That hits something I don’t like.
My smile drops. I hiss between my teeth, step in close until we’re breath-to-breath.
“You got a fucking nerve.”
“And you have no control over yourself, and you are not ready to let someone else have it,” he says, completely unbothered. “Which is why I will not touch you tonight.”
I grab the edge of his kimono. My body’s buzzing, still unspent.
“Fuck it. I’m horny anyway. Pretty face like yours… maybe I can even get it up.”
His eyes flick.
“I pay for the whores I fuck. So just tie me up and jerk me off. Or whatever you do in this freaky fucking brothel.”
“No.”
I lean closer, teeth gritted. Fuck if I know why I’m mad about all this nonsense talk.
“What if I make you?”
“You won’t.”
“Is that so?”
He tilts his head. “If you had the strength to take what you wanted, you wouldn’t drink until your eyes blur and stumble into a strangers’ arms.”
“You’ve got some balls, I’l give you that.”
I let go, fingers twitching. Step back. Turn, half out the door before I stop myself. Then turn back.
“If I came back sober… you’d do it?”
He looks at me. Not like a man looking at another man. More like he’s cataloging blood spatter on a wall. It’s a look I damn well recognize.
“Come back clear-eyed. Ask without laughing. If you want to understand, then yes, I might.”
“Tch. You talk like a fucking sensei.”
“I am one.”
“Bet you tie a mean knot,sensei.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. A ghost of something close to amusement.
“You’ll find out.”
The words settle into something tight and silent inside me.
I slam the door on my way out.
THIRD KNOT
Honestly, I forgot about him. About the studio. About the way he said my name.
That whole week—fuck, maybe two. Was it two?—I was too busy cracking ribs and stomping faces to think about ghost-eyed pretty boys in black silk. Not work that makes my blood boil, but work nonetheless. And so life goes the same as always. Wake up, take a piss, grab a smoke, punch someone in the teeth. This fucking ceasefire bullshit between the gangs means most of the real fun’s off the table. Which meant fewergoodjobs. Fewer reasons to break someone’s skull open without paperwork.
But today I got lucky.
