Page 8 of Who Said Mobsters Were Scary?
“Next time we go out, the drinks are on me,” I promise her, propping my head against the cold glass.
“Sure, that works.”
I close my eyes for the rest of the ride and try not to think about the guy from the club. I fail, the slightly lopsided smile across his face flashing in front of me. When he leaned against the dumpster, he looked so relaxed, like he was out there for a smoke and hadn’t just dodged a beating or worse.
Who was he?
There was something about him that I can’t quite pinpoint. Something about his… aura, for a lack of a better word. Because it was dark, I didn’t get a good look aside from his asymmetrical smile and the expensive gilded watch peeking out from under his sleeve, and part of me regrets it. Also, I don’t think he realized it, but I opened the door just as he punched the first guy, so I saw most of the fight. His style was elegant, his movements measured. Efficient. He knew how to move his body in a way only someone who’s trained martial arts does.
Still, he was being reckless to go up against that number of men. And that’s not counting the dozen more that almost overran us.
Fortunately, Naomi and I don’t have to wait long for a bus once we get off the subway. A girl with pigtails and sparkly make-up lets us into IS-Halls, jogging back to the entertainment lounge the moment she gets the door open. Naomi and I look at each other, confused, but as we pass the long desk with the computer monitors, the reason becomes obvious—Pigtails is all decked out because she’s in the middle of streaming.
Naomi claps her hands. “I knew I’ve seen her somewhere!”
I blink at her, then glance back at the girl. “You have?”
“Yep. A friend back home is into the game she plays. I don’t think she’s that big yet, but all the gamer dudes are simping hard.”
As if on cue, the girl squeaks and thanks someone for their generous $200 donation.
“Damn,” I say with a low whistle, unable to help myself.
“I know, right? I tried to do it too, but it didn’t work out,” Naomi shares, pausing at the base of the stairs.
I lean against the railing and give her a once-over. She attracted the eyes of more than a few guys as soon as we walked into the club, so I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t be popular online.
“Why not?” I probe, suddenly curious.
She flashes me her wide grin. “Let’s just say I didn’t have the right attitude for it. Or the range of facial expressions.” Pulling out her phone, she unlocks it. A frown slides across her face. “Right. I’m gonna go talk to my folks. See you in the morning.”
“Yeah, see you. And thanks again.”
She waves me bye and retreats to her room. As I head to mine, I wonder why she seemed adamant about the call with her family. She’s a nice person, so surely they are the same, right? Then again, that’s not necessarily always the case. My parents died, so I got thrown in the system and had my share of shitty parents until I turned eighteen.
Chasing away the irritation such thoughts bring out in me, I quickly shower and go to bed. Once I’ve reminded myself how awesome I turned out despite my tragic backstory, I close my eyes and dream of fighting mobsters in dingy alleys.
I wake up feeling more myself the next morning. While I get dressed, I have a hunch I dreamed about more than the guy from the club helping me clear the streets of Nagoya from gangsters, but I can’t remember what it was. I don’t dwell on it. Once I make my bed, I walk over to the balcony. It’s just past eleven and the humidity is already making me want to dip in a pool of cold water. Or maybe the sea? Nagoya is next to it, so maybe there are beaches I can enjoy.
A shiver racks through me as I remember the group of armed men rushing at me from the dark alley by the club. Adrenaline threatens to flood me, my body ready for a repeat fight. I think I really needed that scuffle for my mental health. With all the shit I had to take care of before coming here, I’ve been neglecting training and exercise, which means I have too much energy. I’m also jumpier, so really, I shouldn’t be surprised at all that I charged in where I had no business butting my nose.
My reckless behavior aside, I’m pretty sure those men saw me, but the good news is that no one came in the middle of the night trying to kidnap me like I feared might happen, so whoever they and the dude I saved were, they probably don’t care about me enough to come knocking at my door.
Speaking of which.
I run a hand through my damp clumps of hair and trudge out of my room. My stomach churns as the smell of toasted bread reaches my nostrils, reminding me that I definitely need a food run today. Maybe after the beach? Granted, someone who’s better with directions shares my enthusiasm to check it out.
Naomi and Chris wave me over to a table with toast, butter, and jam as I climb down the stairs to the first floor.
“Bet you got nothing to eat,” she says, nudging the plate toward me when I sit down. “Help yourself.”
I’m gonna cry.Why the hell is she so nice and where has she been my whole life?
Offering her my most grateful smile, I snatch a piece of toasted bread and butter it generously before I drench it in jam.
“Thank you for making sure I don’t starve to death,” I mumble in-between chewing.
She looks and shrugs at Chris, who’s already in his signature goth make-up even if he’s opted for more casual indoors clothes. “Looking after Leo feels kind of like looking after the human version of my labrador, Billy. It’s filling the void I carry in my chest because they didn’t let me bring him here.”
