“I don’t like him.”
Reiko rolled her eyes before she turned back to the stove. “What do you mean? You had one practice with him. You couldn’t have formed too much of an opinion of him.”
I took a long drink before setting it on the table and staring at the back of her head. If only she’d known what I knew. Tokyo Roadtrip was bad news. That meant Ryosuke was the same. He’d been disrespectful from the beginning just by showing up late.
“You know who it is, don’t you?”
Reiko turned off the stove, turning back to face me. There was no way that she’d be able to focus on cooking a perfect dinner until we’d gotten this out. It made me feel a little guilty because I knew how much pride she took in her meals, and sometimes pausing the process could absolutely ruin everything.
There I was, acting like a petulant child.
“Yasu, I don’t care who it is. I trust Toshi. He’s had the band’s best interests at heart since day one. You hired him as your manager for a reason.”
I smirked at my sister, picking up the chilly can of beer once more. “I hired him because they wouldn’t let me hire you.”
She rolled her eyes before opening the fridge and grabbing her own can to join me at the table. “Lack of education and management experience. How big a joke is that? I know what I’m doing better than he does half the time, but that’s not the point. He is looking out for you all, and there are times that he’s made better decisions than I would have made.”
Reiko was right.
In a way, I was glad that I had both of them on our team. When Toshi couldn’t pull his head out of his ass, she was there to help him see the light sometimes. Other times, it was the other way around, and it worked in a perfect symbiotic rhythm that made our band as successful as it was.
I played with the tab on the can, refusing to meet Reiko’s gaze for a moment, letting the words form properly in my head because I wanted to sound intelligent, not like I was whining for the sake of whining.
“Ryosuke Akashi. Out of everyone he could have gotten to take over for Mamarou, he brought us the bassist for the biggest fuck-up band the label has ever seen.”
Reiko said nothing, just continued to watch me as she took sip after sip. “Have you paused to think that there’s a reason he’s still around when the others aren’t?”
Of course I’d thought about it, but the guy had a history, regardless. It was a history I didn’t want associated with our good name. Tokyo Roadtrip had been banned from several venues because of Ryosuke’s history. Who was to say it wasn’t a trend that would continue now that he was with us. Especially after what his last band did.
“Oni-chan...” I whined.
There was no pity in her eyes. She knew I was trying to get out of taking responsibility for my actions. Ryosuke had earned his spot, and I needed to trust our management.
It didn’t make things any easier.
Itsuki: He’s nice
Istared at the text on my phone for a moment longer before I slammed it back down on my bedside table.
Who cared that Ryosuke was nice, or that my sister had basically ripped me a new one and refused to feed me her delicious dinner last night, forcing me to find my own food at McDonald’s because of it.
Why the hell was Itsuki trying to assure me that Ryosuke was nice? Sure, I hadn’t been the nicest during practice and then there was the discussion with Reiko.
Shit.
He hadn’t tried to spend time with him, had he?
It would be so like him. Itsuki had a soft spot for everyone and didn’t always see where someone could be dangerous. Forever the optimist. He’d always wanted to see the good in everyone. That was why I liked him so much.
I could be a moody motherfucker at times, especially with the way I could focus on things, and God forbid if someone tried to pull my attention away from that.
Ryosuke was my current fixation.
The world started and ended with him. Which was so fucking stupid. He didn’t deserve to take up so much damn headspace, but there we were. It was one of those times that I hated that I couldn’t let certain things go because he would be there for a long time. I didn’t want to give that to him.
He was less than. Dirt on the bottom of my shoes.
Okay, so maybe I was being an asshole.
