by Cynthia Dane
I don’t know what she says to the receptionist, but five minutes later Fujiko graces us with her presence from the very last lounge down the hall.
She’s wearing a sleek, emerald green wrap dress that accentuates her svelte figure and the green scarf wrapped around her head. A cigarette perches between her delicate fingers as she gives her niece a hardened look. Gone is the mischievous demeanor from last night. I’m hoping we’re not interrupting something terribly important.
Aunt and niece exchange words I can’t understand. Junri is soft-spoken and deferent, while Fujiko keeps things curt. I could choke on the power imbalance in this room. (What does that make me? A complete non-entity? Probably.)
“You can’t find Mr. Mathers?” One eyebrow arches in my direction. Cigarette smoke trails up toward the ceiling, the stench offending my nostrils. “After the party with my brother and nephew?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been looking all day and trying to contact him. His assistant can’t find him, either. I’m really starting to worry.”
Junri interrupts in Japanese. The response Fujiko gives her is more than worrisome – it scares me half to death.
“I have heard nothing,” she says. “My brother said nothing when I saw him this morning, before he left for Sapporo. Only thing he said was that last night was a success.” Fujiko puts her cigarette down when she addresses me. “He would never do something to harm Mr. Mathers, I assure you.”
“I never thought that, but I was hoping someone knew where he was going and what happened to him. Disappearing is definitely not something he does. On purpose, anyway.” Come to think of it, unless he knew he would be cut off from communication for a couple of days, the longest I’ve gone without hearing from Ian since we got serious is… twelve hours? We talk and text every day, even if we don’t see each other in the flesh. I think I’m going through withdrawal at this point. This is on top of my fear!
Fujiko takes another drag of her cigarette while she thinks. “Kunihiro is really the only one to ask. I will call my brother, and…”
“No!” Junri startles us all with her outburst. “I mean… no need to involve him with this.”
Fujiko chuckles. “Understood. If Kunihiro has no leads, though, absolutely call him.”
“Me?”
“I’m not going to have another chance tonight. If I don’t call my brother right now, you’ll have to do it later.”
“Shimatta…”
“Hai. Shimatta.”
Junri checks her watch. “Where is my cousin?”
“If he’s not at the hotel, then I honestly don’t know. I can give you his number, though.”
The idea that Junri doesn’t have the numbers of everyone in her family – let alone family members in her business – is so foreign to me. I’m not saying I think they’re close by default. I’m saying it’s so short-sighted, but I guess this is another one of those obnoxious cultural differences my American ass will never get.
“Thank you.”
Fujiko watches us turn around and leave. She says something sweetly to her niece, who stops, face pale once more. I didn’t understand anything but “date,” which happens to be a borrowed word in Japanese.
I don’t know what Junri says in response. All I know is that we have another awkward elevator ride down to catch yet another cab by the curb.
“You are worried,” she says in the back of another taxi. “Your hands are shaking.”
I had no idea that anything was shaking. I’ve received another text from Valerie confirming that she still hasn’t heard from her boss. Eva hasn’t gotten back to me, but I now know that it’s the middle of the night back home. If she’s up, she’s probably ignoring her phone in favor of fun things, like smothering her hot girlfriend or partying with our friends.
“Of course I’m worried. My boyfriend is missing.”
Junri clears her throat. “I thought I read in the papers that he’s your fiancé?”
Whhhyyy is she bringing that up? “That’s up in the air. We aren’t officially engaged.”
“Sou desu ka…”
“I mean, you’d be upset too if your boyfriend went missing.”
“If I had one, I’m sure I would be, but I get the sentiment.”
Wait, what? “Wasn’t that your boyfriend back at the restaurant?”
She sighs, as if the weight of more than her family’s business rests upon her shoulders. (Don’t I know what that feels like!) “That was not a man.”
Oh.
Oh…
Oh.
God damnit, I have no gaydar, even though I’m best friends with one of the biggest butches in America. Something that Eva loves to point out every time she gets to tell me some woman is a lesbian and it’s obvious to everyone but me.
Now I have something to distract me from my fears. Because wasn’t I admiring that man? Not the first time I’ve been attracted to a woman…
“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t realize.”
“I’m sure she would be relieved. She likes it when people thinks she’s a man.”
I have no idea what to make of that.
“That said,” Junri continues, “there was a time a couple of years ago when she became very sick and ended up in the hospital. I was so, how do you say… freaked out? Yes? I was so freaked out I flew down here from Sapporo to see her. They said it was her, uh, the thing in your stomach.”
“Thing in her stomach?” Gall stones? Kidney stones? Ectopic pregnancy?
Junri curls her hand into a fist as she struggles to think of the word in English. “We say the mouchou in Japanese. It is useless and makes people sick, so they take it out.”
“Oh, appendix?”
“Yes, yes, appendix. Anyway, it made her very sick and she almost died. I was very upset, because we are not married, and in Japan you cannot see people that are almost dying in the hospital unless you are married.”
Isn’t it the same in America? Although, someone as rich and important as Junri should have been able to weasel her way in, anyway. We do it all the time back home. Oh, not allowed to see a patient because we’re not related? Didn’t they know we / my father / I was responsible for so much of the funding in this establishment? Exactly.
“Mr. Mathers is probably okay, but we will find him.”
“If he is okay and had the power to contact me, you’ll have to call the police on me.” I joke, but God fucking hell!
My companion nods. “I know that feeling well.”
We ride the rest of the way in silence. A silence that rips me apart because it means my phone never rings or buzzes with good news. Or bad, for that matter. No news at all. At this point I’d even take the bad.
Chapter 7
IAN
I wake up again a couple hours later. I wish I hadn’t, because my headache is insane and my stomach feels like someone punched it a hundred times over.
I’m alone. What scares me more is that my senses return strong enough for me to recognize a hospital room. A private one, with some Japanese movie playing on a TV in the corner. A single vase of daisies is on my bedside, but other than that, the only personal touch to my current predicament is my bag of clothing on the bottom shelf of the closet.
Fuck me. What the hell happened?
I don’t have the strength to panic, but I have enough to push the call button for the nurse.
One shows up almost immediately. Petite, no makeup, her only interest in the world is apparently the fact that I’m awake. Naturally, she does not speak English, and even if I could speak Japanese, it’s not coming out of my muted mouth right now.
Since I’m not freaking the fuck out (externally, anyway,) she checks my vitals. She then says something in Japanese. I don’t care how soft-spoken and reassuring she sounds when I don’t know what she’s saying. When she leaves, she says, “Doctor.”
Five minutes later I’m greeted by a genial doctor who does the same round as the nurse accompanying him. The only difference, besides his gender, is the
fact he can speak some English. “Good evening, Mr. Mathers,” he says. “Good to see you awake. I’m Dr. Iwamoto. I’m not your primary doctor who’s been treating you, but he isn’t here, nor does he speak English. So, you have to talk to me.”
“What…” That’s the only thing I can utter. My voice must sound like dust rolling across Death Valley, for the nurse brings over a cup of water and helps get the straw in my mouth. Sucking shouldn’t be this hard.
“Fish allergy.” The doctor goes through my chart while he speaks. “Says here you had a particularly nasty reaction to something you ate last night. Not food poisoning. If you had that on top of the allergic reaction, you’d probably be dead.”
Thanks, Doc. “I don’t…” The water is taking a long time to make things work in my mouth. “I don’t have fish allergies.” I’m allergic to very few foods, and the ones I am allergic to only cause mild intestinal distress. Nothing like this.
“You may have never had this fish before. Very rare. Very expensive. The man who brought you in said you went to one of the few places in the city you can get this fish.”
Still calling bullshit, because I’ve been rich enough my whole life to have the rarest shit wherever I go. Don’t even have to ask for it, like last night, but I guess it’s possible coincidence kept me away from this deadly stink. I did have sushi, didn’t I? Fuck.
“You’re going to be all right, Mr. Mathers. We want to keep you for a couple more days until you get your strength back and so we can observe you and make sure you don’t have a secondary reaction. We’ve already cleared your insurance and can inform anyone you want.”
Kathryn! Oh my God, where’s my girlfriend?
“My girlfriend,” I say. “Where is she? Has she been here?”
It doesn’t even cross my mind that she doesn’t know. She’s probably been worried sick out in the waiting room. Can I see her now?
“Who?” the doctor asks. He turns to the nurse and asks her something in Japanese. She shakes her head. “She says nobody has come to visit you.”
What? Kathryn should be living here, whether I like it or not.
“Kathryn. Where is she?”
“Who is Kyasarin?”
Talking is using up a lot of energy I don’t have. Odds are I haven’t consumed any sustenance in a while so they could totally flush my system. I can already smell the soup coming my direction. A part of me is ready to devour it, while the other part wants to throw up and go back to sleep.
“My girlfriend,” I finally manage to say. Sounds so wrong, calling Kathryn my mere girlfriend. She’s so much more than that. She’s my partner in all things but living arrangements – even though I keep thinking we should move in together sooner rather than later. We practically live at each other’s places anyway. I know I don’t dedicate half my master bath to her hygiene and makeup products because I get off on it. “I came here with her.”
“To Japan?”
“Yes. For business.”
The doctor confers with the nurse again. “I’m sorry, but nobody like that has been here.”
“Does she even know?”
“The only people who know you’re here are the ones who brought you in.”
It must have been the Isoyas, but they would have told Kathryn, surely? Because there is no way in hell paranoid and worry-wart Kathryn would know I’m here and not camp out in their waiting room. She’d probably call my mom and made her fly out here. They’d have a séance to call my spirit back to my body or some shit. (It would probably work. For all I know, that is what they have done.)
So where are they?
“You have to call her. She’s probably worried to death about me.”
“We’ll make sure she’s contacted and knows where you are. Is there anyone else we should inform?”
I almost say my mother, but refrain. She would fly straight here and smother me with her worry, and it would be for nothing. Instead, I mention my father, under the condition he promises to not tell his ex-wife. I’m only letting him know because he’s technically my boss and I’m on a business trip. Also, I should probably give them Valerie’s number and have her arrange a first class ticket on a commercial flight back home. Who knows how long I’ll be here.
“Try to relax, Mr. Mathers. We’ll get some food in you. Then we want you to sleep. We’ll try getting you up and walking around tomorrow.”
I’m supposed to fly back to America the day after tomorrow. With my luck, it’ll be a month before I’m back at work. The least the universe could do right now is deliver my should-be-fiancée into my lap. I’m going to be a lonely bastard soon enough.
Chapter 8
KATHRYN
Junri and I arrive back at the hotel by eight at night. By this time I’ve officially entered panic forever mode. If her cousin doesn’t know what’s happened to Ian, then I’m going to officially explode. How am I supposed to survive this bullshit? Either something terrible has happened to Ian without anyone knowing, or he’s deliberately hiding from me and the rest of the world. Can’t say I like either option. I couldn’t even tell you which I would rather have. Someone’s going to pay, though. Oh, they will pay.
My name is Kathryn Alison, and nobody fucks with me or the people I love.
It goes both ways, and I understand where Ian is coming from when he goes into Caveman Mode over my safety and perceived honor. Probably because he and I enter very similar headspaces in and out of the bedroom. We are both used to seeing our partners as people we have to protect. They look to us for safety and security, even if they are also loaded as fuck. Right now I have my boyfriend and occasional sub’s safety as my topmost priority, and I will make sure both he and the universe know that endangering him at any time is not an option.
That said, if he’s deliberately avoiding me, he can kiss my ass – and my boots. I’ll give him the most merciless BDSM session his brain can conceive and his cock can handle. Then I’m dumping him!
I can’t even entertain that option right now, though. Because my gut knows that something is wrong and beyond his control. I wish I knew what!
Junri gets her cousin’s room number from the night auditor. She leads me into the executive elevator, and we spend a tortuously silent ride up toward the top floor.
“We will get the answer,” she assures me as we step into the hallway. “If not from my cousin, then my uncle will know. Surely.”
I hope she’s right. Yet isn’t it as likely that Ian got lost on his way back from the party? Right? Then again, both he and Kunihiro are staying in the same hotel, so wouldn’t they have returned together?
I need to stop running my brain in these circles.
Junri knocks on the door with a determined expression on her angular face. I don’t know what her relationship with her cousin is like, but she’s not showing the least bit of shock when he opens up wearing nothing but a casual pair of jeans and a finely made undershirt. RnB music plays in the background. That is definitely the scent of a woman’s perfume wafting from within.
Great. This is the third date I’ve interrupted tonight, and it all started with Ian missing ours earlier today. What a roll I’m on!
They’re speaking Japanese, shutting me out of the conversation. From Kunihiro’s casual stance and Junri’s serious expression, I can tell this is a family matter that has nothing to do with me, anyway. If I were more in my right mind I would be able to read the situation better. Maybe deduce how far these two go back and how much they like (or don’t like) each other. Right now I’m barely capable of minding my own two feet, so that’s out.
Kunihiro opens his door and gestures for us to enter. Junri goes ahead, and I follow. Immediately we come upon the scene of an underway seduction. Kunihiro’s date is a Japanese woman in a blond wig and a tacky taste in cocktail dresses. I can tell a fake Dior dress from a mile away. It wouldn’t bother me except this woman with two chubby cheeks and a squeaky voice turns her nose up at me when I enter. What? Can’t handle a real blonde?
He
cleans up the empty wineglasses and pulls on a loose black overshirt. His date realizes she’s not getting laid anytime soon and crosses the room with a pout.
“Do you know what happened to Mr. Mathers after your party last night?” Junri asks in English.
Kunihiro snorts as we sit down on the couch and chairs on the far side of the room. “Sou kamoshiremasen,” he says with a gruff voice. A change from the professional, subdued tone he used at our meetings.
“Let’s speak in English, please, so Kathryn can understand.”
“English?” His accent was the worst at the meetings, not that I held it against him, but now I swear he’s being flippant on purpose. He’s probably been perpetually drunk since last night’s party. “Okay, English only.”
“So?” Junri leans forward, hands folded across her knees. “Do you know where he is? He’s been unreachable all day, and Kathryn says it’s not like him. At all.”
Kunihiro mulls over her words. I know that look. Every person who speaks a foreign language knows that look. “I saw him at the party last night. Uncle left first. Said he had to leave early to go back to Sapporo for a meeting.”
“Okay, but what about Mr. Mathers? I don’t care about Uncle.”
“Ian was… a bit indisposed.”
What the hell does that mean?
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Cousin.”
“Ah, well… I promised I wouldn’t tell.”
I jerk up. “So you do know where he is?”
“Like I said, I promised I wouldn’t tell.”
“Cut the crap, Kuni-kun.” Junri stands up and towers over her cousin. He leans back, unintimidated by the woman who will one day rule his family’s company. I don’t have to know a lot about Japanese culture to know that’s not in his favor. “Where the hell is he? Even if you’re covering for him, you should still tell us. If he was at our company’s party, then we’re responsible for his well-being.”