16. Kenzo
CHAPTER 16
KENZO
“You’re Patrick, right?” I ask, pulling Vi’s cousin into a firm handshake. He pushes blond curls out of his face, his blue eyes rimmed with red blood vessels, like he did one too many lines of coke last night. “Mind if I call you Pat?” I scrunch his fingers between mine, slightly harder than I normally would. He tries to squeeze back, but I’ve already got the upper hand.
“I haven’t been called that since second grade,” he says politely, faking a laugh.
“Well, Pat, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? Maybe we need a little man-to-man time.”
Patrick smirks, and I grit my teeth, forcing a smile. Vi’s cheeks are red, and there’s a vein throbbing in her neck. She’s anxious as hell but still frozen in what suspiciously looks like fear.
Patrick did that to her. But why? What is their relationship like, anyway?
“Go help yourself to another drink from the bar,” I say to Vi. “Cherry will take you.”
Vi starts to explain. “I?—”
“Go on now,” I interrupt.
“There’s nothing to discuss here.”
My skin tingles, surprised she’d actually defy me. She must be protecting her cousin from me, and I admire that. Even if he makes her uncomfortable, she’s putting their bond before herself. That’s loyalty.
But Cherry wouldn’t point out the two of them together unless she suspects something. Cherry is protective of others. But Vi hasn’t earned her loyalty like that, which means this little family discussion is in my best interest. Cherry must think the two cousins are scheming together or that my wife’s cousin is manipulating the marital situation. We like to give each other shit, but Cherry would only bring something up if it’s important.
“I know,” I say to Vi, gently this time. “We’re just talking. Go get a drink.”
I brush a strand of hair out of her face. Her big blue eyes soften, and she nods, believing me. She shuffles off.
Whatever her cousin said or did, he rattled her, and I don’t care for that. The only one who should have that kind of power over her is me.
“Pat,” I say to him. I pull my lips into a wide grin.
He wipes his nose like he’s itching for more blow. “Ken,” he says. No one calls me that either, but I don’t mention it.
“You know, some yakuza gangs forbid their members from using drugs. It’s kind of funny, right? Clean gangsters. Who ever heard of such a thing?” I laugh, pretending it’s a joke. Inside, I imagine the life draining from Patrick’s eyes, purple blood pooling in his cheeks as I strangle him with a rope around his neck. Patrick laughs too and scratches the back of his head. Before he opens his mouth, I continue: “To be honest, there’s not a lot we keep from our predecessors in Japan. Here in the States, we like to do our own thing.” I put an arm around him, and he stiffens, but like an obedient little bitch, he bobs his head. “Have you tried our Shabu-8 yet?”
“About that?—”
“Good shit, right?” I say. Patrick opens his mouth, but I cut him off again. “What am I talking about? I know it’s good. Hell, I don’t follow the no-drugs rule myself. Dice might. Cherry too. But not me.”
I laugh, a cold, hard belly laugh, and Patrick chuckles nervously. “You think I can?—”
“But you know, if there’s one rule I appreciate from the motherland, it’s this: you don’t touch another man’s things, especially not his woman.” I press my teeth to his ear, and I’m this fucking close to ripping it off with my canines. He flinches, but I don’t give a damn. I want him to feel every uncomfortable second. Even if Vi is simply my date for high-society events, she’s still mine.
“I thought you would’ve learned from your uncle,” I chuckle, my grip crushing Patrick’s shoulder. “But there’s a reason they don’t want me on enforcement.” I click my teeth. “Do you want to find out why?”
His head jerks to the side, and I take that as a “no.”
“Good. Because if I find out you hurt Vi, you won’t breathe again,” I say.
“I didn’t touch her,” he says, but his chest shudders, his pupils dilating in fear. “We were just talking. She’s like my sister, man.”
As if that gives him the right to make her uncomfortable.
“ She’s my wife, ” I say, punctuating each word.
For a second, Patrick keeps his eyes level with mine. He doesn’t piss his pants, and I have to give him credit for that, but I also want to kill him even more. He has a breaking point—everyone does—and a man like me can always find that final edge.
Finally, Patrick cowers and nods his head.
“Sure. Fine, man,” he says. “Your wife. Your rules. I understand.”
“Smart man,” I mock.
He walks away, but I stay put, studying him. Halfway to his table, he glances back to check if I’m still watching, and I am. For the rest of the night, I keep my eyes on him, making sure my wife is within arm’s length of me. Every time he turns around, he endures my glare. I even give him a little wink, letting uneasiness simmer inside of him.
I’m watching you, motherfucker.
An hour goes by, and eventually, the garden is filled with dancing drunk people, including Patrick and Jay.
I link my fingers with Vi.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“We can leave?” she asks. “But we haven’t?—”
“This is our wedding, isn’t it?” I ask. “Do you want to stay?”
Her eyes are big and pure, like she’s begging for a way out of this marriage, but there’s something else there too. Hesitation. A flash flood drowning her anxiety until there’s nothing left but visceral need. A raw hunger. I can smell her cunt, musky and sweet, and I want those big, washed-out eyes staring up at me as I fuck her so deep, she can barely breathe. I want her to be uncomfortable. I want her to know exactly what it’s going to be like with me. I want her to run now before I get attached.
But she’s still here. Danger calls to her. She’s afraid of me, but she still stands up to me. What was I supposed to say? “Stop fingering me in front of everyone?” she had said after the gala, giving me her sweet little sass.
It’s what you do for your family, she had said, and that response stays with me. She protects her family, even if they don’t deserve it.
I want that for myself.
“Maybe that’s a good idea,” she says quietly. “Can we go back to your place?”
My little danger queen, running straight toward the fire.
“Let’s go,” I repeat. I pull her closer to me, and we head to the valet.