He tried to stare me down, but he didn’t stand a chance. Concentration was a skill all good artists learned to master. I counted the hairs on his goatee one by one.
Distracted by the group, he broke his gaze. “Okay. We have one last unscheduled stop on the tour. Follow me.”
I tagged along, waiting for my next opportunity. “It better be something good.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Oh, it is.”
Suddenly, my feet left the ground.
In one swift move, he’d lifted me up into the air and then dropped me inside the huge circular fountain that stood near the exit. Hoots and hollers echoed in my water clogged ears as I scrambled to the edge of the fountain. Despite my soaked condition, my cheeks burned hot as I stood up to face a cheering mob. Kenzo leaned over to hand me his jacket as once again my black lace demi-cup bra was on display. As he reached out his hand, I grabbed it and pulled him in.
Gina screamed, “Good move, Erin.”
The guys whistled and hooted while Kenzo glared at me. “You’re going to pay for dunking me.” Then he stood up and wrung the water out of his goatee. “And when I come to collect, make sure you’re wearing that bra.”
Chapter 9
Monkey Breast A Go Go
September 11, 8:30 AM
Another headache—another day at the Moris’.
I don’t know what it was about Hiroshi and his passion for trying to get me drunk. Maybe he was hoping I’d agree to be his American promoter and tell all my friends to buy his CD of Elvis greatest hits—not!
All Sunday I’d hung out in Hiroshi’s room watching his friends play mahjong while I pretended to nurse a glass of scotch. I was going to need a twelve-step program after living a year with the Moris’ or Hiroshi was going to have to replace the tatami mat I kept pouring the scotch into.
Normally, I would have avoided Hiroshi and his mahjong addicted friends, but I heard Fudo’s voice and I wanted to talk to him about making peace with Okasan. Unfortunately, he sat right next to Hiroshi. He looked especially cute with a bit of stubble on his handsome face. When I spotted a new guy sitting next to him, my heart beat faster.
He had number one written all over him. He screamed “rock star,” with his silver studded black leather outfit and long shag haircut. There was something about Japanese rocker guys that just drove me crazy. Plus, it never hurt to have a backup in case Kenzo didn’t work out. Besides, his name was Muki and I was in love. At least in the blazing hot daydream I had about him.
Turning my head towards the clock, I blinked twice at the numbers. 8:30AM Monday! Crap, my first class was already in progress. My sense of time in Japan had failed me yet again. I broke a record getting ready for school. As much as I hated wearing a uniform, I made it out the door in eight minutes flat. The walk to the station didn’t feel so much like a marathon as the first signs of fall were popping up everywhere. A sprinkle of yellow and red brightened the trees along the railroad tracks. One maple looked like a crazy quilt with its large patches of green mixed with colored leaves.
I boarded the train accustomed to the occasional stares of my fellow passengers, but today almost everyone on the train seemed to find me fascinating. Looking at my reflection in the window I realized that they weren’t staring for the usual reason. My hair would give Lady Ga Ga some competition.
Smoothing out my rat’s nest with my fingers, I couldn’t wait to see the girls again and tell Setsuko I had a crush on a rocker. Of course, she’d still think her host brother would be far more desirable than any rock star wanna-be.
I dashed down the stairs and headed for the subway. As I passed the cardboard village, there was a new painting on one of the box houses, a slightly open door with a giant ray of light coming out. I could almost reach out and touch the ray shooting across the side of the box. For some reason, it had an almost spiritual effect on me. This painting of hope in the middle of a damp dreary Tokyo subway. It also made me long to get my hands on some brushes. I should call Kawanasan and accept his offer to paint in his studio. Tori wouldn’t want me to miss an opportunity to cross number four off the list. Still, part of me was nervous to sit next to a famous artist. What if I wasn’t good enough?
I did the walk to school at warp speed and headed straight to Japanese class. I had missed my first class so I might as well be early for my next one. Collapsing in my seat, I stared out at the empty classroom. Gina was going to think I got heat stroke over the weekend to be the first one in class.
The sound of students approaching echoed from the hallway. Still no Gina. Maybe she had stopped by the lounge looking for me. She was always eager to tell me about the new great toy her family had purchased for her. I hoped for her sake she had a break this weekend from constantly being on display with her host family’s relatives.
From just behind me Gina’s voice sounded. “I knew you’d show your true colors sooner or later. I thought you were a kiss ass when I met you.”
I gave her a crooked smile. “You’ve got my number.”
Gina held back a laugh. “Next, I bet you’re going to reveal you were a closet cheerleader. I knew you had something in common with Setsuko.”
“Now, wait a sec. You don’t have to hit below the belt. Besides I have much scarier things hidden in my closet!”
Before she could get me back, Mrs. Masuda came striding through the door. Gina gave me a wink and quickly went to her seat.
Oh joy. We recited the vowel chart for the next three hours. Just what I came to Japan for.
Having survived Mrs. Masuda’s grueling torture, Gina and I headed downstairs to the student lounge to catch up. After we plopped down in two club chairs, I decided to let Gina go first. She seemed about to spill the entire contents of her weekend.
“Just when I thought I had another weekend of relative torment ahead of me, my host parents surprised me by taking me to Kamakura.” Gina sifted through her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She scrolled through her pictures until she found the first one, she took in Kamakura. “See, we went to all the major temples. I loved the beautifully manicured gardens. Some of the trees had even begun to turn. Kamakura has a bunch of Zen monasteries. There were more monks per square foot than tourists.” And with that pronouncement, Gina stashed her phone back in her bag. “It was great!”
I couldn’t be happier for her. She hadn’t been anywhere but to school, the park, and her host family’s home since she landed in Japan. “I’m so glad you finally got out of the house. Kamakura sounds really nice. I can’t wait to see for myself on our field trip next month. I bet all the trees will have turned by then. I love fall.” I gave her a mischievous smile. “I also love something else—monks.”
“I knew it!” She gave me a high five. “So what exciting things did you do on the weekend? Of course, don’t think you can top losing your virtue.”
I punched her in the arm. “I think you used that joke one too many times.”
Gina smirked. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She leaned forward in her chair. “So, how was your weekend?”
“Well, mine wasn’t as spiritual as yours, but there were spirits involved. I watched Hiroshi and his friends get drunk and play mahjong all Sunday. I actually learned to play with the help of Fudo. Between games they tried to get me drunk, but I pretended to nurse the same drink all day. It paid off, too. I met a rock star and I’m in love.”
Gina flashed me a smile. “I guess the monks have some competition. Do you really want to jump off the deep end for some rocker guy just cause it’s on your stupid to-do list?”
“He’s so cool. His band’s name is Monkey Breast.”
Gina gave me a double take. “Monkey what?”
“That’s the name of my rocker’s band.”
As Gina burst out laughing, someone behind me tugged on my hair.
“Wow, what a great name. I bet they’re fantastic!” Setsuko at her sarcastic best.
“Okay, you made your point.”
Gina, always the mediato
r, quickly changed the subject. “I need a snack. Let’s go to the little bakery down block.”
I was never one to turn down sweets. “I could use some chocolate about now.”
We raced each other to the bakery. Japanese bakeries are a strange hybrid. They make traditional Japanese pastries but are mostly filled with their unique versions of European breads and desserts. I peered into a case full of Napoleons, éclairs, and the Japanese favorite, white cake with strawberries on top. I wandered over to a table full of all different kinds of rolls.
I nudged Setsuko. “Hey, what are these?”
“Well, most of them have something inside. They’re like a closed sandwich or dessert to go. The sandwich ones are filled with meat and the dessert ones are filled with jam, custard, or sweet beans. They’re yummy.”
I decided to try one. The Eeny-meeny-miny-moe selection process would be as good as any. I soon came up with a winner. Taking a small bite, my taste buds were overwhelmed with the most disgusting blend of greasy flavors. I spit out my half-eaten roll into my napkin. “What the hell? Who thinks a hot dog, and a disgusting lump of margarine is a tasty treat?”
Setsuko chuckled. I’d been set up. Guess I hadn’t won her over quite yet.
Gina held her head down. “Sorry, Erin. Setsuko made me keep quiet. Most of the rolls are just plain disgusting.”
Setsuko had a huge smile plastered on her face. “Revenge is sooo sweet!”
Maybe I could hit her up for a favor while she was still basking in her little victory. “Hey, remember you said you’d help me with my Japanese.”
“Okay. What trouble are you in now?”
“Well, I missed that day last week, and my class this morning. The teachers are going to ask for an excuse. I thought you might write one for me. I already have my explanation figured out.”
“All right. If I like the excuse, I’ll help you, but it better be good.”
“No problem. I want you to write I was kidnapped by Chinese pirates.”
“Very funny.”
“How about, I couldn’t attend class due to a bad case of food poisoning.”
Setsuko tore a piece of paper from her notepad and began to write what I hoped was my excuse. This would be a good test to see if she had accepted me into her friendship circle.
She handed me the note. “I just want you to know this has nothing to do with the list. So, when I think of how I want you to repay me, you can’t say no.”
Oh boy. I was screwed. Thanks a lot, Hiroshi. “All right, but please don’t take advantage of me.”
Setsuko cracked a Cheshire cat grin. “I’ll think about it.”
I looked at my watch. It was almost 5. “Oh crap! I’ve got to change. I don’t want to miss Monkey Breast.”
In the tiny bakery bathroom, I pulled the ultimate club outfit from my backpack. Leaning against the wall, I squeezed into my skinny black faux leather jeans, matching corset top and jacket.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Gina greeted me with catcalls and whistles.
“Wow! You’re dressed to kill. Muki doesn’t stand a chance.”
That was the idea. My look-like-you’re-20 hottie outfit never failed to get a least three or four guys foaming at the mouth. Not that I had a chance to hit the clubs that often back home. Once my mom caught on to my late night back door escapes, she changed the lock.
Pulling out the directions Fudo gave me, I hopped the red line to Shibuya. I headed for the west side of the station and looked for direction signs for Sebu. At least as a major department store, their sign would be in English. I actually couldn’t wait to learn hiragana, the simplified way of writing Japanese, so I could read the signs. If only Mrs. Masuda would get past the vowel chart. She kept telling us it was to perfect our accent. But what good was a perfect accent when you had no vocabulary.
Ahead I found the big blue sign that said Sebu Department Store. Following the arrow, I took the stairs up to ground level. The store would be hard to miss. A green glass façade that stood at least fifteen stories tall flashed in front of me. Down the side of the building hung a giant banner that announced, “The Everything.” The Japanese use of English, got to love it.
Fudo stood leaning against a light pole. I waved until he saw me.
He looked me up and down and then grabbed my hand. “Want to get something to eat before we see the band?”
Wow. My outfit didn’t seem to have any effect on him. His girlfriend must be hot. I felt a bit strange holding his hand, but the streets were crowded. I’m sure he did it so he wouldn’t lose track of me. “That sounds good. Where do you want to go?”
“I think there is a good yakitori place nearby. Hiroshi told me it was your favorite.”
What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think Hiroshi paid attention to anything I said. “Great. Let’s go. I’m starving.”
Fudo tugged on my hand and led the way. The heat of his hand felt somehow comforting in the tangle of the crowd. We wound up in front of a sliver of a restaurant. Figures he’d pick a tiny hole-in-the-wall place that could only fit ten people. Students universally knew the cheapest restaurants in any town. We sat down at the counter and he ordered for us.
Curiosity got the better of me. “How long have you known Muki?”
“Since middle school. He always turned everything into drums. I thought he was funny.”
“Have you heard his band before?”
“Yes. I am a big fan.”
It suddenly dawned on me either Fudo’s command of English had greatly improved, or he’d sand bagged me from the start. I decided to ignore the obvious, not wanting him to leave me stranded in the middle of Shibuya. A fate I’m certain was worse than eating dried fish every day.
“What do they play?”
“Grunge rock. I like Reggae.”
I couldn’t imagine Fudo with his button-down shirts, trouser pants and cropped haircut a big Reggae fan.
“I’m surprised.”
Fudo looked a bit insulted. He pulled something out of his wallet. “You don’t believe me? Here’s a picture of me and my girlfriend at a concert. Reggae is very popular in Japan.”
I stared at the photo. His girlfriend was beyond beautiful. “You’re a lucky guy.”
He took the picture back with a certain pride. “She was Ms. Teen Japan last year.” Good thing I hadn’t fallen for Fudo. No way could I win him with that kind of competition. Taking out the entire harem seemed a lot easier.
I needed to change the course of the conversation to something much more serious—the Moris. “So, Fudo, I was wondering if you might help me with a little problem.”
“Of course. Whatever I can do.”
“I don’t want to put you in the middle, but I think you know I’m not well liked by Okasan. I’m not so sure about Aki, either. Sometimes she’s so sweet. Then the next time she almost runs away from me. I’d really like some help to try and ease the tension in the house.”
Fudo furrowed his brow. “This is difficult. I have been Hiroshi’s friend since first grade.”
I reached out and touched his hand. “I know. I’m sorry, but I’m desperate.”
“I think you must try harder.” He gently squeezed my hand. “Do little things for the family without being told.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Could making peace with the family be that easy?
“Can you give me a suggestion?”
Fudo looked down at the table. “Okasan has mentioned more than once how selfish Americans are. She wondered why you did not offer to help with the grocery shopping. When you bring home groceries, they are only things you like to eat.”
I had no idea. So much for treating them the same way I treated my family. My brother and I always bought what we wanted to eat and cooked it for the twins and ourselves.
With our parents working late, we didn’t have a choice. “Thank you for telling me. I promise I won’t say anything. I will prove Okasan is wrong about selfish Americans.”
Fudo cracked a smile.
“I bet you will.” He got up and paid the bill. “We need to go. The club is fifteen blocks away.”
He took my hand and led me down the jam-packed street. Mesmerized by all the neon and the people scurrying everywhere, I let go of his hand. Ten blocks whizzed by as I frantically tried to find him. No luck. I pulled out the map he’d drawn, hoping
Fudo had marked down the club name. Maybe I could find someone who spoke English to help me. As I scanned the map looking for the club, I glanced down. A card had fallen by my shoe. Picking up the business card, I couldn’t help but smile—it was Kenzo’s.
Amazing, the card had been in my purse since my first day in Japan.
I raced over to the bright green bank of phones in front of a large clothing store, punched in his number and hoped he’d pick up.
“Mushi, Mushi.”
“Kenzo, it’s Erin. Help! I’m lost.”
“So, what’s new?”
“Look, it’s not funny. I’m in Shibuya trying to find a club.”
He breathed in and out. There was the unmistakable sound of a train clanking into a station. “Hold on.” Grunts and groans blasted through the receiver. “Sorry, couldn’t miss my train. So, which club are you trying to find?”
“Good question—hold on.” I ran my finger along the map and came across the club. No name, just initials. “Ah, all I have is PT tenth floor.”
“Oh, I think I know the club. Who are you going to see?”
“As much as I’d love to chat, I need to go. I’m sure Fudo is already worried.”
The sound of muffled voices echoed in my ear. “Fudo? You mean I have competition?”
I let out a sigh. Any other time I’d love to play along—but not now. “Where’s the club master tour guide? I’m at the corner of Shinro and Matsuri.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you where it is if you promise to let me take you out to see my favorite band.”
A tingle shot down my back. Did Kenzo just ask me out on a date? “Okay. You name the date and the time.”
First Contact Page 10
