32. Vi
CHAPTER 32
VI
I shove myself in a stall, and my phone vibrates, jolting me.
I need proof, Kenzo texts.
Heat rises to my neck. I touch myself, thinking of Kenzo’s hands on me, how dirty it is that he’s making me do it right here, right now, and how I’m not resisting. I’m simply obeying his commands, like a mindless little toy.
For a few seconds, my mind is off of that awkward conversation. All I think about is Kenzo. He knows what I need.
Right before I come, I stop myself and take a picture, then send it to Kenzo, my chest ballooning with lust. I’ve never sent a picture like this to a man before. It’s risky. He can share it with anyone. But it’s always his choice to expose me like that, and after he made me promise to never touch another man again, I know he’ll keep my picture private. He makes me feel safe. Protected. Worshiped. Loved.
But it’s just a job. An arranged marriage to uncover gun smuggling secrets. Whether or not I want to be involved anymore, I’m orchestrating this con, and Uncle Jay is determined to finish it.
I exit the bathroom and bump into Uncle Jay, heading to the men’s room.
“What the hell?” I ask. “Can you at least be a little more subtle about this?”
He motions to the side, and we remove ourselves from the main entryway, hiding by one of the entrances to the kitchen.
“Why be subtle when they’ve killed my son?” he asks. “The client wants intel on their firearms negotiations. We get that, and we’ll be set.”
“They can still kill us,” I argue. “We were just supposed to give the client information about a new deal. Any deal. Not a firearms company. Do you really want to get involved in a gun-smuggling contract? It’s suicide.”
“If you had told me what you knew, we wouldn’t be here right now, would we?” he says, anger simmering in his tone.
I sink down inside of myself, but he pats my shoulder, his scarred hand haunting me, a reminder this can become violent at any second.
“Listen, sweetheart,” he says. “This is it. After this job, we’ll be done. No more hustling. No more conning. No more mafia marriages.” He grits his teeth. “We get this info, and we’ll finally get our dream house on a tropical beach.”
The vibrator buzzes, and I jump. Uncle Jay gives me a funny look, and I’m surprised the device works this far away. Maybe it’s Kenzo’s way of telling me to get back to the table.
“They killed Patrick over Shabu-8,” I lie. “Patrick is dead for something much less than destroying a huge, multi-million dollar business deal. What if they come after us?”
“Once we finish this deal, we’ll have so much money we can buy a fucking fortress on the beach,” he says. “We can destroy them. Hire assassins. I don’t care. But I need this to work.” His jaw clicks. “ Patrick needs this to work.”
An emotion simmers behind his blue eyes, one I’ve never seen before. Sadness, maybe? Guilt? Whatever it is, this must be Uncle Jay’s way of processing what happened with Patrick. A deep need to fuck over the yakuza and get the money we were all working for, even Patrick. And I can’t bring myself to argue anymore.
“Okay,” I say.
Uncle Jay finally goes to the bathroom. The vibrator jolts again, and I wince, but then the vibrations subside. A woman in red boots bounds down the hallway. Cherry is here now too?
“Ah, shit. Almost forgot—” Cherry reaches into a pouch and hands me a small square container. “I wanted to return the favor.”
It’s a small blue package of tampons, almost exactly the same kind I had given to her at the wedding. My jaw drops.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly.
“Had to pay you back,” she says. “Both for the tampons and for the awkward family chat. Kenzo’s got you stocked up on girly things though, right?”
My cheeks turn even redder. “I think so. There’s?—”
I’ve scoured the cabinets so many times, you’d think I would know their exact contents, but I don’t. I may have seen a box, but I’m not sure. I’m too shaken up to remember anything right now.
“Look. You tell him the kind you want, and he’ll get it,” she says. “I sent him out for tampons when I was a teenager. Fucking cramps kept me in bed, right? And I didn’t want to ask my mom because she makes a big deal out of little things. So I asked Kenzo. He got me twenty different kinds, but hey, he did it.” She tosses her head. “I’m not one to hide my period, even if I did grow up with men. And you shouldn’t either.”
Growing up, Uncle Jay would get me tampons, but Patrick always complained about the smell of the bathroom when that time of the month came. There were no lessons then, and it almost made me happy to be on my period, even if I had cramps and a period-shaming cousin.
“Thanks,” I say sheepishly.
“Let me walk you back to the dining room.”
It’s only when we’re at the door to the private room I realize the tampon gesture may not even be about the tampons or paying me back; it may be about checking up on me, since Uncle Jay and I left the room at the same time.
Cherry opens the door for me, and I take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen right now. We’re all safe. We just have to get through this dinner.
I enter the room and the conversation falls silent, like every member of the yakuza was just talking about Uncle Jay and me. My nerves spike, but Kenzo puts an arm around me as if nothing is wrong.
“Please,” Tomo says, waving toward the rolls in front of my plate. “Please. Eat.”
I lift a bite with my chopsticks. Kenzo leans into my ear and puts a clean cloth napkin into my lap.
“Wipe yourself with this,” he whispers.
Fire dances inside of me, but I do as I’m told, pressing the napkin between my legs. Kenzo pulls the cloth into his lap, and after a few minutes of eating, he brings it to his mouth and inhales deeply. His nostrils flare as his eyes roll into the back of his head.
“I could feast all fucking day,” he says.
But he’s not talking about the sushi. Still, Tomo agrees with him.
“Meiyo is the best Japanese restaurant in Nevada,” Tomo tells me.
The anxiety holds me on edge, and with the vibrator on stand by and Kenzo sniffing my scent, I’m about to explode. Uncle Jay finally returns, and the conversation flows like normal. All friendly banter, and no more awkwardness. No more secrets revealed. No more guns. I stuff my face, glad for the excuse not to talk, but my eating slows as Kenzo strokes the back of my neck, tickling my spine, constantly reminding me of his presence and his control over me.
When we finish our dessert, we stand.
“Are you taking care of my niece?” Uncle Jay asks Kenzo. He pulls both of us in for a group hug. “Take good care of her for me.”
“I will,” Kenzo says, and there’s a subtle edge to his words, a violence that makes me tense. “Why don’t you walk your uncle out?” Kenzo asks me. He tilts his head toward Tomo. “We’ve got business to discuss. I’ll meet you at Chandelier Bar.”
My stomach sinks, knowing they must not want me or Uncle Jay around for those talks. I don’t blame them. But god, I am afraid of them.
“See you soon?” I ask, practically begging for Kenzo to come rescue me as soon as possible. I don’t want to be alone with Uncle Jay right now.
“Of course.” He turns to Uncle Jay. “It was good to see you.”
Uncle Jay grins with a hint of animosity in his posture. “Right back at you,” he says.