent of old tobacco smoke is strangely comforting.
We enter through a heavy glass door, and I find myself in a large, dimly lit space. Discreet booths line the walls. The room is crowded. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses trickles through a pounding beat.
What the hell is this place?
Rei leans over, struggling to be heard above the music. “See those girls? They get paid to serve drinks and make conversation.”
I look around and notice that at each table, there are one or two scantily clad women seated with their male guests. Alcohol is flowing, but it’s the men who are drinking. The girls smile demurely and play along, but their eyes are hard and calculating.
“If you’re, good you can make thousands in a night.” Rei leads us over to the bar. “It’s all about the tips.”
She motions to the bartender, a petite Japanese girl wearing a long sleeved white shirt and black bow tie. Rei orders a dry martini. I go for a club soda. I’m nervous, but I don’t want to risk an alcoholic drink. I tend to talk a lot more when I’m tipsy. I always end up saying something stupid.
The bartender and Rei exchange something in Japanese, and soon we’re being led through a back entrance, down a corridor illuminated by harsh, fluorescent lights. I peer into one of the doorways and see what looks like a dressing room. My reflection blurs as we follow the bartender. I’m wearing a plain black tee and a comfortable old pair of black skinny jeans, my usual work uniform. Compared to the girls I saw serving drinks in the lounge, I feel underdressed and ordinary.
We enter a small office. A large, wooden desk dominates the room, and there are photographs on the walls of men posing with beautiful women. To my surprise, I recognize some of those faces. There are a couple of B-grade actors and a singer whom I vaguely remember. I think he had one or two modest hits back in the 90s.
The woman sitting at the desk bares a tight smile. She’s wearing a sleek, tailored pantsuit and carries an air of authority about her. This must be the boss-lady. “Rei-chan, I wasn’t expecting you at all.” She nods at the bartender, who bows and leaves the room.
Rei dips her head in greeting. “Good evening, Mama-san.” She gestures towards me. “I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Adele. She’s looking for work.”
“Is that so?” Mama-san looks me up and down. “You bring me a rough diamond to polish?” She laughs, the corners of her eyes creasing into crow’s feet. Mama-san stands and circles her desk until she is in front of me. She offers a slender, manicured hand. “Pleased to meet you, Adele. You can call me Mama-san. All the girls do.”
I take her hand. Her fingers are soft and cool. Mama-san is polished and composed, but there’s a calculating glint in her eyes. “So. You want to work here?”
“As a waitress.” My voice is hard and invites no argument.
“You mean hostess.” Mama-san chuckles, but she must sense my nervousness, because she puts a hand on my shoulder. “Relax, Adele. We are not what you think. The girls here serve drinks, make a bit of small talk, help these single men feel a bit less lonely. We’re in the business of friendship, that’s all.” Her hand reaches my chin, and she tilts my face upward. “Look at you. Very beautiful. American girls like you are always in demand. You’ll do well here.”
“So that’s all it is? Serving drinks and a bit of companionship?” I’m doubtful. In the end, it’s always about the sex.
“Exactly.” Mama-san relents, withdrawing her cool fingers. “And if you do it right, you will make a lot of money. It’s not a bad gig. Many girls put themselves through college, this way. Except Rei-chan. She’s stubborn, this one.”
Rei crosses her arms, rolling her eyes. “I would if I could, Mama-san. But our world is small, you know that. People talk. If dad found out, he’d kill me.”
“Have it your way.” Mama-san turns to me. “So. Adele. You in?”
I hesitate, looking back at Rei’s expectant face. “I’m in,” I nod. It’s just for a short time. Just until I get my family out of trouble. Just until I can convince my mom and Mina to move out. I’ll have to take a week off from my work at Fat Dragon. Hopefully, I’ll still have a job when I return.
It’s only serving drinks and making a bit of small talk. I can do that. How bad can it be?
Kaito
On my day off, I have nothing to do. It’s strange. Being alone has never been a problem for me. In the past, I’ve preferred it. I live on my own, work on my own. It’s always been this way for me.
But now, I’m thinking about the girl who works at Fat Dragon Sushi.
Adele. She invades my thoughts and fills me with lust.
I head to the small gym in my apartment complex and pound the treadmill until my legs burn. The one other guy using the gym stares at me. He must be wondering why the hell I’m wearing long sleeves and track pants when I’m sweating like crazy.
It doesn’t bother me. I’m used to hiding the ink. The intricate, colorful art that covers my back and creeps down my arms and the tops of my thighs is a part of me I usually keep concealed.
It doesn’t fit with the image of an ordinary salaryman. The last thing I want to do is draw unnecessary attention. The fading bruise around my eye is already too much.
When I’m exhausted to the point that my limbs are leaden and I walk with a slight tremble, I head back to my apartment. The workout hasn’t done me much good.
I’m still thinking about her.
In the steam of the shower I’m thinking about her. I’m restless, imagining her naked. Nothing can satisfy me but her the smooth curves of her body next to mine. My erection is hard and almost painful under the rivulets of warm water.
My mind tells me not to get close to her, but my body has instincts all of its own.
I need to go somewhere to clear my head, get my objectivity back. I can’t go chasing after her like a lovesick schoolboy. She’s already wary of me. She saw the missing finger on my left hand and her barriers went up. I hated the suspicion that clouded her eyes.
But she’s right to be wary.
Doesn’t matter that I lost that finger for shitty reasons. I was always bad at collecting debts.
I dress, get into my ordinary little car and head to the one place I know I can find something close to peace.
The sleek, pale curves of The Getty Museum beckon to me as I step off the white tram that takes visitors up the hill. The small, minimalist carriages remind me, oddly, of Tokyo.
Masa would have a fit if he knew I wandered around art galleries in my spare time. It’s something I would never have thought about doing in Japan. But when I arrived here, setting foot in a foreign country for the first time in my life, I wanted to see the attractions.
I’d never been a tourist before.
Set away from the raucous chaos of downtown, this place, with its stillness and calm, gets me every time.
I remember seeing The Getty used as a set in a Star Trek movie. The futuristic reference is fitting. When you step beyond the entrance, it’s like entering a modern utopia. A fantasyland.
I can come here and pretend I’m someone different, an ordinary person with an ordinary life. A person who goes to art galleries during his time off. There’s beauty beyond the mess of my small existence.
I wander around in the cool, cavernous spaces, taking in depictions of life, sex and death.
There’s violence amongst the beauty.
I stop in front of a Monet. It’s called The Portal of Rouen Cathedral in Morning Light.
That painting is a sublime thing. I’m taken back to the days when I was a child, sitting in the bright, still morning light, a chill hanging in the air.
He’s captured that feeling; the pure silence of the early day, the warm glow of the rising sun.
Morning washes away the sins of night.
I remember that old house in Tokyo, where we lived. In the mornings, I’d be the only one up, my mother still asleep, having worked late into the night. Her clients would sometimes stay, snoring loudly beside her. I’d long since learnt to block out the noise, falling asleep at night despite the voices and shouting and laughter.
Then the sound of their fucking would seep through the paper thin walls.
In the early morning, I’d creep through the silence, picking up empty beer bottles and emptying ashtrays. I’d drop used needles into an old glass jar with the greatest care.
I remember the stillness of one particular dawn. I’m standing over the dead body of the piece of shit who tried to strangle my mother. The serene figure of the Amida Buddha stares up at me from his tattooed back. Only the innocent twitter of birds punctuates the silence.
In my hand is a baseball bat, the one I got for Christmas, flecked with his blood.
Mother, in her panic, in her relief, takes the bat from my trembling hands and washes the blood from it. Then she calls somebody, makes up a story. The guy was drunk, she says. Fell down the stairs and hit his head. I don’t know if anyone believes it but some men in dark suits turn up and the body is taken away. It’s all discreet. No questions, no fuss.
I’m twelve years old.
I have no remorse. He tried to kill my mother.
It’s the start of my descent into a violent career.
I blink, shaking the dark thoughts. Pointless to remember those things now. I head outside, putting on my shades as the harsh California sunshine washes over me. I walk to a sweeping balcony overlooking the sprawling downtown of Los Angeles.
I decide I’d like to bring Adele here, and share this view with her. I’ve never wanted to do anything like that before. I lean over the railing, taking in the view.
