Quiet

Chapter 22 - Hide & Peek

Stay safe, Alan said.

After using the peep hole in the door, I proceed down the empty hall cautiously, which means I speed walk while jerking my head around wildly at every closed door. No one witnesses this lunacy, and I'm safe so far. Just an underage girl leaving a hotel room after a few hours alone with a middle-aged man. Nothing suspicious about it.

I take the stairs. Instead of exiting the hotel, I duck into a cranny and observe the empty lobby and the brightly lit area on the sidewalk outside the automatic doors.

I'm still dressed for my father's photography exhibition, so most of my legs show. If I wore high heels instead of white sneakers and if Cynthia wasn't in actual danger, maybe I'd feel like a sexy girl in a spy movie, but I'm shaky and uncertain and very ready to snap the heads off strangers who leer or look at me funny. If I had a gun, I'd probably shoot my own foot or an innocent bystander.

Change your attitude, I tell myself. I'm making decisions and am on the move. I'm not just sitting pretty in a hotel room while bad guys close in and Alan does the heavy lifting.

It's past eight-thirty at night, and pedestrians fill the sidewalk outside the hotel lobby. Everyone's on the move. Most people head away from the train station, and no one lingers in place to watch the hotel entrance or me, not even the man behind the front counter. Since I avoid eye contact with him, he politely ignores me.

My brain is too exhausted worrying about Cynthia to think straight, but I need to come up with a destination. I also can't decide whether or not to involve Joel.

I could hide in a restaurant, except Yakuza eat. When I walk in, they'll finish their meals in satisfaction knowing my bumbling did the hard work for them. When I'm done with my meal, their lowest ranking member will follow me out, grip my neck like I'm a chicken, and pull me into an alley where the boss will chuckle and objectify me or worse.

The Yakuza probably won't take breaks from looking for me to browse art books, so I go through the hotel's automatic doors, turn left, and quickly cross the street. I have a destination. After a few more steps, I weave under a random building's outside roof and hide behind a column. From there, I stare at the pedestrians, just to make sure none are keeping track of me.

No one pays attention. No one cares about a weird or suspicious or dramatic high school student. No one chats me up or looks me up and down. Everyone just wants to get home.

The sneaking around helps keep my mind off Cynthia. As I cling to the column, I think of her in captivity and turn into a crumbling sandcastle again. It's sick what men do when they control women. Even that man at the front counter of the hotel. He probably thinks I slept with Alan Lord and turned a blind eye. He should have called the police or at least asked questions. He just wants to check me out and dream of being with young girls in a hotel room too.

I need to help Cynthia. She's precious and strong and fun. When we bumped into Nobu, she took the brunt of it. I can't let anything bad happen again. I must help her.

When I'm positive that no one watches me, I hurry up a side street, cut down a parallel road, and emerge near a secondary entrance to a large bookstore. Once inside, I loiter in a corner far from where I plan to settle down. Even though I'm sure no Yakuza stroll among the books, I play spy again to make sure. After about ten minutes, I snag a chair in an out-of-the-way aisle of large, hardcover art books. I can't concentrate on titles, never mind art, but maybe I'll look at them, to keep my mind off Cynthia. Otherwise, I'll be a wreck.

On the other side of a large window near me, bookish people walk around a quiet, inner courtyard in the dark. Yakuza there would stick out for sure. Shelves and books block part of my view of inside the store, but there are plenty of gaps. When people meander close by, I get a glimpse of them before they sense me. I'm not invisible, but this place feels safe, except when I think of Cynthia with the Cowboy.

Thinking of that, I could cry, I could retch, I could dry heave.

The Cowboy's no slouch, Alan said, but Joel knocked him out easily, and Joel's my boyfriend, or so he said. What good is a strong boyfriend if he can't help when my friend's been kidnapped and I'm next?

I take out my phone and type out a message: I'm in hiding. The Cowboy kidnapped Cynthia instead of me. Are you too "busy" to help?

So accusatory, such a bitch. I can't hate on Joel just because some men are evil. I don't send it. As far as I know, Joel doesn't know that I'm hiding or that Cynthia is kidnapped. I haven't told him. He might drop everything to help. He will. Maybe.

Joel isn't dating me as a favor to my father, so he says, but what if he's doing a favor for Brian Keating? That's the possibility in the back of Alan's mind. Alan didn't say I'm not as hot and available as some of the New York girls, but that's obvious, and many of those girls are in college, and they do it do it do it. Seriously, even if Joel likes uptight, quirky crazies, I can't compete with hot, college girls who are quirky and crazy. Instead of hangups about sex, most of them have hangups about not having sex.

I rewrite my message to Joel: I'm hiding, because the Cowboy kidnapped Cynthia instead of me. I can't tell you where I am because the FBI believes you have a connection to Brian Keating. I hope your project is important, because I'm alone and scared.

Okay, it's hard to be objective, but I'm pretty sure that sounds crazy too, so I don't send it right away. I stare out the window and through the stacks at adjacent aisles for Yakuza. The bookstore closes in less than an hour though. I could head for Yoga to rendezvous with Alan and Cynthia. That's all I can do. Isn't it?

I change part of my message to Joel: I'm hiding, because the Cowboy kidnapped Cynthia instead of me. I can't tell you where I am because the FBI believes you have a connection to Brian Keating. I'm alone and scared. Do you love me? I love you, even though I hate men right now. Bye.

That sounds crazy too, maybe even crazier than the last one, but I send it. Then I peek again through the gaps in books for Yakuza. Before I'm done, Joel responds: I love you too, Makiko, but I'm seventeen and don't know about the future. FBI means your father's friend, right? Okay, so Brian Keating asked me to contact you a couple of months ago. It felt weird, so I refused. After that, they made the fake account. I assume it was them. I came to Tokyo to make sure you're okay, just like I told you before. Right now I'm trying to find out about the demon. Where are you? I'll come. Where are you?

I hug myself right there in the aisle of the bookstore. Being told I love you feels good, and if I doubt him, that must be my mother talking. And my father. I need to have fun with love and forget them. I need to have fun with love and concentrate on other things now, like helping Cynthia.

Alan is great, but he doesn't know Joel. I have to believe Joel, at least until he lets me down. Why should Joel prefers college girls who want sex? Maybe Joel likes exciting and weird and conflicted.

Right now, I'm safe and good. I'm okay, unless Alan can't rescue Cynthia. I don't actually need Joel right now. I trust Alan, but I should go to Nakameguro in case his plan backfires. I have to be there to do something Alan can't or won't do. Like make a trade.

I reply: I don't need you right now, but I may do something stupid. Find out about the demon if you can, but be on standby. Love, Makiko.

***

When I exit the bookstore, the sidewalks are more deserted than an hour ago, and the main street feels safer than the side streets.

No one keeps tabs on me. I glance around again and again. If someone is watching, they're really good. I glance around some more, but no one is aware of me.

It's 9:15. Alan is supposed to meet the Cowboy in fifteen minutes. To get to Yoga, I can use Nakameguro as a connecting station.

I'll just peek. No one will know.

Makiko's probably better off not going to Nakameguro, but since she's determined to, should she bring Joel?

Makiko knows this isn't the wisest move. Do you understand why she can't help herself?

Thanks for reading. Please don't hesitate to star away.