No Ordinary Love (12 page)

“Leona was yesterday’s number five sexual adventure. She left her camera, came back, and interrupted my session with number seven.”

“You’re such a man whore.”

“You’re one to talk. You kissed the Dra—I mean, Kenji.”

“Oh goodness.”

“Could you just focus on what Poncho said about your new, dangerous lover?” Zo asked. “This is much more important than my sexual hunger.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. What did Poncho say?”

“He told me that the Dragon—”

“Please, call him Kenji. That nickname is stupid.”

“Well you tell him that.”

“Never.” I spotted a store with glass displays full of fudge squares.
Come to Mama!
I headed that way.

Zo trailed behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the chocolate, of course.” I quickened my pace. “Just tell me what Poncho said, and can I tell you that Poncho is also a stupid name.”

“Leave the poor guy alone. He's into Mexican fashions, hence the ridiculous Spanish name on a five-foot Chinese guy. He thinks the whole culture is all going to blow up in the next year. Poor guy is delusional. Anyway, Poncho said that when Kenji took over the Yamaguchi, his father was in a coma after being gunned down.”

“Kenji’s father?”

“Yeah. Three years ago there was a big shooting. It was one of those weird days when the underworld didn't remain firmly hidden from cameras and gossip. Usually gang activity is kept quietly behind doors, not this time. Lots of people were killed that day. Some group sprayed a whole restaurant with bullets.”

I tensed.

“An innocent family died, as well as several people on staff, along with Kenji’s mother and older brother. Somehow his father managed to survive. He was in a coma for a month. It was a miracle that his father didn’t die. Poncho says that many people speculated that the father had plenty of guards jumping in front of him. Currently, Kenji's dad is bedridden in a hospital. A month after his father woke up from his coma, the Dragon … I’m sorry, Kenji, retired from his soccer career and was in front of cameras taking pictures with models all over Tokyo.”

“Why are you telling me this, again?”

“To scare you.”

“It worked.” I pointed to the store. “Let’s get some chocolate.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to complete my book.”

He messed with the top button on his shirt with shaking fingers. “Your father won’t leave you alone, even if you do this book. Critics won’t celebrate you because you got yourself in a dangerous situation. This is stupid and for no reason. That’s unlike you.”

Letting out a long breath, I stopped in the doorway of the fudge store. “I don’t care about Dad. I’m excited about the story. I'm not doing this book for him. It's for me.”

“Kenji isn’t your father.”

“Duh.”

“That’s what you’re doing. You know that, right? Every new man is more dangerous than the last. Remember the biker?”

“How can I forget? He gave me a black eye and stole my purse. Too bad his motorcycle mysteriously got set on fire and he ended up in jail the next day for punching a best-selling writer in the eye and stealing her money.” I stuck out my tongue. “I can take care of myself.”

“Kenji isn’t the biker.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“He’s a bad guy.”

“Again, I wasn’t aware.”

“You’re picking rotten apples.”

“So you tell me.”

“Every international criminal is lying in your bed, humping the crap out of you. And you know why?”

“Oh please let me know, Dr. Zo, counselor to the lonely and confused.”

“You’re clinging to bad men because you can’t stop the little girl inside your chest from crying.”

And here we go.

“When are you going to actually talk to your father?” Zo asked.

“Never.”

“Write him a letter.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“You're a writer.”

“Am I?”

“A letter might bring you closure. Put it all down in words and give it to him. Sure, he might not read or accept what you say, but at least you tried.”

We stood there in silence; Zo parted his lips as anger surely draped my face. Not many things shoved me to the edge. Not many words could bite through to my heart. Most insults barely slipped along my thick skin. Being a writer transformed my flesh into crocodile scales. I’d taken a media beating for my first book. Mom thought it would weaken me. She tried to shield me from reporters. Instead, I would rush out of the house and embrace all of their questions.

But then, Mom hadn’t wanted me to write the book in the first place. Even after he broke her heart, she maintained loyalty to the asshole.

When Dad left us, Mom and I learned about his departure from a scribbled paper on the fridge. It was faded ink on a wrinkled sheet. The piece of shit hadn't even taken the time to get a fresh, straightened page or proper pen. He'd just grabbed a crumpled envelope and jotted his heartbreaking message down.

To Eloise,

I can no longer pretend to enjoy my time in this household. Love never thickens the illusion. It just makes the pain more bearable to deal with. I’ve met someone else. Goodbye.

Love Samuel

I never even received a message. His letter was just to Mom. I was just his only child, after all. Why would he want to say something to me? Here I’d thought I was Daddy’s little girl. Instead, I’d learned the truth. I wasn’t even worth a few sentences on a battered page.

My little girl is not crying inside, Zo. She’s fucking angry and punching organs.

A month later, the Great Judge returned from a honeymoon with a gorgeous model half his age. He’d thought life was going great for him, until he came to his new condo and faced a crowd of news reporters. Apparently, the Department of Justice had conducted investigations of federal judges taking bribes. Witnesses pointed at many and included his name. Evidence flooded newspaper articles and dominated political speculation. Because he was the top judge and had been widely known, his name brought the media. Dad was arrested the next week. People had talked about possible books coming out on the situation.

I was no dummy.

I’d seen the growth of self-publishing novels, had my own kindle, and purchased so many e-books I might’ve put my mom in debt on just that alone. So on the day my dad was convicted, I shut off the TV viewing of the trial, bought two boxes of Oreo cookies, a run-down laptop, and the biggest tub of vanilla ice cream I could find. My non-fiction book on Dad was complete a month later. I signed a six-figure deal with one of the biggest publishing companies in America six months later. On the book’s release date, it hit
The New York Times
best-sellers list and was called
The Judgment of My Father
.

Two weeks after the release, Dad’s nasty messages began.

I’m not trying to fuck my dad, Zo. I’ve already fucked him with my book, now I’ve moved on.

Zo decided to break the uncomfortable silence that bridged between us. “I’m sorry, Nyomi.”

“Whatever, man.” I could still see my dad's first message as if I stood right there opening the envelope. It even smelled nasty as if someone had rubbed the pages against rotting armpits.

“Nyomi, seriously. I probably went too far just now.” Zo’s words brought me back to the present.

I raised one finger. “Understand this. When I sleep with guys, I’m not fucking my father.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t judge you, so don’t evaluate me. I just like what I like. Clean-cut gentlemen don't thrill me.”

“Of course not.”

“Kenji is not Dad.”

“You’re right. He’s worse.”

“We’re just dating.”

“Or putting yourself in danger.”

I stifled the curses that were trying to rush out of my mouth. In the end, Zo loved me. I didn’t have many close friends anymore. I had no one really, Zo neither. Sometimes we clung to each other just for the simple fact that there was no one else. Not many could deal with my behavior, even fewer would be there for me like he was. “Zo, I’m writing the best book that the world has ever seen.”

“Well this book might kill you.”

“Books don’t kill. They can only hurt you so deep you’ll scream for death.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I just figured it sounded really cool and deep.”

“I think you need an editor to revise your conversations.”

Flipping him off, I entered the store. “So eleven women? How the hell did you pull that off?”

“With serious maneuvering and impeccable scheduling.”

“Did you take some Viagra or something?”

“I took a pill.”

“You’re going to regret that one day. You don’t even need it. I heard an erection could last for five hours. That has to be painful.”

“Or joyous.”

“And you think I have problems.”

“Hey, I never said I was perfect.” Zo perused the aisles of candy.

“Well, you must tell me about your day. I have to hear this, but first, let’s get some chocolate. Then, when we’re done stuffing our faces, I’m going to need a bunch of pink hair bows and stuffed animals. I’m feeling very Hot Lolita today.”

Zo cringed. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking.”

Chapter 12

KENJI

Cold clouds of black swarmed around me. Shivering, I hugged myself and continued to walk on a freezing floor that I could not see.

Was it made of ice? Where am I?

Someone cried, a woman maybe. I stopped to try to figure out where the noise came from.

On my right?

As soon as I turned in that direction, a beast roared behind me. I froze—my whole body stiffening into something as hard as a sculpture. I could make no movements for fear that this creature would sense my location and rush to consume me.

It roared again, closer than last time.

Wait. That's a tiger. It has to be.

I twisted around to face the beast. I was right. There in front of me stood a huge tiger, reeking with rage and muscle. It roared again; that sound shifted the cold black air around me and cleared up the area some more. I could see everything better. Although the floor was black, it did appear to be built from ice. Nothing else existed around me, besides this roaring tiger.

What should I do?

I was about to raise my hand and try to talk to the animal. I had no idea what I would say. But then the tiger roared again and leaped. I screamed and ducked. The tiger soared in midair, her claws extended and jaw exposing sharp teeth. She didn't stare at me, however, as her body glided in the air and flew over me.

What?

The tiger landed on the ground behind me and raced away, roaring more and hunting the distant crying off in the darkness.

My phone's ringing woke me out of my sleep.

Did I nap? I never nap. What's happening to me?

Blinking my eyes, I raised my head from the desk, checked the name on the screen, and answered the phone. “Yes, Eito. What do you want?”

“I thought I should let you know that your father requested my presence in his hospital room this morning.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to know about the American girl you were with last night.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I knew nothing.”

“So he has you watching her now?” There was no need for Eito to respond. In these past five years, I'd learned more about my father than I'd ever wanted to know. When I was a kid, I'd learned he was a killer. In my adult years, I discovered he was a monster.

“Yes, Sato-san. I am to follow her and … dispose of her if I deem she's harmful to us.”

He'd done it before. Killed women I dated. There was no way I could prove it. They all died with no apparent witnesses—sliced neck in the alley, car accident in the middle of the night, robbery and beating in another's home. It was all my father's doing. He didn't want any women getting too close, pushing the wrong ideas into my already fragile head.

Someone would have to stop him. It couldn't go on. And who would listen? To my men, I was the head of the family, even though he pulled the puppet strings. If someone was to deal with him, it would have to be me, his young son, the one person in this world that feared him most of all.

“Are you the only one that will be monitoring her movements?” I asked.

“Yes, Sato-san.”

“How is your family these days?”

“They're fine.”

“Let's secure the safety of both of our families by making sure that no moves are made with this woman until you talk to me.”

Eito said nothing else, probably trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind what I was saying.

“Do you understand me, Eito? Many people could die if she's harmed.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for telling me this. I won't forget. You've earned a favor from me when you need it.” I hung up the phone before he could say any more, dove my hands into my pockets, and fingered the rope.

Why did the tiger roar and leap over me in the dream? Where was she going? Who was she going to kill?
 

Chapter 13

NYOMI

After leaving Zo at Harujuku station, I went back to his place and did my own research on Kenji. A lot of what Zo said had been true. Kenji’s emergence into the crime world came when someone shot his father. In the pictures of his soccer career, Kenji smiled, his cheeks high and filled with glee. All the photos after his retirement displayed a somber man. His face was a hard mask with fire blazing behind the eyes, the rise of what I now recognized as the Dragon.

Had he been given time to mourn the death of those family members that left him? Had he ever even wanted to run this twisted family business? Was he a child of honor or more like me, the rebellious one that made his parents cry in fear?

The more I wondered about him, the less I focused on Tokyo’s sex industry. A new story had appeared, one shaded in darkness and rain. Every moment I tried to get the mystery of him out of my head, I failed. This infatuation with Kenji was more dangerous than spending time with him. I never thought of men beyond their penises. Their bodies represented tools to fulfill me. Their conversation was simply a boring step to get both of us what we craved.