Vintage Rob

Chapter 14 - Opportunities Knock

At the train stop near Makiko's grandparents' house, someone called Rob's name as he went up an escalator. The hotel employee who gave him directions, Ayako, caught up to him. The long black strands of her stylized hair framed her face without falling or moving naturally. "I saw you on the train but couldn't get through the crowd."

"That's right, you live around here, don't you?" Rob said. "It's fantastic, isn't it? This neighborhood? Better than Roppongi."

"Really?"

The shop-lined street had a strong, small business-marketplace atmosphere. Wrinkled proprietors of decrepit stores shared the strip with a few chain stores, with a variety of restaurants, and quite a few hip upstarts, like a hair salon full of fashionable, young men with spiky hair.

Rob and Ayako reached the long down escalator that led out of the station. A beeping crossing sign blocked the way over the tracks because another train was about to arrive. An idling city bus filled most of the narrow lane, and pedestrians squeezed around it.

"Did you find the house you were looking for?" Ayako said.

"Yeah, thanks. My ex-wife's parents live there."

She nodded politely. "Oh."

"I'm visiting Japan to meet my daughter."

"I see. You're having dinner with her?"

"No, it's a long story." Rob and Ayako blocked too much of the narrow way. Some people had trouble getting around them. "I haven't eaten. Do you want to join me?"

Ayako's mouth bunched to one side. "Do you like meat?"

Something about the question made him laugh. "Sure, I love meat."

Ayako beckoned him to follow her down a side street lined with old buildings. She opened the sliding door of a squat, ancient-looking restaurant made of dark timbers. Inside, they took off their shoes and stepped into an alcove with tatami mats. After they ordered, the staff brought plates of raw meat. Ayako grilled it over charcoals placed in a well in the center of the table. She introduced him to various sauces and suggested he wrap some of the small pieces of meat in lettuce and miso paste before eating it.

"Your daughter is half," she said. "I bet she's cute."

The word 'half' was off-putting, but she did not seem to mean any harm. "Have you seen a girl like that around here?"

"A few. How old is she?"

"Sixteen."

"Oh, I've seen only children, little children."

Unused to sitting on thin pillows on the floor, Rob shifted regularly as they ate and drank beer. Ayako sat primly with her knees pressed together. Her bare arm hovered over the hot coals as she flipped the small cuts of beef, pork, and chicken. Whatever the topic, she listened, asked questions, and made noises of commiseration. Eventually, he told her about sitting on Makiko's grandparents' doorstep. She covered her mouth and made a long, high noise - surprised by how long he stayed.

"I'm going again tonight, all night if necessary. What do you think? Is it a bad idea?"

She made a long guttural noise, but had no suggestions. His plan to skip the bed and service at the hotel for a night shocked her more than anything. Using chopsticks, she placed grilled vegetables onto his plate: onion, green peppers, and mushrooms. "If you had informed the hotel of your status, I would have coordinated your stay."

"My status?"

"I work with VIPs."

"Like who?"

"It's a secret, but Brian Keating arrived yesterday."

Brian Keating's breakout movie started a juggernaut. Every few years, a lean, callous Mr. Keating appears in another blockbuster. "Wow," Rob said, knowing very well that she misunderstood his excitement.

Absent-mindedly, he touched his folded coat. One thin camera there did not show. Others were in his hotel room. After years of success, Brian Keating remained somewhat of an enigma. No other actor, no other star, commanded as much attention or sustained success.

Unique photos of Brian Keating could easily kickoff a paparazzi career. They might even be worthy of a Pulitzer Prize winner.

***

During dinner with Ayako, Rob finished a couple of beers, a moderate number he could handle with grace. When he stumbled in the dark on the way to Makiko's grandparent's, he took a tin from his pocket and popped a few tiny mints into his mouth, just in case.

He stared at the two lit windows on the side of the house, one upstairs, one down. The sound of a television came through the wall. A cool breeze rustled his hair. In a way, he had regained the element of surprise. He carefully took hold of the doorknob. Home invasion offered no advantages; he was not a drug kingpin, but out of curiosity, he rotated the doorknob very, very slowly. A slight tug confirmed that it was locked.

Maybe Makiko was the one watching television.

A metal mailbox by the door probably did not contain letters at eight o'clock in the evening, but the possibility of an envelope with Makiko's address on it lodged in his mind. He pulled the mailbox lid and flinched at its loud grating screech. He slammed the empty mailbox's lid back in place. After three maddening tries, it held.

Inside the house, someone muted the television but let it glow.

Rob rang the doorbell. When there was no response, he tried again, having already surrendered the advantage of surprise - again. These people had rebuffed all communication after Makiko and Yukiko left. This time he could not cave. Otherwise, they would never budge.

During dinner, Ayako had transcribed phrases in Japanese for him. When no one came to the door, he practiced them on the stoop, with the sheet of paper on his knees.

Inside, the old folks extinguished the lights at about the same time as last night, but he vowed not to check the time. Darkness and dawn sufficed. Thoughts of farmers, hunters, mariners, and ancient peoples, bound to the natural rhythms of the Earth, filled his head. At one point, he thought he overheard sharp whispers, but no one opened the door.

Earlier, Ayako had showed him her apartment and offered to put him up for the night, but he soldiered on until hints of dawn arrived as gray wavelets in the dark air. He tapped the pavement at his feet. When he stood to stretch his back, he almost lost his balance. A nearby park had a public toilet he had used a couple of times, so he headed there.

Sitting on the doorstep had not been good for his spine, so he lay on a park bench after using the toilet. A moment later, he shook himself awake and sat upright. The sun was not visible, but the air was no longer black or gray, so more than a moment had passed while he stretched out on the bench. Music boomed across the park from a group of about twenty senior citizens. They moved in synch with their backs to him. Slowly, they lowered their arms and turned their heads. When Rob sat up, a crisp blue envelope fell off his lap. He picked it up and noticed his name written neatly on the front. Inside, on matching blue paper, was his ex-wife's name, Yukiko, and a phone number.

Yukiko's parents want Rob off their doorstep. Do you think they should have called the police instead of handing over their daughter's phone number? 

The other opportunity is the information about Brian Keating. Any idea how Rob will use that information?