Pink Rainforest
Part 3 in my serialised short story. For those who haven’t read part 2, or want a recap, I’ve attached a link below. Hope you enjoy.
My first destination was a bar owned by a couple of yakuza, an exclusive joint that only admitted Japanese with ties to their organisation. Cheap chandeliers hung from the low ceiling, illuminating the floor stained with what, I didn’t want to imagine. One long counter with ten stools faced a well-stocked bar. In the back room, there was a cigar lounge but I’d never been inside.
“Mikako, beautiful as ever,” Akiyama said, an all-white suit draped on his twig-like build. His slight frame never stopped him from dressing so outlandishly, his membership with the yakuza lending him a brashness that kept me on my toes as much as it made me sick.
Akiyama took my arm and guided me to a booth along the mirrored wall. He raised two fingers at the bartender who proceeded to fetch glasses.
“So, tonight,” he continued in his slow, almost melodic voice, “you’ve got a client who wants to meet at the love hotel by Sega. He’s booked for half an hour but we know he’d want more of you, right?” He chuckled and kissed my hand. “You’re popular, you know that? All the men fall in love with you, and it makes me sad sometimes. I know you’ve got this debt to pay and all, but I’m starting to think I might keep you for myself.” He ran his fingers through my hair and pulled slightly, bringing my ear close to his mouth and adding, “Then again, you do really do know how to rake in the money.”
A waiter brought us our drinks, two whiskeys on the rocks.
“Once I pay off my father’s debt, I’ll be done with this,” I said, having a sip.
“Will you?” Akiyama grinned. “Well, thanks to that pig, you’ve got another five hundred thousand left.” He glanced at a party of men and women by the bar. “How is he anyways? He never comes to say hello anymore, makes me wonder if he doesn’t like me.”
I forced a smile.
At the bar, one man bragged about how long he could last in bed.
Akiyama downed his whiskey, stood, and told me, “Finish your drink and head to the hotel, room 505. Afterwards, go to Pink Rainforest.”
I took my cue and left, heading back towards Kabukichō’s torii. Outside, people had reached a critical stage of tipsiness and swayed, as if dancing. The salarymen were laughing and the sound disgusted me, reminding me of my father.
“Aren’t you a pretty one? Come here,” one shouted, wobbling in my direction. He was younger than his co-workers who trailed behind, giggling like spoiled children. When he got closer, he reached for my wrist and tried to pull me towards him.
“Fuck off,” I snapped, my voice drowned out in the bustle as I passed under the torii, immediately jostled from the side and pushed towards the trash cans. I regained my balance against a vending machine when I turned and saw a man in sweat-stained construction clothes staring at me.
“You too?” I snarled, regarding his lost and confused expression with venom. He remained frozen.
“Cat got your tongue?” I sneered and walked away.
