The Dusk Parlor

by S. A. Stovall

  I exhale and straighten my own clothes, frustrated by the lack of release for all this sexual tension I’ve gone through the last few days. I need to stop getting hot and bothered while at work—tonight I’ve got to take Ren up on his offer to have fun.

  The crash of glass sounds from the main room, and my hair stands on end. Perhaps I’m already riled, but my blood runs hot as I storm through the kitchen door and out onto the dance floor. To my surprise I spot Lottie, Hassan, and Ren standing near the front door. Two muscled men and one scrawny guy are in the midst of the group as well, each dressed in mobster-like suits.

  “You’re coming with us, Ren,” the shorter, thinner mobster says. “The oyabun isn’t messin’ around anymore. Hanamura’s payments just aren’t enough.”

  “What’s going on, Ren?” Lottie asks. “Do you want me to call the police?”

  Ren motions them away with a wave of his hand. “No. Leave us. I’ll handle this.”

  “But—”

  “Go tell Kaito.”

  I walk up to the group, and both muscled men tense—they glare at me with hard-set eyes and pursed lips. We’re going to get in a fight. I can taste it on the air. The men are here to take Ren, and they aren’t going to take no for an answer.

  “What’s going on here?” I force myself to ask as I rotate my shoulders.

  I’ve been in a handful of fights. I’m ready for whatever they’ve got.

  Ren backs up to me and gives me an appreciative nod. “Old friends of mine, Hugh. Don’t worry. They were just leaving.”

  A muscled goon steps forward, his boots crunching the broken glass shattered across the floor. “No more talking. You’re coming with us.”

  Chapter 6: The Yakuza

  I STEP between the men and Ren, much to the surprise of half the room.

  The goons understand my unspoken challenge—the closest throws an overhand haymaker with enough force to crack brick. I dodge aside and strike his undefended gut, my knuckles bruising his intestines. I ram my knee up, hitting the same spot, and kick the man back into the wall, his breath gone and his body curled in on itself.

  The second thug lunges for me. He collides hard, sending us both to the ground, and I land on my back, pain flaring up my spine. I punch the man across the face and bring my elbow back for a one-two strike that leaves him dazed. I kick him off, jump to my feet, and tense for another round.

  Without warning, the guy tackles my waist from a half-standing position, slamming us back into one of the booths. I swing and connect with the side of his head, busting his ear and raining blood onto the floor.

  He strikes me hard in the side, but I lift him up—in a display of strength that startles their leader—and toss the guy to the floor with a heavy throw.

  I turn my attention to the lanky guy, and he freezes up.

  “W-wait,” he stutters. “We’ll leave. Haru. Daiki. Get up.”

  The two men stagger to their feet and join their leader. They give me looks that could kill, but I don’t bother acknowledging them. They aren’t the ones in charge.

  “Next time this’ll get bloody,” the thin man says as they back up toward the front door. “And business is gonna start takin’ a hit, Ren. The oyabun made it clear to tank this place if you don’t comply.”

  “I don’t owe him anything,” Ren states. “We’re even.”

  “You owe him one last favor.”

  “Like hell I do.”

  The men leave without another word, returning the Dusk Parlor to its cool state of quiet. I glance around and notice Hassan and Lottie standing in the shadowy corner by the kitchen door. They both turn to me with confused expressions. They don’t know what’s going on.

  We all turn our attention to Ren.

  “Hassan, Lottie,” Ren says, “clean this up before we open, will you? Hugh and I need to speak to Kaito.”

  Hassan and Lottie reply with reluctant nods.

  Ren takes me by the arm and leads me through the kitchen door.

  With the fight draining from my body, I begin to hurt. My back stiffens into something unmovable, and my side pulses with pain after each heartbeat. The only upside is that I’m no longer worked up from my time with Kaito—but that’s a minor victory at best.

  “You were amazing back there,” Ren says as we cross the silver kitchen. “Have you been in a lot of fights?”

  “I learned a few things when I grappled in the Army.”

  “Yeah, I bet you did.”

  I give Ren a sideways glance. He returns it with a smile.

  Before we reach the employee lounge, I grab Ren by the arm and stop him. “What’s going on?” I ask. “I need to know.”

  Ren shrugs. “Look. It’s complicated. I knew some guys in the past, and they think I owe them a favor before they’ll let me just live my life.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “I used to work as a sniper and sharpshooter for the Yamaguchi-gumi.”

  “The yakuza?” I balk. “You worked as a sniper?”

  Ren jerks his arm from my grasp and turns away. “Yeah. Okay? I learned to shoot when I was in the States. The guys here aren’t that proficient with firearms. They took me on when I had problems fitting in here. They gave me a place to live, money…. Favors. And you gotta return favors when you work for the yakuza.”

  “Ren!” Kaito snaps.

  I turn and spot Kaito standing in the open door of the employee lounge. He storms over and glowers.

  “What did I tell you about mentioning anything about this?” Kaito yells. “We cannot trust him, and—”

  “Hugh just chased away Nobu and his thugs,” Ren interjects.

  “Wait…. Nobu came here?”

  “That’s right. He says the oyabun wants me for one last favor. He’s going to come after the Dusk Parlor unless I go to him.”

  “This is getting out of hand. They never should have come here.”

  Both men get quiet. I cross my arms over my chest and meet Kaito’s gaze. “Are you a sharpshooter for the yakuza?” I ask, needing to know.

  “No,” he replies in a curt tone. “I was nothing more than a glorified accountant.”

  “He laundered money,” Ren drawls. “He was real good at avoiding taxes and hiding dirty sources of cash.”

  Kaito huffs but doesn’t bother offering a denial to the statements.

  They knew each other long before the Dusk Parlor—they worked and helped the yakuza as part of the “gang.” I take a step back, filling in the missing pieces to the puzzle in my mind’s eye. Ren and Kaito are criminals. Or, at least, they were criminals.

  What am I going to do with this information?

  The silence thickens all around us. Neither of them says anything, but I can sense their nonverbal communication as they stare at each other.

  Should I tell someone? The police? Then again, Ren and Kaito aren’t the ones harassing people; it’s their old associates. I want to ask more questions, but the kitchen door opens and Chef Mio flounces through with a hard look of determination in her eye. She heads straight for the stove and begins her cooking. Does she even know what happened? I doubt it. I doubt she’d even care.

  Kaito gives me the once-over and frowns. “You have blood on your uniform,” he states.

  I glance down. He’s right. There’s a crimson smear across the white of my shirt.

  “I will get you a spare shirt, and we will discuss this further once the night is over. Until then we are not to discuss it, understood?”

  I nod. Ren follows suit.

  THE EVENING is tense.

  The patrons are the same as ever, but Hassan and Lottie go through the motions without the same flair they had the night before. I can see it in the way they steal glances at me and the way they watch the front door with a cautious eye.

  I remain off to the side, my back still arguing with me to sit down.

  “Can you get the next drink order?” Lottie asks me as she heads to the kitchen.

  Although Kaito said I shouldn�
�t be serving yet, I head for the bar. My gait is stiff and short, betraying my pain, but I keep it minimal. Ren notices as I come up to the counter. He grabs a few bottles and glasses, demonstrating an entertaining level of showmanship I hadn’t seen before—tossing the fine crystal, catching it, popping off the tops of bottles and half juggling them until pouring out the contents in refined amounts.

  “I haven’t told you the order yet,” I say, staring at the three drinks.

  “I know the table,” Ren replies. “They order the same damn thing every time they visit. Don’t worry about it.” I take the glasses, and Ren motions to me with a nod of his head. “Hey, take it easy, okay?”

  I nod and head back. The clientele at the booth watch me with curious glances as I approach. I place the glasses down and smile.

  “Please enjoy,” I say in English, confident I can’t mess that up.

  “Thank you,” one woman replies, her English equally on point.

  The music starts up, and I know it’s my cue to go to the kitchen and relax. Ren waits at the bar—he doesn’t have to take a break like the waiters—but it’s not like Ren has been working strenuously tonight.

  I enter the kitchen to find everyone huddled around one of the steel countertops, their voices low and their posture defensive. They motion me over, and I approach with a lifted eyebrow.

  “This is for you,” Chef Mio says, pushing me a fancy plate of food. I recognize the protein—Wagyu beef—a marbled steak seared and covered in slices of matsutake mushrooms. It’s an extravagant and lavish meal… something way outside my price range.

  I glance over and spot my bento box on the far counter. “Why aren’t I eating that?” I ask.

  Mio snorts. “We all know what you did. Chasing away yakuza thugs requires a substantial reward. You will eat this.”

  A command. Not a suggestion.

  “I can’t believe they came back,” one of the Soki twins says.

  His identical brother nods. “I know, right? I get it, they’re into racketeering and extortion, but why do they keep coming back to the Dusk Parlor? Haven’t they had enough of us?”

  “Ren must know a guy or something. They ask for him all the time.”

  “He probably did something stupid. You know him. Men, women, flat tires—if it has a hole, he’ll fuck it. What if he slept with a yakuza’s daughter?”

  “Huh… maybe.”

  I hold back all my insights. No one here knows the truth. I see it in their eyes. They’re confused about why the yakuza would harass the place, and they don’t even mention Kaito. Of course, I’m still surprised Kaito used to be part of a criminal organization. He seems too straitlaced for all of that….

  Hassan places his hands on his hips and faces me with a frown. “Look, we’re all happy you stepped in, but… we’re also concerned.”

  I pull the Wagyu steak close. “Why? I can handle myself.”

  “Well, you know… guys like us should be careful.”

  Guys like us?

  Heh. He means hāfu.

  “Why should we be more careful than the rest?”

  Hassan sighs. “You stand out in a crowd. It wouldn’t be hard for… for those thugs to find you and make life… difficult.”

  I catch my breath. I hadn’t thought of that. Still. I don’t like intimidation tactics. They aren’t going to frighten me into capitulation.

  “Eat your food before it gets cold,” Mio says.

  I flinch at the bark in her words and cut myself a few strips of the steak before chowing down.

  Fuck. I’ve never experienced something so tender and flavorful before. It makes everything else I’ve ever had seem like cement paste in comparison. How do they get such juiciness in a single slab of meat? Life has mysteries I’ll never solve.

  “Is it good?” Hassan asks.

  “Of course it is!” Mio snaps.

  I give Hassan a nod and a silent yeah, it’s good.

  “I hope nothing happens to this place,” Sous-Chef Yuta mutters, his soft voice difficult to hear, even in the quiet atmosphere.

  Hassan sighs. “Those yakuza guys made it clear they were going to start hurting business if they didn’t get what they wanted.”

  “Poor Hanamura.”

  “I know,” Hassan mutters. “But I’m not sure what we’re going to do.”

  The group returns to their own thoughts. I finish my steak, content to mull over everything, the joy of my taste buds overriding any pain that still lingers from the fight.

  I can’t believe Kaito and Ren kept their association with the yakuza under wraps all this time. Then again, I guess no one here has been trying to take off their clothes like I have…. The tattoos are a dead giveaway, but both men wear clothing suited for hiding them. They obviously want to separate themselves from their yakuza past, and I can appreciate the sentiment. I moved to Japan to escape my painful memories, after all.

  For a moment I wonder how Ren has kept his secret if he really does throw himself at every available body. His odd shirt I met him in comes to mind, and I imagine he avoids showing his tattoos to people who would recognize the marks. I didn’t know they associated someone with the yakuza, which may be why he didn’t mind showing them to me.

  “What do you guys think about Kaito?” I ask, hoping to gain some insight.

  The Soki twins smile. One says, “He’s a hard worker.”

  “Yeah,” the other chimes in. “He’s strict, but fair. Best boss I’ve ever had.”

  Hassan shrugs. “I like Hanamura. I don’t think he deserves to have his nightclub harassed because one of us had a run-in with the yakuza.”

  The music begins to fade. Everyone perks up and breaks away in preparation for the second half of the evening. Before dispersing with them, Hassan takes me by the shoulder and pulls me to the side. “Maybe you should stay at a hotel tonight,” he says in a low voice. “Or maybe stay with friends and family. Anything so that you’re not alone.”

  It’s not a bad idea. I nod to him, and he smiles.

  “Thanks again,” he says. “I was really impressed with how you stepped up and helped us all back there.”

  “It was nothing,” I reply.

  “Well, we all think you’re great. Let me know if you need anything.”

  THE LAST half of the evening goes by in a flash. The dancing, the drinking, the music… I let it engulf me as I think over the situation.

  I have three options: I could try to turn Kaito and Ren over to the police for their past involvement with the yakuza, but they’re clearly attempting to leave that life behind. I could ignore the situation and leave the Dusk Parlor, but I feel too deep into the situation to walk out now. Or, as a third option, I get deeper into the scenario and attempt to help Ren and Kaito.

  Option three seems the least logical… but I know I lean toward it the longer I dwell on everything. I don’t know them well, and perhaps I’m thinking with my dick, but I don’t want to see anything happen to them. They’re being intimidated into compliance, and I hate it. I guess it might be more my protective nature than anything else.

  “You okay?” Lottie asks me.

  I stare down at her and shrug. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  We walk over to the bar, and Lottie sticks close. “I feel safer with you around.”

  “I definitely feel safer with you around,” Ren says, sliding down across the bar to meet us. “You’ve saved me twice, after all.”

  “You still haven’t told us what’s going on,” Lottie states with a huff. “This isn’t a game, Ren. Hugh went through a lot standing up for you.”

  “I know. I’ll pay him back.”

  “Those yakuza thugs could come after him.”

  Ren lays his eyes on me and smirks. “Hey. Stay with me tonight. I need the protection. I mean, if yakuza thugs go after you, I think they’ll just walk away with a beating. If they go after me…. Well, I’m not one for fisticuffs, if you get my drift.”

  I want to make some comment about how a sniper for the yakuza
should know his way around a fight, but perhaps he never had to deal with anyone in melee range. I sigh. Things are gonna get difficult, but I guess that’s what I signed up for when I came to Japan.

  “All right,” I say. “I’ll stay with you for the night.”

  Ren lifts both his eyebrows, and Lottie tilts her head to the side.

  “Really?” she asks. “He’s a magnet for trouble.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll take care of him,” Ren says with a laugh. “It’ll be great.”

  Lottie rolls her eyes. “Don’t get distracted, okay? This is serious.”

  “Very serious.”

  Lottie huffs and storms off to the kitchen. I glance around. The patrons have left and cleaning has already begun. Ren places his hand on the counter and swings his body over in a raw display of athleticism. He lands next to me and points around the room.

  “So, you’ll clean up and I’ll finish some paperwork, and then we’ll leave together to go to my place?”

  “I already said yes,” I say. “What more do you want?”

  “A guarantee. I’m looking forward to this.”

  “Heh. Fine. You have my guarantee.”

  “Perfect.”

  He saunters off back to the kitchen, and I get to helping Hassan and the Soki twins.

  They mumble things to themselves as we work, but I try to ignore it. I know they’re worried about the future. I’ve come to the conclusion that I like the Dusk Parlor enough that I would feel bad seeing it close, and I’ve only been here two days. I can only imagine what they think.

  Chef Mio and Sous-Chef Yuta walk out of the kitchen. They both stop to give me a small bow of their head before leaving. I wave to them, but I wish they wouldn’t treat me with such reverence. I didn’t do anything spectacular. I’m sure anyone else would have done it if they were comfortable with fighting.

  Once the area sparkles, Hassan walks over to me and exhales. “Look, if you need anything, let me know.” He hands me a scrap of paper with his number on it, and I pocket the information.

  “Thanks,” I say. “It means a lot that you’re looking out for me.”