Second Time Around, 2/5
Ohno listened to all of it, the mess from the very beginning. Where most people would probably ask “Well, why don’t you get his number?” or “Why don’t you try and have a drink with him?” Ohno wasn’t that kind of person. Instead he just let out a little hum of understanding as Jun kept talking, his head in Jun’s lap as he looked up at the ceiling.
Jun had shown up at SK in a strange mood, and Ohno had sensed something was amiss when he’d confessed to Nino about running into Sho at the office. They hadn’t even planned on anything that night, but Ohno seemed to have an innate understanding of when Jun needed to let it all out. The result had been Ohno showing up with a six-pack of beer in one hand and a new pair of velcro cuff restraints in the other, depending on what Jun was in the mood for first.
Ohno, with no shame whatsoever, had suggested that Jun slap his face. He’d been asking for this for months on end, but Jun hadn’t quite felt up to it yet, despite knowing how much Ohno would probably enjoy it. Ohno liked getting spanked, so this was just another thing he’d wanted to try. He also knew that Jun didn’t half ass anything when it came to more aggressive play, so the focus was entirely on Ohno, allowing Jun to temporarily forget about Sho.
The loud rip of the velcro as Jun took them out of the packaging and opened them had been enough to get Ohno hard, a tiny smile on his face as Jun moved his hands behind his back, securing his wrists with the cuffs. As soon as he was comfortable, naked and on his knees in the middle of Jun’s living room, Jun had gotten to work. Teasing what was to come by tracing his fingers along Ohno’s face, tilting up his chin and telling him he was going to make him beg for it. Ohno, who always showed more enthusiasm when he was being teased and taunted, licked his lips and said with a defiant snarl “Do it. Why don’t you just do it already?”
Jun had stretched it out, towering over the kneeling Ohno, fully dressed as he walked around him, jostling his shoulder to throw off his balance a little, letting his thumbnail scratch down the back of Ohno’s neck. The proof that he was succeeding was all too visible, Ohno’s impatient cock already glistening in want. When Jun had been standing before him again, their eyes met. It’s okay, Ohno’s eyes were telling him. This is what I like.
Jun’s first strike had been rather gentle, truth be told, a condescending little pat against Ohno’s face. “You like that?” he’d said, repeating the gesture a few times, seeing Ohno nod for him to keep going. “You like that?”
With Ohno’s nodding permission, he started to ratchet up his efforts. Soon enough he was making Ohno tilt his face, making him moan each time his fingers cracked against his cheek. “You’re going to come all over yourself,” Jun had scoffed. “You’re going to be such a fucking mess.”
“Mmm,” Ohno had replied, his small, lean body trembling from pleasure, from wish fulfillment, his hands behind his back and putting all his strength into keeping himself upright.
He’d grasped Ohno’s chin roughly, looking into his eyes. “This one’s going to hurt.”
It hadn’t taken more than another five carefully placed slaps, Jun’s fingers stinging, before Ohno gave in. Once Jun had undone the cuffs, leaving them on the floor, he’d taken Ohno into the bathroom, had cleaned him up, had sat him down on the toilet, kneeling on the tile with a bottle of lotion, gently massaging his wrists. Ohno, in a happy daze, had kissed Jun on the top of his head. “Good cuffs, I’ll tell Kazunari they’re five stars.”
From there they’d moved back to Jun’s couch, Ohno starting on the beer while Jun started blabbing at him about the history of him and Sho, such that it was.
Sakurai Sho had been in Johnny’s for a year already when Jun had joined. There’d been dozens of kids back then, a rotating group of boys with big smiles who appeared on TV, who danced in ill-fitting costumes behind their seniors during their concerts. The Jun of those days, too eager and too honest, had done everything in his power to dance beside Sakurai Sho. He’d been so cool, at least in Jun’s eyes. He went to some elite school, but had joined Johnny’s against his parents’ wishes. That “rebellious” feeling was further enhanced by the ear piercing he had, his grouchy attitude when the choreographer had his back turned, the American rap CDs with filthy lyrics he burned copies of for the other juniors and distributed after rehearsals.
Nino hadn’t thought much of him, since he often skipped TV recordings or rehearsals if there was something going on at school. When Sho messed up choreography, Jun excused it as Sho being busy, someone with a lot of commitments. When Sho messed up choreography, Nino complained to Jun that Sho didn’t really deserve to dance in the front if he was going to keep fucking up. Then again, Nino hadn’t had a crush on him the way Jun did.
As their teenage years stretched on, with bodies growing and sleep deprivation and acne breakouts, he found himself in Sho’s orbit more regularly. One summer, while Sho was bitching about extra lessons and college prep exams, they’d gone to see a movie at least once a week, if not more. Sho had been a little stuck up, even if Jun had been willfully blind to it. He rolled his eyes at the blockbuster movies Jun liked, slurping his soda and making comments. Jun hadn’t minded because it meant Sho had leaned close to whisper in his ear, even if all he did was complain.
When Jun had the reverse problem, struggling with school but excelling at junior rehearsals, Sho had tutored him, lecturing him ad nauseam about how important it was to stay in high school. “What if I debut? What if we debut?” Jun had asked him, looking for any excuse to avoid his math homework.
“I’m not going to debut,” Sho had shot back at him.
“Don’t you want to? I’d be so happy to be in a group with Sho-kun.”
There’d been a crack in the facade then. His worship seemed to ignite such a thrill in Sho sometimes. “Matsujun, I’m just being practical,” Sho said, his ears reddening.
Jun wasn’t quite sure when Sho started to like him back. He’d treated Jun exactly the same, complaining when Jun called him up late at night to talk (though Jun mostly made those calls just to listen to Sho’s voice). But then Sho graduated from high school. While most of the junior boys at rehearsal bragged about kissing girls, feeling up a breast, lying about getting handjobs, Jun never joined in. And then Sho graduated, calling Jun of his own initiative that same night and telling him (never asking him, Sho didn’t ask) to meet him at a park halfway between their home neighborhoods.
Sho was nonchalant, sitting on a bench when Jun arrived. “Matsujun, you probably want this, don’t you?” Sho had said, tugging Jun’s hand, placing the second button from his school uniform jacket in his palm.
“Are you making fun of me?”
And then Sho had kissed him.
That night, it had felt like being in a movie, or like one of the silly skits they did for the junior TV programs. But it had been real, so real, Sho’s mouth pressed roughly against his own. When he woke up the next morning, he’d still had a fading indent from Sho’s button on his palm, since he’d held it so tightly in the park the night before.
Within two weeks, Sho quit Johnny’s, since he was enrolling at Keio University. The dream Jun had nurtured for most of his teenage years, of getting to sing and dance in a group with Sho, was dead, and Sho wasn’t remotely apologetic. By then Jun was one of the more popular juniors, Nino too, and rumors were swirling. Maybe they’d debut together. As Sho started university and Jun got more work, drama episode appearances and more prominent spots on TV, things shifted.
“It’s impossible, you know,” Sho said to him one night before he stopped answering Jun’s calls entirely. It had ended before it had even gotten started. Though Jun had stuck to him like glue for such a long time, it was Sho who had made the first move. And then it was Sho who had flaked out.
“Do you still have it?” Ohno interrupted, looking up at him.
“Do I still have what?” Jun asked.
“His button.”
Jun grinned, poking Ohno’s cheek. “Get up.”
He kept most of his Johnny’s memorabilia at his parents’ house, save for the few fan letters the company forwarded on to him, his most diehard followers who still didn’t seem ready to accept that he’d quit almost ten years ago, having never debuted in a group. The letters were in a shoebox in his bedroom closet, and Ohno sat down on the bed while Jun unearthed it from under a pile of t-shirts he didn’t wear. He could hear it thump against the side of the box as he opened it.
“Of course I still have it.” He held it up, the copper button that had meant everything for one perfect day.
“With the way he treated you, why did you keep it?” Ohno wondered, gazing up at Jun with his tired, beer-happy eyes.
Jun ran his finger over the button, smiling gently. “I loved him. I couldn’t throw it out.”
Ohno chuckled. “You’re so cute.”
He laughed in return. “I am not.”
He dumped it back in the box, shoved it back in the closet. He’d moved on, and it was obvious Sho had too. He had the good memories and the bad. That was life. When he turned around, Ohno was stripping out of his clothes again. “I want to be fucked by the cute Matsujun.”
“I slapped the shit out of you a few hours ago.”
Ohno scooted back on the bed, trying to shimmy out of his jeans at the same time. “I have different needs.”
“Apparently,” Jun said, trying to sound indifferent even though it was no hardship for Jun to comply with what Ohno was asking for.
Ohno offered Jun a lazy smile, lifting up his arms and putting his hands behind his head. “Let’s use the five-star cuffs again!”
-
Kiko was a ball of nervous energy, sitting across from him and chatting a mile a minute about everything she’d done since they’d last met up for lunch. It was a little overwhelming, it always was now that he was so far removed from the world she still inhabited. She was wearing a t-shirt of some indie band Jun didn’t know and a long, flowing skirt, her big pink sunglasses perched on top of her jet black hair. The obnoxiously red lipstick she favored kissed the rim of her water glass as she took a sip in order to keep talking.
He let her go on for another ten minutes straight without interruption, letting her bitch about the way Makeup Artist K-san always fucked up her eyeliner, about how Photographer S-san always stared at her chest. “He knows it’s a push-up bra, but men will be men!” she whined before primly smiling at him. “Present company excluded.”
Jun snorted, twirling more pasta around his fork. Though she had friends and admirers around the world, it was still Jun that Mizuhara Kiko came to in order to let all her real feelings out. Even though he’d been her manager, they’d become friends since they had somewhat similar careers. Jun had been in the entertainment world before changing careers, taking a job on the management side at Sweet Apple. Modeling was Kiko’s main line of work, but as her career in Japan evolved, she started taking on acting jobs.
After a few years in the lower staff ranks at Sweet Apple, Jun had been promoted to manage the rising star’s acting and other promotional activities shortly after her nineteenth birthday. He’d followed her all over the world, was captured in the background of hundreds of photographs, the nobody in the back with the sunglasses carrying Mizuhara Kiko’s purse. Or he was the nobody with an arm around her, getting her in a car before some creep could try and sneak an upskirt photo of her.
She was twenty-four now, still friendly and talkative, refusing to call Jun anything but “Nii-san,” or worse “My beloved Onii-san.” It was because Jun had grown too close to Kiko, too protective of Kiko, that he’d lost everything. It had only been a year ago when Jun had come to pick her up in the morning only to find her sitting half-naked on the floor of her loft, sobbing.
She’d been dating a guy on and off, and Jun had done his best to help her keep it quiet, even if he’d hated the guy, some Cantopop singer who had other girlfriends. Kiko didn’t mind, always dismissing Jun’s concerns with a “that’s the nature of this business” remark. It hadn’t been serious between them. At first Jun had thought the asshole had hit her or even worse, but instead Kiko had clung to him, face streaked with tears. “He’s on drugs. It’s drugs, Nii-san.”
Kiko had had nothing to do with it, though Jun figured she’d at least had a feeling he was on something. But this time he’d tried to get her to do it with him, to sell his shit for him because he had some Chinese loan sharks after him. The singer was arrested soon after, was deported from Japan, and the shitstorm hit. Kiko had been cleared of any wrongdoing, since she’d been the one to go to the police with Jun by her side, holding her hand as she told them all she knew and all she suspected. But that had been the last straw for Sweet Apple.
Kiko’s work evaporated, advertisers dropped her because the mere whisper of drugs was enough to stain her reputation. And Jun, who had been Kiko’s friend and not her manager, who had apparently “sanctioned” her ill-advised relationship…Jun was persona non grata. He was fired the day after Sweet Apple released Kiko from her contract. And though Kiko bounced back, finding a new agency who championed her innocence and her willingness to get herself out of a dangerous situation, Jun hadn’t been so lucky. He was likely on some blacklist, and he’d probably never get a job in the industry again.
“You saved my life,” Kiko was always telling him, trying to find jobs for him, but most of them were overseas and all he knew was Japanese and a handful of words in English, French, and Italian after having spent time at fashion weeks with her around the world. He hadn’t told her the full truth of his current life, telling her only that he worked in an office job. For years Jun had been on TV, and after that, he’d been in rooms with A-listers and superstars. Now he spent most of his day in rooms with dogs and cats. The only thing keeping him afloat in his nice, far-above-his-current-means apartment was all the money he’d stashed away over the years. But in time, he’d probably have to downgrade. Some reliable Nii-san he’d turned out to be, although he’d do it all again without hesitating.
“We’re getting dessert,” she said when the waiter cleared their plates. Kiko had rented out the entire bistro for their lunch that day, though Jun had insisted on at least paying for the meal. “I want cheesecake.”
“Very fattening,” Jun chided her with a smile. Sweet Apple had been merciless sometimes, telling Jun to start counting her calories a few years back. He’d ignored them.
When the waiter returned, she ordered two slices in cheery defiance. Her new agency actually seemed to believe that Kiko was an adult who could make her own logical choices, the opposite of the heavy-handed suits at Sweet Apple.
As Jun sipped from his tiny espresso cup a short time later, deliberately lifting his pinky in the way that always made her tease him, his phone vibrated on the table. “You can answer,” she said, mouth full and unashamed. “I don’t mind.”
“It’s fine.”
“Answer it!” she insisted, crumbs flying.
He rolled his eyes. Sometimes it was easy to forget the woman sitting across from him walked the runway and smiled for magazine covers. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she wasn’t actually his kid sister. He unlocked his phone, seeing that Nino had sent him a message. He lifted his phone from the table. His “kid sister” didn’t need to see the types of messages Nino wrote, messages that sometimes said things like “COCK RING PARTY 2NITE” with a trail of smily faces.
Expecting to be solicited for sex, Jun found a rather sobering message instead. Sakurai Sho had gotten in touch with Aiba, who had put him in touch with Nino because that was the sort of thing Aiba liked to do. And now Nino and Sho were meeting for dinner tomorrow, Sunday night, and would Jun come along too? Nino and Sho had never been very close back then, so Jun was surprised Nino had accepted the invite at all, since he enjoyed avoiding such things entirely.
But then Jun remembered that he’d spilled his heart to Ohno. Ohno who wouldn’t say anything unless he was under severe duress, otherwise known as a Ninomiya nagging session. Jun suspected that Ohno had topped it all off by telling Nino about the fucking button too. He really had the worst friends.
“What’s wrong?” Kiko asked, holding out her fork to him. He opened his mouth just wide enough for her to feed him a bite of her cheesecake. It was really damn good.
“Might have dinner with an old friend.”
“An old friend, huh?” Her wiggling eyebrows annoyed him. She’d been relentless in trying to find some hot male model for him to hook up with back in the day, but she had terrible taste. And her ability to detect gay or bi-curious men at all was practically non-existent.
“Shut up,” he grumbled, and she laughed at him.
She started doing a little dance in her seat, moving her fork with the soundless beat. “Booty call! Booty call!”
“You’re so annoying,” he informed her, something he’d been telling her for five years now.
“You’re so glum,” she shot back, adding a bit of a shoulder twist to her stupid dance. “Go see him. Catch up!”
“Because I should take love advice from someone who dates rappers.”
“Dated, past tense. And that was only one of his skills,” she explained. “Those Korean agencies train them to do all sorts of crazy shit. I can hear the Johnny’s boy jealousy in your tone, you know.”
He sent Nino a “yes” reply anyway, calling for the check. Though things had been awkward at the vet office, on account of the sheer surprise of seeing each other, it might actually be good to see Sho again. To have a more natural conversation, without talking about cat vaccinations. He’d long since gotten over his anger toward Sho. They’d been young, back then. If he at least knew Sho was doing well, that he was happy, that ought to be enough.
“I want a full report,” she said when they were leaving the restaurant, when her agency car picked her up from the fan-free alley behind the place. She hugged him tight, and he hugged her back. He missed her so much. He missed all of it. Even the agency meddling. He’d been good at his job. He’d been so great at his job. She put on her sunglasses, stroking his cheek. “Nii-san, smile.”
Jun was determined to try.
-
Nino had his hands tucked into the sleeves of his hooded sweatshirt, was prodding Jun along with his elbow. “My god, it hasn’t changed at all.”
“It’s amazing how many meals we ate from this place,” Jun agreed. “I’m going to have to run this off.”
“Meanwhile I will not,” Nino said, letting Jun slide the door open to let them inside. “I only run if it’s for my life.”
Nino’s long-standing opinions toward exercise were well known to Jun, though he never heard one complaint about his own gym attendance when Nino checked him out or simply squeezed his biceps.
The restaurant, Prince Ramen, had few tables and as teenagers they usually just sat in a row up at the counter. A popular haunt for the juniors, only a few blocks from the company headquarters, Jun had spent many evenings slurping down Prince’s salt ramen after a long day of dance rehearsals. Today they were going to sit at a table, where they found Sakurai Sho already waiting for them. Jun remembered Sho having a thing about punctuality. Unlike the other day at the animal hospital, he was dressed far more casually in jeans and a collarbone-revealing v-neck t-shirt that made Jun pause briefly before taking a seat at Nino’s side. Careful, Jun told himself.
“Nino, you didn’t age a day,” Sho said, chuckling in astonishment.
“And I owe it all to my diet of junk food and cigarettes,” Nino remarked, smiling and waving for a waitress.
Sho laughed at that, the same noisy outburst that always made you wonder if he was sincerely that amused or just humoring you. When he greeted Jun this time, he was less awkward about it. Perhaps the initial shock that Jun was still a person who existed had worn off, and Sho had come to terms with it. Well, he must have since here Jun was having dinner with him and Nino. It was too bad Aiba wasn’t able to make it, since he’d get the most out of their Johnny’s reminiscing.
“How’s Elsa?” Jun asked once the waitress took their orders.
“Elsa?” Nino asked. “You marry a foreigner, Sakurai?”
Jun kicked him lightly under the table. Nino knew very well who Elsa was, since Jun had told him about Sho and his daughter’s visit. Sho didn’t seem to mind the question, at least. “Elsa is my daughter’s cat. And when I did get married, it was to a Japanese woman, sorry to disappoint.”
“No disappointment here,” Nino said. “The institution of marriage is not for the likes of me.”
Sho grimaced. “Me neither.” Before an awkward silence could descend on the table, Sho went ahead and explained things. “I got divorced about a year and a half ago.”
“But you’re a dad, huh?” Nino pressed.
“I am,” Sho said, looking rather proud of himself. He already had his phone out on the table, had probably been waiting for an excuse to show her off. Nino and Jun patiently smiled and offered murmured compliments as Sho went through his phone. He had an entire “Sayaka 2015” folder on his iPhone, neatly organized, and he showed them at least a hundred pictures (Sayaka at piano lessons, Sayaka’s artwork from preschool, Sayaka at the park, Sayaka with Sho in a swimming pool somewhere) before the waitress came back with their order.
Nino took a slurp of his broth before staring Sho down and asking the tough questions, the ones that weren’t really his to ask after not having seen Sho in more than a decade. “You get to see her a lot? Since you and her mom split up?”
Sho nodded, and Jun was surprised by how unoffended he seemed by the personal questions. Maybe he really had mellowed out over time. Sho used to have a hissy fit over the littlest things, like an untidy dressing room or a last minute setlist change during a concert. “I have her every other weekend right now. But once she starts kindergarten, I’m going to work it out so I can pick her up and take her to school every morning. Satomi…my ex, I mean, she’s totally fine with it.”
“That sounds really nice,” Jun said before he could stop himself.
Sho separated his chopsticks, shrugging. “My parents are still together, and I can’t remember my dad ever taking me to school himself.”
“Didn’t the nanny do that?” Nino teased.
Unlike Nino and Jun, Sho had grown up in a very privileged home. His father was a Todai graduate who ran his own company while his mother, a lawyer, came from a wealthy background. Sho had never overtly bragged about his elevated status, but while most of the juniors took the train to and from rehearsals, Sho’s parents often had him picked up by the family “driver.” When they’d been friends, Jun had been lucky enough to get a ride home in that fancy car himself several times.
Sho chuckled. “My mom took us to school. Until I was too cool for that and then she started showing up in the afternoon, waving by the fence just to embarrass me.”
Jun remembered Sho’s mother well. Always well-dressed, always welcoming when Jun came by to collect Sho for one of their movie outings. “How are your parents? Well I hope?”
Sho seemed appreciative of the question, slurping down some noodles and pronouncing them “so good” before saying “Yeah, they’re great. It’s their 35th anniversary this year, so we had a big family trip and went to London in the spring.”
Nino said nothing, slurping down more noodles. Jun kept the conversation going. “I’m glad to hear it. Please send them my best wishes.”
“I will,” Sho said. “And your parents?”
“Very well, thanks. My dad recently retired, and my mom’s a bit sick of him being home all day doing nothing. I suspect she’s going to find him a hobby if he doesn’t find one first.”
“I always loved your mom,” Sho admitted, sounding a little shy as he said it. “She’s a sweet woman.”
“Putting up with her famous son, you bet,” he chuckled. His mother had been the most shocked when Jun had quit Johnny’s in his early twenties, assuming he’d been fine with the idea of dancing behind everyone for the rest of his life.
They moved on from parent talk, since Nino couldn’t really contribute anything, and chatted about their work lives. Jun was surprised by how smoothly the conversation flowed, though the nostalgic food, their favorite high school treat, was certainly helping. Nino, always honest and open about who he was, came right out and told Sho about SK Enterprises. Jun gave Sho a lot of credit for listening to the whole thing without ramen broth dribbling out of his mouth in shock.
“We do have a current promotion going, 20% off all first time orders,” Nino said, offering Sho a wink.
“Sounds like a good deal,” Sho said, blushing in a way that made Jun’s heart clench a bit.
He’d moved on, he was so completely certain of it, but it was hard not to remember the good times, the hours upon hours he’d spent in Sho’s company, sitting at his side or curled up in bed with the cordless phone, listening to him ramble on about this or that Notorious B.I.G. or Tupac song that Jun didn’t really care for. And there was the Sho before him, in the t-shirt that perfectly showcased the shape of him, the curve of his shoulders, the length of his neck. The unchanging smile and slightly unruly eyebrows. He wondered what it might be like, fifteen years later, to learn if Sho had gotten better at kissing.
He sat there, alternately wrapped up in the fondness of first love and an adult attraction, listening to Sho speak but not committing every word to memory the way he had when he was sixteen and Sakurai Sho was the only one he wanted.
Sho had finished university and started working for his father’s company, which sold medical equipment. Despite the family name, Sho had had to work his way up, and he was now some sort of Section Chief for the overseas distribution arm of the company. Sho’s younger sister, who Jun mostly remembered as a friendly girl with glasses and braces, headed up the company’s PR department. Sho suspected that if any of the Sakurai children was going to run the company someday, it would be her. Sho’s younger brother, still in university, was studying law and hadn’t yet decided if he was going to go the corporate route and work for his father too.
Jun had never had a full grasp of what the elder Sakurai-san did for a living, just remembering that he’d been a “company president,” which meant nice cars, nice suits, nice watches. Sho explained without prompting that his marriage to Satomi, who’d been “barely out of college” at the time, had been an omiai arranged by their families. Satomi’s father ran a hospital in Sagamihara and was one of Sakurai Medical Supply’s biggest clients.
“The divorce didn’t mess up the client relationship,” Sho said with a laugh. “My dad and her dad golf all the time, you’d never know anything had changed.”
Nino pounced again. “So it was amicable then? Your split.”
Sho nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t easy, if that’s what you’re asking, but there were no issues over custody. With my job, I’m abroad sometimes, so having her during the week wasn’t something I fought for. Although I’m trying to cut down on that now that Saya-chan’s going to start kindergarten soon. Satomi wants me to be as much a part of her life as I can, and I’m thankful for that.”
“She sounds like a peach,” Nino said. “Why’d you divorce her at all, Sho-chan?”
Sho’s polite acceptance of Nino’s interrogation was starting to weaken, his chin quivering a little at the rude question. “Nino,” Jun chided him, “that’s none of your business.”
“It’s…complicated,” Sho admitted. “Alright?”
Nino held up his hands. “Okay, okay, just making conversation. I don’t hang out with a lot of married people. Just wonder what makes them tick is all.”
Jun figured that the best way to ease Sho’s embarrassment was to introduce some of his own. Nino knew all of it already, but sat there patiently while Jun explained the circumstances that had led him to the reception desk of Shimura Animal Hospital, from a life of flashing cameras and Milan Fashion Week to going through a full sticky lint roller every week to try and get rid of all the fur that stuck to him like a tick intent on sucking him dry. He knew it sounded a little whiny, with the villainous Sweet Apple agency destroying his career, but it was pretty much true. He had little direction, few calls back from his job hunt, and animals honestly didn’t care much for him.
“Can you write press releases?” Sho asked him, no judgment in his eyes.
“I…haven’t before, but I’ve read enough that I could probably do it.”
“You’d need a lot more confidence if you want my sister to hire you,” Sho teased him, lifting his bowl to slurp down some of his broth.
“Your sister? Sho-kun, I’m not asking you for a job,” Jun blurted out, sensing Nino’s warning hand on his thigh. After fifteen years, throwing out a too friendly ‘Sho-kun’ was a bit much, not that Nino hadn’t crossed the line today himself.
“Why not? We’ve always got an opening or two, and syringe pumps and surgical tape may be boring, but they don’t have fur,” Sho said, and Jun was astonished by how sincere he sounded.
Nino got up, patting Jun on the shoulder. “Listen to the man, hear him out. I’ve gotta pee.” And then Nino left them alone, heading for the tiny bathroom tucked into the rear of the restaurant.
Sho sat back in his seat a little, full and happy with his meal. As soon as Nino was out of earshot, his expression softened. “I’m sorry if it sounded like I was pitying you.”
“You didn’t,” Jun said, feeling a little hot and uncomfortable, but they’d been sitting in the warm restaurant for almost an hour now, tying up the table with their chatter.
“When I called Aiba-sensei the other day, it was for a selfish reason,” Sho admitted. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Then why Nino…?”
“Well, I wanted to greet him too,” Sho said, laughing quietly. “But just…after seeing you, I felt terrible that after all this time I just swiped my credit card and left. I’m sorry.”
Apologies had been rare, almost non-existent from the teenage Sakurai Sho. His job, marriage, a family…all of these things had seemingly come together in a perfect storm to mature him, to settle him down from the firebrand teenager who swore under his breath when a difficult bit of choreography slipped from his memory. He couldn’t help looking up, meeting Sho’s gaze and holding it for the first time of their entire meal.
“I don’t want a job handed to me. Out of pity or out of childhood friendship or for any reason at all.”
“I know,” Sho said. “That much about you certainly hasn’t changed.”
Jun sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean,” Sho continued. “I remember a kid who worked harder than anyone else, stayed for extra rehearsals, helped the idiots who were falling behind.” Namely me, Sho didn’t have to say aloud. “Matsujun, when I talked to Aiba-sensei, he told me how unhappy you are…”
“I’m going to kill him,” Jun decided, white hot rage coursing through him.
“Listen to me,” Sho pleaded. “He didn’t make you sound pathetic or anything, just someone in between jobs and hoping for something better. It’s boring, I know it’s boring what we do, but we offer competitive salaries, good benefits…”
“Sho-kun…”
“…and we make everyone go through a standard interview process. Even family. I didn’t even clear my third round of interviews. They only called me back because the person they offered the job to declined it.”
Jun stared at him. His own father’s company?
Sho smiled. “I was already on the second round of interviews with my dad’s leading competitor. I’ve never been the ideal eldest son, you know.” He held out a business card, and Jun accepted it. “Look, there’s a jobs page on our corporate website. If nothing sounds interesting to you, then don’t force it. I’m sorry that I don’t have any entertainment connections. That died a long time ago, as soon as I started learning about the component parts that make up a dialysis machine.”
Jun couldn’t help smiling in return. “I do appreciate it. Aiba-kun looks for things for me all the time, but I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m not applying to work as a dog walker.”
Sho couldn’t look at him now, having done what he’d come to do. He was eyeing Nino’s not quite empty bowl, if only to avoid looking at Jun again. “Matsujun…what I did to you…back then…”
“If you’re going to finish my food, you may as well just do it,” came Nino’s voice, interrupting before Jun could even beg Sho not to say anything, to resurrect the past needlessly.
Sho laughed, too noisily, pulling Nino’s bowl over. “You never could finish anything.”
“And you never could stop eating,” Nino shot back, plopping back down in his seat. He pointed to his cheeks, winking at Sho. “I see that it’s finally catching up to you.”
Sho was far from fat, though he obviously wasn’t all youthful sharp edges and angles either. “I’ll have you know I’ve lost weight recently,” Sho said in a bit of a huff. “Taking a four year old around DisneySea will do that.”
Now that Nino was back, Jun was thankfully able to avoid whatever strange apology Sho was about to make. He didn’t need one, didn’t expect one. It was amazing enough that Sho had gone out of his way to contact Aiba, to find an opportunity for them to meet again when they probably had little in common these days. He had Sho’s business card in his pocket now, and though he knew absolutely nothing about what Sho’s company did, he had to admit that a steadier salary and a quiet office might be a definite upgrade from being barked at on a daily basis.
Sho didn’t insult him by insisting on paying for them, and they split the check. They waved goodbye, and though Nino lived in the opposite direction, he walked with Jun to the Metro stop. “Let me guess,” Jun said, tapping his Suica card against the reader and passing through the gate. “You need something.”
Nino followed him through, all wicked smile and sparkling eyes. “I sat through a thousand pictures of an adorable toddler today.” It wasn’t even close to a thousand, but Nino avoided scenes of domestic bliss as much as he could, though Jun knew he had an extra soft spot in his heart for his niece and nephew.
“And as a reward for making nice comments about Sho-san’s child, you have turned to me.”
“You know me so well.” Nino took the opportunity to stand right on the step behind him on the escalator, taking advantage of the mostly empty station by poking Jun right in the side where he knew he was most ticklish. Jun jerked, wishing he still had those cuffs he’d used on Ohno the other night. Without something from SK, they just had to play it by ear. Jun didn’t have the courage to tell Nino he far preferred the spontaneity.
One sloppy kitchen blowjob from Jun later, Nino thanked him in the shower, sneaking in with him to return the favor, kneeling on the slick bottom of Jun’s tub and taking Jun’s cock nearly to the back of his throat in one practiced motion. Jun kind of wanted to fuck Nino right then and there, to punish him for asking Sho such rude and intrusive questions, having to just bend over and take it in some awkward position. But Jun, as always, tamped down his darker impulses in favor of Nino’s preferred status quo. He took Nino by the hair, pushed him away. “Go to my room and get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, in just the tone of voice Nino liked best.
He toweled off only enough that his hands were dry, to roll on a condom without it slipping from his fingers. He listened to Nino’s hot little grunts, doling out the “reward” Nino wanted for being a nice fellow and going out to socialize with an old friend when he much preferred staying in with his Xbox. When Nino was leaving later on, pulling his boxers back on while Jun stripped down the bed, he asked a question he’d probably been holding in since they’d left the restaurant.
“You going to apply? At Sho-chan’s company?”
“I don’t know.”
Nino tugged on his t-shirt, looking at him curiously. “Maybe you ought to. Aiba-shi loves you, of course, but he might be even happier if he could give himself the credit for getting you something new via Sho-chan.”
The truth was, Jun had been thinking of Sho most of the evening, when Nino went down on him in the bathroom, when he was close to coming. He and Sakurai Sho had only kissed, in the sloppy, antsy manner of two teenage boys in a park at night, hoping nobody was coming their way. Was Sho gay? Maybe not, if he’d fathered a child. Was Sho straight? Jun remembered that night, though, the way that Sho had held on to him when they’d kissed. Experimental it might have been, but it had been real. Maybe he was bisexual. Or like Sho’s pronouncement about his divorce, he was simply complicated.
“I’ll see what happens,” Jun decided, kissing Nino goodbye and wishing he didn’t feel so weak every time Nino left, every time he let Nino go instead of embarrassing him by asking if he’d stay over. But was it really weakness, wanting someone to stay? Wanting something permanent when everything else in his life right now was temporary?
When his apartment door closed, Jun headed for his laptop, looking up the jobs page for Sakurai Medical Supply.
-
“There’s been a slight change to the position,” Kiritani-san said to him apologetically, within seconds of Jun’s arrival for his second round of interviews at Sakurai Medical Supply three weeks later. Kiritani-san, a thin, perky woman who served as recruitment specialist and had been Jun’s primary contact, had a file folder for him.
“Does that affect my candidacy?” Jun asked nervously, wishing instead that he could be worrying about normal interview things like if his tie was crooked, if there was food stuck in his teeth, if he would fumble over his words when they asked him questions.
“No,” Kiritani said, smiling. “It’s still an administrative position. See, the thing is, there are actually two admin slots open now. The one you initially applied for, with the executive suite, and one that opened late last week, after your first interview. Since you’re such a strong candidate, Matsumoto-san, we were hoping you’d interview with both teams, in case you’re a better fit for one or the other.”
Jun hadn’t wanted to work in sales, and there’d been no open positions in PR where Sho’s sister worked. Instead Jun had seen the listing for an administrative assistant, something he knew he could do and do well. Half his job working for Kiko had involved managing her day to day schedule, and then at the animal hospital he did practically the same thing. Here it would be fairly easy, he figured, scheduling meetings, arranging client visits, booking travel, processing expense reports. Though Jun had only a high school diploma, something he’d somehow managed to get despite Sho pretty much abandoning him, his previous work experience had gotten him in the door.
“What’s the other department?” he asked.
Kiritani-san opened the folder. “It would be with Overseas Distribution. Their admin resigned suddenly last week, a death in the family.”
Jun might have been hearing alarm sirens going off in his head, he was so suddenly nervous. “And…what…what does that department do exactly?”
“They primarily maintain accounts with clients in China, Southeast Asia, India…other places Sakurai sells to. They’re a good group, might be a little less stressful than the executive admin position.”
Not likely, Jun knew, because this new job would put him in a very awkward position. If he was hearing Kiritani-san correctly and he got the job, Sho would be his boss. He’d be booking Sho’s travel, he’d be scheduling Sho’s meetings. He’d be doing any odd job Sho asked of him. After he’d applied for the job in the first place, he’d sent Sho an email, to his work address. Sho had sounded so thrilled for him, his enthusiasm carrying Jun through his first interview without problems.
Then their email correspondence had continued, especially one week where Sho was in Vietnam smoothing things over with a client, sending Jun photos of dull airport scenes after his flight home was delayed a few hours. They’d even made plans to meet up again for a meal sometime soon, this time without Nino. The crush that Jun had carefully nurtured during his teen years had blossomed once again, strengthening with each email Sho sent him, each message like a modern-day version of their late night calls years earlier. Talking about nothing and not seeming to mind. Sho had even sought out Jun’s “fashion expertise” the other day, sending him pictures of two ties with a handful of question marks. Sho’s thank you reply had included a heart emoji, though Jun doubted Sho had noticed he’d done so. Sometimes a heart emoji was just a heart emoji.
If Sho’s admin had quit last week and Sho knew that Jun was still in the running for the other admin job, why hadn’t he said anything? Sho had had no say in the first round of interviews, since Jun’s application and the department had no overlap with his own, Jun knew he’d made it through on his own merits. But this was different. This was something Sho should have told him.
Jun couldn’t work for him.
Not because Sho had lied to him, or at the very least had withheld vital information. But because Jun simply could not let Sho be his boss. He couldn’t have Sho in a position of power over him, not if he was developing feelings for him. Kiritani-san held out the folder, looking at him expectantly.
“I’ve got the full details about the position here. If you like, we can bring you straight from your interview for the executive position to Overseas Distribution. I had them clear some time. They’ve got a temp in this week, but they’re definitely looking to fill the position soon and…”
“Kiritani-san,” Jun interrupted, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. “Thank you very much for the opportunity, I truly appreciate it. But I’d like to stay on track with the executive admin position. And only that position, please.”
“Of course,” she said, though Jun would be lying if he didn’t see the confusion in her eyes. “Not a problem at all. I’m terribly sorry for springing this on you so suddenly.”
“It’s fine. Thank you.”
He ended up spending a full hour talking with Takenaka-san, a small man with a deep, confident voice and a ready smile who was the company’s Director of Sales and Marketing. As he had in their previous meeting, he’d brought along a handful of his direct report employees, the Executive Vice President of Sales, the Executive Vice President of Marketing, and a few more VP-level sales leaders. In the position, Jun would mainly be responsible for Takenaka-san, though he might be called upon at any time to assist the Sales and Marketing division with scheduling or with catering in meals for major client meetings. He’d also have to ensure that Takenaka-san had “at least five” days per month where he was able to take a half day to attend an improv acting course.
“That’s not a joke either,” Takenaka had said, pushing his thick-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes we all have a second calling.”
“Of course,” Jun replied, maintaining a straight face. After all, he’d been the all too patient manager of a young woman who’d just reached adulthood, who expected Jun to find time to book her spa visits and to get frozen yogurt for her at all hours of the day. Penciling in Takenaka-san’s improv classes would be a cake walk.
The interview had been laidback, with Takenaka even bringing Jun out of the meeting room and hauling him into his office, presenting him with a messy stack of receipts. “How much does old man Sakurai owe me?” Takenaka had asked him jovially. “You have three minutes.”
While Takenaka stood there, grinning, Jun had quickly organized all the receipts by date, tabulating numbers in his mind. Despite his nervousness, he kept a cool head and presented Takenaka with a total.
“You know, I haven’t even added them up myself,” Takenaka admitted, shocking Jun a little, but then the man had patted him on the back heartily. “But I’m sure you’re right. You’re quick. I prefer quick. When I’m on the shinkansen to our Osaka office and back once a week, I’m liable to be texting you the whole time to get things done. I can be a real pain in the ass. Can you handle a grouchy old man like me, Matsumoto-san?”
“I wouldn’t peg you as old, sir.”
“Perfectly answered!” chimed in the woman who was the head of marketing and they all had another good laugh.
When Kiritani-san met him after his interview, she asked him again if he had any interest in pursuing the other position. But he already knew. He knew he had the job.
“No, but thank you very much.”
He wondered if Sho would be upset that he didn’t even try for it. He wondered if Sho would be offended. But he didn’t have to wonder for very long.
By the beginning of the following week, Jun had a job offer and a follow-up email from Sho, congratulating him and asking if they might move up their timetable on having a meal together so Sho could celebrate with him. He had plans that night already with Nino and Aiba, but he took the initiative. He had a new job to look forward to, forward momentum. He wasn’t chaperoning a superstar, but he supposed that Director of Sales and Marketing Takenaka Naoto was pretty close to celebrity status at Sakurai Medical Supply.
Let me treat you sometime this week, Jun texted Sho, Do you like home cooking? I’m good at it.
It was a big leap forward, maybe too forward, Jun thought, but Sho had spent the last month addressing him as “Matsujun” and pretty much only “Matsujun,” a nickname from the past Sho simply couldn’t shake. Sho had called him Matsujun when he’d pressed the button from his jacket into his hand.
Sounds great! I’m free after 7:00 tomorrow night! Or the night after, Sho replied, but I have Saya-chan this weekend.
Tomorrow, Jun answered. Come hungry.
part three