“You’re angry.” Not that stating the obvious would help.
“Nah, what gave you that impression?”
I motioned to the front door. “The woman with the weapon who greeted me.”
I wasn’t expecting the snicker.
It was the first time I’d gotten a real reaction of humor out of Yasu, and it did something funny to me. Warmth spread through my limbs, I wanted to do it again. To make him laugh, make him like me, as I’d managed with everyone else.
“Reiko.”
The name didn’t ring a bell, so I just sort of tilted my head staring at him. Yasu shook his head and laughed again. “For someone who seemed to do so much research about the band, you really should know who Reiko is.”
I’d seen the name in the files a few times, but it still didn’t mean I knew her significance.
“Please tell me.”
He sighed heavily, carding his fingers through his hair letting out a curse.
“I guess it makes sense that the label would downplay her. They have since day one. Without her, this band would be nothing. Toshi would have driven us into the ground ages ago.”
Holy shit. Yasu was opening up to me.
“Is she, like... your wife or something?” That didn’t feel right, and the way Yasu’s face screwed up at the question meant that I’d hit the nail on the head, that I was wrong about that.
“My sister. My older sister at that. She’s believed in us since the very beginning. Stupid politics wouldn’t let us bring her on as our manager, so we got Toshi instead. She keeps him in line.”
I looked at the door. “Does she come after him with knives as well?”
That earned me another laugh.
It was music to my ears—maybe I’d finally done something right. I wanted to keep winning those small things, like laughter from him. It made little zings of happiness spread through my limbs and it was an addictive feeling.
“No, but it might be helpful. He might give a little more to our demands.”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
From what I could see from the outside, the band had its shit together. They got some of the best venues and photoshoots. I’d always wondered how they’d swung that since Toshi had managed Tokyo Roadtrip as well, and we’d never gotten half of those things. Maybe it was all thanks to Reiko. We hadn’t had a secret weapon like that in our back pockets.
“Can we talk, please?” Maybe if I came across as more gentle and understanding, he’d be more inclined to listen.
Yasu looked between me and the front door a few times, probably wondering if his sister would come out trying to attack me again. When it became more obvious that it wasn’t going to happen, he grabbed my arm and dragged me inside.
I quickly kicked off my shoes in the entryway as he led me through the apartment. It was a lot nicer than I thought it would be. There was a couch and a table in the living room that sat in front of a television that wasn’t all that big. There wasn’t much in the way of decor, but it seemed like it fit Yasu and his personality.
He directed me to a room that was down a narrow hall, and I stared at the small western-style bed that was shoved up against one of the walls. Just like the rest of the home, there wasn’t a lot to the room. There was a dresser and an open closet with clothes hanging in it. An air conditioner hung on the wall in the corner.
“What did you want to talk about?” Yasu still looked defensive, his arms crossed over his chest, but there was also an air of vulnerability about him. I was in such a personal space—something told me that he didn’t let people get this close all that often.
Instead of starting right away, like I should have, I ran a hand through my hair and walked over to his closet, admiring the wide array of clothes he had. Most of it was practical everyday attire of jeans and t-shirts, but there were still the random bits that showed off the rockstar that Yasu was. He wasn’t afraid of showing off his punk style, but it was more muted in his day-to-day life. The rest of us wore it like a badge of honor.
The longer I was sidetracked, the more I could feel the tension in the room building. The air grew thicker, vibrating with Yasu’s growing anxiety. He shifted behind me while I continued to dissect his space. While I wanted to learn everything about the man, there was nothing about the space that gave him away outside of being hyper-organized.
A minimalist, maybe.
“I’m not here to ruin everything you’ve set out to create.” I knew the words weren’t enough. Would probably never be enough, but I felt better saying them. They did something. Yasu uncrossed his arms for the first time since I’d entered his personal space.
“I need you to prove something to me.”
