doesn’t swing that way.” It’s no secret that Dio prefers the male variety. “Besides, he’s not your type.”
“Not my usual, no. I don’t do tall, dark and snarky, and I don’t do dangerous. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a beautiful man.”
“I don’t know what he said to you this morning, but Kaito’s not as bad as you think.” I grab the remote from Dio’s hand and start flicking through channels. Breakfast TV leaves a lot to be desired. “Whatever he used to be caught up in, he doesn’t do that anymore.”
“Are you sure? These guys are loyal for life, Adele. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see that guy. And you shouldn’t bring him around here again.” Dio finishes the rest of his coffee and stretches. “You really didn’t notice his tattoos?”
“I told you, it was dark. Why do you keep going on about them?” I finally settle on a channel; MTV. They’re playing some old 90s stuff. It’s all bling and black and white and slow motion. I put the volume on mute. Dio stands, a yawn escaping his lips. Then he turns to face me, his dark eyes large and intense.
“Ya. Ku. Za.” He mouths the syllables. “That’s what the tatts tell me. He’s marked for life. I’ve seen that shit on the movies.”
I roll my eyes. “You learn everything from the movies, Dio. Real life is different. You’ve watched too much Kill Bill.” I nod at the poster, his prized possession, autographed by Uma Thurmann herself. She stares back at us, the long, menacing Japanese sword raised above her head. She looks so fierce, clad in tight yellow and black with those cool Onizuka Tiger sneakers. Dio bought that poster off Ebay for some ridiculous sum.
“Maybe.” He sounds skeptical. “You just keep your wits about you with that one. I bet the marks on that nicely chiseled body of his don’t come without history.”
“Whatever.”
“And Adi?” Dio takes the remote back off me and turns up the volume as the next clip comes on. California Love. Tupac. That intro is damn catchy.
“What?”
“Next time you have sex, keep the lights on.”
“Idiot.” I throw a cushion at Dio as he retreats.
Kaito
As I drive across town, I reach for my shades. The LA sun is harsh; I’ve never gotten used to it. In my old job, I was a creature of the night. The shadows are kinder to people like me. But money laundering is different. It’s best done in broad daylight. A crooked accountant once told me that if you want to appear legit, it’s best to carry on right under their noses, as if you’ve got nothing to hide.
Crooked accountant. I snort in amusement. That’s what I’ve become. It’s a step up from what I was, I suppose.
My head is pounding. I need aspirin and a tall cup of strong, black coffee.
I roll down the window and light a cigarette, the next best thing. I’ve been trying to give up the smokes, because Adele doesn’t like it. But right now, I need something.
My mood’s gone to shit. I wanted to hang around, spend the morning with Adele, but when that guy, the Tarantino otaku housemate , appeared, I took off.
He was trying to act cool, but my appearance had him spooked. He knew what I was. I could tell by the look in his eyes.
Of course, he’s going to talk to Adele about it. That might complicate things.
My phone rings. I toss the cigarette and answer with my free hand. It’s Masa.
“ Aniki , we need to speak. In person.” His tone of voice is all business.
“Problem?” The dull ache in the back of my head spreads, becomes a little sharper. I’m instantly on edge.
“There’s a request. For your expertise.”
“Yeah?” I keep my voice neutral. No need to let Masa know I’m surprised. Disappointed, even. This sounds like a job for the old me. I figured it would be coming, sooner or later, but I always secretly hoped the Kuroda bosses might forget about me.
Wishful thinking. This morning is turning out to be a pain in the ass.
“Not my usual, no. I don’t do tall, dark and snarky, and I don’t do dangerous. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a beautiful man.”
“I don’t know what he said to you this morning, but Kaito’s not as bad as you think.” I grab the remote from Dio’s hand and start flicking through channels. Breakfast TV leaves a lot to be desired. “Whatever he used to be caught up in, he doesn’t do that anymore.”
“Are you sure? These guys are loyal for life, Adele. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see that guy. And you shouldn’t bring him around here again.” Dio finishes the rest of his coffee and stretches. “You really didn’t notice his tattoos?”
“I told you, it was dark. Why do you keep going on about them?” I finally settle on a channel; MTV. They’re playing some old 90s stuff. It’s all bling and black and white and slow motion. I put the volume on mute. Dio stands, a yawn escaping his lips. Then he turns to face me, his dark eyes large and intense.
“Ya. Ku. Za.” He mouths the syllables. “That’s what the tatts tell me. He’s marked for life. I’ve seen that shit on the movies.”
I roll my eyes. “You learn everything from the movies, Dio. Real life is different. You’ve watched too much Kill Bill.” I nod at the poster, his prized possession, autographed by Uma Thurmann herself. She stares back at us, the long, menacing Japanese sword raised above her head. She looks so fierce, clad in tight yellow and black with those cool Onizuka Tiger sneakers. Dio bought that poster off Ebay for some ridiculous sum.
“Maybe.” He sounds skeptical. “You just keep your wits about you with that one. I bet the marks on that nicely chiseled body of his don’t come without history.”
“Whatever.”
“And Adi?” Dio takes the remote back off me and turns up the volume as the next clip comes on. California Love. Tupac. That intro is damn catchy.
“What?”
“Next time you have sex, keep the lights on.”
“Idiot.” I throw a cushion at Dio as he retreats.
Kaito
As I drive across town, I reach for my shades. The LA sun is harsh; I’ve never gotten used to it. In my old job, I was a creature of the night. The shadows are kinder to people like me. But money laundering is different. It’s best done in broad daylight. A crooked accountant once told me that if you want to appear legit, it’s best to carry on right under their noses, as if you’ve got nothing to hide.
Crooked accountant. I snort in amusement. That’s what I’ve become. It’s a step up from what I was, I suppose.
My head is pounding. I need aspirin and a tall cup of strong, black coffee.
I roll down the window and light a cigarette, the next best thing. I’ve been trying to give up the smokes, because Adele doesn’t like it. But right now, I need something.
My mood’s gone to shit. I wanted to hang around, spend the morning with Adele, but when that guy, the Tarantino otaku housemate , appeared, I took off.
He was trying to act cool, but my appearance had him spooked. He knew what I was. I could tell by the look in his eyes.
Of course, he’s going to talk to Adele about it. That might complicate things.
My phone rings. I toss the cigarette and answer with my free hand. It’s Masa.
“ Aniki , we need to speak. In person.” His tone of voice is all business.
“Problem?” The dull ache in the back of my head spreads, becomes a little sharper. I’m instantly on edge.
“There’s a request. For your expertise.”
“Yeah?” I keep my voice neutral. No need to let Masa know I’m surprised. Disappointed, even. This sounds like a job for the old me. I figured it would be coming, sooner or later, but I always secretly hoped the Kuroda bosses might forget about me.
Wishful thinking. This morning is turning out to be a pain in the ass.
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