by Amy Tasukada
The woman laughed and chatted with Hayato about the wine selection. Masuo’s gaze kept bouncing around to the luxury seating and expensive-looking knickknacks left out on side tables. He wasn’t from a poor family, but it wasn’t like any of the places his parents frequented offered complimentary drinks.
“Would you like anything, sir?”
Masuo’s attention snapped back to the woman. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
Hayato elbowed him. “Come on. Enjoy the full experience.”
“I guess a water, then.” It sounded the easiest.
“Carbonated? Mineral?”
“Tap is fine.”
Hayato didn’t hide his amusement with the situation at all. The woman left to get the drinks, and Hayato pulled Masuo to one of the sitting areas. The blue velvet sofa swallowed Masuo when he sat.
“Why do you look like you’re about to rob the place?” Hayato playfully whacked Masuo’s jiggling leg. “Relax.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to break something and spend the next year paying for it.”
Hayato laughed. “We’re only looking. If you’re that worried, cross your arms and pretend nothing impresses you.”
“Don’t you think the manager would think it’s awkward for two guys to look at an apartment together?”
“That’s their problem.”
“But what if—”
“Being ashamed about your differences makes you vulnerable. It gives people something they can try to blackmail you with. Show off your difference and use it as a weapon. It’ll throw them off and give you the upper hand. People think I’m some limp wrist, but if they mess with me, they’ll learn different.”
The philosophy must’ve been how Hayato had survived in the yakuza so long—people underestimated him, and he went above their expectations. Maybe Masuo could use Endo’s perception of his incompetence to his advantage.
Masuo nibbled on his lip ring, no longer thinking about taking it out.
The woman came back with Hayato’s glass of white wine. She poured a bottle of water into a glass for Masuo and left the half-empty bottle beside it. Even that looked more expensive than his last meal.
Hayato leaned back into the sofa. “This isn’t bad at all. What do you think?”
Best to get into character. Masuo crossed his arms. “I don’t know. It doesn’t even have a doorman like your last place.”
“That was especially convenient when I came home with shopping.”
They chatted a bit more about silly things.
Hayato finished his glass in time for the manager to greet them.
“I’ll be showing you to the model apartment. If you could follow me,” she said.
Hayato got up, and Masuo took a few seconds to debate about the water bottle he’d abandoned. It was wasteful to leave it there. Someone would have to clean it up. It was his mess. No one should have to clean up after him. He should take it even though he’d never wanted it in the first place.
“Leave it,” Hayato said.
Masuo hesitated but then crossed his arms, getting into character, and left the bottle. He turned up his nose at every amenity the apartment manager rattled off.
She stopped in front of an elevator. “The model is on the sixth floor, but the available unit is on the tenth.”
Masuo gulped.
Arashi had been right. Masuo needed to get over the whole elevator thing, and now would be a perfect time. He didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of Hayato.
Smug guy unimpressed by everything in a luxury apartment wouldn’t care about riding in a silly elevator. He would step in and be fine. He wouldn’t think about what kind of earthquake technology the building used, or how dark it would be if the power went out, or how the elevator could be faulty and he was stepping into a steel coffin of death.
The doors pinged opened, and Masuo jumped.
The manager stepped inside, followed by Hayato.
Masuo’s mouth dried, his heart pounded in his ears, and any attempts to stay in character vanished.
He could do it.
He could go into an elevator.
Masuo willed his feet to move, but his muscles clenched down like a vise. Everything within him screamed no.
12
Hayato waited for Masuo to step into the elevator, but he looked like a coat hanger ready to hang in the closet. Then his face turned ashen, and his eyes shut tight. Hayato understood coming face-to-face with an irrational fear. After all, he’d brought Masuo along so he wouldn’t be alone.
“You’re right, Masuo.” Hayato stepped out of the elevator. “The best way to judge a new place is to see how they maintain the stairway. Where are the stairs?”
Masuo let out a shaky laugh. His sandy-brown eyes spoke a volume of thanks. Hayato pushed down the urge to embrace the other man and say everything would be okay.
The manager said, “The stairs are this way.”
She escorted them to the end of the hall. Her high heels echoed in the empty, cavernous tower. Hayato climbed the first few steps, then looked back to Masuo. He clutched onto the railing, veins popping out on his hand. He made it up one step, but it would take hours to get to the model at Masuo’s current rate.
“We’ll meet you up there,” Hayato said to the manager.
Concern flooded the woman’s face, but Hayato flashed her a smile, and she seemed reassured enough to leave them alone.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Masuo climbed the next step.
“Her heels were bugging me.”
Hayato allowed Masuo to set the pace, slow but steady. One hand gripped the railing while the other stayed stiff at his side. Hayato reached out and interlaced their fingers. Masuo’s calloused hands tightened in surprise but then relaxed. An easy warmth washed over Hayato.
Jiro had refused to hold hands anywhere outside the privacy of their home, but Masuo didn’t even flinch. Not to mention how considerate he had tried to be when it came to taking a complimentary drink. Hayato had fun with him and envisioned a real date would be more than pleasurable. Masuo would no doubt want to go someplace quaint like an aquarium. They could stay out all night and—
Hayato bit his tongue.
He had to stop diving headfirst into relationships so he didn’t have to be alone. He’d done it with Jiro, and that had ended in disaster. Hayato needed to focus on finding his own place and making it alone, for his brother’s sake if nothing else.
Drinking with Masuo was fun. The phone sex was fun. Hayato would keep their friendship fun and nothing more. The last thing he wanted was to fall for a guy who wanted marriage and kids.
“Your ring is kind of digging into my finger,” Masuo said.
“Oh, sorry.” Hayato let go and twisted the amethyst ring back into place.
Masuo clasped their hands together again. “It’s pretty.”
The marquise-cut stone sat on a silver ring next to two small diamonds. It was his mother’s ring. Hayato had been wearing it for years. When it had caught Jiro’s attention, he’d always commented on it being too feminine for any man to wear.
Hayato cleared his throat. “So what’s your go-to guilty pleasure?”
Masuo hesitated, then a smile spread across his face. “Going to the pet store and getting a cat toy for Mochi. When I get home, she’s always so excited and headbutts me as she plays with it. Then five minutes later, she’s bored and goes back to sleeping on my shoes. But for those five minutes, she thinks I’m the best cat dad in the world.”
“Cat dad?” Hayato laughed. “I’ll start calling you that.”
“She followed me home one summer night. I opened my door, and she padded inside like it was home.”
“She sounds cute.”
“I’ve got photos to prove it.”
Masuo let go of the railing and fished out his phone. A whole folder had been dedicated to pictures of the sturdy gray tabby.
“She’s cute,” Hayato said. “She does look like a puffy ball of New Year’s mo
chi, especially when she sleeps on your shoes.”
“I like to think the hair she leaves inside is her way of making sure I remember her.”
“We never had any pets growing up. Dad was allergic to everything.”
“Not even a fish?” Masuo asked.
“Especially fish. He said he was allergic to the tank water.” Hayato sighed. “Looking back, he’d of course been lying, but I get it. We’d go on long trips at least once a year. It would’ve been a pain.”
“My mom loves cats. We always had at least two or three at home. So what’s your guilty pleasure?”
Hayato couldn’t say drinking so much he couldn’t remember it the next day. He only let himself get that carried away in January. He needed something wholesome.
“I like going to a manga café,” Hayato said.
“Fun. I haven’t had time to read any outside of Detective Pom Pom in years.”
“Detective Pom Pom?” Hayato hummed a few bars of the theme song. “I loved that show growing up.”
Masuo sung the words of the theme, and Hayato laughed, joining in on the words he recalled.
“It’s still on,” Masuo said. “But they changed the theme song and use 3D graphics now.”
“Double boo. The theme song was the best part.”
They arrived at the sixth floor, where the apartment manager had waited for them. She looked at their joined hands, but Hayato didn’t care. If he was going to live there, management needed to be okay with a flaming gay. She cleared her throat, and Masuo let go.
She led them out of the stairwell and into the staged apartment. She raddled through the amenities—heated wooden floors, large bathtub, double-door closets.
“I don’t know.” Masuo crossed his arms. “This is far from…ahh…bowling.”
“Bowling?” The manager lifted a penciled brow. “That’s a first for me. Most of the residents are big golfers, but I’m sure there are a few bowlers as well.”
“Good to know. I’m a huge bowler.” Hayato mimicked throwing a ball down the alley. “I average almost three hundred each game.”
“Such skill,” the manager said.
“I don’t know if it’s worth it to be so far from your usual bowling alley, and these closets…” Masuo huffed. “I think the other place had bigger ones, right?”
Hayato nodded. “That’s right. I don’t think it will hold all my balls.”
The manager opened the entry hall closet. “This offers plenty of storage.”
Masuo rolled his eyes. “You clearly haven’t seen this man’s balls.”
Hayato stifled a laugh to keep up the act. “I love playing with so many different balls. Each one has a different feel in the hand, you know? I keep at least a dozen hanging around.”
The manager continued to try to win Masuo over, and Hayato made his way to the glass balcony door. He couldn’t hear the street below or any neighbors. If the apartment manager and Masuo weren’t here, Hayato would be completely alone. People alone made stupid decisions…
The floors and the way the joints lined up in the transition between the kitchen and the living room resembled the ones in his childhood home. He and Subaru would always line up train tracks throughout the living room and kitchen when they’d played.
Then the horror-filled memory invaded. Hayato’s throat grew tight, and each of his attempts to gulp down a breath was in vain. Hayato could see a puddle of urine on the floor. Long gone were the happy train tracks. Subaru had covered his eyes and shoved him out that day. Yet once the police came, they’d left the door wide open. Hayato had seen—
Masuo squeezed Hayato’s shoulder, pulling him out of the nightmare. Masuo stood so close his vanilla-and-oak scent wrapped around them, causing the simple squeeze to feel like a full embrace. How could Masuo, who’d known him less than a week, read Hayato better than Jiro?
“You okay?” Masuo kept his voice low.
Hayato gave a little nod.
“What do you think?” the manager asked Hayato.
“It looks nice,” Hayato said, surprised his voice came out so steady. He had Masuo to thank for that. “But I think I’d enjoy a place with a little more life to it.”
“Our resident lounge is very active. We even have a book club that meets there every week.”
Hayato was sure a book club wouldn’t want to read the books he’d be interested in, but if it meant meeting some more people…
“Maybe if you show us?” Masuo asked.
“There is a TV and a DVD player for movies,” she said.
Masuo shook his head and looked at Hayato with such gentle eyes. “That other place we saw had a theater.”
Hayato hid his laugh. Masuo couldn’t lie well, and if there wasn’t a commission on the line, the manager would’ve probably noticed.
Hayato shrugged. “Might as well see it.”
The manager led them out and down the stairs. Hayato held Masuo’s hand on the way down. Somehow it felt a little different. Hayato wasn’t only holding it to make Masuo feel calm but because it helped calm him too. Hayato decided not to dwell on it. January shook his feelings around more than a cocktail. He’d probably get the same warm, fuzzy feeling about a pet fish if it meant he wasn’t alone.
The manager took them past a door marked Residents Only. Talking erupted from people in every corner. A group stood by the pool table, most of the machines in the gym area were occupied, even the quiet reading nook had someone staring at their phone. Hayato would never be alone again.
He found a place he could live. He could move out of his brother’s apartment without the fear of a night alone, and Subaru could finally begin his life with Fumiko. Everything was perfect.
“Eh, it’s okay.” Masuo failed to look impressed.
Hayato could’ve sign the leasing papers right then, but with the way Masuo had acted about the complimentary drinks, he’d drop dead when he saw the price. The last thing Hayato needed was another dead pachinko parlor manager.
“We’ll think about it,” Hayato said.
The manager handed Hayato a glossy folder with information. Hayato said a friendly goodbye, and he and Masuo left the complex.
“That was fun,” Masuo said. “Maybe I should have kept the water bottle as a souvenir. Well, I guess I’ll see you.”
A sting pinched Hayato’s heart. Masuo was going to leave and do his own thing for the rest of the day.
“Do you want to get a drink?” Hayato asked. “I’ve got a few hours before I have to start making the rounds.”
“Sure. Coffee sounds good.”
Hayato was thinking about something stronger than coffee, but Masuo wanted coffee, and Hayato wanted to spend time with him.
“There’s bound to be a nice café somewhere close by,” Hayato said.
“Hopefully one where a coffee doesn’t cost half my rent,” Masuo said on a laugh.
13
After a week, Masuo had settled into the rhythm of being a pachinko manager. The noise of the machines no longer hurt his ears, and he even enjoyed cleaning out the ashtrays and vacuuming after closing.
More and more people flocked to the parlor each day. With the plan he’d cooked up, he’d be raking in the cash. Then he could go all out for the grand reopening in two weeks.
Masuo closed the parlor’s gate and went back inside to finish designing the ads he’d bought. Hopefully they would pay off.
He plopped into the creaky office chair and jiggled the old computer’s mouse. The ads were important, but so was the atmosphere once the customers arrived. Pachinko machines topped the atmosphere list followed by paint, or maybe paint should be considered third, since bodily fluids stained the carpet? Maybe the store had something cheap they could sell him, but would it last long enough to be worth the price if he had to redo it in a year?
Someone banged on the front gate, and Masuo’s phone buzzed. He snatched his phone out of his pocket.
Hayato.
Shit. Masuo must’ve screwed up big time. He answered
his phone and headed to the front. “Whatever I did, I’ll fix it.”
“Where are you?” Hayato asked.
Masuo opened the gate. “I’m in the parlor.”
Hayato stood beside the faded Lupin. His honey-colored contacts, usually twinkling and sweet, now held panic. Something must’ve happened. Masuo’s limbs went numb.
“Did the Korean mafia attack?” Masuo asked, putting to words what every Kyoto yakuza feared.
Hayato cleared his throat and tugged up the fuzzy collar of his coat. “What’s Subaru doing?”
The air returned to Masuo’s lungs, then a wave of angry heat washed over him. “I don’t know.”
“I’m your boss. You have to tell me the truth even if Subaru made you promise not to tell me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hayato took a step closer, and the scent of his white-flower-and-black-currant perfume followed. Yet no matter how alluring Hayato smelled, his eyes were locked on Masuo like he was prey. No one made it to yakuza captain if they couldn’t gut an enemy in seconds, and with that look, any doubt Masuo had about Hayato’s ability vanished.
“What happened?” Masuo asked.
Hayato frowned. “He left.”
“Your brother left?”
Hayato nodded, the intensity of his gaze softened. He hadn’t been ready to fight, but he’d been brought to the edge of fright and ready to lash out in a final attempt to escape.
“When did you last see him?” Masuo asked.
“This evening. When I gave him the code to my new apartment, he told me he was staying at his girlfriend’s. I don’t care if he told you to keep the housewarming party a secret. I want to know what he said.”
Masuo fought his laughter because clearly, to Hayato, a surprise party was a very serious matter.
“I only found out you were moving when you told me earlier today,” Masuo said.
“So Subaru didn’t call you?”
“You can check my phone if you don’t believe me.”
Hayato sighed and leaned against the gate. “It’s fine. I can tell when you lie, and you’re not.”
