“Funny. That’s how I feel about managers, Mr. Sugiyama.” Almost an exclamation, the elevator bell dinged and the room service cart rolled out. Eloise smiled and turned to open the door. She gestured the bellhop in and glanced back at Sugiyama, whose mouth stood open. “I’ll bid you good day,” she finished, releasing the door to hear it click behind her.
After she tipped the waiter and sent him away, she paced for ten straight minutes, trying to blow off steam until the dimensions of the suite simply added to her frustration.
Then she tried sitting.
From a chair by the window, she watched the sun rise. Then she watched Gakino’s chest rise and fall slowly, calmly, the man unaware that the world—her world at least--was crumbling. She glanced from the window to the couch, back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably closer to five minutes.
Gakino had told her that her appearance in Japan was his manager’s idea, but Sugiyama insisted that wasn’t the case. Worse, he’d handed her a pile, a stack nearly as tall as her head, and implied it was filled with bad press. About her.
She didn’t want to believe him. But she didn’t dare look…even if she could read the Japanese. And she was afraid to wake Gakino for the same reasons, but waiting was driving her mad.
She walked over to the breakfast tray, but nothing looked appetizing. As a matter of fact, everything looked like a tool for waking Gakino. That toast would make an ideal missile. She could launch it at his head, and he’d be up in minutes. That pitcher of orange juice? Simply perfect.
But that wasn’t the way to handle this. Gakino had been sleeping for less than three hours. Even if he had done the most stupid, most unforgivable thing she could imagine—short of canoodling Miss Perfection Fujiwara—he wouldn’t be able to explain it with a head heavy from sleep and a body likely so hungover his blood was alcohol.
She had to get out of here.
Grabbing a pen and paper, she wrote a note: Out walking. Walking’s healthy. Food’s there on the table. Eat it. Then call me. It wasn’t original, and it would probably confuse him, but her mind was mush.
She walked to the door and stepped into the hall. She was in the elevator before she realized she’d left her shoes. She pressed the button to return to her floor and was grateful when she made it all the way back up without meeting anyone. She jogged back into the suite, grabbed her shoes—and her purse, which she’d also forgotten--and tried it all again.
Walking cleared the head, right? So she’d walk until Gakino called her. She didn’t think that would be soon. She’d pulled the curtains closed on her way out, like a coward, delaying the inevitable.
*
She walked in circles around the block for about an hour before growing bored enough to widen her route. Abandoning the breakfast she’d ordered had left her stomach growling, even with the tight knot of worry she’d swallowed. So, she searched for a place to eat. She passed a 7-11 and went in, but eyed the onigiri with suspicion. She was all for rice balls, but the fillings on the wrapper terrified her. And who wanted a strawberry and mayonnaise sandwich?
Walking outside, she looked for and found plenty of restaurants. But with darkened windows and half curtains, they didn’t seem inviting, and she couldn’t read the menus posted outside, so she continued walking and finally saw the neon lights of a Mos Burger. When in Rome...find a way to be as un-Roman as possible. She chided herself, but went in anyway. Comfort food was called for, and the word burger promised American delights.
For breakfast, she’d hope for a biscuit, but she’d have to settle for thick toast, waffles, or waffle sandwiches. Waiting in line, she wrinkled her nose at the egg-salad and the tuna sandwiches immediately, but the ham omelet seemed worthy of a try, until she saw ketchup in the picture. So she ordered a waffle and a coffee, mimed her need for two syrup packets, and climbed a set of thin sheer steps to a table upstairs.
She’d eat, and Gakino would call.
As it turned out, she was right. Taking her last bite, her phone pinged with a message from Gakino. I’m up. Come home. No news was good news, right? If he was in trouble with the press or with KM, he’d have mentioned something already. And there wasn’t a hint of a problem in his message. There wasn’t even a subject line.
She’d go home. They’d talk. He’d explain that Sugiyama had mental health issues and was recently found skipping his meds. The manager had lied or forgotten—because of his dementia—about inviting her and about the bad press. It was all the paranoia of an unbalanced mind. The sooner she got back to the hotel, the sooner it would all be resolved.
Except she was profoundly lost.
Too many turns, too much hunger, and too little logical thought had her so mixed up, she walked out of the Mos Burger and didn’t know whether to turn left or right. She vaguely remembered the angle at which she saw the restaurant’s entryway, and decided that starting there was the only thing she could do. Her phone was heavy in her pocket. She could call Gakino and he’d come and find her, but she wouldn’t. Eating breakfast had settled her stomach, but it hand’t made her less a coward.
It was another hour before she walked far enough to see a sign for her hotel. And another ten minutes before she walked through its revolving doors. Punching her number in the elevator, she leaned against the mirrored walls. Her stomach was churning. The calm she’d found at breakfast had disappeared quickly with the anxiety of navigating her way through Japanese streets which were now flooded with pedestrians and people zooming by on bikes. And Gakino’s frequent calls hadn’t helped either. Her chest had tightened with guilt every time she silenced the ringer.
When she reached her suite, she knocked.
“Chotto!”
She could hear Gakino shuffling toward the door and turning the lock.
“Eloise! There you are! I was starting to panic.” Pulling her into the room, his eyes scanned her from head to toe. “Well, you look all right. Why did you knock? Did you loose your room key?”
She reached in the pocket of her jean shorts and palmed the thin plastic. “I guess I forgot I had it.”
Gakino laughed. “Maybe you should have slept longer. You seem a little out of it.” He took her hands and pulled her to the chair she’d abandoned earlier this morning. “I ate all the breakfast you ordered. It didn’t occur to me until I was half way through the second portion that maybe I was eating yours, too. I can order more if you want.”
“No. No, I’m fine. I’m not hungry. I ate while I was out.”
“Ok, well, just let me know. Everything’s just a phone call away, and today I’m all yours. No appointments. No interviews. No drinking,” he said, rubbing his belly and making a face of distaste. “Management has taken pity on me.”
“You sure they haven’t fired you?”
“What?”
“Sugiyama came by this morning.”
“Oh! That’s where it all came from. I wondered, but I thought Shun or Ryo had sent a messenger over. Shun’s reads all our press. The guy even watches himself when he appears on TV. Quality control he calls it. And Ryo loves to gloat.”
“Gloat? I’m so confused.”
“I’m sorry, Eloise. That’s kind of my fault.” He kneeled down in front of her and grabbed her knees. He’d done the same last night.
Consoling overwrought girlfriends is now his subspecialty, she thought unhappily.
“I have a confession to make. Sugiyama didn’t ask you to come. He wouldn’t. He’s basically the devil incarnate. Ryo decided we’d have to be in charge of introducing you to our fans.” Gakino grinned, his usual joy out of place and disorienting given what she’d been worried about for the past few hours. “The rest of the guys agreed. So I told a lie. A little white lie,” he emphasized pinching his fingers close together, “to get you to come. But it all worked out.”
“It all worked out? How can you say that? Sugiyama told me that he wasn’t your manager anymore. I guess he’s been fired. And you’re in trouble, too. Kishimoto said something
about making you manage me and the bad press about me. Apparently, everyone’s angry that you’re dating a foreigner. How is that everything working out?”
“Oh that? That’s nothing. Actually, we were hoping that would happen.”
“You wanted to make people angry?”
“No, I mean getting Sugiyama fired. And getting to manage ourselves. We’ve been in this business for ten years. We usually know what’s best. And what we don’t know, our old manager can be trusted. We wanted Kishimoto to remember that. It seems he did. Nothing to worry about,” he said, reassuringly.
“Except for the fact that my boyfriend and his friends planned on using me as the opening volley in a power play and didn’t think I deserved to know.”
“Eloise. It wasn’t a power play, not really. I’m explaining it wrong. I just want you to understand that you don’t have to worry. Sugiyama was trying to rattle you. The point of this was you. Getting Kishimoto to accept you. Accept us.”
“You call letting us drown in a sea of criticism acceptance?”
“You mean the stories about my unsatisfied eye landing only on the evil gaijin? Yeah, I saw that.”
“And you’re not worried about the bad press?”
“There’s tons of good press, too,” he said, standing and shuffling through the pile. Picking a broad sheet out and pulling it open, he smiled and read through the print. “This one goes on and on about how pale your skin is. They call you bihaku, which basically means beautifully white.” Reading aloud he continued, Iro no shiroi wa kakusu. They’re saying that your skin’s so beautiful it hides any other defects.‘While Eloise-san’s face and form lack the allure of actress Rei Fujiwara— opinionated aren’t they—her pale face struck us as possessing an unmatchable and unearthly beauty. They actually wrote konoyo no utsukushisa. Unearthly beauty. Can you believe it? Of course, your skin’s fairer than Fujiwara’s. She’s Japanese. But, they can’t get enough of you. There’s another one that...Where is it? I’ve got to show it to you.” He tossed the paper he’d been reading aside and pushed at others, searching. “Ah, here it is. This one is all about how you’re basically American royalty. The title, well, it’s pretty over the top.” He held out the paper to her. “They actually use the word princessu and spell it in katakana, instead of using the Japanese word. I guess they really want to emphasize how foreign and special you are. They start by complaining that you’re not native, but then get caught up in praising you. America. Your father. And American politics. They even mention Kennedy and Camelot. They’re ridiculous, but more or less on our side.” He shook the paper at her. “Here. Take a look, my princessu. Or, would you prefer hime?” he asked, laughing.
“Don’t. Don’t make a joke out of this. Don’t.”
He pulled his hand back, bitten, hurt. And she wanted to stop herself, but she couldn’t.
“I can’t just forget this. And I can’t pretend like nothing has happened, and I can’t believe that you could.”
His face was a mask of calm, but the calm, she was sure, was not going on the inside because his eyes were moving back and forth across her face, trying to read her. But there was no message to be read. She wasn’t making any sense. She knew it, but knowing it didn’t stop her anger or her fear. It didn’t stop her words from pouring out, hot and violent.
“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being compared and criticized and berated for not measuring up. I’m not. I am fine just as I am, and I don’t need you, or KM Entertainment, or the press telling me that I am not what I should be.”
“I would never tell you to change, and if KM tried to I would leave the agency, and Tenshi wouldn’t blame me.”
“Don’t. I don’t need some chivalrous show of sacrifice. You don’t have to reassure me that you would leave your band. That’s so ridiculous a gesture.”
“Why? Why is it ridiculous? It is something I would do. You should know that.”
“I do know it. You would act on instinct. You wouldn’t give it a second thought. You would jump to defend me, but how long could that last? You can’t build love, you can’t build a life on sacrifice. You would resent me eventually.”
“Now who’s being ridiculous? My parents own a damned restaurant. Do you think I couldn’t live a life outside all of this.” His arm circled, taking in the room, his clothes, everything and then finally slamming down against his leg.
She flinched.
He said softly. “I don’t mean to be angry, but you wanted me to take it seriously. I am. You aren’t thinking about this the right way, Eloise. You are pushing me away when we should be getting closer. So, I am telling you. Don’t.”
“I don’t see how this is going to work.” She heard how defeated she sounded, so when he held his arms out and tried to pull her towards him, she wanted to let him. She wanted to accept his embrace and try to forget. She wanted to try venturing forward as one, as Gakino-and-Eloise, but she couldn’t. Instead she pulled away. “Don’t. I can’t. I need to think about this. About everything.”
She walked away from him and he didn’t try to stop her. She didn’t know if that left her relieved or merely empty.
As she pulled the door open, he called after her, “Don’t think to much Eloise. It always gets you into trouble.”
CHAPTER 16
Eloise had a key to Gakino’s apartment. He had left it for her in an envelope on the hotel bed, but she would wait outside. The air was thick and wet. Standing under the eaves with her hood pulled up, she was anonymous, just another girl. Just another girl, waiting for her boyfriend. She had waited like this before, but then they had been innocent, in love. She had stepped into his warm and waiting arms. It was like coming home. She snuggled into his chest, breathing him in. She had felt so safe. His body a fortress, his arms making a sanctuary she hadn't anticipated. She had felt protected by him. But that was before she’d come to Japan. And now he was too big, larger than she could imagine, larger than she could handle. From where she stood in front of his apartment, she could easily see a billboard advertisement for his new drama. His face was larger than life for everyone to see.
She’d spent the last two days thinking. Gakino had left her to her own devices and though, on some level, she wished he hadn’t, she also knew it had been for the best. She’d walked around Tokyo a lot. The time alone hadn’t changed much. If anything, it had made it worse. Everywhere Eloise looked she had seen posters and advertisements with Gakino’s face plastered on them. If it wasn’t him, it was another member of Tenshi which was just as bad by association. If there wasn’t a poster, Tenshi’s music was being played in every grocery store, department store, and 7-11. At one point, an advertisement for their newest single had boomed over a loudspeaker from a jumbotron-sized screen hanging from an enormous skyscraper. She’d looked up briefly to see the nimble members of Tenshi dancing in the song’s video, Gakino right up front. He was everywhere she went.
Thoughts of Gakino had brought him right back to her, waiting outside his building. Gakino was running through the heavy rainfall. Such energy. Did he run everywhere? Or did the rain motivate his running?
Gakino saw her and hesitated. Was he angry? At the very least he would be unsure, afraid of how to handle her and what had happened.
"Come inside," he said, walking past her.
She trudged behind him in silence. He unlocked his door, and held it open. She walked inside. As she turned around, he locked the door behind them and placed his keys slowly, too slowly, in a bowl on a table beside the door.
"I don't understand what's happening."
"I can't do this. I can't date an idol."
"You've been dating one."
"No, I've been dating a boy. In Taiwan, that's who you are. You are just this normal guy. You ride on the back of my scooter. We eat at random places. Here it's seven-course meals and press conferences and three-thousand-dollar dresses and high heels that cost more than my weekly salary."
"Can't we go back to what we were? I was always who I
am. In Japan I am Yoh Gakino. I am not just Gakino. At least outside this house. But when you come to Japan, we can just lock the door, and be what we are. I can visit you in Taiwan."
"And then what? Hide me away until it's over."
"No. I don’t mean that. I just want you to be comfortable."
"Comfortable? Is that what you mean me to be when I have a professional staff of dressers?"
"You know that's not what I mean."
"No, I don't. There's like this ghost woman that I'm supposed to be. I'm haunted by her."
"You were dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers the first time I saw you. That's what you were all the time. Do you think, if I cared about what you wear, that it would suddenly be a problem now? If I cared, why have I flown to Taiwan every week to see this woman who displeases me?"
"Great question. Why have you?"
He stared at her, stonily, angrily.
"Don't be ridiculous. Don't conflate me with your family. I am not your parents. I don’t want you to be more than you are. Or less."
"I used to know you. I don't know you here. More than that, I don't want to know you. Did you know how uncomfortable I was the first time we met and the time that you were waiting for me at the school. Every night, when you took me home. It was like waiting for a wreck that I knew was going to happen. "
"Why are you saying things to deliberately hurt me?" he asked softly.
She shook her head, unable to answer.
He stepped toward her and she let him pull her in his arms. He was warm all over, and she was warm for the moment, too, and she wanted to stay there forever, but as much as she hungered to make his arms home, they weren’t. They couldn’t be. She tensed and pulled away.
Before she could speak, Gakino started, "Why don't we just stop for a moment. We have said enough. I hope we are still close, that we are not at the point that we want to hurt each other. You return to Taiwan. I will finish this round of conferences. I will email you. There are still a few days left of your vacation. I will return before it's over. Yes?"
How to Date Japanese Idols (The Tenshi Series) Page 21