"Huh? What's up? What're you doing?" he mumbled.
I slapped his head and made him sit down in front of the mirror.
"What? What are you gonna do?"
"What do you mean 'What are you gonna do?' We're going to change your hair. That disgusting red hair of yours has really got to go."
Ama took off all his clothes except his boxers, just as I told him.
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"Red hair doesn't go with dark skin, didn't anyone ever tell you that? You've got no taste, have you?"
And as I grimaced at the fumes from the bleach I was mixing, Ama smiled and said, "You're so kind. I'll do my best to improve my sense of style. With your help of course."
I was relieved that Ama had interpreted my actions positively and I thought he must be an optimist at heart.
"Yeah, whatever," I said, and began brushing the bleach onto his hair, which I'd divided into sections with a comb. I used half the container of it. Of course, changing his hair color wasn't really going to change anything, but for now I thought we should at least change what we could.
Once Ama's hair was rinsed and blow-dried, it had gone from red to blond. I remembered once being told by a hairdresser that when you go from one hair color to a completely different one, like from red to ash, you needed to be really thorough in taking the first color out. So I mixed the rest of the bleach and repeated the entire process, turning Ama's hair to a whitish blond. I blow- dried it again until it was stiff, and then I applied the ash- colored dye. Ama must have been really sleepy because he kept nodding off all the way through. I must admit I did feel a little sorry for him, but after all it was for his own good. Once I'd finished applying the dye and wrapping cling film around his head, he smiled at me with a vacant kind of stare.
"Thank you, Lui," he said.
For a second I wondered whether I should show him the article, but then I decided against it and headed to the bathroom to wash my hands.
"Do you think I could pass as a half-decent-looking guy now?"
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"I never said you looked bad," I said, poking my head out of the bathroom.
Ama laughed, "You know I'd shave my head for you if you wanted. I'd even dress like a Barbie-boy to match you. Even if you told me to lose the tan and whiten my skin, then you know I would."
"Get real, Ama."
He wasn't bad-looking. I mean, all right, his eyes do have a kind of constant glare that can be uncomfortable, but in general I'd still say he falls into the good-looking category. Still, with the tattoo and a face full of piercings, I guess it was kind of difficult to really tell if he looked good or bad. In fact, if I didn't know him at all and I just saw him in the street, I'd probably think,
What a waste of a pretty face. I do know how he feels, though. After all, I wanted people to judge me by my appearance too. I often like to think that if sunlight reached into everywhere on the entire planet, I'd find a way to turn myself into a shadow.
About ten minutes after I applied the dye, Ama started to fidget and kept asking, "Is it done yet?" I guess I could have been a bit more sympathetic to him, but I was determined to get every last trace of red out of his hair, so in the end I left the dye in for more than thirty minutes. Then, after taking the wrap off his head, I scruffled his hair with my hand.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm oxidizing it. Exposing it to the air makes the color set deeper."
After making sure that the color was nice and even, I said,
"All set," and handed him a bath towel.
"All right," said Ama, and he sloped off to the bathroom.
Then while I waited for him to finish his shower I took another 36
look at the newspaper. I kept telling myself that it couldn't be Ama, so I couldn't really understand why I was letting it get me all worked up, especially since I didn't even like him that much.
When Ama came out of the shower, I styled his hair. He looked at me in the mirror, batted his eyelids, and smiled.
"Stop that." I said, "It makes me cringe," and he frowned and turned toward me.
Ama's hair was now the color of ash. There wasn't a trace of red left in it. "Ama, starting tomorrow, you are always going to wear long-sleeved shirts."
"Why? It's still hot."
"Shut up. People always mistake you for a gangster because of your tank tops."
"Okay then," said Ama, looking a litde hurt.
I had to get him to hide those tattoos away. They stuck out like a sore thumb, and the police might not be mentioning anything about them for some special reason. Though maybe I was just overreacting or reading too much into things.
Either way, I managed to get him to listen, and though he looked totally bewildered by all my sudden demands, he hung his head and said, "Okay, I promise," then held me tight in his arms and whispered, "Anything for you, Lui."
And as he dragged me into bed, I thought to myself again how he just didn't look like a murderer. He just didn't look like one. So I told myself that everything was all right and that Ama was just a goofy idiot who would always be laughing by my side. Once we were in bed, he
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pulled up my dress and sucked one of my nipples. After a litde while, I felt the sucking grow weaker and his breathing growing deep. I pulled down my dress, turned off the light, and closed my eyes. In the dark, I found myself praying, though to who I'm not really sure. In no time at all, sleep had enveloped me.
The next day at around noon I was woken by the sound of my phone. It was the manager of a companion company I'd done some work for in the past, and though I was enjoying having a bit of a break from that kind of work, the manager said another girl had canceled late so I found myself reluctantly accepting a job for the evening. Actually, I think my reluctance must have showed in my voice, because the manager went up from my normal rate and offered me
¥30,000 for it, which was pretty good.
Until then I'd been living off Ama's money for quite a while, even considering packing in work altogether and just depending on him. But I got to my feet to get ready. After all,
¥30,000 could get us both nicely drunk out of our minds.
I first got into the companion thing about six months ago because it was just so easy. All you had to do was register with an agency, and you always got paid on the day. You got ¥10,000
for pouring drinks and basically looking pretty at hotel parties for a couple of hours. I felt fortunate to have been born with a face people liked.
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I met up with the manager and the other girls in the hotel lobby.
I was a bit late, so I think the manager was getting a little concerned, but his face visibly relaxed when he saw me, breaking into a smile and saying, "I'm so glad you could make it." In the changing room, all of us girls were given kimonos to wear. First I helped the girls who didn't know how to put theirs on properly. When I first started, I didn't know how to put mine on either, but I taught myself by watching the others and now it came to me easily. The kimono I'd been given was bright red, and I also had to put on a straight brown wig that I'd brought with me. After all, you can't work as a companion at a respectable party with blond hair, but I wasn't about to go and dye it just for the night. Just as I was tucking the last few exposed locks of hair up into the wig, the manager came up to me and said, "Miss Nakazawa." I remember it felt funny to hear, as nobody had really used my last name in quite a long time. I was starting to forget I even had one.
"Um, your earrings.. .," the manager said apologetically.
"Oh, right," I said, and touched my earrings. I almost forgot.
Its not like it matters if you're wearing regular earrings, but my Og ones didn't really go too well with a kimono, and they certainly wouldn't go down too well at a respectable company party. So I took off all five of them and put them in my makeup bag. As I did so, I caught a glimpse of the two teeth. I wondered again about Ama and the thug and if the police might have realized that two teeth were missing from the sce
ne.
"Miss Nakazawa?"
It was my manager again.
Getting just a little bit annoyed, I turned around and said,
"Yes?"
I don't know what he was going to say, but as I turned he looked kind of surprised and said, "Is that a stud?"
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I knew he was referring to my tongue, of course.
"Yes it is."
"Well, can you take it off?"
"Well, the thing is, I just put it in. So I don't really want to take it out."
"Ahh," he said, screwing up his face and thinking what to say to that, but I cut in before he got there, saying, "Don't worry, it'll be fine. It's not like I'm going to be catching flies or anything," as I moved closer toward him with a warm smile.
"Oh, all right then," he muttered, his face relaxing as I smiled at him a little more. I could twist him around my finger with a smile, and the other girls knew it too. I guess that's why most of them don't really like me.
We went into the party hall with trays in hand and served up drinks and smiles. It was the usual boring, buffet-style dinner party. After a while I went to the back room of the hall with Yuri, one of the few girls I got along with, and pretended to be sorting out empty bottles while we drank beer and talked excitedly about tongue piercing.
"I can't believe you put a hole in your tongue."
Her reaction was very similar to Maki's.
"It was all about a guy, right?" Yuri smiled, wiggling her thumb to represent him.
"I guess so. Though I fell for the tongue rather than the actual guy." Soon enough the talk had moved on from tongues to sex, and we'd both become kind of rowdy by the time the manager came to get us. We both took one last swig of beer, had a quick squirt of breath freshener, and went back out to the party.
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At the end of the evening, I counted a total of thirteen business cards from various elite execs, and after the party was over Yuri and I looked through what we'd got.
"This looks like a good one. Managing Director." Yuri was sorting out the cards in order of her preference.
"But I don't remember his face, and he's probably some over-the-hill old guy anyway."
As for me, I had absolutely no interest in elite guys in suits, and I was sure they'd feel the same about a girl with a tongue stud. I always managed to do all right at these kinds of events, though, playing the part of a pleasant, po¬lite Japanese girl and receiving quite a handful of business cards. But it wasn't really me they were giving the cards to. They were giving them to some character I played the part of just for the occasion. Anyway, once my tongue
was properly split, I'd never be doing this kind of work again, I thought while looking at it in the mirror, looking forward to when the hole would be bigger.
After going to another party at a different hotel and doing the same thing over again, we finally got off work at eight. I went with Yuri to the office to get our pay, and then we both decided to go off to the station together. While we were walking, my cell phone rang. Yuri wiggled her thumb again, referring to my boyfriend, then raised her eyebrows and laughed. When I saw Ama's name flashing on the screen, I realized I'd forgotten to leave a note or send him a mail from my phone.
"Hello? Lui? Where are you? What are you doing?" He sounded as if he was about to cry as he fired one question at me after another.
"Sorry. I was called suddenly out to do some companion work. I'm on my way home now."
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"What? I didn't know you worked. What do you mean, companion'?"
"Wooah. Calm down. It's just a bit of part-time. Nothing underhand."
Yuri was trying hard not to laugh as she watched me shrink back under the heavy fire of questions. Eventually he cooled off a little and I agreed to meet him in front of the station. The moment I hung up, Yuri burst out laughing.
"He's got you on a pretty tight leash, huh?"
"Yeah, he's like a kid."
"Well, I think it's cute," she said, nudging me. If only cute was all he was . . . , I thought, and sighed. Yuri and I then split off and went our own ways home from the station. I rode the train for twenty minutes, then skipped up the steps to the exit when I got to my station. I saw Ama standing on the other side of the ticket gate and I waved. He waved back, but he had a really pitiful expression on his face.
"I got home and you were gone! No note, no nothing! I thought you'd left me! You worried me to death," he blurted out all in one exhausting breath as soon as we had sat down and ordered beers at a yakiniku restaurant.
"Now we can enjoy a litde luxury," I said.
Ama kept asking me about my work. Then, when he finally felt convinced that there was nothing dodgy going on, his usual smile returned to his face. "I wish I could see you in a kimono," he said, squeezing a lemon onto my dish.
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The beer was going down great and the beef was delicious. It really felt like the perfect dinner. Its funny really. I mean, I'm the first person to bitch about having to work, but when you do finish work, a beer really does taste so much better. It was the only saving grace of work. I was in a good mood, and complimented Ama on his new hair color and laughed at his stupid jokes. It was a time when everything felt okay. When it seemed not a single thing could go wrong.
Summer was already over, but its heat still oozed from everywhere. About three weeks had passed since Shiba-san showed me the Kirin tattoo at Desire and I'd suddenly got a call from him. "I had a real tough time drawing it," he said before explaining exactly why in excessive detail, finishing up at last with "I can't wait to show it to you."
By then I had promoted my tongue stud to a 12g.
The next day I told Ama that I wanted to look at some earrings and we both headed over to Desire. When we got there, Shiba-san took us to the back room and got a piece of paper out from his desk.
"Wow, that's really something," said Ama.
He wasn't the only one to act that way either; I was totally mesmerized by it. Shiba-san could tell too. He kept showing off like a kid with a new toy saying, "Cool, huh?"
"This is what I want."
I'd made up my mind the moment I saw it. Just the thought of this glorious beast on my back made my heart beat a little bit faster. A dragon that looked as if it might fly off the paper at any moment, and a Kirin with its front legs raised high, as if 43
ready to leap over the dragon. A pair of exquisite companions inseparable from each other, and from my life.
"Okay," said Shiba-san with a smile.
"That's great, Lui," cried Ama, taking my hands in his. I couldn't believe that the most beautiful tattoo design I'd ever seen would soon belong to me. Immediately we moved on to deciding on the size and exacdy where it would go, setding on a scale of fifteen centimeters by thirty—a little smaller than Ama's—and a location extending across my back from my left shoulder toward my spine. We also decided when to begin—in just three clays' time.
"Don't drink any alcohol the night before. And get to bed as early as possible. Having a tattoo like this can take a lot out of you," said Shiba-san, with Ama nodding in experienced agreement.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of her," said Ama, putting his arm around Shiba-san's shoulders, and for a split second Shiba-san glared at me the way he did when we were fucking. I glanced back at him with a smile, and I saw him struggle to suppress a smile of his own.
Afterward Ama suggested we should all go get some food.
Shiba-san closed the store a little earlier than usual and the three of us stepped outside. Strangers moved out of our way as we walked along the street.
"Everyone's staring at us because of you, Shiba-san," said Ama.
"Me? What about you? Decked out like some out-of- place gangster!"
"I look more normal as a gangster than you do as a punk!"
"Don't worry, you both look scary," I said, and they both shut up.
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"A gangster, a punk, and a Barbie-girl. Together we're a real fucked-up combination,"
said Ama, looking back and forth between me and Shiba-san.
"As I've told you before, I'm not a Barbie-girl," I said. "Fuck it. I want beer. Let's go to an izakaya."
We walked a little further along the bustling downtown street, with me between Ama and Shiba-san, until we found a cheap izakaya. On entering, we took our shoes off and were led to one of the Japanese-style seating areas, while other customers shot us glances before turning away uncomfortably. We toasted with beer, then got into a heated discussion about tattoos. Ama began by telling us about his experience, and Shiba-san followed with stories or trials and tribulations from when he first became a tattoo artist to the passion he'd put into the Kirin design. By the time we were reaching the end of our meal, both of them had their tops off and were talking about the specific method used here, the kind of gradation done there, etc. Watching them brought a smile to my face. It was the first time I'd seen Shiba-san looking like he was having fun. He'd never shown me that side of himself when we were alone, but I guess even sadists smile from ear to ear sometimes.
As for me, the beers were going down well and I was getting a little rowdy, shouting, "Put your clothes back on!" at them and telling them to shut the fuck up. All in all, it was a fun dinner with cold beer and a beautiful design on my mind. Like those three things were all I needed.
When Ama got up to go to the bathroom, Shiba-san leaned over and stroked my head.
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"No complaints, right?"
"None whatsoever," I said. We smiled and looked into each other's eyes.
"I'll tattoo it beautifully," he said, with a strength in his voice that made me feel glad to have met him.
Snakes and Earrings Page 4