Nagi stayed in a large warehouse with his crew in Chinatown.Deep in the depths of Chicago, at Cermak and Wentworth.I stared out the windows of the cab as I people-watched, watching the Chinatown Gate pass us by.People in storefronts—old laundromats, restaurants, churches, and schools.Their faces were blurs.
"You sure you want to stop here, lady?"the driver asked.
I just paid the man wordlessly and got out.The Warehouse sat between a church and a crumbling apartment block, and two men were hanging outside, their feet dangling from the curb.
"Pretty layyyy-deeee," one of them said.
"Fuck off," I said."I'm here to see Nagi."
"Oh, you must be birthmark lady," one of them said.
"Lemme see your neck," the other one said."The Boss man bite you yet?"
"Seriously, fuck off," I said, opening my collar.
Their eyes took in my birthmark, twisted towards one another, and then they wordlessly got up and let me in.A man with a gun stayed at the entrance inside; he'd unlatched the door and then latched it again behind me and watched me as I walked in.
It looked like a sauna, done up in traditional Chinese architecture, with paper fans hanging on the walls.Here and there, various still-life displays stood—some Shinto shrines, borrowed from the Japanese culture Nagi was heir to.Another place had a fountain with what looked like a small deserted island in the middle of it.The water bubbled with life, and there were koi that swam in its crystal-clear waters.
"You," a woman said.She had on Noh-style makeup, her face pale and white, hair up in a chopstick, a fine kimono flowing down her form."Follow me, please.The Master requests your presence and is pleased at your arrival."
"What's your name?"I asked.
"Yara," she said.
"How do you know Nagi?"
"The Master is a kind soul that took me in at a dark period of my life," she said."I'd rather not talk about it."
"Is he awake?"I asked.
"The Master rarely sleeps anymore," she said."His dreams disturb him.There's something wrong with the flow of things."
"You're telling me," I said."Look.Do you guys really, you know.Look up to him?"
"Why would we not look up to our savior?"Yara asked.
"Fair point, I guess," I said.
"Come this way.His chambers are up these steps."
She looked as if she were gliding under her kimono.I tried to follow her as soundlessly as possible.
"Ah, Stacey,"Nagi's voice said.
I looked over and then closed my eyes out of instinct.
"Now now," he said.He got to his feet, sliding an open robe over himself and belting the bottom for decency.His kimono looked nice.The material looked extremely expensive—it flowed like silk, decorated with what looked like goldfish in an old-school style.He grinned at me as he rose from the pile of nubile bodies on his bed and padded past me.Men and women groaned at him as he rose.
"Where are you going?"I asked.
"I have had inspiration strike," he said."Come.Follow me.We'll talk as we walk.Yara, can you bring me my palette, please?"
Yara came up and handed him some paints.He stopped at a statue.I couldn't make heads or tails out of it if I were being honest, but here and there was a suggestion of limbs, there perhaps a face pressing against some hidden wall.He touched it with two strokes of broad white stripes, stood back, turned his head, and then nodded.
"What brings you here, today of all days, Stacey?"
"I screwed up," I said.
