Chapter 2
Hope
J iro Saito
I kept glancing at him as he stood in line at the café across from the cemetery, and I settled at the table he’d pointed to silently when we’d entered.
Part of me couldn’t help but think he was a figment of my imagination. The sight of Jiro crossing the gate of the cemetery as I gazed out of the bus window felt like a surreal moment, as if fate had intervened in my life to bring him to my small town. Just when I needed help the most. The timing was perfect, even a little too perfect, and I was not used to fate benefiting me… ever. So, I could not help but expect the penny to drop.
I glanced at him again, half expecting him to have vanished, but he was still there, glaring at the blackboard, listing the many, many coffee choices as if they had offended him.
I also could not help but notice the lingering looks from the soccer moms who were meeting there before going to pick up their kids at school. I felt a hint of irritation at the coveted looks they were giving him and wanted to slap myself for this. Who could blame them, though? He was a spectacular specimen of a man, tall, broad, and edgy, with tattoos peeking from the edge of his collar.
I shook my head and texted my boss, Max, telling him I would be very late or probably wouldn’t make it at all. Still, I knew he wouldn’t mind because no matter how weird my job was, at least I had a great boss who understood that my family drama sometimes required me to bail at short notice. It was probably why I was still working in this “temporary” job four years later.
Sighing, I put my phone down just as Jiro walked to the table with the two cups and the scowl still very much present on his face.
Was this his default mode? Probably.
“Did the coffee offend you?” I asked as he put the cups on the table and took his seat across from me.
“Who needs that much choice?” he grumbled, taking his seat across from me. “Fuck, the woman in front of me seemed to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Venti whip, soy tiramisu latte, chilled with two percent cream? What the fuck is that? I should thank you for ordering a plain latte.” He removed his jacket to rest it on the back of his chair, and I couldn’t stop myself from ogling at his shirt stretched across his chest, his muscled arms full of tattoos, and his wide, powerful hands.
“…start.”
As I snapped out of my daze, I realized I had been caught red-handed ogling at the man’s impressive physique. Feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me, my cheeks turned crimson. I quickly composed myself and tried to regain my focus on the important matters at hand.
“Sorry?” I stammered, hoping to conceal my momentary lapse in concentration.
Jiro brought his cup to his lips, taking a sip as he maintained eye contact with me with his piercing dark eyes. He didn’t speak, and with each passing second, I found myself fidgeting with the hem of my dress, avoiding his gaze.
Finally, he lowered his cup and spoke in a calm yet slightly amused tone. “I said, tell me everything from the beginning.”
“Oh yes,” I let out an uncomfortable smile. “I… I’m not even sure where to start.” I hesitated, my fingers unconsciously tracing the faded scar on my arm, a bitter reminder of one of the many misfortunes from the past decade that had started with the heart-wrenching loss of Anna, but I didn’t want to burden him with all that. He had enough guilt over his head, and I noticed how deeply anchored it still was as I saw him hunched over my sister’s grave.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “What’s got you so concerned about Leo?”
Ah, Leo, yes.
“I… for the past few years, he’s been running with a dodgy crowd.” I winced; it was quite a ride to hell, to be more accurate.
“I didn’t expect that,” Jiro replied calmly. “As I remember him, he was a star baseball player making varsity in his first year of college.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that was before.”
Jiro’s eyes flashed with pain as his body tensed as if the mere reminder of my sister’s death caused him a physical blow.
He looked down at his black coffee cup, tapping his finger on the rim. “That was before I came in and destroyed all of your lives.”
I sighed, leaning back on my chair. “It would be easy to blame it all on you, and I think Leo used you as an excuse, but—” I waved my hand dismissively. “There’s no real excuse. He wanted revenge, he wanted quick money, he wanted…” He wanted to die . I added to myself. “I think he enjoyed that life, to be honest. It was easy money, easy everything, but he always came home. Always.”
“And suddenly he didn’t?”
As I shook my head, I felt the sting of tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Leo and I had never truly been close. The vast age difference and the self-destructive patterns that consumed him had created an insurmountable barrier between us. Grief didn’t bring us closer together; it tore us apart… all of us.
“He’s been a little more erratic these past few weeks. Worried, fidgety, but I thought it was just the money again.” It was always the money. “And then a week ago, he left for work and never came back.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Would you?” I countered, my tone laced with a hint of challenge.
A half smile appeared on his face. “Touché, but your brother is not an executioner for the yakuza. He’s a thirtysomething white boy who made poor life decisions.”
As his words settled within me, a shiver ran down my spine, sending a surge of adrenaline through my veins. It wasn’t fear that gripped me, as it should have for any rational person faced with such casual revelation. Instead, it was a twisted thrill, a strange sense of exhilaration at sitting with such a dangerous man doing something as boringly mundane as having a coffee at the local coffee shop.
Maybe, I thought to myself, I, too, possessed that reckless gene that seemed to be present in my family.
“The thing is,” I began, glancing cautiously around the café to ensure our conversation remained private. We were sitting at a table far enough at the back to be out of earshot, and it dawned on me that Jiro had likely selected it for precisely that reason. “These people we’re dealing with,” I continued, my voice hushed but filled with a sense of urgency, “they’re dangerous. If I were to call the police, I fear that…” My words trailed off, the weight of unspoken implications hanging heavily in the air. I couldn’t bring myself to vocalize the potential danger I would put not only myself but also my sick mother in should they find out I talked to the authorities.
A wave of discomfort washed over me, accompanied by the lingering question of whether Jiro viewed me as a coward for prioritizing the safety of my family. Did he see me as someone who would cower in fear? The weight of that uncertainty gnawed at me, adding to the mounting pressures of the situation.
Just as I was lost in my thoughts, I was startled when Jiro’s warm hand gently rested on top of mine. The touch sent a surge of electricity through my arm, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. I couldn’t deny the effect it had on me, even as I tried to maintain a composed exterior. How could such a simple, innocent gesture stir up such intense emotions within me? I reminded myself that I was not a naive ten-year-old girl harboring a crush on her sister’s silent boyfriend. I was a twenty-two-year-old woman worried about her brother’s safety.
I looked up, meeting his dark eyes full of understanding.
“You’re right,” he agreed, nodding in acknowledgment. “Involving the police at this stage would only escalate the situation and put us at further risk.” Jiro’s hand gently squeezed mine before releasing it, leaving behind a lingering warmth that continued to tingle on my skin. His next words carried a weight of determination and grim reality. “I will help you find him or, at the very least, uncover the answers you seek,” he said, his voice filled with a somber resolve. The unspoken truth hung heavy between us—there was no guarantee that Leo was still alive. The thought sent a pang of sorrow through my heart, but I couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Not yet.
Gratitude welled up inside me, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Jiro. Thank you so much!”
He shrugged as if his offer was a given. “It’s the least I can do after… everything,” he said, his tone tinged with a hint of regret.
I opened my mouth to object, to assure him that none of this was his fault, that he didn’t owe us anything. But he spoke before I could utter a word, effectively silencing any potential argument from me.
“Do you have any idea who your brother was working with?” Jiro inquired, his gaze steadily fixed on me.
I paused, gathering my thoughts. “I have some leads,” I confessed, my voice tinged with determination and uncertainty. “Leo was secretive about his dealings, but I saw him with a couple of guys from the Mexican cartel, and one of them sometimes came to my work, trying to pick me up.” I rolled my eyes mockingly but sobered up at the murderous scowl on Jiro’s face.
“Do not get involved with them,” he stated with a harshness that caught me off guard.
My brows furrowed in response, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of indignation. Regardless of any lingering childhood crush, I wasn’t about to tolerate being spoken to in such a commanding tone.
“I have no intention of getting involved with any of them, but I don’t need your permission or approval for my actions,” I asserted, raising my chin defiantly.
He raised his hands in surrender. “Look,” he began, his voice softer now, “I’m sorry for coming across as controlling. I just—” He sighed and shook his head. “You’re right. It was not my place.”
His sincerity was obvious in his eyes, and I felt a flicker of understanding. Perhaps his overprotectiveness was born from his own experiences with Anna and the scars they had left.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, too. I’m just worried and tired.”
He nodded. “It’s fine. I understand that worrying for the people you love can take a toll on you.” He swiftly turned and retrieved his leather jacket, the gesture signaling his readiness to act. “Come on, let’s go to your house. I want to have a look at your brother’s room,” he declared, his tone determined.
I hesitated for a moment, knowing that I had already scoured every inch of Leo’s room, finding no substantial leads. “There’s nothing to find in there. I’ve looked everywhere.”
A knowing smile curved his lips, and his gaze locked with mine. “Trust me, Hope. You haven’t searched the way I do,” he assured me, his confidence unwavering. There was an air of mystery surrounding Jiro, a sense that he possessed knowledge and skills beyond my comprehension. In that moment, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope reignite within me.
As we stepped out of the coffee shop, a gust of wind brushed against my skin, making me shiver despite the thinness of my jacket.
He threw me a concerned look as if he hadn’t missed my shiver. I doubted he missed much. “Where’s your car?”
I fumbled with my words, feeling a hint of embarrassment creeping up within me. “I… I don’t have one,” I admitted, my voice softening. “I rely on the bus for transportation.”
His eyebrows arched in mild astonishment, his expression silently questioning my lack of a vehicle. I shifted uncomfortably, a mix of self-consciousness and frustration brewing within me. Why was I letting something beyond my control make me feel inadequate?
“Should I be ashamed of that or something?” I asked, a touch of defensiveness slipping into my tone.
He immediately shook his head, his denial swift and genuine. “No! Of course not,” he reassured me, his voice carrying sincerity. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just I remember you going on and on about one day being sixteen, buying your own car, and driving down the coast to San Diego,” he reminded me, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes.
A surge of warmth spread through my chest as I processed his words. “You remember that?” I asked, my voice filled with awe.
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he nodded. “Yeah, I remember,” he replied, his voice charged with fondness and wistfulness. “You were so passionate about it, and I admired that. Life has a way of changing our plans, though.”
If only he knew how right he was. Nothing from that little girl had remained after this decade, no matter how hard I tried to hold on to it.
He pointed toward a gray-and-black bike parked near the entrance of the cemetery. “I’ve got a spare helmet.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “You have a bike?”
A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he looked at me, one eyebrow arched. “Is Hope Myers scared?” he teased.
I straightened my posture, determined not to let any fear show. “No, of course not,” I replied, my voice laced with determination.
“Good, let’s go,” he said, confidently striding across the street. With each of his long strides, I scrambled to keep up, my feet carrying me as quickly as they could.
As I caught up with him, my heart pounding with both excitement and trepidation, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The prospect of riding on the back of his bike, the wind whipping against my face, and my body pressed against his was both exhilarating and nerve-racking. But I knew I had to push past any hesitations. Leo’s safety and finding the truth were at stake.
Jiro extended the helmet to me, and I hesitated for a moment before encircling it with my arms. Taking a deep breath, I knew it was time to reveal the painful truth about how our lives had taken a turn for the worse.
“I… ummm… We’re not living in the house,” I finally admitted, my voice wavering slightly. Avoiding eye contact, I fidgeted on my feet as if searching for something on the street to distract myself. “We sold it a few years back.” The painful truth lingered in my mind—I knew deep down that we had lost it to the bank. “We’re now renting a place on Rendall Close.”
“Hope, look at me, please,” Jiro asked, his voice gentle yet insistent.
Reluctantly, I turned my gaze toward him, hoping that my face didn’t betray the depths of my struggles.
“What happened?” he asked, his eyes shining with concern. I didn’t want him to pity me. I could accept a lot but not pity.
I shrugged, attempting to brush off the weight of the question, shielding myself from the vulnerability that threatened to consume me. “It was too big,” I replied, my words lacking conviction.
The furrow in Jiro’s brow deepened, his doubt evident. I silently thanked whatever forces may be that he didn’t press for further details. The truth was too much to reveal now in the middle of the street after just seeing him again after more than a decade.
Without another word, Jiro started his bike, the engine revving to life with a low growl. He reached for his phone, a determined expression on his face. “What’s the address?” he asked, his voice resolute.
I hesitated, a knot of unease forming in my stomach. Revealing our current address meant exposing the harsh reality of our circumstances, the descent into a neighborhood plagued by crime and despair. It would be difficult to hide the extent of our struggles from Jiro, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to bear that vulnerability or add to his already misplaced guilt.
Taking a deep breath, I realized I had no choice if I wanted a chance to ever find Leo .
“It’s eleven thirty-four Rendall Close,” I replied with resignation.
Jiro typed the address into his phone, his fingers moving swiftly across the screen. In that moment, it felt like someone had lifted a weight off my shoulders. As if I had finally taken the first step to finding my brother and unraveling the truth. He glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable, and jerked his head for me to hop on his bike.
I put on the helmet, secured it on my head, and then climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping my arms tightly around Jiro’s waist. The solidness of his body provided a sense of security, and I allowed myself to lean on him, both physically and emotionally. In that moment, I realized how much I had longed for support and someone to lean on all these years.
As we set off once again, the wind whipping against my face, I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of courage. With Jiro by my side, I knew I didn’t have to face the uncertainties alone.
As the scenery blurred past us, I held on tightly to Jiro, trusting him to guide us through the twists and turns. The rumble of the engine and the rush of adrenaline fueled my resolve. Together, we would find my brother and maybe even confront the ghosts of our past.