Chapter Two
RIVER
Aki hooks the back of his shoe heel with the front of the other one and toes both off, leaving them in the entrance as he slides his feet inside gray, furry slippers.
I pull off my boots and line them near the entrance step before climbing it. The floor is warm and hard under my feet until I reach the soft rug covering half of the enormous living room, and my soles tickle over it.
Aki's flowery scent has seeped in every corner of the apartment; I can smell him with every step I take. Everything is warm—the air, the floor, the atmosphere—and at the same time chaotic. Two light pink sofas, colorful cushions on the floor near the fireplace, a huge painting on one of the yellow walls showing a Samurai battle scene with vibrant color and sinuous lines, and a blue lacquered dinner table with a cage filled with mice and a wooden box on top—what’s up with that?
Aki throws my coat on one of the chairs near the kitchen counter, gently sets the katana on its stand, and then takes the head bag from my hand and leaves it on the dinner table near the cage.
He tugs the red-smeared shirt from the waistband of his pants and peels it off his body after dropping the pink suit jacket on the floor. His narrow hips and long arms catch my eyes.
He grabs the TV remote from the sofa to turn on the TV to his favorite cartoon channel, and in doing so, he gives his bare back to me, putting on display the intricate tattoo covering the entirety of it.
A white snake, slithering through water, goes from his nape down, with his head disappearing under the waistband of Aki’s pants.
It’s in honor of his family name, Hebikawa, which means snake river.
While generally snakes symbolize danger and misfortune in Japanese culture, white ones represent power and wealth.
But it’s the red ladybug flying over water that always holds my gaze.
Aki’s favorite Japanese folktale suggests that the seven-spotted ladybug carries the seven sins of the world so that others may live in happiness and peace.
So he got the black spots right over the seven burns on his back.
He often uses the fact that he’s filled with sins as an excuse for his rash, careless attitude.
The ladybug is there to cover the wounds he got just before we met nine years ago.
I learned later on that his beef with Apollo and his gang was in fact very personal.
They kidnapped him and kept him locked up in a basement for one whole day before Aki escaped.
Apollo heard he was in town and tried to get a ransom.
I was ordered to help with the kidnapping—Apollo never told me Aki’s name—and when I refused, he tried to kill me. Ironic how life works out.
Even though Aki put ink over it, I can still see the seven cigar burns Apollo left on him, and every time I do, I want to dig up that psycho fucker’s body to break every bone in his body once again and then…brush the tip of my fingers over Aki’s scars. Gently. Reverently.
I swallow, willing my urges to slide down my throat and disappear as well.
His soft laugh brings me back to the present and the blue cat talking on the TV screen. Aki tosses the remote on the sofa and then quickly climbs the spiral stairs, disappearing on the second floor still chuckling.
He is an unhinged motherfucker, ruthless, merciless, but in front of me, he acts like a thoughtless child. I hear a door opening, then the rushing sound of water from the shower.
Aki’s phone vibrates on top of the coffee table.
When I glance down, I notice various notifications, but it’s the picture he set as a screensaver that captures my attention.
It’s us in high school, wearing those old uniforms—blue jacket, white shirt, dark pants, and striped tie.
Aki is smirking at the camera as I look down at him with an intense expression.
The day it was taken I had just discovered he’d threatened to cut our history teacher’s hand off if he didn’t stop belittling me in class.
That teacher had been a douchebag, disliking me with no real reason, but Aki being, well, Aki went over the top to defend me.
I remember that moment vividly because it was the day after I realized my feelings for him were changing.
And how they did, slowly but incessantly.
It took me one more year to find out, though, what it actually meant.
I stroke my hand over my face, willing those thoughts away and letting my hair fall on my left side.
I sigh, and after pouring myself a glass of whisky from the tray filled with liquors on top of the coffee table, I slump against the wall by one of the large windows.
There’s a teru teru bozu dangling down from the curtain rod.
Imagining Aki making the doll makes me snort.
Tonight, it didn’t work its magic, though.
Raindrops are falling outside with an insistent plip plop as I take the first sip of whisky.
My shoulder protests against the movement, reminding me I need to take care of the wound on my back. Later.
I push the metal latch and open the window halfway.
The view of the city from up here is quite something, but it’s the steady rain filling the air and quickly turning into a torrential downpour that captivates me.
The fragrance that releases as it hits the ground is so powerful that it almost makes me dizzy.
It calls to me, and with it, memories come back.
Hard times, too agonizing to just grit my teeth and ball my fists.
But the echo of all the pain I endured is nothing compared to the sorrow I feel when I think about Joel. My sweet, radiant, little brother.
The truth is that it’s been raining in my heart since I had to let him go.
He deserved a chance at a good life, away from all the squalor and unfairness we were born into.
I was tainted already by all the filth surrounding us, but not my lil’ bro.
He was good and pure, with not a shadow of darkness inside him.
He moved to Boston with a neighbor, a lady who had a soft spot for him, the day after our shithead of a father was killed.
Unbeknownst to Joel, I remained in contact with her until she died.
After that, I hired a PI just to keep an eye on him.
He was doing okay, starting his own men’s lingerie online shop.
But then out of the blue he moved to New York a month ago.
I talked to my contact in the city, and he told me that Joel was asking about me around our old neighborhood.
And fuck, I didn’t like that. I don’t want him to get into trouble or to find out what I’d been up to in those days—which was nothing good.
Not that he would find much; the day I followed Aki, River Locke from New York died and a new identity was created, a new life for me on the East Coast.
But it seems like Joel has been chasing my shadow since he came here.
I also found out that he’s spending time with Arturo Enzino, the son of a ruthless Italian mafia boss.
I sacrificed so much to keep him out of this life, and somehow he got sucked back in.
What the fuck is he doing partying with a spoiled mafia prince?
People say that Arturo Enzino is not part of his family’s criminal activities, but can he really be out when he was born into it?
What to do? Joel thinks I’m dead. I thought it was better that way.
But is that still the case when he’s putting himself in danger?
I down the whisky as rain keeps coming down and my thoughts continue wandering inside my head.
Aki’s reflection suddenly appears in the window’s glass.
He has a towel around his neck, wet hair, and bare torso, wearing only a pair of cotton water-green panties.
The stark sight of the bulge on the front wrapped in such sweet fabric makes my blood boil.
I turn to look at him as he sets a bottle of disinfectant and a bandage on the counter.
His right arm and half his chest are covered in red, blue, white, yellow and black ink.
A tattoo of a rabbit embracing a snake, fighting among water and flames—the same design continues on my left arm and pec with the white snake trying to prevail on the intrepid rabbit.
Intricate, colorful, and full-body tattoos are a symbol of status, courage, and allegiance within the yakuza.
The tattoos, typically hidden under clothing, signify membership, status, and personal stories within the organization.
It’s not uncommon for underlings to get the same tattoo design as the boss.
It’s a show of loyalty and fealty. But Aki decided on this design with me in mind.
I’m the rabbit and he’s the snake. Fighting while embracing each other everyday.
“More poison?” he asks with his back to me as he pours himself a glass of the finest Japanese whisky.
“Don’t drink too much,” I state. I’ve cleaned up after a wasted Aki too many times to fucking count. My eyes fall on the upper curve of his ass, home to two sexy dimples and four little moles positioned in a way to form a smirking mouth—right on his juicy ass cheek.
“Servants aren’t allowed to speak their minds unless asked,” he retorts teasingly.
“Not a servant,” I give him the usual reply, continuing the old game we’ve been playing since we met.
“Prefer the term lackey?”
I glare at him.
“Valet? Footman? Page boy? How about majordomo?”
“Did you fucking google this shit?” I growl. Even though his persistence is amusing, I refuse to encourage his psychotic traits.
He smirks, but leaves his middle finger up around the glass as he drinks.
“You’re nothing if not subtle.” I huff as I take the silk nightgown from the back of the sofa and toss it at him. I can’t keep my gaze away from his seductively delicate frame any longer, damn it!