Fallen Angel (9781101578810)

by Patrick, Jonelle

  “The thing is,” she was saying, “I’ve been reconsidering the pink champagne tower. A friend of mine was at an event last week where they poured a tower with each layer a different color…”

  “Of course,” Hoshi murmured, topping up her brandy and deftly adding a splash of water, knowing full well that Mrs. Ono’s “friend” was utterly fictitious. He had it on excellent authority that just last week she’d attended the birthday event for the #3 host at Memento Mori, where they’d indeed poured a rainbow tower. If asked, she’d deny that she played around at other clubs besides Nova, but Hoshi knew she had at least two other shimeishas in Kabuki-chō. Memento Mori’s #3 was one of them.

  Not that he didn’t have sympathy for Ono-san—she probably had birthday parties planned for herself every night this week, none of them hosted or attended by her husband.

  “Rainbow tower. I’ll arrange it.” He smiled.

  “And about the cake…you haven’t ordered the cake yet, have you?”

  Of course he had, but the order could—and clearly was about to—be changed.

  “I was at a party over the weekend and they served this absolutely delicious chocolate thing.”

  She was drowned out by a squeal of delight from the next table. Shinya was playing a drinking game with Coco. Shouts erupted as she held out two fingers to Shinya’s fist in their final round of rock-paper-scissors, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. A bottle of Dom Pérignon was popped and she boldly lifted the bottle to her lips.

  Mrs. Ono shot them an annoyed glance.

  “Drink, drink, drink!” Coco’s friends at surrounding tables chanted and clapped as Shinya held a towel under her chin and she did her best to chug the bottle. The red sequined kisses on her short dress sparkled as she swallowed; she made it nearly halfway through before setting the bottle down on the table with a clunk. Swaying slightly, she picked it up to try again, but only managed a few mouthfuls before giving up. She tried to hand it to Shinya, but he laughingly refused to take it, pointing at the smear of pink lipstick around the lip.

  “This color isn’t at all good on me,” he protested.

  She pretended to pout and turned to Hoshi, tonight’s “event” allowing her to ignore the protocol that normally forbids talking to hosts at other tables.

  “Hoshi-i-i-i-i,” she implored, as the champagne began to unfocus her eyes. “Make Shinya help me!”

  “Why don’t you make him drink one of his own, Coco-san?” Hoshi laughed.

  He wouldn’t have made that suggestion to everybody, but Coco could afford it. She was here at Hoshi’s invitation and knew what he expected of her. She called out an order for another bottle of Dom, then turned and offered her cheek for him to kiss, by way of thanks for supporting his kohai.

  He obliged, as Mrs. Ono coughed lightly, unhappy he’d been diverted. Coco’s smile chilled into something less friendly as she met Mrs. Ono’s haughty glare over his shoulder.

  Damn it. Ono-san’s recent attempts to command Hoshi’s attention were becoming irksome to his other patrons; she’d been throwing money around as though that’s all it took to secure the lion’s share of his time. He’d tried to be fair and keep everybody happy, but he knew Coco was annoyed. She understood the unspoken rules and was unforgiving of patrons who didn’t.

  “Baba,” Coco muttered, dropping back into her seat. Her soon-to-be-married friend excused herself to the ladies’ room, and Coco leaned over to hear some juicy tidbit being shared by one of the Queen of Hearts hostesses at the next table.

  Hoshi quickly topped up Mrs. Ono’s drink, hoping she hadn’t heard Coco call her an old hag. “Sorry for that little interruption. We were talking about your cake…?”

  “Oh my God!” gasped Coco, turning to stare at Mrs. Ono. “It is her!”

  “Look at the picture behind the door in Manager-san’s office if you don’t believe me,” crowed the hostess who had beckoned Coco closer. She was one of the top five at the Queen of Hearts, and the brandy she’d ordered in Shinya’s honor was now raising her voice and lowering her inhibitions. Against a sudden lull in the background music her voice rang out with shocking clarity. “I’ll bet you next week’s bonus she was Manager-san’s sempai.”

  Surrounding tables turned to stare and her words rocked Hoshi back in his seat. Was that true? Had Ono-san been a hostess before she was wealthy and connected? It would explain a lot: her stubbornly youthful hairstyle, her ability to drink far more than a typical society matron, her return to the mizu shōbai world for comfort when her husband no longer worshipped her; it all made perfect sense. What was more shocking was her age—she must be a lot older than he’d guessed. The Queen of Hearts manager was in her early forties; her mentor would be even older. If Ono-san really had been born in the Year of the Tiger, she wasn’t thirty-five going on thirty-six, as she’d coyly hinted; she’d be turning forty-eight.

  “She looks good, though, don’t you think,” the girl continued, turning the knife, “for someone who was already hostessing when we were in kindergarten?”

  Mrs. Ono’s face went white, then red, her cheeks burning with fury and humiliation.

  “Ono-san, don’t you think it’s a bit noisy in here tonight?” Hoshi interjected, desperate to put a stop to the train wreck. “Let’s move to the VIP room to finish talking about your party.”

  But his patron set down her half-finished brandy and fumbled for her purse. “You know, it is too noisy in here tonight.” She stood. “I’m not feeling at all well. I think I’ll go.”

  Hoshi hastened after her as she swept toward the elevator. He decided not to risk saying the wrong thing and making things worse; best to let her get some distance from this unfortunate episode. He caught up to her as she waited for the elevator, murmuring, “I’ll call you tomorrow to talk about—”

  She held up a hand, stopping him, her face grim. The elevator dinged its arrival. As the doors opened, Masato tapped him on the shoulder and whispered, “Showtime in five.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I call Ono-san a cab,” Hoshi promised.

  He held the doors for Mrs. Ono, but she turned to him stiffly and said, “That’s all right. I don’t need you to see me out. My husband’s driver is waiting.” Then she stepped into the car and pushed the Down button, stonily staring at the numbers above the door, her lips a thin, tight line.

  Hoshi bowed, holding a position of apology and deference until the doors bumped shut.

  Chapter 23

  Sunday, November 10

  10:00 P.M.

  Hoshi

  Hoshi sighed and joined the rest of the staff near the table in the middle of the floor. Was it really only 10:00? He felt like he’d already put in a full day, but he still had hours of work ahead before he could call it a night.

  The club’s owner had arrived, making a rare pre-midnight appearance. Issa-san had risen meteorically to become the top-earning host in all of Kabuki-chō before he was twenty-three, and at the age of thirty was now the “producer” of three clubs of his own: Club Nova in Tokyo, Icarus in Osaka, and Cloud Nine in Yokohama. As the owner, he no longer had to wear a suit; tonight he was all in black, his narrow pants hugging his hips and tucked into gleaming, buckled motorcycle boots. His Prada T-shirt was a perfect foil for his bleached hair and perpetual surfer tan. He wore a ¥1,500,000 Breitling watch on one wrist, a leather biker cuff on the other, and heavy silver rings on both hands.

  Hoshi envied him his collection of motorbikes, his freedom from having to deal with mercurial women six days a week, and the stream of wealth generated by the hosts who worked for him. Hoshi was making more money than he’d ever dreamed of, but it was nothing compared to what he could make owning a club. With luck, his years of working his butt off, saving his money, and cultivating wealthy patrons he could tap as investors would soon pay off.

  “Irasshaimase,” Issa breathed into the cordless mike as the staff arrayed themselves behind the pyramid of empty glasses. Though he’d retired from hosting, the boss still tu
rned heads, his charisma infusing even mundane greetings with swoonworthy intimacy. The room quieted expectantly.

  He cued a drum roll; spotlights blazed onto the five anniversary hosts. Issa introduced them one by one, and each bowed to raucous applause led by his partisans. A cheer went up as the dance beat of “I RAVE U” burst from the club speakers. Shinya and the four others performed the DJ Ozma parody they’d perfected for a recent competition at the Romeo Club. When they struck their final pose, the club erupted in applause.

  The other hosts formed a line, passing bottle after bottle of champagne from the bar to the owner, who tipped each one into the top glass of the pyramid. As the golden bubbly overflowed from one level to the next, each layer magically bloomed turquoise, until it became a sparkling tower of deepening blue. Shinya and the others bowed one more time before accepting trays of complimentary aqua-tinted champagne to distribute.

  Hoshi whispered in Shinya’s ear as he waited for his tray, suggesting they meet downstairs when he’d finished his rounds.

  Fifteen minutes later, Shinya sauntered into the locker room, scrubbing at his silver shirt with a napkin. Hoshi fetched a rag and a small bottle of spot remover from his locker, noticing that a few splashes of blue had landed on his kohai’s jacket.

  “White suits were a better idea before they started coloring the champagne,” Hoshi commiserated, ministering to the spots.

  “My dry-cleaning bills would be out of sight if I had to wear this every night. There’s already lipstick on it, too.” Shinya watched Hoshi scrub at his lapel. “What happened with Mrs. Ono? I saw her leave before the party even started, and she didn’t look happy.”

  “One of the girls from the Queen of Hearts gave her a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.” Hoshi blotted at Shinya’s lapel and stood back to survey his handiwork. “She insisted that Ono-san used to be a hostess and, even worse, that she was the Queen of Hearts’ manager’s sempai.”

  Shinya’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Isn’t the Q-of-H manager over forty? I didn’t realize Ono-san was that old.”

  Hoshi sighed and picked up a hair dryer to take care of the damp spots. “We’re going to have to be extra nice to her tomorrow. If she doesn’t cancel, that is.”

  A worry line appeared between his brows. What if that little incident had just cost him a patron? If he lost Mrs. Ono on top of losing Cherry, he’d never be able to keep the #1 spot, might even drop out of the top five, and then he’d be out of the weekly bonus money. And if he lost her as a patron, that meant he’d lose her as a potential investor in his future plans, a setback he couldn’t afford. God, he really had to get enough money together to open his own place.

  But now was not the time to think about it. He had to get back to the anniversary event, make some money and support his kohai. Hoshi clicked off the dryer. “Don’t worry about Mrs. Ono. Let’s talk about making you tonight’s top earner. I was thinking we should work on getting Coco’s friend to choose you as her shimeisha.”

  “You mean Yumi? I don’t think she’s a very good prospect—Coco told me she’s getting married.”

  “Yeah, but that’s good news for you. She’s marrying…just a minute.” Hoshi pulled a well-worn notebook from his jacket and flipped to a page near the back. “Ichiro Mitsuyama. As in Mitsuyama department stores.”

  “That’s good news?”

  “Yep. They met through o-miai.”

  “An arranged marriage? Yow. People still do that?”

  “People like the Mitsuyamas do. They want to make sure their kids don’t get hitched to anybody ‘unsuitable.’ Which is why we—” Hoshi flung his arm around his kohai’s shoulder. “—make such a good living entertaining wealthy wives.”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t really seem like the type to…”

  Hoshi thwacked him on the forehead. “Don’t you remember anything I taught you?” He folded his arms like a disapproving schoolmaster. “What do women want?”

  Shinya laughed and recited, “Women want to be wanted.”

  “Bingo. The one thing they can never get enough of is being desired. And not all of them want to drag you off to a love hotel. This Yumi seems more like the type who’ll crave a sympathetic ear when she finds out her new husband sees no reason to give up his girlfriend just because his family arranged for him to acquire a wife. All you have to do—” Hoshi poked him in the chest. “—is convince her that you’re the black hole of discretion, the perfect shoulder to cry on when she needs to confide stuff she doesn’t even want to admit to her best friend.”

  Shinya still looked uncertain.

  “I think you really hit it off with her when she came in last week,” Hoshi continued. “She came back for your anniversary party, didn’t she? And tonight she doesn’t look at all like the ‘good girl’ who was here last week.”

  Hoshi stepped back and straightened his kohai’s lapels. “So come on, what have you got to lose? Tell you what—I’ll go out first, sit at their table, get them to finish that bottle they ordered. I’ll make sure Yumi-san is feeling a little lonely by the time you slide into the seat next to her. All you’ll have to do is close the deal.”

  “Whatever you say, sempai.”

  “Five minutes, okay?” Hoshi gave his hair a quick tweak, then took the back stairs two at a time. He stood in the darkness, peering out from behind the screen that hid the door to the locker room, considering his reentry.

  He automatically checked his tables. The hostesses from Queen of Hearts and Club Heaven looked happy for the moment; he knew they’d enjoy themselves until he could give them his attention again.

  Yosh’. He took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the screen.

  Chapter 24

  Sunday, November 10

  10:00 P.M.

  Yumi

  Yumi was getting worried. Where was Hoshi? Now he’d disappeared altogether. How was she supposed to get his fingerprints if he never sat with them? Had she risked being seen at a host club, wearing Coco’s embarrassingly flashy dress and dangerously high heels, for nothing?

  She adjusted the black modesty blanket to cover her knees. The host who seated them had correctly guessed that the shockingly short dress Coco had made her wear would hike up when she sat down, so he’d offered her a sort of oversized courtesy napkin. She wished it covered the uncomfortably low neckline, too, but it wasn’t big enough to do both. Yumi finished the aqua-tinted champagne Shinya had brought them, wondering if it was turning her lips and teeth blue. What if the color didn’t come off when she brushed her teeth, and tomorrow Ichiro asked about it, and…

  “Welcome back, Yumi-san.” Hoshi smiled, seating himself next to Coco. “Thanks for coming to support Shinya.”

  Finally! Now, what would he touch that she could sneak out of the club and give to Kenji?

  Hoshi topped up their champagne.

  Fingerprints from both hands. Nice smooth surface. Perfect. Except that bottle was too big to fit in her purse.

  “Shinya says he’ll join us in a few minutes,” Hoshi continued, pouring for himself.

  Three clear prints on his champagne glass. Could she drop it into her bag when nobody was looking, let Kenji lift the prints, then bring it back?

  “…you two really knew each other back in high school?” Hoshi was asking.

  “Uh, sort of,” Yumi said, guessing his question had been about Shinya.

  “So did you ever go horseback riding together?” Hoshi grinned.

  “Horseback riding? Whatever gave you the idea that Shinya knows how to ride a horse?”

  “He put it on his info page. Look.” Hoshi pulled out his phone and quickly navigated to a website that displayed yearbook-like headshots of all the Club Nova hosts. He selected Shinya’s picture and scrolled through the information that popped up.

  “See? ‘Hobby: horseback riding.’”

  Yumi laughed. “No way. His sister told me that he used to throw up just from riding the carousel at Yomiuriland.”

  Hoshi shook his head w
ith a wry smile and set his phone on the table.

  Smooth plastic case, covered with fingerprints. Perfect, except he’d miss his phone more quickly than a fisherman would miss his rod.

  “He didn’t recognize you at first when you came in last week,” Hoshi said, pulling his lighter from his pocket. He flicked it and held it out to Coco. “He couldn’t believe how gorgeous you’d become since he used to see you at his sister’s salon.”

  Yumi laughed. “He’s changed more than I have.”

  Hoshi lit a cigarette, taking a drag as he draped his arm on the seat behind Coco.

  Two fingerprints and a thumb on that shiny gold Dunhill.

  Coco sighed contentedly and relaxed against him. He pulled the glass ashtray closer.

  Left thumb and forefinger. And the ashtray was small enough to fit in her purse.

  “He was really happy to see you tonight—he wasn’t sure you’d be back. It wouldn’t do if he neglected the other girls who came to wish him well, though, so I’m making him save you for last,” the host continued, tapping a column of ash into the glass dish.

  Ugh, forget the ashtray. No matter how much Kenji needed those prints, it wasn’t worth getting cigarette smut all over the inside of her handbag.

  Hoshi leaned toward Coco and whispered something in her ear. She smiled and playfully blew him a kiss. He pulled her closer and murmured something else. Coco gave him a sloe-eyed glance.

  Luckily, before their flirtation excluded Yumi even more, Shinya arrived and pulled out the chair next to her. He picked up the champagne bottle and freshened all three glasses, pouring a fourth glass for himself. Coco tore herself away from Hoshi and proposed a toast to the anniversary boy.

  “Thanks for coming tonight,” Shinya whispered in Yumi’s ear, moving closer, his extravagantly styled hair tickling her cheek. “I’ve never seen you dressed up like this. Is that why I never realized that you have the most gorgeous legs I’ve ever seen?”