Addicted to Lust

by Amy Tasukada

  “Isn’t moving in with someone you like the next thing on your relationship to-do list?”

  A chasm formed between who Hayato imagined Masuo to be and who he really was. What could he say to make Hayato understand? He took in a breath and spoke from the heart. “When I envisioned moving in with someone, I always expected it to be the person I married.”

  “Not this again.” Hayato rubbed his forehead. “We’ll be old men before they legalize same-sex marriage in Japan. Why should we wait to move in together until then? People in America move in together before they’re married all the time.”

  “We’re not in America.”

  “Why are you making this difficult? I have nowhere to live.”

  “I’m not making it difficult. You can live with me while you look for a new place.”

  Hayato’s hand flexed and closed. He wouldn’t look Masuo in the eye.

  “It’s not that easy for me.” Hayato’s usually confident tone was flat like a deflated balloon. “I’ve been trying this whole shitty month, and I failed. Subaru has Fumiko now. He shouldn’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Masuo hoped he sounded concerned, but the words were rushed and laced with frustration.

  “I’m not right. There’s something I should…” Hayato fiddled with the ring on his finger and bit down on his lip. “I’m mono—”

  Hayato’s phone rang, cutting him off. The ringtone was a death march.

  “Ward Leader Endo,” Hayato answered.

  “How much did he make today?” Her voice was loud enough for Masuo to hear.

  Hayato shuffled around the stack of cash. Masuo’s pulse pounded louder than a pachinko machine. For Hayato to know exactly what Endo was talking about, they must’ve been discussing the parlor’s totals regularly. Masuo rubbed his palm against his pants, and Hayato read the total listed on the document sheet.

  “That doesn’t seem like much, all things considered,” Endo said.

  Hayato turned away from Masuo. “Sure, it’s a little light, but maybe a few people got lucky. It usually wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.”

  “But so many days in a row?”

  “Maybe we can give him another day. The place was a real shithole before. It’ll take a bit for word to get out.”

  “We’ll have a meeting tomorrow at four. Fill the idiot in on the details. Make sure he gets there on time.”

  Hayato hung up.

  “Damn it.” Masuo slammed his fist against the table. “Arashi and I made a game plan, and we watched everyone. I can’t believe it. How could a cheater have snuck their way in?”

  Hayato’s shoulders slumped, and he locked the briefcase silently. It took a moment for Masuo’s brain to catch up. His heart didn’t know where to focus his worry—on Hayato or the parlor.

  “What were you saying before she called?” Masuo asked.

  “Forget it. In fact, forget everything. All of it.” Hayato’s words stabbed like a knife to the gut.

  “I…” Masuo bit his lip. “You can tell me.”

  “Make sure you get to the safe house on time.”

  Hayato stalked off, and Masuo knew he’d fucked up.

  23

  The last thing Hayato wanted to do was knock on Subaru’s door, but his brother would be more suspicious if he’d called off their weekly meal. Hayato’s lower back twinged from another night’s sleep on the manga café’s beanbag. The solitude would swallow him whole if he stayed at a normal hotel. He put on a happy face and knocked on the door.

  Fumiko answered in a dress better suited for spring than winter, but her sunny disposition warmed the coldest day.

  “Come on in,” she said. “The oden stew is almost finished.”

  “Oh, wow, you two must’ve been cooking all morning.”

  “My family always makes it the night before.”

  “That sounds easier.”

  “And it allows the fish cakes to soak up more of the flavor. So today we’re only reheating.”

  The deep savory aroma of fish and daikon hit Hayato. “It smells delicious.”

  A few more touches of Fumiko’s style decorated the small apartment. A vase of fresh flowers on a side table and a rolling closet full of dresses. Fumiko worked for an indie brand specializing in vintage American clothing and reproductions.

  “They’re from the new line at work,” Fumiko said. “The boss wants to make sure I get pictures wearing them for the store’s social media page.”

  “Must be nice to get an updated wardrobe each season.”

  “Not when there’s barely enough room for Subaru’s suits in the closet.”

  So the honeymoon phase was over.

  Subaru had gotten the same bump in salary after the safe-house massacre. He could afford a place with more storage. No doubt he’d been socking the money away for his life with Fumiko.

  “You look tired.” Subaru handed Hayato one of Fumiko’s cocktails.

  “I’m fine.” Hayato took a sip and puckered his lips at the lemony drink. Then he continued, knowing “fine” wasn’t going to satisfy Subaru for very long. “I have a meeting with Endo after this.”

  “What happened?”

  “A cheater has hit one of the parlors two days in a row. It’s looking bad. Now Endo wants a meeting with me and the manager. Is the oden finished? I’m so hungry I could eat the whole pot.”

  Hayato’s stomach might’ve been empty, but not as much as his heart. It would’ve been easier if he’d actually resolved his fight with Masuo. Why couldn’t they live together to see if they matched first? Subaru and Fumiko lived together and weren’t married. So it wasn’t the traditional thing. Who cared?

  Subaru brought a large earthenware pot to the dining table. Hayato had never seen it before, so it must be Fumiko’s. She lifted the lid, and steam rolled off the stew. Daikon, octopus, and aburaage lay on top of dashi. Hayato’s stomach rumbled.

  Fumiko chuckled.

  “I’ve been waiting all day for this.” Hayato patted his stomach, hitting the ball of his navel piercing.

  They dug in to the stew. Hayato attacked the deep-fried tofu pouches with mochi inside. He took a bite, leaned back, and closed his eyes. If Fumiko always cooked such delicious meals, maybe he could convince Subaru they should all live together or at least buy a house and let Hayato sleep in the shed.

  “We’re eating at your place next week, right?” Subaru asked, but it was more of a demand.

  Hayato laughed. “I don’t have a table yet.”

  “Doesn’t it get awkward when you eat?”

  “I usually eat out.”

  Subaru’s gaze lay into Hayato like a lecture. Of course he’d figured Hayato out. He always knew everything. Hayato looked backed to his stew and pushed a flower-cut carrot around in his bowl. He needed to throw off Subaru’s suspicion before his stare made Hayato confess everything.

  “This is such a nice dinner. It helped to get my mind off the cheater.” Hayato tried to read Subaru’s face but got nothing. “They were supposed to give us cushy jobs after everything we went through, but here I am worried about profit margins.”

  “Every job has its ups and downs,” Fumiko said. “The store doesn’t pay super well, but it lets me get off for competitions.”

  Hayato nodded, though getting shot at by the Korean mob was a bit of an extreme downside.

  The excuse seemed to work enough for Subaru, who finally went back to enjoying his meal. They chatted a little about their upcoming competition.

  “The other day I saw they redid Detective Pom Pom.” Hayato grabbed another daikon from the pot. “But he’s 3D now and bad looking. It’s like they tainted my childhood.”

  Fumiko laughed. “The other day, Subaru and I went to the rental store and brought home the Detective Pom Pom movie.”

  The daikon dropped out of Hayato’s chopsticks. “What?”

  Subaru shrugged. “Why not?”

  “With how often we watched it as kids, y
ou could’ve recited it from memory.”

  “He did quote a few lines,” Fumiko said.

  Hayato laughed. “Our parents had to buy double of everything when it came to the detective because we once got into a big fight about who got to sleep with the one Pom Pom plushie they’d bought us. It was bad. Subaru ended up with seven stitches.”

  Fumiko’s eyes widened.

  “Hayato shoved me,” Subaru said. “I slipped and landed on the side of our metal train set.”

  The brothers shared a few more stories, and the level of the stew in the pot sunk more and more. Strangely, Fumiko had somehow made it through childhood without obsessing over the poodle detective.

  Once she finished her meal, she kissed Subaru’s cheek. “I need to get going to work, honey cake.” Fumiko nodded to Hayato. “Next week we’re going to your place.”

  Hayato held up his hands. “Don’t expect something as good as this. I’m good at pancakes.”

  “Pancakes for dinner. We can watch Pom Pom and pretend we’re kids again.”

  She grabbed her bag and left, and the door shut behind her.

  “What’s going on?” Subaru asked.

  Hayato sank back in his chair. Where to start? The eviction because he couldn’t stay the night alone or the horrible argument with Masuo that left their relationship a huge question mark?

  Hayato couldn’t talk about his monophobia. Subaru had finally begun his happy life with Fumiko. Hayato couldn’t throw his needs into their happy relationship. Hayato had to learn to be alone at some point. Maybe being thrown into the deep end was what he needed. So far, though, he’d sunk like his shoes were made of concrete.

  “The manager in trouble is Masuo, right?” Subaru leaned forward.

  At least he’d picked the topic for them.

  Hayato nodded. “We got into a big fight. I said some stupid stuff and kind of messed everything up.”

  It was a half truth, but it was close enough that Subaru’s big-brother powers probably wouldn’t sniff it out.

  “Everyone messes up,” Subaru said. “It’s part of relationship building. Apologize and move on.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “If you mean your apology and care about each other, you’ll figure it out.”

  Hayato and his exes had never done the whole apologize-and-move-on thing. Usually it either ended the relationship right away or they ignored the issue so it festered and burst later.

  Subaru exposed all Hayato’s weaknesses. How had he ended up such a helpless mess when his twin faced every situation with resilience?

  “Fumiko and I have had a few big arguments,” Subaru confessed. “Even a few since she moved in.”

  “Really?”

  “Mostly about whether we should break the lease and move someplace bigger. It’s a relationship, and two people don’t necessarily always agree on everything.”

  Hayato’s throat went dry. He hadn’t allowed Masuo the time to explain himself. Why had Hayato walked out on such a good thing?

  Hayato rubbed his face. “I fucked up.”

  “Everyone does. Try to smooth things over before the meeting with Endo. Give both of you the space and time to talk. That won’t be too hard, right?”

  Subaru always made everything sound so easy.

  “I could probably call, and we could figure things out.”

  “Good, you made a plan. Now there’s something I want to ask you. You can say no, and that’s fine.”

  Hayato narrowed his eyes. Nothing good could come from a start like that. “What?”

  “Remember when you said if I ever found a woman I wanted to marry that you’d be willing to give me our mother’s ring? Well, I want to propose to Fumiko.”

  The host family Mom had stayed with in the US had had a ring that was passed down in their family for three generations. Their mother would always go on about how romantic the idea was and told them she’d be happy to give up her ring to whichever of us found a woman willing to wear it. It wasn’t exactly the most common practice in Japan, but they’d both grown up with the story.

  “You’re not afraid Fumiko’s going to think there’s some horrible curse attached to it, since Mother was wearing it when she killed herself?” Hayato sounded bitter, but he wasn’t.

  He wasn’t. He’d known the day would come.

  “Fumiko and I talked about it when we visited Mom’s grave.” Subaru smiled. “I told her the same story Mom used to tell us about seeing the ring in the photographs of their great-great-grandmother.”

  “I remember. Her whole face would light up, and she’d say how it was the most romantic thing in the world. Then she’d want to watch rom-coms for the rest of the day.”

  Hayato rubbed the tears out of his eyes before they could fall. Sometimes even the happy memories hurt because no matter how much their mother had smiled, there had been so many days she hadn’t. She had had a disease, and it had eaten her alive. But they couldn’t talk about it. It wasn’t the same as if it had been a car crash or cancer. They’d had to keep the cause of her death quiet because of societal stigma that would bleed out and cover them as well.

  “It hurts.” Hayato’s voice shook. “Why couldn’t everything have been different?”

  “I know.” Subaru’s sigh carried the same weight Hayato bared. “It’s a hard month on top of a hard year. That’s why I rented the Detective Pom Pom movie. I always do in January to remember the happy memories and when Mom got to be who she was meant to be. This year, I got to watch it with Fumiko. While we were watching, I realized she’s the one I always want to be with. I know you wear Mom’s ring, and if you don’t want to give it to me, it’s fine.”

  Hayato slid off the ring and put it in Subaru’s hand. “If it goes to Fumiko, then I have no problem handing it over. I know she’ll make an awesome sister-in-law.”

  “Thanks.” Subaru smiled. “I know you’ll figure out things with Masuo.”

  “I hope so.”

  24

  The Kyoto yakuza insignia had been taken down from the Fushimi ward headquarters after the Korean mob had used it for target practice. Without it, the building looked like any other office building. But looking at it still made Masuo’s mouth go dry. He’d spent all night planning how he’d earn the right to keep his parlor.

  He checked his paperwork one last time and knocked on the door. Entering, Masuo locked eyes with the two dead black voids of the glued-together Mayumaro figure. The cocooned silkworm mocked him. Usually it was kept high up on a shelf, but Endo had probably had it moved just for him.

  “Endo wants you to wait outside her office,” the recruit said.

  Hayato already stood outside Endo’s office. His suit was pressed, and his golden, bronze hair was unstyled and straight as hay. Even the sheen of his lip gloss was gone. He looked up when Masuo stood beside him.

  “I tried to call you.” Hayato kept his voice low.

  “I know,” Masuo said.

  “You didn’t answer.”

  “Because I was mad at you. I still am. You wouldn’t even hear me out. Then you tell me to forget about it like nothing happened? How am I supposed to take that? Are you going to get mad and leave any time we disagree about something?”

  “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise. You’ll see.” Hayato reached out toward Masuo, but he stepped out of reach.

  “I don’t need help. I got it all figured out here.” Masuo held up the papers.

  Endo’s door opened. One of the street captains shuffled out, his forehead creased with worry.

  “You two get in here,” Endo said.

  Her short blond hair stuck out every which way. She was in her forties but had never lost the girl-gang-biker death glare. Every man in the Fushimi ward knew she could kick their asses, and she kept an iron-fisted grip on her power.

  They both give a low bow. “Ward Leader Endo.”

  “Sit.” Her tone was as sharp as a knife.

  Hayato sat in the leather chair directly in fron
t of her, while Masuo ended up in one behind him. The office was minimal and contained furniture made from steel, wood, and leather. The only decorative piece was the picture of Father Murata behind Endo. If Endo’s stare wasn’t enough to scare the shit out of Masuo, then Murata’s was. Even in the photograph, his glare ignited a visceral wave of fear in Masuo.

  Endo tapped the ash off her cigarette and let it rest between her fingers. “Looks like money hasn’t been good the past few days.”

  “I—”

  She held up her hand. “Who gave you permission to speak?”

  Masuo bowed his head and mumbled an apology. He’d been so eager to show his work he’d forgotten standard protocol.

  “Your grand reopening scheme was supposed to pull in the money, right?” she asked, but it wasn’t a question. “This little jump in sales is pitiful. Especially when compared to the amount your parlor had to pay out. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Endo handed Masuo the rope to hang himself, and Hayato just sat there the whole time, his face cast down, as if too ashamed to speak.

  Masuo swallowed. “The past two days, there’s been a suspected cheater. I’ve been trying to catch them. I have some projections if we ignore it and go with the average—”

  “It’s clear running a parlor isn’t for you.”

  “If you look at the percentage profits over the course of the weeks before—”

  Endo held up her hand to silence him. Cigarette smoke swirled around her.

  “You spent all this money on an opening and even bought new machines, and it still fails. I don’t care about the percentage profits. What kind of yakuza lets a cheater get away unscathed? Especially one bold enough to return twice.” Endo shook her head. “Someone with more experience would have had that cheater on their knees. You can be a janitor at one of the other parlors and learn a few things.”

  Masuo’s hands twisted into fists. Everything he’d worked for. His dream of turning the parlor around and finally proving himself. Endo had already made up her mind. She wouldn’t even allow Masuo to defend himself, but he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers without a fight.