I walked over to the window. “Hey,” I said, demonstrating my creativity.
“Hey,” she said back. Somehow it sounded better coming from her.
“Well, I’m back.”
“I can see that.”
She looked good in her usual way. Ponytail, sweatshirt, no makeup.
“I mean it’s our third meeting.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Can I ask you something?”
“I guess so.”
“Why do you keep coming here?”
I couldn’t very well admit that it was because I wanted to see her, and I couldn’t think of anything else, so I said nothing.
“I mean, the first time, I had no idea. I just figured you needed a place to spend the night for some reason. You’re a little younger and less corporate-looking than most of the clientele, but I figured, I don’t know, maybe your girlfriend threw you out.”
I didn’t say anything, and she went on. “The second night I told myself the same thing. But now I’m thinking, either you’re in some kind of trouble and trying to hide from it, or this is about me. Or both.”
Jesus, I thought. I’d been focusing so much on my own needs, my own outlook, that I hadn’t considered what things must have looked like from her perspective. That failure to consider the view from the other side was stupid. Here, the penalty was nothing more than embarrassment. In another context, the penalty could be considerably worse.
“It’s a little bit of both,” I said, not knowing how I could coherently suggest otherwise.
“What kind of trouble are you in?”
I was a little disappointed she was more interested in that side of the story. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
She laughed. “How many people do you think have been in over their heads, and said that right before they drowned?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I said, “Are you going to tell me your name?”
“Why do you want to know my name so much?”
“I don’t know. I keep thinking of you as ‘the girl at the hotel.’ It just seems demeaning.”
I was trying for funny, but she didn’t laugh. Instead, her lips parted and her eyes narrowed and she looked at me for a long time, like she was really looking at me, like she was trying to figure something out.
Then the look was gone, replaced by a frown. “To which of us?”
“Well, I meant to you. But I guess to both.”
Another long moment went by. I thought she wasn’t going to tell me, and that I should probably give up. But then she sighed and said, “Sayaka.”
I liked it. It suited her. Without thinking, I said, “Hi, Sayaka.”
I immediately regretted it, thinking she would make fun of me for saying something so lame. But instead, she said, “Welcome back, Jun. Just don’t expect any mints on the pillow, okay?”
I couldn’t tell if it was just a joke, or if she was letting me know I wouldn’t be waking up next to her. Or both.
“Do you work here every night?” I asked.
“I have a day off now and then. Do you stay here every night?”
I shrugged. “Like you said, I’m in a little bit of a jam. I need a place to stay while I figure it all out. It’s not a girlfriend, though.”
I realized that was actually a stupid thing to add. It would have been just fine if she figured my taste for stays at love hotels had to do with a domestic problem. I didn’t need her speculating, or asking, beyond that.
“Well,” she said, “I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
“I’ve seen worse,” I said, which was true. I’d been chased by a North Vietnamese battalion in Cambodia. So far, at least, I’d take the yakuza any day.
“So…a stay?”
“Yeah, as usual.” I pushed the bills under the glass, and she slid a key in the other direction.
“You know,” I said, “I think I’m going to have this whole thing straightened out pretty soon. At which point, I won’t be coming by anymore. But I thought…I found this great coffee place today, in Shibuya. You ever feel like a cup of coffee?”
She flushed, and for a moment, a look of consternation crossed her face. Then she said, “It’s nice of you, Jun, but…no.”
Damn. I’d really thought she was going to say yes. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’m sure.”
I should have just taken the hint. But it seemed like she was interested, somehow. I didn’t get it. Without thinking, I said, “Why? It’s just coffee. I know I’m a little younger, but…”
There was an awkward pause. “It’s…hard for me to get around. Shibuya’s a little far.”
I felt like an idiot. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of that.”
She smiled at that. “I know you didn’t.”
“Well, how about if I could find a place closer by?”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
“I’ll try. I don’t know. It would be good to see you someplace besides this hotel.”
She looked at me. “I really don’t know what to make of you, Jun.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
I grinned, feeling a little more confident. “Well, I like that you’re thinking about it.”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know how it all turns out.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tired as I was, I was also pretty keyed up from all the day’s events, and maybe especially from the conversation with Sayaka at the end of it. Sayaka. I liked her name. Liked it a lot. And liked that she had told me.
I fell asleep so late that I actually slept past eight. When I left, she was gone, replaced by a stone-faced oba-san who took my key with all the animation of a vending machine.
The first order of business was Miyamoto. I had never spoken to him other than in Japanese, but he’d told me he dealt with Americans from time to time, so I assumed his English would be at least serviceable. Well, we were going to find out. I practiced disguising my voice, slowing it down, lowering it, making it raspier, older sounding, sharpening my inflection and changing my vowels as though English was other than my native tongue. When I felt I was ready, I went to a payphone and called him.
“Miyamoto desu.” This is Miyamoto.
“Hello,” I said. “We have a mutual friend who told me you have a problem I might be able to help with. Let’s not say his name.” I spoke slowly and precisely to make sure he understood me.
There was a pause while he took it in. Maybe he hadn’t been expecting I would put him in touch with someone so quickly. “Yes, yes that’s right. He spoke with you?”
“He did. I’m prepared to help you with your problem. I know you don’t know me, but I hope our mutual friend’s introduction will be evidence that you can trust me.”
“All right.”
“Do you want my help?”
There was a pause. “Yes.”
“Then here’s what I need you to do. Take all the information I’ll require — name, work address, home address, photographs, and any other information you have that could reasonably be useful to me under the circumstances. Put it all in an envelope, along with half the fee that you offered our friend. The currency should be American dollars.”
I thought he might object to paying a total stranger half up front, but he didn’t. “All right,” he said. “But where shall we—”
“I don’t want to meet you. I don’t want you to know anything about me beyond the sound of my voice. It’s better that way for both of us.” Actually, even if I were really the third party I was pretending to be, not meeting would have been better only for me, but I thought it was more polite to suggest my concern was broader than just that.
“But then how can I get you the envelope?”
I’d asked myself the same question. Answering it was why I’d been riding the Ginza line the day before. “You know Gaienmae Station, on the Ginza line?”