8:03pm. You step out of the biting January cold into a perfectly heated bar and restaurant, 30 minutes from Kakegawa, in Iwata. The inviting, sexy sounds of live soul music filled the room - saxophones, trumpets, keys, and a thick-framed lady scatting effortlessly to a beautiful rendition of Nothing Can Change This Love by Sam Cooke, accompanied by two backup singers.
No lie, you could place Soul and/or Jazz as your top genre of music, especially when love was the main focus. The power and unfiltered "soul" the singers put into their music, reaching you in places of your body you didn't know were possible. Etta James, Bill Withers, Brenda Lee, Marvin Gaye, Barbara Lynn, and Otis Redding were just a few names you could spitfire if ever you were challenged about such a topic that came so easy to you.
The Rooftop wasn't and isn't your first bar of choice to go to, number one being a bar you'd attend regularly with your old college mates. The Hideout Bar. Being black in a new university, let alone a foreign country, since the age of eighteen was one of the toughest things you'd faced, so you decided to create a safe space, a society for people who looked like you (and black allies), to let them know that feeling alone wasn't an option.
Within two years of starting up Like Me Society and getting the word across campus over the period of a month, you had up to 100 weekly attendees coming together to talk about issues we as black people (and often POC) face and how they can be combatted without violence, or perpetuating the stereotypes of aggression unless it was necessary. In such a short time, you'd created your own family on campus, even though so many of you were studying different courses.
Eventually, with the help of his parents, one of the attendees, Kendrick "Kees" Johnson (majoring in International Business and Japanese), opened up his own hidden-in-plain-sight bar in Kakegawa, calling it The Hideout Bar. Instead of continuing to meet on the college grounds, once a week, Like Me Society and supporters of other races and ethnicities flocked towards Kees' new place, where it was then nicknamed The Black Hideout (BHO).
It spread by word of mouth but somehow was still kept at an 'if you know you know' level and before long, Kees was raking in an equivalent of $50,000 per month. From 'Turn-up Tuesdays' (exclusively playing rap and hip-hop music), to 'Bring a Friend Friday' (every last Friday of the month, the person who brings the most friends gets all their drinks free), to Soulful Sundays (exclusively playing soul music), and other in-week quizzes and game nights, BHO was a total hit.
You peel off your jacket from your shoulders, revealing a little black dress - short, one shouldered, frilled, and asymmetric, ending on the higher end of your thigh. Perfect for the vibe of the atmosphere. You hand your belongings over to the 60-something year old man tending to the cloakroom, shooting him a sweet, dimpled smile as a way of thanks before he bows kindly in your direction.
The Rooftop wasn't full to say the least, a modest amount of people for this time of night. Couples dotted around the restaurant further to the back, a party of 12 sitting at a round table (you presume someone's birthday was being celebrated), and more people sat singularly or in pairs at the bar. Utensils scraping lightly on plates and low murmurs followed by occasional bursts of laughter filled the orange-lit room. You'd been here multiple times in the past year but since your dad's passing, you feel as though a lot of your money is going towards the alcohol in said bar.
All in all, it was nice not having to worry about another person, or stress about third wheeling. Dressing up date-style just to end up taking yourself out for a few drinks is something you believe should be normalized.
"Whoever has a date scheduled with you is a very lucky person." The familiar voice belonged to the bartender to the left of you, restocking cans of soft drinks into the refrigerator. He pops his head up to you momentarily before going back to rummaging.
