Johnny Rocker - RocknRolla 2/4
Former Johnny’s are rarely all seen together. Jimusho-wide events have long since ended, but the one place where they all gather on occasion is the one place where no one will ever see. That is the private underground bar affectionately named Shokura.
With a baseball game on the wide-screen near the fireplace, the enclosed curtain booths and scattered tables are packed with various one-time Johnny’s, what’s mostly left of the J&A era and a few HeySays that aren’t in Sho-san’s employ. The noise of chatter and music is deafening, but Joker finds it a relief next to the silence the three of them can’t seem to break. Romes deals a pack of cards out, not even able to say the words to ask them what they want to play, Long sits-- hands under the table and chin resting on it-staring at the ice in his glass. Joker just smokes cigarillos watching the smoke waft upward in miniature swirls.
“I’m so sorry, you guys,” Long mutters at the table.
“Shut up or I swear to god I’ll punch you in the coccyx,” Romes replies lightly, not looking up from his shuffling.
Long seems to find this incredibly funny and he sits for a moment giggling at the table.
Joker rolls his eyes, but is jolted when a stubby set of knuckles rap suddenly on their booth.
“Got a light, Joker?”
They all lift their eyes to the man still known as Nino, all slouched in an old Diesel jacket that’s way too big for him, smile rigid and twitching. Practically an attachment, Ohno stands a bit behind him, silent and sleepy-looking as just a phasing out presence. Both are bleary-eyed and clearly tanked on their usual junk. Nino appears to be swaying particularly close to them, his nervous, jittery hands twirling his cigarette between his fingers. Joker wordlessly slips his lighter across the table.
“Phanks,” Nino mutters candidly, placing the cigarette on the corner of his mouth as he lights. “So…Long, got any gear?”
Long’s eyebrow quirks up as he has the decency to look stern. “I’m clean, Nino-chan; I’m facing a five stretch for dealing in case you didn’t know.”
Blue, stale smoke settles down as Nino exhales, small mouth quirking deviously. “Thought it was drug theft. Find out who grassed you out?”
Romes sits up, laying his cards down. “You two want to piss off, seriously.”
Nino raises his hands in a mock gesture of surrender before he wipes his nose skittishly. “Cool it, Ro-chan. We’re just dropping in to check on the wares and make some yen if we’re lucky…”
“We met a friend of yours today; he’s pretty interested in money himself,” Joker mutters, holding his hand out for his lighter before Nino can pocket it.
“You’ve seen Sho-chan?” an expression, as good as one could term it an expression flitters over Ohno’s features as he blinks at Joker, mouth formed in an unmoving “o”.
Nino shoots him a sharp glance.
“Funny how you knew who he were talking about immediately.” Romes makes the remark, leaning his arms back against the seat. Long sits up, looking around apprehensively.
Nino removes his cigarette-- expelling another rush of blue smoke out his nose-- before he rests his small hands on the table, seeming to shrink even smaller in his jacket. “Just like we don’t hound you about who you used to be, we’d expect the same courtesy, Oh-chan and I. People change, we gotta accept that. And half of what Sho does is fuelled by what we expect from him...”
Joker, Romes, and Long stare silently at Nino. His sharp, small features are steely, his long, clever eyes are still glazed with whatever gear he’s on. Sharply, almost like static, he smiles. “Of course, I’d be just as rich as he is, if Oh-chan and I didn’t love the snow lights so much, isn’t that right, Oh-chan?”
Ohno, having checked out moments after his question earlier, blinks and gives Nino a lazy smile in response. Joker and Romes both look away derisively as Nino pounces on the other man, smothering him with gropes and kisses. Long just laughs.
It’s as Joker looks away that he spots the metal door on the other end opening to admit a nervous-looking Ru. The way his long gait seems to apologise for simply existing in the room--in just that moment-- is so familiar to him he can’t resist hollering.
“Ru! We’re here!”
Ru appears to gather himself, straightening and offering a stolidly dour expression to anyone who looks up at him. By the time he reaches them, Long jumps up wrapping the arms that earned him his nickname tightly around Ru.
“Welcome back!”
Ru disentangles himself, looking a bit put-out as he catches sight of Romes’ still firm scowl fixed on him. Joker can’t help himself though; he calls for another round as Ru slides into the booth beside him.
“Romes’ payoff tonight was pretty steep so let’s celebrate,” he announces offhandedly.
Ru’s mouth curves with some semblance of tired amusement. “Hey, Koki,” he says softly. And Joker has to clench his fists to keep from shoving the guy or grabbing him into a fierce hug both of which would spill the drinks. He settles for grabbing the scotch bottle and throwing a shot down especially for Ru.
“You’re not leaving here sober, you asshole,” he shoots at him smugly. Long chuckles and Romes starts dealing the deck again, looking down at the table, lips trembling.
“We’ll play Asshole then,” he mutters, bronze hair hiding his face, but they all spot the grudging smile.
Long collapses into a spate of hilarity, and as Joker reaches over to smack the back of Long’s head and Ru folds his arms, leaning back with that smile, it’s six years ago again and the only thing by way of plans they have is to make more easy geru.
Joker watches the transformation as the game Asshole turns into a gleeful shouting match between Romes and Long which turns into Poker with stakes on dumb things like eight hairs from Romeo’s left leg, the rest of Long’s self-respect, Joker’s last cigarillo, and Ru’s Müller, much to his laughing protest. It’s like he’s spinning on a timeline, stretching things back, but not to when they were simpler, but to the point where their lives really began. That lively, hot scotch-flavoured moment when they looked around and realised the people around them would be all they’d need.
Romeo, hard muscle and sharp, angry looks is pretty orange-haired Uepomu who can’t take his liquor. Stern and sarcastic Ru-- their wild card-- is soon talking fast, drunk and chatty as he tries to peek at the cards in Taguchi’s hands, who just chortles rakishly--once keyed up on some pill or other-- now just high on his own laughter, thinks he’s winning while Koki-- the same if he ever felt it-- has a full house, waiting for his moment to lay down his cards. Make them laugh again, watch Long writhe with glee even as he loses spectacularly.
Two-thirty in the a.m. and Romeo has wandered off with their waitress, “for some fresh air,” he says.
“We gotta do this at least once every week,” Ru slurs, pressing the knuckles of his fist against Joker’s arm before he slips out to stagger off to the bathroom.
Joker nods but notices Long looking at him steadily across the table, a sad cautious look and he looks back not sure what to say. In just under three days, Junno wouldn’t be here anymore and he’d never say it out loud but nothing about this would feel right again.
“It’ll be cool, ok, Long? Maybe…”
Taguchi shrugs, pulling his whiskey on the rocks closer. “I’m not dumb, Joker. If they’ve got an informer than I’m definitely getting that five-stretch. We…we should just waste some time together before the trial comes.”
Helpless, mouth numb, he pounces on that. “That’s right! We’ll throw you a party the night before. We’ll invite everyone, send you off with a bang.”
Long smiles, line of white teeth like a special relief against the burnt yellow light of the bar. “Like my birthday, right?” he murmurs complacently. “A day just for Long Johnny…” he hiccoughs a little and Joker can’t help grinning back.
“Yeah. We can dedicate a whole day to it; it’s all you.”
Long gets that daring look in his eyes as he squints at Joker, as if he’s bursting with something. “Longest day of the year, eh?” And he covers his face with his hand as he resumes his chortles, shoulders shaking and Koki squeezes his glass, wishing Ru or Romeo would come back and interrupt.
At least some things never change.
“Oi! Joker! Phone for you,” Long shouts listlessly and Joker, surprised, looks up from helping Romes stretch. Long rarely sounds like that, but as he takes the phone Long just breezes past him, silent and without smiles.
“Hello?” he mutters, watching Junno’s retreating back with confusion.
“I see he’s still out of jail; did you three manage to bury his sentence or what?”
It takes Joker a moment to realise whom he’s speaking to. “Kazu?” he hisses, turning his back on Romes’ curious gaze.
“Mm,” she says softly. “So talk to me; what’s going on with Taguchi.”
“What did he say to you? Does he know about you? What’s happened?”
He can sort of hear her roll her eyes over the phone. “He just thinks I’m some woman looking for you. Would you answer my question? How much do you need to get Taguchi’s case file buried?”
“We went to Sakurai Sho for the connection, but we didn’t have the money and he wouldn’t take our offer to work and Taguchi went all noble on us and didn’t want us to forfeit the building.”
She sighs, and it’s a buzzing rush against his ear. “I don’t even know why I’m doing it like this, but look, I’ve got a way for you to get some cash and you can solve your problem.”
“What?”
“You guys have been doing this kind of thing for years so just set aside your ambitions for a day or so and just do what I tell you,” she snaps.
“What are you talking about?” he demands in a whisper. Romes is standing up, frowning at him.
“Just listen; I can’t talk long. Tomorrow morning there’ll be two accountants coming out of a bank I know with five hundred million and it won’t be protected. You take it, and use whatever you need to pull Taguchi out of the jailhouse and fix up your building, ok?”
“Kazu…”
“I don’t want this coming back to me, got it? It’s the only thing I can do right now and I’m really compromising myself…” she ends on a sharp breath, as if a realisation has caught her. “I know I’m just on some kind of hero kick; humour me, Koki. At least fix things on your end.”
She hangs up and Joker stands there, phone still in hand, stunned. He makes some air time when Romes pops up from behind him. “What are you up to?” he asks briskly.
Joker frowns. “Romeo, we’ve just been handed a golden opportunity.”
Sho has entered an uncharacteristically foul mood, and as they had made their rounds earlier in the day, collecting funds and dispersing them, his entire disposition only grew darker. Ru had tried to be a bit more cheerful for his benefit, but the whole Yamashita deal had taken Sho-san down a large number of notches.
He’s going to be the owner of over eighty million once he’s paid off his contacts from this deal alone which’ll expand the ventures of the jimusho, put him in big with more of the elite, but all at the risk of cheating his pride. Still, Ru’s attempts at heartiness are met with silences and thoughtful looks. So naturally he’s surprised when he receives a call at three a.m. and Sho’s name blinks on his screen.
“H-hello?” he murmurs, not fully awake.
“Ru, I’ve been robbed!”
Ru pauses. “What?”
“I said I’ve been robbed!”
“Wh-when?” is all Ru can think to ask as he rolls out of bed, grabbing his trousers.
“How would I know when? It’s that fedora! I set it near my desk, no one else has been here, and it’s gone! The hatcase is empty!”
Ru is now much more awake as he pulls his belt up, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. He has no words as he considers what it might mean to tell Yamashita-kun that Sho has lost Jin’s fedora. The looks in that man’s eyes alone spoke volumes and vows of how many bullets would be shot through the both of them the moment this got out.
“Ru, this is not good…” Sho murmurs, echoing Ru’s thoughts precisely.
“I’ll be right over, Sho,” Ru replies, slipping into his shirt.
“Right, please come quick. Bring the juniors.”
The juniors are not even juniors anymore, but it’s what Sho and many others keep calling them. A light smattering of HeySays, Kisumai boys, and a couple of members from what was once Question? and FiVe. Shot for work and nearly broke, a great number of them were called to work directly under Sho. Unlike Ru, they’re the ones that are sent out for the dirty work, for moments like this where Sho, short hair all over the place on his head, is on edge, tired, and just ultimately useless.
That is why Ru is there. And he knows this is going to be dumped into his lap; he’ll be put directly responsible for dictating and it’s been ages, and he feels just as keyed up as Sho at the moment.
Gathered in Sho’s dimly-lit office, staring at the bare table where the hat case stands, empty, Sho paces and Ru pensively looks at the juniors. They’re a respectable bunch and Ru is proud of what he’s taught most of them, but some of them still haven’t grasped their position.
Yaotome-kun, swaying from being pulled out of bed minutes before, yawns, his eyes still shut. “So, where was it, Sakurai-kun?”
The other juniors glance at him and Ru sends him a sharp incredulous look. Sho pauses in his pacing, hand brushing into his hair. “For god sake, Ru, slap that one; this type of stupidity isn’t what I pay you for….” He turns on his heel, fingers sweeping against his cheek nervously. He’s done in. “I really can’t take anymore of this.” Sho pulls at his own tie, eyes swimming with rocketing nerves. “Right, I’m leaving this to you, so find that fedora, bring me a body or something because I’m going to bed!”
It’s only as the door shuts that Ru sighs and looks over at Yaotome-kun. That one had been a hard egg to crack even back during their music days. “Hikaru,” he snaps. “You keep asking idiotic questions like that, you see Akun there? He’s going to hit you.”
Igo Akun, round-shouldered and stern, glances down at Yaotome, who purses his lips, round eyes flickering to Ru. “Was just trying to show initiative…” he mutters.
Ru shuts his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Akun, hit him.”
Akun turns and offers a wack to Yaotome’s head.
“No,” Ru slips his hands in his pockets, looking dour. “Do it properly. With your right.”
Akun looks confused, but he turns back around and cuffs Yaotome’s cheek. Yaotome stumbles back a bit, but he blinks sheepishly around.
“No, no, no, no, Akun. You grab his collar and you bring your palm down on him; put your arm into it.”
Akun squints at Ru, shrugging apologetically. “I never took tennis lessons…”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Ru groans exasperatedly as he comes around the desk toward Yaotome, who stares at him, mouth open. They all stare at him as he pulls Hikaru forward. “Like this,” he says poignantly before bringing his right palm crashing over Hikaru’s bent head. The younger man yips as he stumbles forward, dazed when Ru lets him go.
“Ah,” Yaotome mumbles as his knees buckle, taking him to the floor.
“There,” Ru continues, stepping back. “Some of you HeySays might have seen me do this back in the day, and it’s true that if you can manage a good, strong slap like that, your clients and contacts will have no reason to hold back. They’ll chat with you like you’re holding their debut interview and they’ve waited years.”
Hikaru takes a shaking moment to get to his feet and the other juniors stare.
“I don’t believe there’s need for strong violence,” Ru explains, glancing at each of them in turn. “You can regress them back to their childhood, and it’s as good as a scary lecture from your sensei. If that doesn’t work, you cut ‘em or you pay ‘em, but keep your receipts; this isn’t yakuza.” A still, inspired moment passes after he’s done speaking, and Ru folds his arms as he delivers the quiet order, “Now get out there, and look for that fedora.”
“Which direction are they coming from?” Romeo queries absently, fiddling with his security vest that keeps sliding off his shoulder. There aren’t many bank security guards out there with bare collarbones and somehow a lightweight boxer like Romes manages to make the bulky uniform look like a fashion article draped over him with the cuffs all the way down to his fingertips.
“From the left, I think.” Joker leans around their alcove, tucking his billy club underarm. He hears Romes let out a grunt of frustration as his collar slides sideways again. “Just button it to the top, already!” he snaps.
Romes looks at him a bit mulishly. He unbuttons two more, eyebrow raised. Joker glares.
They stand in silence, watching the walls opposite from their spot outside the bank. It’s not even a long wait as two well-dressed men exit the bank, both with metal briefcases. Joker shoots a glance at Romes who nods, ready.
The two men round their vehicle and one of them glances at Joker, takes in their security uniforms, and offers a nod.
“Hi,” Romes nods back, his smile like a brand of sparkle in its own right.
“…Hi,” the man replies slowly, exchanging glances with the other man.
Joker gives them a salute and both men pause and he smiles. “If you don’t mind just dropping those bags and stepping away from the car.”
One man freezes. “What?”
“Drop the bags in the car.” Joker orders, still smiling affably.
Both men set the briefcases inside.
Romes makes a shooing motion with his baton. “Off you go.”
“Wait, is this a robbery?” the man on the left demands, eyes wide.
Joker steps out of his alcove, Romes right behind him. They move over to either end of the car as the men back away. “Damn straight it is,” he returns lightly. “Now fuck off.”
They slide in and Joker sits behind the wheel while Romeo smirks. “Nicely executed, Joker-san,” he remarks slyly.
“Thank you kindly, Romeo-san.”
Romes, pulls the briefcases to the car floor and Joker slips on his seatbelt, and stares blankly at the wheel for a moment.
“What are you doing?” asks Romes.
Joker bites his lip pensively. “I…don’t have the keys.”
Romeo pauses, glancing at the window. “There they are, in his hand. Just get them from him.”
Joker hesitates. “This is...soo embarrassing.”
“Joker, what the hell?” Romes cries.
Joker, bright red, rolls down his window. “Give me those,” he snaps, holding his hand out. Shaking, the accountant drops the keys in his open palm. He rolls the window back up as he turns on the ignition, ears burning.
Romes leans his arm against his window, observing Joker trying to start the car. “Tell me you can drive stick. I will be so very surprised,” he mutters derisively.
“Shut up,” Joker mutters, jogging the gear shift. The car shudders and lags as he puts his foot down. He can feel both accountants and Romeo gazing at him in utter incredulity.
“You’ll want to reverse,” Romes supplies, tone still inexonerably mocking.
“Would you shut it?” Joker hisses, wincing as the engine groans. Glaring bloody massacre, he rolls the window down again. “How the fuck do you reverse?!” he shouts and the accountant jumps back, visibly panicked as he points at the black knob near Joker’s knee. Romeo’s leans his head on the dashboard, shaking with laughter.
The engine roars as he manages to pull the gearshift back while yanking the knob and the car wheels back. Joker says nothing as they pull out and Romes is crying with laughter as they drive off.
Late afternoon, car parked behind a warehouse pointed toward Nishi-Shinjuku, Joker borrows Romes’ phone to call Ru. When he picks up, Ru’s tone sounds a bit harried on the other end. “What?”
“Ru, it’s me, Joker,” he says hesitantly.
“Ah,” Ru’s stern tone softens, but he still manages to sounds a bit hapless. “Look, Koki. Something shitty’s going down right now so I’ve got a lot to deal with. I won’t be coming down to Shokura until this is settled-“
“No, Ru. It’s cool. We got the money for Sho-san…over Long’s sentence?”
“What? Really? All of it?”
“And then some,” Joker grins, catching Romes’ eye. “You wanna come get it or should we meet you somewhere…”
“Um, I’m gonna have to call Sho first. Things are a mess right now; I’ll get right back to you…”
Joker hands Romes back his phone. “Should I call Long with the good news then?” he asks, flipping it back open, but he catches sight of Joker’s pensive expression. “What’s up?”
“Don’t call just yet; Ru’s gonna talk to Sho-san about it so we can get this cash to him and deliberate what to do next.”
Romes nods, but his dark eyes remain fixed on Joker. “So you gonna tell me where you got this tip or are we gonna keep playing around like this?”
Joker grimaces. “Come on, Romes. If I don’t tell you something, it’s not ‘cause I’m actively trying to make you antsy. I’m genuinely trying to protect someone.”
“Someone… important?” Romeo echoes a bit lightly and Joker shoots him a hard look, but Romes just shrugs. “Whatever, I’m a millionaire; friendships clearly don’t matter anymore,” he announces with an impressive sulk, kicking his seat back to recline.
They sit in a silent dissatisfied huff as Romeo fiddles with his seat and Joker rolls down his window to light up.
“Being forever alone with your money aside,” Romes says finally. “I still say we should call Long. Let him know tonight’s party isn’t goodbye…he’ll like that.”
Joker can already picture the tool’s face lighting up, a whole world of relief and gratitude crossing over those expressive features. It sort of makes his teeth hurt for some reason. “Let’s wait ‘til we’re certain,” he murmurs back.
Sitting in the backseat of the R-Class Benz, Ru dials up Sho-san. When Ru finally gets through, Sho sounds like he’s been running a marathon; his tone raked dry and slurring. Drinking too. Super.
“Have you found it?!” he demands the moment he recognises Ru’s voice.
“No, but I’ve got good news.”
“And Yamashita’s money hasn’t come through… why the hell is everything falling to pieces now?” Slow, impatient breathing on the other end. “Well, out with it; what’s the good news?”
Ru hesitates. “Well, Joker and others. They want to take up your offer, but instead of the building, they’ve got the money.”
The pause on the other end is like a shadow filtering through the line, and Ru already knows how this is going to end.
“You… called to tell me some trio of kouhai want me to do them another favour, you haven’t found out who stole that stupid hat…what part of this is good news?”
Ru opens his mouth, uncertain how to approach this. “The trial is tomorrow. They’re a bit desperate-“
“Ru! Don’t call me until you’re ready to bring me the fedora and those responsible! Call Yoko for me and give him a hundred thousand for some info…whatever. Just bring me actual results!” He hangs up and Ru is left staring at his phone. And he feels it, the same way he felt that morning just days ago, looking down at Jin’s photograph. A strange empty resilience, survival where it isn’t meant.
His hands shake as he dials Koki back.
“Sho says he…he can’t help.” I can’t help “I’m so sorry, Koki.” They tumble out of him, the apologies, and he tries not to think of how the three of them looked the other day, standing in a row under Sho’s weary, critical gaze. He knows that five years will alter Taguchi in subtle ways he’ll never regain and having known Junno for this long, it hurts perhaps the most.
“Don’t…” Joker sighs, but he sounds the way Ru feels. “Don’t blame yourself, whatever’s going on. This isn’t your fault; we’re gonna get through this, all right?”
He makes something noncommittal by way of reply, throat tight.
But it’s only when Koki hangs up that Ru comes to a decision. He sets his phone down, hand resting on his forehead. He feels a pair of eyes on him and looks up. Yabu, seated behind the wheel next to Yaotome, is blinking at him curiously in the rear view. “Umm…where to next, Ru-san?”
He pauses, looking at the two boys thoughtfully. “Kabukicho,” he returns slowly, still thinking.
If he wants to slip this under the radar, then he’s going to have to get everything done in one night. He knows he can do it, it was the reason Sho picked him six years ago; he was innovative. Four years behind bars hasn’t changed that; the only difference between then and now is that Ru has lost a lot of his self-possessed scruples. Where the unassuming ambition once burned inside him, there is only ruthlessness now.
Yabu parks on the curb, waiting as Ru, pen lid in his mouth, scribbles out a lengthy note.
“Hikaru-kun,” he says finally. “I’m going to give you two this envelope; it has about two hundred mill; you’re going to head over to the district prosecutor’s house at…” he pauses, sliding open his blackbook, skimming down some numbers before handing it to him. “Take these addresses down and go there immediately once I get out. Tell the man you meet at each place that Sakurai-san sent you, pass a hundred to him discreetly along with the note.”
“When do we come back and pick you up, Ru?”
Ru sits up, adjusting his pistol sideways in his belt. “You don’t. Once you get that done, you can take the rest of the night off. I’ll be looking for that fedora tonight.” They both nod, watching as Ru steps out of the car, buttoning up his coat despite the wafty summer night. It feels like the heat before rain.
His destination is a dive bar in the backstreets, tucked carefully behind a hostess club. Just a single shaft of artificial light leads the way down this empty, dioxin filled alleyway. So dank is the area that the rain from two days ago still hasn’t dried on the broken cobbles and there’s a certain mustiness that makes Ru hold his breath as he trots over to the entrance.
The large man waiting there, upon spotting Ru, just steps aside.
The space is crowded, and from the smell of things, it’s with a lot of users that wouldn’t be tolerated at Shokura. He recognises quite a few faces, sprawled on the furniture. He isn’t half surprised when he locks eyes with Nino first as he enters. Leaned so slothfully over a back that looks like Ohno’s, he’s as thin as ever, and despite his clear under-eye deterioration, he looks just as lively, a glittering mockery still sitting on the very curl of his smile.
“Ru-chan!” he calls blearily as he gets up with surprising ease. “This is rare…what brings you down here? We got amoeba and hail with all the artillery, but they’ll probably make you add in some scratch for a spike of amidone that you won’t even get since the supplier’s just double-dipping.”
Ru frowns. “I don’t even know what you’re saying. I’m looking for Baru.”
“Ah, right. He’s just into the hookah tonight so you can find him on the third floor in the back alcove. I’ll take you there actually.”
Subaru, usually dealing in Naniwa, often comes down to Tokyo to run his hothouses all part of the biggest chain of drug supply clubs in the southern parts of Japan. Because he has to stay on track and keep an eye on who’s using and who’s gone clean, he knows more about the streets of urban Japan than the rats themselves. Within the short time he’s been into this business, Subaru’s become a fortified world of disgusting information.
And the speed in which that someone had stolen that fedora indicated he, setting aside the fact that it was a priceless item, was either trying to mess with Sho or he had to be a crackhead deluded into thinking he could buy himself a week in the snow for its selling price. And Baru was bound to know either one of these.
They’re halfway up the stairs when Ru realises that Nino’s talking to him. “…heard your friend’s facing a five-stretch for drug theft.”
Ru glares. “That isn’t any of your business.” He steps around some girl shooting up on the first landing. “Does everyone know about that?”
Nino snickers, shooting him a look over his shoulder. “It was sort of unexpected knowledge considering the man who told me…ohh, I bet you’re dying to know who told me.”
“No,” Ru returns, dead-pan. “I’m really not.”
“Suit yourself. Still think you’d like to know though,” Nino adds smugly, hopping up two steps at once. Ru won’t deny that it bothers him that a crack-addicted thirty-five year old is just as jumpy and small-looking with a face that looks like it’s barely scraping twenty to match.
Baru doesn’t say a word when they push the sliding metal door open. He’s alone, the television in front of him flickering, but his small frame is still, sharp and riveted on the screen. There’s a moment before Ru notices there’s more than the smell of hookah in the room. He really hates it here.
When they step further into the light, Baru finally shoots an affable glance at them, a small smile for both of them. “Nino, you know it makes me uneasy when you bring people up at this hour. Can you believe they’re showing reruns of Janiben…”
“It’s Sho-chan’s lapdog,” Nino prods, grabbing Ru’s shoulders and pressing him forward so that Subaru looks at him properly.
“Ah, Ru; what brings you to my world?”
Ru sighs. “I’m looking for a hat,” he says, deciding to ignore Nino’s snort. “It was in Sho’s office for no more than twenty-four hours before it went missing, nicked right out of his house.”
Subaru reaches for his remote and switches off the television, leaving the three of them in just the light from out in the stairwell. “A hat, you say?”
“A fedora, actually. You’d know Yamashita’s back in town because of Nishikido-“
Subaru chuckles. “That’s right, and he took a leaf out of the book of humiliation and loaned Sakurai that fedora, didn’t he?”
Ru folds his arms. “And now it’s been stolen, so there’s no way of returning it, which is only going to start some useless crime war.”
Nino sits on the sofa to the left, curling his knees in. “Hmm, I wonder who could possibly have taken it.”
There’s just way too much self-satisfaction in Nino’s tone that Ru pauses and looks at him steadily for a moment. “It wasn’t you, was it?” he asks, low and dangerous. “Did you use it to con some other junkie into wanting to sell it?”
Nino’s expression doesn’t change, his narrow, observing eyes still glitter with something malevolent. “The only person who’d buy or steal that hat is the owner of it, wouldn’t you say?” he asks finally. “I mean, it’s not like anyone sane would wear it in the first place considering whom it belonged to.”
Ru scoffs exasperatedly. “You’re crazy. Yamashita wouldn’t pay for someone to steal it back just to get Sho into a panic… it wouldn’t accomplish a thing. A scheme like that’s got stupid written all over it.”
“Stupid yeah… reckless, stubborn, childish, maybe a little adorable,” Nino smirks. “You’re right, shouldn’t have said anything.”
Ru isn’t sure what Nino is getting at nor why he’s so insistent on being a part of this matter.
Finally Subaru murmurs, “Well, whoever stole it is bound to turn up soon enough in my circle. I’ll keep an eye peeled for you, Ru. I heard some news about a robbery up by a bank in Omotesando, but that’s about it, really.”
Ru sighs. “OK, Baru; thanks. Call me as soon as you hear a word, all right?”
“Absolutely,” he says, picking up the remote to switch the tube back on while simultaneously reaching for the hookah pipe. Ru, a little disappointed, turns for the exit.
He gets halfway down the stairs when it clicks. And he realises that Nino rarely ever speaks to anyone anymore unless he’s trying to get something whether that be thrills or a chance at free gear. And he’s certainly never had a reason to speak to Ru so casually. He backtracks and jogs back up the steps, sliding open the metal door again.
Nino is smiling as he enters, clearly waiting.
Ru reaches behind into his belt for his gun. He points it, hand steady. “What do you know, and you’d better tell me quickly.”
The little actor’s mouth quirks up, front teeth shining blue in the glare from the television. “No problem at all, Ru. Still it’s just plain courtesy to help those who help you, isn’t it?”
“Oi, Ru; put that thing away,” Subaru grumbles, not looking up from his show. “We need to learn to be free of that sort of thing.”
He hesitates, eyes locked on Nino’s smirking face and he sighs tucking the gun away. “I’ll give you two hundred thousand. Just spit it out.”
Nino’s grin grows wider, his eyes shining for the first time in the longest time. “I know where your cute little hat is being hidden,” he announces calmly, rising from his spot on Subaru’s couch.
Ru reaches into his pocket and unearths his wallet. “So tell me.”
“Head over to Ni-chome, there’s a karaoke box up there by this place called Annex. Look for a blue light down the alley and that’s your entrance. The last karaoke booth; that’s where you’ll find it.”
Ru counts out two hundred between wary looks at Nino. “If you’re stringing me along, so help me…”
“Why would I?” Nino returns comfortably. “You’re the one playing the crime game, not me.”
Wordlessly, Ru lays the money on the coffee table and Nino offers a frank, cold smile with a wink as he picks up the cash.
“Thanks,” Ru finally mumbles before he slips out.
Despite the vague way in which Nino had dictated the location, it didn’t take Ru long to spot the neon blue in the alleyway distant. As he enters the dark, he keeps his sleeve pulled down, but his pistol tucked into his palm. The cusp of it being that something feels wrong because his entire brain is screaming in one direction. He feels and sees, but the entire gesture of walking down this buzzing, dangerous path is that he feels the destination like it’s something far more inevitable than it really is.
What can he expect? An empty room at the end of the karaoke booths, the fedora sitting there. No, it’s entirely different and his palms sweat. The place is not packed, but the occasional passers-by jolt him from the trance-like manner by which he approaches these rooms. White walls, and sizzling neon lights glare down at him and it sounds like deep vibrations from the music rocket up his bones. Ru squints in the bleary light under smoke and laughter distant.
It’s not the voice, but the song that gets his attention. He doesn’t know the lyrics; they’re in English, but he remembers the tones and the strange trills he could never manage back when he used to sing. He steps further down the hall; the voice isn’t quite on-key and words are missed, pronounced strangely. The name of the song has escaped him, but knows it only by context, hearing it warm his ears as he takes each step closer, eyes still squinted toward the dark end.
It’s when he’s one door away from the last that the title hits him because he’s thinking about his gun and he remembers the film and Whitney Houston’s voice and how this voice is so different and the words are garbled and tones are off. All Ru can think of is an afternoon more than ten years ago, curled up on a couch next to an overly excited bandmate, talking to him about the plot and how sweet it was that Kevin Costner was the one who needed protecting from his own fear of failure and Ru recalls squinting up at another pair of round, brown eyes as they shot deep meanings at him.
Ru isn’t breathing when he turns the handle, pushing the door open with the barrel of his pistol and the music inside nearly shatters his sensibilities as it bursts into the climax and the singer on this cocaine-studded stage is sprawled on the tiled floor, just a pair of loose jeans, hugging his bare hips, one hand clutching the mic, eyes shut as he wails, black decorated fedora resting on the floor beside him.
The music goes on, and Ru is slumped against the door, wide-eyed at this image that only seems to feed the surrealism two-fold. He isn’t sure if his throat closes up or if he fell to his knees first, but all he sees is his gun clattering to the floor, and Jin’s lurid gaze, raking over him in a decisive manner as he continues to wail into the mic, stretching out his arm in a beckoning gesture.
It’s awful enough to be beautiful in its own right. “And I-eee-I will al…waaays love Ru,” Jin croons softly, breaking into laughter as he sets the mic down, ignoring the music still blasting from the speakers in front of him as he sits up.
Ru is caught between sentiments and he can’t speak. He just stares and stares.
Jin blinks unfocused eyes back at him, puzzled. “So…just for future reference,” he says matter-of-factly, words slurring. “Visitors were supposed to book their appointments a day before they walk into my office.”
Ru doesn’t think about it, doesn’t even want to; his arms reach out and grab him, enfolding Jin in the tightest embrace, and he’s shaking as Jin hums, still caught in his glittery-eyed high. Ru holds on though, fingers closed tight against Jin’s palpable, living skin that’s no longer a dream; he absorbs smells, sounds, and sensations, all so real like nothing else can ever be to him again.
Joker twiddles the wheel on a brand new Santa Fe SUV, glancing occasionally at the man in his passenger seat. Junno’s eyes are distant, staring out the front windshield, daunted and dying. It’s always been disarming when he gets this serious. There’s a levelled absence there when his mouth isn’t turned upward in some type of sunshine grin. The sight of it chills Joker and he’s relieved that the younger man hadn’t been there to witness this afternoon’s disappointment. The trial is tomorrow and there’s no mistaking that Long will go behind bars so while Joker feels nothing but a quiet rage at Sho-san, he feels for Ru, listening to the tone in his voice is worse than watching a building collapse in on itself. And still Long stares out at the passing city lights, looking like his sentence sits immediately in front of him.
Joker clears his throat.
Long’s eyes shut as he lets out a scared and shuddering sigh.
They hit a red light and Joker looks at him, really looks at him. Long’s short, caramel-coloured hair is going to be a beacon to the worst of predators in the penitentiary and even the acrobatic musculature isn’t going to help him much when the entire man’s frame seems to exude a sheer desire to be taken down to lower grounds, forced to hit emotional graves; the idea of those prison guards or anyone trying to break this helplessly annoying being just makes his throat close up. As if feeling his stare, Long’s steady, but narrow dark brown eyes slide toward his, appraising. “Did you ever stop to think how odd it is that we’ve all had to do time when we’ve been as careful as anything? The jimusho safeguards us and still…even Uepi went in for two years, and you just barely made it out when you did your three.”
Joker chews his lower lip as he guns the engine on the green light. “Yeah, I’ve given it thought.”
“And?” Long sounds almost pleading, and Joker understands, knows that Junno just needs an anchor, something serrated and vengeful to set his mind on when he’s locked up tomorrow. Joker doesn’t like that idea. He waits until they’re on the highway before he speaks.
“OK, Long, so we have a rat among us; that’s nothing no one hasn’t considered before. But you need to put that out of your head. This is your night, man. We’ve got enough to treat you like a real Johnny Rocker. We’ve been seriously planning this, so think of it as your launching party. Nino says he’s bringing you some poppers-whatever that means-we’ve got four strippers and the Aoi twins probably the most expensive escorts ever to have escorted…” he trails off once he gets a look at Long again, who has turned to face the window on his side, swallowing thickly.
Joker turns back to the road, brow furrowed. “For fuck’s sake, whatever happened to longest day of the year, eh? I’m just trying to help you out, make it easier…” He realises how he must sound, but there’s something about the other man’s expression at the moment that causes him an awful degree of frustration.
Long glances over, blinking at Joker’s hunched figure over the wheel and Joker can feel it, that cautious look again. “I do appreciate all this, I do, I just…” he trails off, dragging his fingers through his hair, looking away again.
Joker side-eyes him, still driving. “What? You just what?” He reaches over to turn down the radio.
“It’s not something you’d understand.”
This is surprising in more ways than one. Joker pulls his foot off the gas to slow down a bit; they’re close to Romes’ apartment and if this is serious… “Oh come on, Long…Junno, we’ve known each other for years. You’re one of my best friends and we’re teammates. You’ve called me your “complementing feature” on more than one occasion, right?”
Long watches him, eyebrows quirked enigmatically.
Joker’s ears are burning. He hates spilling out this sort of thing. “So of all people, I’d…I’d understand anything coming from you.”
“Would you?” There’s a challenge in the other man’s tone, penetrating in the silence of the car’s interior. Joker pulls into the residential area and slows down.
He shoots a hesitant look at Long. “Don’t fucking make me repeat what I just said.”
Long wets his lips, considering this seriously. He turns in his seat, hands folded in front of him, taking a deep breath. “OK,” he begins. “Koki, I don’t want the strippers.”
Joker pauses; they’re about five blocks away from Romes’ house. “Umm, OK…” Joker then amends, nodding grimly. He looks at Long, “OK?”
Long’s stare is unblinking. “I want you.”
It’s like he misheard because there’s just no way, really, and it’s stupid and his face is already bright red from his earlier words, but as he expels a nervous laugh, he looks back at Long and he sees the look in his eyes, bright like Joker is something to be had, something beautiful and all of his insides grind to a halt. He doesn’t know what he says or how he manages to pull the SUV over in the middle of the street or when he jumps out of the car.
“You…” he starts, unable to articulate a thing. “You fucker!” he hollers, standing in front of the SUV’s blinking lights. “I’ve known all your girlfriends! All of them!”
` It’s drizzling out and Long leans out the window, staring at him with a vague, badly concealed horror. “Didn’t I say you wouldn’t understand?! I fucking said it!” Long hollers back, slipping back into his seat, covering his face with his hands.
Joker walks over and kicks the curb and stomps back, positively beside himself. “Understand what?!” he demands, fists clenched. “That you happen to be gay?! After all this fucking time?!”
Long groans, eyes downcast. “I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”
“Damn straight you should’ve kept your mouth shut!” Joker’s tone is approaching an uncontrollable hysteria. “We’ve had showers together, man! You’ve seen my fucking cock! We should’ve just gone and done the strippers like the Long Johnny I know would’ve done with me! But no, suddenly you’re gay?!”
Long’s next gaze is sharp, a nerve touched. “Are you seriously pulling judgements on me over this? And you don’t think I know about you and your little secret?”
Joker freezes. “What do you mean my secret?”
“I saw you with him,” Long replies shortly. He averts his gaze, arms folded, a towering shadow on the inside of Joker’s car. “Or her. Doesn’t matter since you had your eye on him even back when we were kids.”
“What?”
“I’m talking about Kame…” he whispers. “I bet you’ve got a hundred excuses about it, how it makes you such a straight shooter now that he doesn’t have a pair. God, but you’re so stupid sometimes…”
Joker stares at him. “You knew?!”
Long doesn’t look at him, his eyes are shut as he stares at his own hands. Joker can feel the drizzling rain beginning to soak through his jacket, a startling reminder of where they are and what’s really happening to them. He sighs, rounding the vehicle to get back in behind the wheel.
“I…” Long sobs after a silence, head bowed against the dashboard, trying to hide it as he sniffs. “I am so sorry.”
Joker’s chest hurts. “No,” he sighs. “No, Long, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s me, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve…”
“No, no, I’m sorry,” Joker insists.
“I’m sorry…” and Long’s trying to pull himself together and this is hardly fair.
“Forget it, Long; I’m fucking sorry!” he snaps. “I overreacted and you’re right, the thing with Kame…I know it’s nothing and it’ll always be the same and I probably would’ve had her back when she was still a man…I dunno. Yeah, I’m sorry.” He turns in his seat, knee pressed to the gearshift and he feels like shit stepped on.
Long moans, leaning his head back against his seat, hand pressed to his forehead. “Five years…fuck, Joker… I don’t think I can do it.”
He sounds so little and so young. Joker’s throat officially closes as it becomes a little uncomfortable to blink. Helpless, watching Long come apart at the seams right next to him, he gets it. And he doesn’t quite know what the code is for “manning up” to do something, but he feels it takes a lot of reserve for him to utter his next words. “So, Junno, what is it? What…” he swallows, waiting for Long to look up at him again. “What exactly was it you want to do… with me?”
The pause feels like an age and Long must’ve heard him because he stops breathing and the air is soundless but for the passing cars, swerving at their blinking hazard lights. Finally his hand falls and he’s looking at Joker, eyes wet, smile watery but genuine. “Koki…” he murmurs and he’s always been that sort of pretty.
Joker glares, irritation flooding him as he begins to feel embarrassed. “Well?”
Long’s laugh is soft, breathing like a solitary and safe whisper. “Tonight, Joker? Tonight…” he trails off and Joker braces his hands on the armrest as Junno’s tall frame raises, leaning across the space between them, lashes wet.
He tastes like tears and the press of his lips isn’t demanding, but hesitant and a little coy. He pulls back and Joker’s heart is beating a rough pattern on the inside of his chest.
“Tonight, before I go, there’s only one thing I want to do with you.”
The car’s heater burns and breathes like a promise.
Part 3