The Dusk Parlor

by S. A. Stovall

  I don’t know how long I’ve been fantasizing, but when the front door opens I jerk into an attentive stance, my legs hurting from being locked up so long. I had zoned out hard.

  “We’re closed,” I say to the man.

  He’s dressed in a heavy black coat with a scarf despite the warm weather. He eyes me with a serious gaze and then holds out his hand. “I’m here for the things,” he says in a gruff and defensive tone.

  This is the guy Lottie spoke about? He seems… unscrupulous. His bulky clothing could hide anything, and his lack of etiquette—he didn’t even bother introducing himself—gets me on edge.

  I walk over with the yellow envelope and hand it over. The man takes it, and for the split second we’re exchanging the paperwork, I see a hint of intricate tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve of his coat.

  The same kind of dragon tattoo Ren has on his arm.

  “Hanamura’s hiring muscle now, I see,” the man drawls, looking me up and down. “You better watch yourself.”

  “Is that a threat?” I ask, tense.

  “Friendly advice.”

  The man takes the envelope without another word. He turns on his heel. I watch him exit, restraining myself from action. Who was that? Why would we give audit reports to him? He isn’t a delivery boy, that’s for sure.

  I exhale.

  I have a lot of questions, and I’d rather not be alone in a room full of alcohol with nothing but dark thoughts. Instead of waiting for Ren, I decide to head home.

  I’ll question him tomorrow.

  Chapter 5: Language Lessons

  “ARE YOU okay?” I ask.

  “I’m okay,” my mother replies. “What I worry about is you, Hugh. Are you sure you’re fitting in? Are you sure your new job is the correct one?”

  I lean against the wall outside of the Dusk Parlor and smile. “I think I’ve found a good fit. I like the work. It’s not like what I did in California… but I feel the camaraderie. Reminds me of my time in the barracks.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I’ll be by this weekend to make sure you’re moved in.”

  “Your aunts and uncles will be there too,” my mother says, her tone hesitant and apologetic. “I want them to get to know you. I hope you’ll get along with them.”

  She wants me to socialize. She’s telling me that I need to speak to my family and it’s important to her—even if she doesn’t use as many words.

  “I’ll be there,” I state. “I’d love to meet the rest of my family.”

  I’ve technically met them before, but only for short periods of time. I visited Japan and they traveled to America… it’s not an ideal situation for bonding, but I’m hopeful for the future. I’m living in Japan now. They’re my family. It’ll work out.

  “I love you,” she says. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

  “See you then.”

  I end the conversation on my cell phone and glance at the time: 3:49 p.m. I’m early, but perhaps that’ll make up for being late yesterday. I turn my attention to my feet and recount the six sacks of potatoes. Should be eighty. Just like Mio wanted.

  Before I gather them all into my arms, I see the Dusk Parlor door open and close. Ren stands before me, his eyes wide in genuine surprise.

  “Hugh?” he asks, his happiness overcoming his shock. “Hey. I was looking for you last night. You took off without even saying good-bye.”

  “About that….”

  He walks straight up to me and places his hands on his hips. He’s dashing in his bartending outfit—all the uniforms of the Dusk Parlor are tailored by skilled craftsmen—but Ren in particular is a good-looking man. His confidence only adds to his attractiveness, and his faux indignant anger fades away the moment he gets within a few inches of me.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  I snort. “What’s up with you and Kaito?”

  Ren hardens his expression into something unreadable. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you two last night in the employee lounge. I want to know what’s going on before anything happens between us.”

  “Oh. That.” Ren chuckles, his tension evaporating as quickly as it came. “Kaito and I aren’t a thing. He’s just… uptight. He came from a proper household, if you get what I mean. Formal speech. High education. Traditional background and expectations.”

  “And?”

  “And he likes me because I can get around all that. He can’t admit what makes him happy in life. I’ve got to drag it out of him from time to time, if you catch my drift.”

  I shake my head. “You should elaborate.”

  “I mean, he’s into men, but that’s not proper. He hates admitting it. He likes it when I get his rocks off, but he’ll never ask for it because that would be acknowledging his—” Ren uses air quotes. “—deviant behavior.”

  For a moment I mull over the information. My family never made a big deal of my choices, but I knew men who were torn up because of their upbringing. Those men could never reconcile their “family values” with what they preferred sexually, and it drove them to dark places.

  I feel for Kaito, despite our earlier tension.

  “So, you two….” I know the answer. They’re not together, but they occasionally hook up.

  It’s complicated, but what part of life isn’t?

  “Hey,” Ren says, pulling me from my thoughts. He slides up next to me and runs both his hands into my front pants pockets. I flinch and catch my breath as he continues with “We’re still cool, right? Nothing’s changed. We can still have fun—that’s all we really do here at the Dusk Parlor. Easygoing fun.”

  “Easygoing?”

  “Yeah. Relaxed. Casual. We can hook up and not get too attached, right?”

  I nod, my face hot as Ren rubs his knuckles against the muscles of my legs. “Sure.”

  “Good.” Ren pulls his hands out of my pockets and motions me to step aside. “I’ll be back before we open. Try not to have too much fun until I return, okay?”

  “Hey, wait. I need to ask you about the audit last night and—”

  “Later. When I get back. That cool?”

  I give up trying to ask about the delivery guy. Ren takes off, humming as he ambles over to the elevator. I watch him go until he’s out of sight. The guy has a way with things. I wanted to have a serious conversation, but now I’m pent-up and horny, and I feel like we barely spoke about anything important.

  What’s with me these last few days? I need to demonstrate some self-control.

  With a sigh, I gather all six sacks of potatoes. It’s awkward carrying them all at the same time, but I can handle it. I walk into the Dusk Parlor through the short dark hallway and hear the disapproving groan of Kaito.

  “Five after four,” he states. “You are late yet again.”

  Goddammit.

  “I’ve been here for over fifteen minutes,” I say in an attempt to explain myself. “But Ren and I were talking outside, and—”

  “Of course you were,” Kaito interjects, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. He turns away, walks around the bar, and fiddles with the computer, his haughty and disapproving attitude apparent in all his mannerisms.

  What’s the point of explaining any further? I grit my teeth and lug the potatoes into the kitchen, throwing them down on the countertop the moment I can. How is it that Kaito gets me so worked up to prove myself? I can’t believe I was late—Ren is a bad influence on me—but I know I can’t blame anyone else for my own failings.

  “What is this?” Kaito asks.

  I turn and find him at the kitchen door. He’s glaring at the sacks of potatoes.

  “Mio asked me to get them,” I reply. “She needed them for dinner.”

  “Why was this not brought to my attention?”

  “They weren’t on the ordering list or something. Don’t worry, I took care of it.”

  Kaito says nothing. He stares down at the potatoes, his gaze unseeing, and I take the opportunity to escape.

 
The employee lounge is empty. I walk over to my locker and change—fast so that I can get to training—and return to the kitchen in record time. Kaito hasn’t moved. His arms are crossed over his chest and his glasses hang low on his nose. He has the approachability of a coiled snake.

  “I’m ready for my training,” I say.

  He glances up and straightens his thin-framed glasses. “I see.”

  “Sorry I was late.”

  “I suppose I will overlook it since you brought Mio her potatoes.”

  I give him a half smile. “Thanks.”

  The moment is short-lived. Kaito walks up to me and glowers at my uniform. “Look what you have done. What did I say about sophistication? You need to keep yourself presentable at all times.” He dusts my vest and straightens my shirt, his critical eye spotting all the minor imperfections right down to the fit of my belt. He tightens it.

  “You’re pretty good at fiddling with a man’s belt,” I quip. I intended it as a lighthearted joke, and the shock on Kaito’s face takes me by surprise.

  He turns away, red from anger—and embarrassment?—and huffs. “How dare you. We are working. Or is this Ren’s influence on you now?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. “You know I don’t care, right? And I’m also—”

  “Not another word!” he snaps, cutting me off with his curt tone. “It is time we resumed our training.”

  Ren is right. Kaito doesn’t want to talk about that side of himself. I have sympathy for the man… but I’m not entirely sure how to help him. Maybe I should….

  I head for the door to the main room, dwelling on the situation, but Kaito doesn’t follow. I stop near the door and watch as he pulls a whiteboard out from one of the pantries. It has a list of ingredients on it, but Kaito erases them all and writes PROPERLY CONJUGATED VERBS across the top.

  “You speak like a country bumpkin,” he states.

  My sympathy disappears.

  Kaito straightens his back and gives me a reserved smile. “Perhaps you speak proper English, but in order to work here on a permanent basis, you need to know formal Japanese and you need to know it well.”

  “Shouldn’t you be showing me the computer codes and reviewing the list of drinks we carry?” I ask, dreading a grammar lesson above all else.

  “What?” Kaito asks in a sarcastic and melodramatic tone. “I thought you learned all of that already. You were so confident that you only needed one night to learn it all, remember? Or are you admitting you need more time and that this is difficult for you?”

  I hold back all manner of insults as I cross the kitchen over to the whiteboard. Kaito stares at me with a smug smile and a lifted eyebrow, almost like he expects me to admit this is all hard. Sure, memorizing a huge drink list is difficult—along with memorizing a menu that changes every week—but it isn’t so difficult that I can’t do it.

  “I can handle it,” I growl.

  “Good. After all your talk, I would hate to see you falter now.”

  “Let’s just do this.”

  “YOU DO not say I’m sorry, you say I apologize for the inconvenience, sir.”

  “I apologize for the inconvenience, sir,” I repeat in formal Japanese.

  “Your knowledge of working Japanese is woefully incomplete.”

  I exhale before speaking, attempting to calm myself before I form a retort. “I learned from my mother.”

  “And I assume she came from the rural countryside?”

  I glare. Kaito finishes his long sentence on the whiteboard and notices my wrath. “I apologize,” he says. “I do not mean to insult your mother. I am making an observation.”

  “She was born in Sasayama. Up north.”

  Sasayama is a country town. I know it—Kaito knows it—but I hate admitting it. My Japanese is “tainted” by the accent my mother taught me. I had never thought much about it until now….

  “And your father?” Kaito asks.

  “He… didn’t know much.”

  “He is American?”

  “He was American.”

  “I see.”

  Kaito erases the whiteboard in silence. I take in a few breaths and stare at the tile floor. There’s a lot about Japanese speech I’m not aware of—perhaps I can’t work this job after all. The realization sets in hard, like a rock hitting the bottom of a lake, and I wonder if all those people who looked at me oddly for being hāfu are right. Maybe I can’t fit in.

  “I see why you and Ren are close,” Kaito says, shaking me from my haunting thoughts.

  I glance up. “What do you mean?”

  “His parents died at a young age, and he had difficulties learning the finer art of Japanese speech.” Kaito shoves the whiteboard back into the pantry and smooths out his suit. “But if I can teach Ren, I can teach anyone. You have no need to fret.”

  “You taught Ren formal Japanese?”

  “That is correct.”

  “And… you don’t mind teaching me?”

  “You need it,” he states. “It would be a travesty to allow you to stay the way you are.”

  Could he be any more patronizing?

  I let it go, however, if only because he’s helping me learn. I know my mother will be proud, and anything that gets her in a good mood is all right in my book.

  Another part of me wants to thank Kaito for saving me from myself. I can’t believe how quick I am to jump to my frustrations at being half-Japanese…. Of course I can learn an advanced form of speaking. Of course I can do this. Why would I doubt?

  “Hey, Kaito, I just want to say thanks for all this and—”

  “Thank you very much, Hanamura,” he says in a correcting tone, cutting me off before I’ve even said my piece. “Now that you know some proper phrases, you should use them.”

  I narrow my eyes into a hard glower. He’s making this difficult. “I’m trying to say something to you one-on-one. I appreciate that you’ve taken to—”

  “Hanamura, I am appreciative of your efforts. Is that so hard? Use. Proper. Phrases.”

  “Listen. This isn’t a lesson. You’re startin’ to piss me off. Just let me say something and—”

  “If you intend to speak, you should speak with the class you hold yourself as,” Kaito interjects again. He leans against the cold steel counter. “You lose yourself when you get angry, and your hick accent bleeds through.”

  I step up to him and slam my fist down on the edge of the sink next to him, hurting my knuckles in the process. A loud echo rings across the sterile cooking utensils. Kaito stares at me in wide-eyed confusion as I grab his shirt and yank him close.

  “I’m. Trying. To. Thank. You.”

  Kaito nods through his unnerved state. “O-of course.”

  I release him—how is it he gets me so worked up?—but I don’t step away. This close up he avoids eye contact with me and leans his back on the edge of the counter, unable to distance himself any farther. His face and body get hotter and pinker with each passing second I stand inches from him. There’s a fiery energy between us that’s hard to explain… the mood is heavier and more serious.

  What’s he thinking? Does he like this? It seems like he likes it. Hell, I like it. There’s something about the way he’s unable to speak that gets me excited—like he’s secretly hoping I’ll continue. Is Ren right about him? I want to find out….

  I lean in close, my mouth a whisper away from his, and I feel him stop breathing. He grips the countertop and goes stiff. I wait. For a moment nothing happens; only the silence holds the scene together.

  Kaito closes the distance between us in a deliberate manner, pressing his lips against mine without much life of their own. He shudders. It’s all the acceptance I need.

  I suck on his bottom lip and nibble down, drawing surprised whimpers with each new action. With a chuckle, I slide one leg between his and press him hard against the counter, feeling his hard cock press up against my body through his clothes. I break our kiss and rip open his vest and button-down shirt, tearing buttons and seam
s in my haste to disrobe him.

  He doesn’t resist or comment on my wanton destruction of his uniform—if anything, he grows ever harder and trembles with restrained energy. I chortle to myself as I take it slow. I remove Kaito’s glasses and place them off to the side, his acceptance of the situation both surreal and exhilarating.

  He isn’t going to stop me? He’s not even going to say anything? Is this really going to happen right here and right now?

  I run my hand through his silky black hair, disheveling the styled perfection and pulling him close. Kaito locks his gaze with mine. I smile as I open his shirt farther, ready to christen this countertop, but my attention is drawn to his shoulder.

  He’s tattooed.

  The art is similar to Ren’s, but Kaito’s tattoo is of a blue, black, and red koi fish. It runs down his arm, and I peel his clothing away to get a better look at it. Kaito notices me staring and averts his gaze.

  “What is this?” I ask, my tone demanding.

  Kaito doesn’t answer.

  I outline the top of his tattoo with my thumb. “This is the third time I’ve seen tattoos like this. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “I was once a part of the Yamaguchi-gumi,” Kaito says in a curt tone. “Leave it at that.”

  “What is… the Yamaguchi-gumi?”

  “A yakuza family.”

  I say nothing. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but the word yakuza rings a bell. I struggle to think of what they are, and all I can think of are criminal organizations. Are Ren and Kaito both part of a criminal organization? No…. It couldn’t be.

  The creak of the front door pierces the silence all around us. I glance at the clock. It’s time for the others to arrive. Kaito squirms from my grip and turns away, fidgeting with his ripped uniform.

  “You are a ruffian at heart,” he says, staring at his clothes. “Can you even control your strength?”

  “I didn’t hear you complaining a few seconds ago,” I drawl.

  He goes quiet, snatches his glasses, and flounces off to the employee lounge before anyone enters the kitchen. I watch him go. Kaito is a strange man. But I like him.