Death Note: Friends With Benefits

Friends With Benefits (A Death Note Story)

Aoyama, Japan...

Mail Jeevas parked his modified 1968 Red Chevrolet Camaro on the street and stepped out. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth, but then dropped it and crushed it beneath his boot. He wore a cream-coloured, sleeveless vest with fur trim, but he took that off and put it in the trunk, along with a pair of ruby tinted goggles. He wore a long-sleeved horizontal black and red stripped shirt, but took a mental step back and thought about how ostentatious it may look inside the Note Blue Jazz Club and covered it up with a simple black leather jacket he had in the back seat.

The place was jamming and he could hear the music thumping from the street. To those who knew him, he liked video games, but what they didn't know was he also liked music and all the benefits that came with it. Jazz wasn't his most favourite, but it was one of a girl he knew—a girl who had invited him to this club tonight.

The bouncer was a big, black man, with jewelry on his knuckles and around his neck, and a big muscular chest. All he needed was a mohawk and he would be the lookalike of an '80's television actor. There was a line-up down the street roped off for guests. With the long line up, the club was no doubt full. But he had an in and thanks to the girl he was going to meet inside, all it took was a special password and he was let without incident. In passing, he remarked about the bouncer's look and told him he was part of an "A-Team". The bouncer eyed him with incredulity and almost didn't let him. Maybe it wasn't the first time he had been mocked about his appearance looking like Mr. T.?

The moment Mail entered the jazz club, he smiled with its amazing sights and sounds. Its blue, neon flashy lighting, large rotunda structure, with multi-faceted tiers of barricaded platforms, mini-bar, standing room only, a massive gloss dancing floor, currently filled with guests, and a grandiose stage for the performers with sound wolfers sending out its music in every direction, hip and happening, fast and furious—with lots of other lovely things to look at, namely girls in tight clothing. And as he stood where he was, he saw a gorgeous waitress with a short skirt and a very tight shirt that said NOTE BLUE across her breasts pass by him carrying an order for someone on the other side of the room.

But he wasn't here to dance or hook up with someone, he was here to meet someone he knew, the girl who had invited him, and he looked around, through waves of dancers, towards the wall booths, and there, he saw a single girl sitting alone nursing a drink. She wore a dark, green coat, and a dark fedora hat, with what looked like dark wig. Prudent, seeing how famous she was. If anyone knew who she really was, she would be swarmed with hungry fans.

Mail maneuvered through the crowd and made his way to the booth, and took a seat next to her, forward in his approach. He was never shy around women. "Is this seat taken?" he said with a smile.

She looked at him and stared penetratingly into his deep blue eyes—or it could have been the blue neon—and returned the smile, then gave him a peck on the cheek. "Glad you could make it, Mail," she said, pronouncing his name as 'Mile' and not 'Mail', like a letter, but written as such. "But I didn't know it would be this crowded tonight. Do you want a drink? They don't serve minors, they check IDs, but I told the bouncer you were 'old enough', he's a friend of mine. I can order you anything, they've already seen my ID. My fake one, that is."

Mail looked at her glass. She looked to be drinking tomato juice with Vodka with a celery stick. He thought about it, and he could use a drink, but then decided against it—he had brought his car. Drinking and driving was illegal in Japan. He said no. He looked around at the bustling crowd and began to feel a little claustrophobic. He didn't like crowds, they made him nervous. And she noticed it.

"You want to get out here, Mail? I forgot you don't like large crowds. You're more of an introvert."

"Yeah," he said, "and you know why." It was an understanding between them that the reason he didn't like large crowds was because of his childhood, he was always in one with a group—an orphan amongst many. "I only agreed to meet you here because you enjoy Jazz. I don't mind it, but..."