by Amy Faye
She pulled on proper clothes finally, unable to delay any longer. She was buttoning her blouse as a knock came at the door, and Mother's soft voice spoke from the other side of the door.
"Minami? Are you almost ready? Your father's about to begin his meeting. Everyone's gathered, and they're just waiting on you."
Minami didn't answer, just finished buttoning up, and then stepped out. She knew better than to keep anyone waiting any longer than she already had. They'd punished her about as much as they could punish her, or so she thought, but that didn't mean that they couldn't get creative. She'd seen Father do it many times in the past, and though it had never been targeted at her, that didn't mean he couldn't start now and make up for lost time.
Mother turned and started down the hall without a word, and Minami followed behind. They both bowed low, one after the other, as they stepped through and into the large tatami-floored room, the one indulgence that Father had allowed himself as a reminder of home.
The room still had the smell of new Tatami, a smell that reminded her of a farm. Minami pushed herself back up from her bow and moved to her place beside her father, and he began.
"I know that many of you are concerned about what we're going to do about the man who Minami has been… seeing."
Minami knew better than to protest. She wasn't in any position to get herself caught up in a lie, and it would have been a grave insult to cut her father off, even as he paused for emphasis. Not the sort of insult that he would brush off. So she clutched a fist-full of her skirt and kept her mouth shut.
"It's true that two of our number, Mr. Nishida and Mr. Kobayashi, engaged in some fighting with him. They should have been punished for fighting with a civilian, but I feel that under the circumstances, they can be forgiven for their sins. After all, he began the fight. Mr. Kobayashi merely responded to that."
Kobayashi bowed at the acknowledgment.
"Mr. Nishida could not be here with us, today, as a result of the injuries he took during that fight."
Minami recalled the bad limp he'd had as he carried her out of the library. About anyone could have stopped them, if they put in the effort, which meant Wes had taken a worse beating than she'd hoped. If he was still unable to rejoin them, then he'd broken something, without a doubt. Well, falling down even half-a-flight of stairs, particularly with your leg caught between the steps, would do that.
They had a moment of silence, everyone's heads bowed in respect at Nishida's sacrifice, if it could be called that. Some roughness was to be assumed with Yakuza. There was no confusion about what could happen when you were dealing with people who wanted a fight, and Yakuza dealt mostly with people who wanted a fight.
"With all of this in mind, as well as the insult he dealt to Higa when he stole Minami away—We can't simply let that go unpunished."
Minami wanted to protest again, wanted to say something would convince them of exactly how crazy this all sounded, but she knew better than to try to reason with her father. When it became an issue of honor, he was not a reasonable man. None of them were, and the Shimizu head had less wiggle room than most to be forgiving.
"We're always very careful to discuss the ramifications of our actions, as you know. We don't generally deal harshly with civilians, and that goes double for foreigners. That said, there have been too many slights to be ignored, or dealt with by simply beating him. Wesley Park has repeatedly flaunted our authority and disrespected the Shimizu family, as well as the Higa family."
There were soft murmurs of general agreement from around the room.
"In that light, I cannot recommend any fate any less harsh than death. I don't suppose these Americans to have enough honor to try to pay for their own sins, so we will be forcing his hand."
Nobody looked remotely surprised at the pronouncement. As if it were already known, and the whole meeting was a show put on for Minami's sake. Her fistful of skirt tightened harder, until it ached with pain, but she couldn't loosen her grip, regardless.
"That is all. I'll speak to the individuals who will deal the killing blow privately."
The entire household bowed deep toward Minami and her father, and then started to go away. There was one thing, though, that Minami couldn't get out of her head. She couldn't possibly let this happen, not to Wes. Not when he hadn't done anything, not really. He didn't know how hard the Yakuza could come down. Nobody had warned him about her father. The secret she had kept from him was going to be his undoing.
Thirty
Wes
The night before a fight wasn't when Wes wanted someone knocking on his door. He looked at the alarm clock that he'd bought at a thrift store for five dollars. 2 in the morning was definitely not a time he should be getting up. He laid back down and closed his eyes.
The knock came again, more insistent. Wes finally pushed himself up off the mattress and walked, half-naked, to the door.
"Who's there?"
"It's me," came a voice that could only belong to one person. "We need to talk."
Wes opened the door and let Minami inside.
"Where have you been?"
"I don't have time to get into it right now. I promise I'll explain everything, but there's a few important things I need to tell you first, and if I don't get them out fast, I'm going to lose my nerve, so just. Give me a minute, okay?"
"Alright," Wes growled, part of him still wanting nothing more than to go back to bed. Maybe after he went to bed with Minami, but the tendrils of sleep made even that doubtful.
Instead, he flipped on a light and started making some coffee. He didn't have a machine, or even one of those presses. They're cheap, but there wasn't much room for that kind of luxury when the girls back in New York were still no doubt struggling. Instead, he poured the grounds into a pot and boiled water over them.
"What's got you so upset?"
"I'm sorry, Wes. I haven't been totally honest with you."
"Okay," he said, unsure what she was going to tell him next. Was she secretly a cop? Using him to get close to mobsters or something? It seemed unlikely that a Yakuza girl would get close to American police.
"I might have portrayed myself as, well, a normal girl. But that's not really the case."
She was really struggling with this, he thought, but he kept quiet.
"My father is the head of a big Yakuza clan back in Japan. Like. One of the biggest. I'm his only child, so even though it's a little unusual, I'm more-or-less heir to the family. If I were to get married to someone who wanted the role, then my husband would be in control of our family. Maybe not chairman of the whole clan, but our family isn't small."
"I see."
"You don't… hate me, do you?"
"No," he said, honestly. He didn't add that he already knew most of that, and the parts he hadn't weren't nearly as important as the ones he had.
"I'm sorry that I lied to you."
"It's fine. I get you have secrets. Hell, I have secrets. Stuff I don't like to talk to people about, right? Same thing. I get it."
"I was worried," she said softly. The water had taken on a nice black color, so Wes dipped a cup in to fill it up.
"You want coffee?"
"I shouldn't."
Wes shrugged and took the pot off the hot stove eye, then shut the stove off and moved to the couch.
"So is that what you came here to tell me?"
"Not really." She looked almost sad when she said it, as if she was still trying to decide if she was going to tell him whatever it was.
"Okay, what is it, then?"
"I don't know where to start."
"Then start at the beginning."
"It's not really like that."
"Okay, well, just spit it out—"
"I'm pregnant, Wes."
Wes took a sip of coffee, and the heat burned his mouth, but he swallowed it down without showing a response.
"Are you sure? Or just guessing?"
"Three positive tests."
"Okay."
; "What? You're thinking something. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm not thinking anything."
"Don't lie to me, Wes."
"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess—"
"Yes, it's definitely yours. Unless it's a miraculous conception."
"That does seem unlikely, doesn't it?"
Wes couldn't figure out how he felt, never mind how he was supposed to react. Did she want him to be happy about it? He wasn't. Did she want him to be upset and worried about it? To his surprise, he wasn't.
All in all, he wasn't sure what he was.
"Do you intend to keep it?"
She looked at her hands. "I do."
"Then we're going to have to get something straightened out with your family. I'm not going to have a child I can't visit without getting my ass kicked by a bunch of Yakuza goons."
"That won't be a problem," she said. She didn't say it in a way that meant there were no problems. Rather, he got the distinct feeling that she meant that things wouldn't get that far.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"My father's going to have you killed."
"Oh." Between the coffee keeping him awake and the stillness of fatigue, Wes was surprised how clear his head was on the whole thing. Like he knew exactly what to do, only he didn't have a plan. Not really.
"You should leave. He won't chase you."
"If you'll come with me."
Minami shook her head. "Then he'd chase you to the ends of the earth."
"Then I'm not leaving," Wes said, taking another scalding sip of coffee.
"You have to, Wes. This isn't a time to be stubborn. This is your life we're talking about."
Wes let a breath out through his nose.
"Remember a minute ago? I mentioned I had things I don't like talking about?"
"Yes," Minami started.
"I'm not from here, not originally. I'm from New York City. Born and raised there. I didn't come out west until I was twenty-five years old."
"Okay."
"I still have family back there. Not much family, and not close. But family, nonetheless. I have a sister. She's a dope fiend. Can't stay straight more than a few hours. I don't know how she keeps getting the stuff, and I don't really want to know."
"I don't understand why you're telling me this."
"I'm telling you because I need you to understand. She got mixed up with a crime family back there. Some fuckin' Russians. I got mixed up with them, too, to support her little girls. They're ten years old, now, I think. No father. Never in the picture for them. I don't even know who it was, to tell you the truth."
Wes paused for a minute and looked at Minami significantly. She didn't have a response.
"I shouldn't have run off. I might have gotten a hero's reception with the family when I got out of prison, but I didn't want one. I wanted to be out of that life."
"What did you do?"
"I robbed a jeweler's."
"You don't seem the type," Minami said, her eyebrows furrowing.
"You don't know what you're capable of until you do it. I was convicted in a court of law, served five years, and that's all that counts. As far as the court is concerned, 'the type' or not, I did it."
"So…"
"So the point is, I abandoned those girls. They didn't have a father, and then they lost an uncle. A phone call every few weeks isn't the same damned thing. A few bucks in a trust fund isn't the same damned thing. A child shouldn't—"
Wes broke off. He could feel himself getting too hot for the conversation, but he couldn't stop himself, so the best thing to do was shut the hell up.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"So what are we going to do?"
"I don't know," Minami confessed.
"Fine. Then we'll go with my idea. We'll go talk to your old man. Face to face."
"That's not a good idea," Minami answered.
"It's fine, and that's how it's going to be."
"I don't want you to get hurt."
"Then I won't."
Thirty-One
Minami
Minami had never heard a worse plan. Which only made it that much worse that she was here supporting it. She should have been trying to convince him to leave. Maybe he'd eventually listen to reason.
Granted that Minami had never been given even the slightest indication that Wes ever did anything reasonably, or ever listened to anyone talking sense to him, but the hope was always there, and she just had to keep trying.
But she wasn't trying, and as strange as it was to admit, she wasn't about to start. If she was going to get out of the Yakuza life for good, then she was going to have to run up against a confrontation some time, and Wes was practically begging to go to her house and confront some people.
If things didn't get violent, then that would be good. But the odds of that happening were slim.
"I don't think this is a good idea." She wasn't sure how many times she'd said it during the drive, sitting beside Wes in that beat up old sports car.
He didn't respond, the same as he hadn't responded all those times before.
"There's still time," she said, but even she didn't believe he was going to listen to her. The chances were one in a million that she got through that hard head of his. And to be honest, she wasn't sure if she wanted him to listen. There was something comforting about having someone stand up to her father, for once in her life.
"Which way?"
"Right," she answered, trying to calm down and relegate herself to doing what he wanted. Trying not to start in again with the 'leave while you can' mess. It wasn't getting through to him, and in truth she wasn't entirely sure she wanted it to any more.
"Straight through… take the next left."
She pointed out the house. He drove a little ways past it, scanning the horizon. No doubt looking for anyone waiting outside to jump him, which Minami wouldn't have put past him.
Except that they were already out. Looking for Wes at his apartment by now, no doubt, and more than that, looking for Minami. There was no way that they had missed the fact that she had gotten out through her bedroom window, not for this long.
"Are you going to be okay?"
Wes shrugged and pushed the door open. "Wish me luck."
"You say that like you're going in alone."
"Isn't it a risk for you to even be seen with me?"
"That doesn't matter," Minami answered. "I'm going with you. You're not going to put yourself in danger without my being there."
Wes shrugged. "Stay a little behind me, then. Don't get yourself hurt on my account, you got that?"
Minami didn't argue with him. He didn't seem like he was in the mood to be argued with.
Minami keyed in the code for the front gate, and the doors swung open automatically. Wes stepped inside, apparently deciding not to pull his car up. Well, she couldn't entirely blame him.
"You comin', or what?"
Wes started to move again without finding out the answer to his question. If she wasn't going to come then he wasn't going to force her, she knew. She was the one who wanted to be there. He thought she should stay away.
That wasn't going to happen. She needed to be there. She needed to be able to let her father see exactly what he was doing to her, and if he could still do it knowing how bad it hurt his only daughter, she didn't care any more. She swallowed hard. Hopefully, though, it wouldn't come to that. She had to hold out some kind of hope that she could make him see sense before things went too far.
If not, then there was no way that she was ever going to get free of her father's life, no matter what. If he was that insistent, then she'd have to allow it, regardless of what she really wanted from her life. It was his decision, in a sense. The thought soured her mood.
Wes walked up to the front door, perhaps the single stupidest place he could have gone. Then, panic shooting through her, he knocked on the door. The old maid answered the door. In Japanese, no less.
Wes didn't miss a beat. "I
'm Wesley Park. I'm here to see Mr. Shimizu."
The maid spoke English just fine. The Japanese was just to fuck with the American showing up at 3 A.M. To Minami's surprise, it hadn't particularly upset him. Maybe he missed the joke at his expense.
After a long moment, the maid nodded and guided him inside. Minami followed behind, the maid never acknowledging her presence. They were guided to the tatami room. Nobody waited, and as usual, there was no furniture to be found in the place. Wes sat with his back pressed against the wall and got ready to wait.
Minami wasn't sure how long he'd have to wait. It could be as little as a minute, or they could force a longer wait in spite of him. He didn't look like he was going to let it get to him either way.
Thirty-Two
Wes
Wes formed himself back up against the wall. The odds had always been in favor of his being made to wait. They might try to set up some kind of ambush, of course. Even if they didn't, it made it that much easier to get him on-edge.
So he wasn't going to let it get to him. Couldn't afford to let it get to him. Because if he did, then he'd be playing right into their hands. Rubashkin had pulled this shit all the time, and it usually worked. When it didn't, well, that didn't matter all that much.
He closed his eyes and listened close. The sleep that threatened to overtake him told him already that he shouldn't close his eyes. He forced them open. In the seconds that he'd had them closed, though, he could hear the steps outside. Apparently they'd waited long enough.
The door slid open. Very Japanese, Wes thought. Almost cute. The first man to enter was wearing a suit nicer than just about anything Wes had seen. Maybe Rubashkin had one that nice, for particularly honored guests, but there was a lot about Wes's memories of the man that he tacked up to mythology.
He was flanked on both sides by what must have been half a dozen men. Too many to fight, fair or not. The odds that they didn't have, at the very least, knives stashed somewhere seemed especially slim, where Wes had come unarmed. A gesture of goodwill, if you will.
"Mr. Shimizu?"