Vintage Rob

Chapter 32 - Back in Tokyo

The front door of Gene's house opened a crack. His usual black-rimmed glasses were visible. "You here as brother or journalist?"

"Brother. And Keeper."

Gene let Rob slip in. "Never been shot at." He led Rob to the kitchen. "I could have been more suave, I guess." For the first time in decades, Gene wore pajamas late on a weekday morning. An open newspaper covered part of the kitchen table like a quilt. Gene shifted it out of Rob's way.

"The police are convinced Sylvester was the target of a message," Rob said.

"Of course, who else?"

"Me."

Gene frowned. He put two glasses on the table and removed a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. "If the shooter was a woman, maybe."

"Ha, ha. I told them about Mark."

"They may as well check it out." Gene tipped the carton. A bright orange stream of liquid stretched to Rob's glass.

Rob watched Gene carefully, in case his next words upset him. "I'm thinking of going to Japan as scheduled."

"Go. Definitely, go." Gene filled the second glass. "Invite Makiko and her sister to Boston. Don't let this foul that up."

"You'll be okay? You and Jennifer?"

Gene placed the carton on the table and held up his orange juice for a toast. "Mochiron." It means "of course" in Japanese.

***

That morning, Rob had had two tasks. Driving to Wellesley to chat with Gene was more palatable than confronting Sylvester, so he had headed to Milyaro's Garden first. The restaurant door had opened before he could see through the glass. Sylvester ushered him in, his left arm in a sling. "Good to see you. How are Gene and Jennifer?"

"Well, I'm on my way there now."

Sylvester poked Rob's chest. "No vest? Want one? Mark might try again."

"The police believe you were the target."

Sylvester rolled his eyes. "Hey, I love the cops as much as anyone, but I've outlived everyone who wanted me dead, including their children in most cases. I wasn't the goddamn Godfather either, you know."

"Did you tell them that?"

"They're cops."

"What about your meeting? You were going to meet someone."

"There's no connection." Sylvester shrugged. "It's not me. Unless someone is very, very loco."

"How can you be so sure? Who were you going to meet?"

Sylvester held up a one-moment-please finger. He slowly stepped behind the hostess counter, picked up a pen, and pressed it onto a pad of paper. "Who questioned you last night?"

"Detective Woods."

"The black man with the million dollar smile, right? He was in the room for part of mine." He scribbled a note on the paper and pulled out a couple of dinner certificates, clumsily, without using his left arm. "Give him this." He placed the note and certificates on an envelope and handed it over unsealed.

Rob read the note. It said that Sylvester was supposed to meet his ex-wife. "Is this true?"

"Woods can call her. He want to know anything else?"

"No." Rob slipped everything into the envelope and then into his jacket pocket. "Detective Woods said the lasagna here's very good."

"It's excellent."

"Very good, he said. One more thing: Woods said he met you briefly thirty years ago, when he was a rookie. You told him there's a waterfall of money out there, and you advised him to reach out and grab some."

Sylvester smiled. "I stole that line."

***

On his first day back in Tokyo, Rob called Nobu, the Buddhist priest, and left a message. He had five full days to fill before his dinner date with Makiko and her family. As he gained Makiko's trust, he expected to spend more time with her, but she was a young adult with her own concerns, and he needed a life of his own while here.

Nobu seemed promising. Unlike a cloistered monastery monk, Nobu spent time among the living. His demeanor hinted at a practical kind of enlightenment: serene, calm, happy, humorous, and helpful. Furthermore, his activities as a social worker in the seedier parts of Tokyo could be great material for a photo essay. Rob could also learn a thing or two about helping others directly. Photography was not the end all be all.

He surveyed the contents of his new closet, touching the clear plastic that covered the blue suit for the evening with Makiko. He wanted to see her, more than anything, but worried that he was still being selfish. His own father had passed away while he worked in Iraq. Yet, in some ways, he was still a spoiled, demanding, little boy. The baby of the family.

***

A few hours after Rob left the message, Nobu's niece, Naoko, called. In the background, her friend Fumiko coached her English. "Our band performs in Roppongi tomorrow. Please come, please."

In January, Rob feared getting too close to them. Even an innocent alliance with two beautiful women in their twenties might alienate Makiko, but now she wanted to meet him. They were tight when she was a kid, and they would be again, no matter what. "I'll go to your concert if your uncle Nobu does too."

Naoko and Fumiko cheered.

Afterwards, Rob finalized dinner plans over the phone with Yukiko. When he gave his address, her voice wavered. Obviously, her husband had not shared it before. She finished the brief conversation without recovering. Her fumbling justified the apartment's expense, ten fold. Rob glided around his empty living room. Money had never made him so happy. If the address impressed Makiko, even better. If the reconciliation was due to his proximity to the Gears or fame or money, whatever. He had a year to refine her feelings, a year to make them genuine.

Maybe she had always missed him. Or maybe, one day, she'll forget that she ever hated him.

I hope you enjoyed what you read so far. Rob's story continues in LOUD.