No Ordinary Love (23 page)

As she followed my lead, she moved in a little closer to me so that our hips bumped each other every few steps. How many tough situations like this had she been in? I'd checked out her bio. She'd done articles about dangerous war zones all over the world, and had even done an interview with a huge human trafficker in the Middle East. While the identity had been hidden in the article, I was sure the average reader could tell that he was high in the rankings of his dirty business.

And he'd let her into his world, told my Tora all his secrets, and she’d revealed them all with no judgment or execution of the wicked man's character. Is that why I'm drawn to her? Do I want her to help me confess my wrongs? Do I need her to help me clean the ugliness inside?

“You still didn't answer the question,” she said.

As we walked down the path, lights for each business illuminated. In this part of Kabukichō District I'd had men mount cameras on top of the roofs. Many could not be seen, and by the time others saw the few visible ones, they had already gone too far, and my men's eyes remained, monitoring their movements. After the shooting of my mother and brother, I'd increased security around all the places I did most of my business. And this was the one place where I'd made my hardest decisions—bribing a high official to release a murderer to whom my family owed a favor, making decisions to attack the few local businesses that no longer desired our family's rule, and the executions. Those were the hardest. In this tiny cafe that I’d decided to take Tora to, I’d sat in the dark, in silence, choosing which man would die for whatever mistake or disloyalty others had discovered. Men I'd grown up with and played with, men who I'd celebrated holidays and built memories with.

“Kenji?” She nudged me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You're lying and you're acting weird.”

“I'm a bit off with you.”

“Why's that?”

“Because just you being around makes me think about things I don't want to.”

“Why?”

Because you're always asking why, damn it. Or at least I can hear the why in your head, even when you don't say it. Why are you the man you are? Why let your life go down this path? Why are you here, instead of somewhere else? Why not deal with your father? Why let him do this for all these years? Why be his puppet? A
ND
I
DON'T KNOW WHY!

Any other woman would stand next to me with a huge smile, drinking in the scene around us. Whether filled with fear or excitement, she would keep her facade up the entire time. These women catered to me—singing cute little songs, giggling at appropriate moments, and asking me anything that didn't relate to the Dragon or my family.

Not Tora. She wants to know it all.

I cleared my throat. “Well, Japan has commoditized everything. Take hostess clubs, for example. Men come to these beautiful clubs, sit down at a nice table with an enchanting hostess, and basically pay hundreds to thousands of dollars for nothing more than conversation.”

She snorted. “I haven't gone to a hostess club yet, but I figured there were still some under-the-table agreements of sex. There's no way men are paying all this money just to sit and talk to a woman.”

“It's more than just conversation. It's this beautiful woman's attention, and not just any sort of attention. It's attention from a woman who's spending her life, doing her best to be intriguing to the male population.”

We continued down the path headed for the one gray building with a black door at the very end. A bright blue light turned on above the doorway. Tora shivered against me. To think that she was more nervous of the unknown behind that door than the man that stood next to her.

“Someone will come out to escort us in. Until then, we wait.” I released her waist and trailed my fingers along her back. “This evening, you'll spend the night with me.”

“That didn't sound like a question.”

“It wasn't.”

“And if I say no?” she asked.

“You will say yes eventually.”

“This sounds like kidnapping.”

“Then let's come to a compromise.”

She raised one finger. “I have an idea. I’ll give you more of my time and maybe spend the night, if you cut your time with me, during my stay in Tokyo.”

I wished I could open that head of hers and peer inside. Any other female would have argued the fact that she didn't have to compromise. She was too smart to battle that cause. I'd told her Tokyo was my city. There would be nowhere to hide if I wanted her. How far I would go with her, I wasn't sure, and I didn't think either of us desired to go down that path of thinking.

Instead she offered a counteroffer—to cut our time.

“Instead of three weeks you get two,” she suggested.

I gritted my teeth. There were two ways to deal with this. I could simply say no, but then it would only make her more furious. In the end, kidnapping her was never my intention. It was just that she had seeped into my flesh, just from these few minutes of being with her.

The men in my family dealt with this a lot. I'd never thought I could be one. They would fall in love, but with that spark, an odd possession would occur where onlookers worried for the women.

“Okay. We can cut our time to two weeks. After that, we can discuss—”

“No, after two weeks of you having my time, we're done,” she said.

If you could walk away from two weeks of us, then we really would be done, but not the done that you're thinking.

“Okay, but you stay in my guest room,” I said.

“What?”

“I don't touch you, unless you ask. I won't be in the room with you. I'll give you your space to write. You can come and go as you please, see your friend, or run around the district taking your notes, but at night you come to me.”

“That's a bit much, don't you think? Are you always this intense with people you date?”

“I don't date.”

“Clearly. Your style of dating could get you locked up in the States.”

“Be my guest.”

“What?” she asked.

“Be my guest.”

“Oh, God.”

“What?”

“When you said, 'Be my guest,' I thought of
Beauty and the Beast
and how this could be the horror version of that story.”

“The Beast turned into a prince in the end. I'm correct, right?”

“Whether the Beast became a prince I'm sure is debatable considering he forced her to stay in his castle to begin with. I argue that he never became a prince.”

I extended my hand to shake hers. “Do we have a deal?”

“Do I really have any choice?” she muttered and then shook my hand. I was certain she was figuring out a way to get out of this in her mind. A woman like her didn't go out without a fight. She was too smart. Perhaps she'd tell me that she was off shopping and then run to the airport, only to realize that my men would be there waiting. The next day, she'd try again. But there was no need to let her know that I understood that fact.

“Then I only have two weeks.”

She looked away as her shoulders relaxed. “What other supposed elements of love have been commoditized here?”

“What?”

“You said that Japan has commoditized everything. What other parts of love?”

I grinned. “Cuddling.”

She looked at me and squinted her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“There are several cuddle cafes here, where a man can pay eighty U.S. dollars an hour to just lay down and hold a woman from the chosen lineup.”

“And what else do they do?”

“They stare into each other's eyes.”

“Is that extra?” she joked.

“Yes, actually.”

She didn't say anything for a few seconds, as if pondering all that I'd said, and then finally blurted out, “I love it here. This city has some balls. They take chances and go down paths that I don't think most American cities would ever dare. I'm not even sure if a cuddle cafe would survive in the U.S.”

“Most American men don't get the concept of hostess clubs. That's why many of them are closed to Americans.”

She shrugged. “We're a bit barbaric at times. My apologies to you.”

“None taken.”

We, too, are barbaric. You'll see that tonight.

The door opened in front of us. A woman that stood barely three feet tall stepped outside. She wore heels and a tiny white skirt. Red lace covered her breasts. Dark nipples peered between the elegant fabric's spaces. Red and gold makeup coated her almond eyes. “Mr. Sato, I'm honored you've come to visit us. How can I help you?”

“I want to show my lovely friend around.”

“A-Around?” she squeaked.

“Yes. As long as no one is being interrupted, I would like to show her around.”

She swallowed and bowed. “Come this way, sir.”

We followed her lead and entered a dark hallway that held a red glow. That ruby light painted the walls and our skin as we moved through. Smoke wavered in the air, but not the kind from cigarettes. It was more chemical, and higher end, something designer to inhale into one's lungs. Music filled the space—a somber piano played several notes over and over in a drawn-out way that didn't bore, it hypnotized. Someone sung over the notes. I couldn't figure out if it was male or female, just that they'd been hurt before and couldn't see their way out. The sadness hung in every lyric that floated on the piano's melody.

Closed doors ran past us. Every now and then moans or screams escaped. Tora tightened her hold on my arm and I drew her in.

There was just something about this place that put the average person on edge, without them even knowing what lay behind these walls. The scent of blood saturated the area. It was all in my head of course, that depressing fragrance that always hit me in the nostrils when I walked inside.

The reality was that there was no blood. My uncles made sure the place was clean and any dead bodies were disposed of by sunrise.

The small woman led us to the end of the hallway. The entrance to the lounge area was dark red, as if the place dripped with blood. At least fifty tables filled the space. Almost all were crowded with men or couples, all shielded in dim crimson lighting. They whispered to themselves. A few men glanced at me and made sure to direct their view anywhere but to my Tora's face.

When we got to my table, I hurried ahead and pulled her chair out. I made sure she was closest to the wall and my seat remained between her and anyone else. It was another signal to everyone. It was the delicate dance that dangerous men played when they were around their toys.

But she's no toy. Why did I bring her here?

She sat down and took the menu that our hostess handed her.

“What would you like to drink?” the small woman asked.

“A glass of pinot noir.” Tora looked at me.

“Mineral water. Nothing else.” I waved away the menu the woman tried to hand me and concentrated on Tora's eyes as she read the menu.

Several seconds passed before I realized I'd been holding my breath the whole time, waiting for her response to the services laid out before her eyes. She touched the words and parted her lips. Slowly, she trailed her fingers along each line and price as if that was her system of imprinting certain memories in her mind.

After a few minutes she set the menu on the table and scanned the customers' faces. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I promised to show you my district.”

“No, you gave me permission to research your district. On my own, I would have never found a place like this.” She crossed her legs and directed her gaze at me. “So, I'm asking you again, why did you bring me here? What are you trying to tell me?”

I gestured to the menu. “That these things exist.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “I could have gone my whole life without knowing that those things existed.” She opened her eyes, picked up the menu, and flipped to the third page. “These are some of the most disturbing fetishes on earth and this …
business
caters to them.”

I nodded.

“And you allow this?”

“This is my family's business.”

She shook her head. “I've seen a lot of things in my life and learned that it's always better not to judge a person for doing something I think is wrong. I've always tried to understand why they are who they are and why they do what they do, but this stuff … it's horrific.”

She flipped the page. “Why would anyone want to pay a woman to give them AIDS? How is she even getting it?” She pointed to another sentence. “And vorarephilia. Seriously?”

“What?”

“Eating someone or fantasizing about being eaten. Here's a whole section to make any vorarephiliac happy.” Her fingers shook as she slid them to the next page. “And here we have s-sexual stimulation by … murder.” She cleared her throat. “And then there's these side notes on bodily fluid.” She closed the menu and dropped it to the table, the whole time shaking her head. “So I have to ask you, why did you bring me here? What are you trying to say to me?”

I stirred in my chair. “You ask too many questions.”

Her voice came out low and unsteady. “Is this the type of stuff you like?”

“No.” I fisted my fingers under the table to try and gain control of the situation. “You wanted to see my district so I—”

“That's bullshit and you know it.” She leaned my way so that her mouth was close to my ear. “You're trying to tell me something, so just say it now. Or … ” She tilted back. “Do you even know yourself?”

My skin heated and I had no idea if it was out of anger or embarrassment. “When I'm around you, I just want to show you—more than anyone—who I am. I've never felt that way before, but I feel like … you would be the one person to really see all of me, assess everything that I am, and … ”

“What?”

“Make a judgment.”

“Are we back to the father thing? Am I to be judging him?”

“Yes.”

“But you control this area.”

“No, I don't. He still does. He controls the whole city.”

“How is that possible if you're the one walking around yelling out orders?”

“He holds the puppet strings.”

She shook her head and gazed at the disgusting menu again. “Then it's time to cut them.”