(fic) Man-Eater Chapter 13/? - PSoH
Aug. 25th, 2007 03:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeDisclaimer: I don't own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai/Yaoi.
Title: Man-Eater
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial', which is set before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty
D stood before his full length mirror in his dressing gown and examined his reflection critically. His face seemed a bit paler than normal and there was a hint of dark circles under his eyes, tell tale signs of a night of restless dreams and broken sleep. For a moment he considered concealing the signs of fatigue with powder, but then decided that such measures would only draw attention to them. Fretfully he smoothed a hand over his hair and mentally reassured himself that no one would notice.
He turned and walked over to his wardrobe, opened the double doors and rifled through the large selection of garments, his lips pursed and his mind a thousand miles away. Finally, he made his selection then dressed quickly, his nimble fingers working the clasps and frog closures with practiced ease. When he was fully attired, he stood before his mirror again for one final inspection.
The high necked chao-fu he had chosen to wear was simple, yet elegant. The fine black silk was graced with single gold and red embroidered dragon gyrating as it turned back on itself to reach for a green silk pearl, the symbol of good fortune. It was one of his finest robes and he thought it complimented his personal allure and mystique magnificently. He smiled into the mirror and his reflection smiled back.
Tearing his gaze away from the mirror, he turned to a black lacquer nightstand next to his bed. The nightstand was an antique that his grandfather had brought over to the New World many, many years ago. Despite its turned tapering legs with carved paw feet and mother-of-pearl inlaid images depicting fanciful dragons, it was not a true Chinese artifact; rather it was of the Chinoiserie* style, but still a magnificent piece by all accounts. Carefully he pulled open the only drawer and removed the letter Jin Li had given him the night before, unfolding and spreading it out on lacquered surface.
The handwriting was smooth and graceful, the characters carefully formed and in long vertical lines, which stretched down the thin paper with an almost eerie precision. D didn’t bother reading the letter, for he had read it the night before after settling his jangled nerves with gingersnap cookies and jasmine tea sweetened with honey. Still, certain cryptic words and phrases seemed to leap up off the pages. Unease stirred in his heart.
Dishi Sung was dead and he could not question the man or verify the information contained in the letter as the truth. And he couldn’t ask Leon to help in such a matter – the headstrong detective would no doubt think he was crazy… or pulling his chain. The man, though intelligent enough, was stubborn and resisted any and all attempts to understand or even acknowledge the more mystical aspects of the natural world.
No, he couldn’t ask for or expect help from that direction.
D found himself wishing that his grandfather were here in the shop with him. As the oldest surviving member of their race, he would surely be able to answer some of the questions that ran rampant through his mind. But he had not seen his grandfather in many years and only had contact with him through infrequent letters and the occasional exotic gift from whatever country he was currently traveling through.
That left only one person he could talk to. Only one person he could trust.
Reluctantly D pulled open the nightstand’s drawer and withdrew Jin Li’s business card. He turned it over and stared at the telephone number for several moments, uncertain.
“I’m switching hotels tonight, but I’ll be staying in the Los Angeles metro area… just in case.”
Finally coming to a decision, D folded Dishi Sung’s letter and tucked it into a concealed pocket in the depths of one bell-like sleeve. He left his room and made his way toward the main rooms of the shop. His slipper-clad feet made no noise as he passed along the corridors as silent as any ghost.
In the main sitting room, his hand came to rest on the handset of the black 1920’s European table top telephone. Suddenly, he found himself hesitating. He didn’t know for sure what was going on or what to expect, but he did know, or rather suspect, that contacting Jin Li Sung would only drag him deeper into whatever it was that was going on.
Closing his eyes, D tried to summon his resolve. In the darkness behind his eyes, the bloody, grinning face of Kuan Yin appeared, taunting him. D shuddered and indecision was replaced by determination. He was already deeply involved whether he wanted to be or not. Good and evil were already divvying up sides so he might as well take his place beside those who professed to want to help him.
D picked up the handset and dialed the number on the back of the card, his finger turning the rotary dial. The line rang once, twice, again. He caught sight of movement through the corner of his eye and he turned to see the young Chris enter the parlor with his entourage in tow. Pon-chan skipped slightly ahead of him, all pink ribbons and lace, her smile easy and contagious. In contrast, Tetsu slunk a step behind and to the left of the young human, eyes scanning the room restlessly. D offered a warm smile and bid the trio a warm good morning.
Finally, someone picked up and D heard a familiar, sleep-bleary voice mumble in Chinese, “Hello?”
Feeling Chris’ curious eyes on him, D replied in kind, slipping into his native language as easily as a silk robe. “Good morning, Jin Li Sung. It is I, Count D.”
Immediately all trace of sleep disappeared. “Count, I never thought I’d ever hear from you again.”
That’s because I had no intentions of ever contacting you, D thought with a small sigh. Aloud he said, “I have read your father’s letter, Jin Li, and I need to speak with you as soon as possible.”
The sound of cloth rustling could be heard over the line. “Uh, sure, no problem, Count,” Jin Li replied, “Just tell me when and where.”
D paused to think for a moment. Where should they meet? He didn’t want to risk a rendezvous at any of his favorite restaurants here in Chinatown. As a well known member of the community, he simply couldn’t risk the curiosity or the tongue wagging.
I know where you live and I know who you talk to. We’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while now.
If Kuan Yin had been telling the truth, and he had no reason to believe he wasn’t… at least not about that, then it would be wiser to meet Jin Li somewhere outside of Chinatown… somewhere where Kuan Yin wouldn’t expect him to go.
“I would like to meet you for lunch at Din Tai Fung in Arcadia,” D murmured. “It’s a Taiwanese chain renowned for having some of the tastiest Shanghai-style dumplings in Los Angeles. I would like to see for myself if this is true.”
“Of course, anywhere you would like. What time would you like to meet?”
D glanced at the clock and mentally calculated how long it would take for a cab to pick him up and drive him to the restaurant. Then, recalling the sleep-heavy tones of the young man’s voice at the beginning of the telephone conversation, he added an extra half hour to allow Jin Li time to wash and dress. “It is a popular restaurant and I’ve heard that lines are almost always long, so the earlier, the better. Meet me at the restaurant in an hour and a half?”
Feeling very much like he was arranging a date, D gave Jin Li the restaurant’s address and directions on how to get there. The young man thanked him profusely before disconnecting.
Carefully, D placed the handset back in the cradle then turned around only to find three pairs of eyes staring intently at him. Pon-chan and Chris’ eyes revealed an honest curiosity for neither of them understood more than a few words of Chinese. Tetsu, on the other hand, did understand Chinese and his expression now was one of open suspicion.
“Who was on the phone, Count?” Tetsu asked in his usual abrupt manner.
Something was definitely going on, he thought, but he didn’t know exactly what it was. Whatever it was, though, he was certain that it wasn’t anything good. The Count seemed distant and preoccupied. Plus, judging from the bags under his eyes, he had had a rather restless night. Now, he wasn’t one to pry into the Count’s private affairs, but coming home in the wee hours of the morning with his clothes cut to ribbons and the fight with Leon (not that fighting was so unusual for them but this time it had seemed different somehow) and now he was making calls to persons unknown… well, it was enough to trigger something in him a little stronger than mere curiosity.
“A… friend,” D replied, adding a bit of truth to the lie in order to make it more believable as he had done with Leon last night, “Jin Li Sung from China. We haven’t seen in a long time.”
Tetsu’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t seem prepared to openly challenge the Count’s statement. Relieved that there would be no further questions, D turned to Chris. “I’m going to meet my friend for lunch.” Chris opened his mouth, eyes alight with anticipation, but D, anticipating what he was going to say, gently cut him off. “And, no, you may not come. This will be a grown-ups meeting. No children allowed.”
Smiling to ease the boy’s disappointment, D added, “There’s money in the petty cash jar. Why don’t you, Pon-chan and Tetsu order in for lunch? Anything you want.”
“Really?” Chris’ eye lit up at this unexpected treat. The Count was usually such a stickler about nutrition. Not that he minded eating his fruits and vegetables, but sometimes he wanted normal kid food… kind of like the stuff Leon always got him when he was over at his apartment visiting, at least when D deemed it clean enough – ice cream sandwiches, pizza and caramel popcorn washed down with whatever soda his big brother had on hand. “Can I order pizza?”
D frowned mightily at this suggestion then he sighed in resignation. “I suppose there wouldn’t be any harm in indulging in such foods once in a while…”
“Great! I’ll order pepperoni with extra cheese!”
“Make sure you have some salad and milk along with your meal, Chris.” D reminded gently.
“’Kay!”
In an exuberant display of spontaneity, Chris gave D a hug before rushing off to find the pizza coupons his brother had stashed in the junk drawer… not that D actually had much of a ‘junk’ drawer to speak of. He was too much of a neat freak for something as uncivilized and unorganized as that.
D stared after the young boy, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He wasn’t a physically demonstrative individual and seldom gave indications to his deeper feelings outside of happiness or anger at Leon for his boorish behavior, but the boy’s embrace had surprised and pleased him all at the same time. Chris’ turned his radiantly happy face back towards him as he waved the coupons gleefully in the air and D felt a sudden, powerful wave of emotion.
Was this love? He wondered. It must be, though it felt different than it did with his brother, simpler, more innocent, yet undeniable the same emotion. On the other hand, his feelings for Leon were far more complicated. They confused him, and turned him hot and cold in turn. It was love he supposed, but a different kind of love, neither one better or worse than the other.
D oversaw the ordering of the pizza and handed the young boy a handful of smaller bills to pay for the meal, making sure that there was enough for a generous tip for the delivery driver. He then called for a cab and sat down on the couch in the parlor to await its arrival. To his surprise, the pizza delivery man, a skinny blond youth with several facial piercings and tattoos on every exposed inch of flesh, arrived before his cab did.
Smiling, he watched Chris hand over the money, counting out the dollar bills with studious care. “Keep the change,” he added magnanimously and grinned as the delivery man turned and ascended the steps leading to the shop.
Chris proudly carried the pizza box being careful to hold only the edges in case the heat of its contents had seeped out into the bottom of the box. Pon-chan was in charge of the bread sticks and Tetsu laid claim to the soda. D smiled at the small procession.
‘They know where you live, where you work, who you talk to… and who you love.’
Instantly the smile disappeared. D rose to his feet and patted the air to catch Tetsu’s attention. “Tetsu, if I may speak to you for a moment?”
Tetsu glanced first at Chris then back to the Count as if he already guessed what the he was going to talk to him about. Shrugging his shoulders amiably, he made a show of walking casually over to where D stood next to the door.
“What’s up, Count?”
D cut a glance toward the kitchen and pitched his voice low. “I’d like you to keep a close eye on Chris for the next few days.”
Tetsu’s gaze sharpened and his voice also lowered to a conspirator’s whisper. “Sure, Count. No problem, I’ll keep an eye on the kid. I always do, don’t I?”
“Yes, and you do a wonderful job of keeping him safe.” D reassured him, “I just want you to be a little extra cautious, especially when you are outside the pet shop.”
“What’s this all about, Count?” Tetsu demanded, “Why all the secrecy all of a sudden?”
For a moment D looked uncertain of how to answer the question, but then his face cleared as if he had reached some sort of decision. He opened his mouth as if to speak but before any words could escape his lips, he was interrupted by the honking of a car’s horn. The cab had arrived at last.
“I’ll explain everything to you when I know more myself,” D murmured as he opened the front door. “I promise.”
*****
To D’s dismay, the cabby turned out to be none other than the voyeuristic Chinese man from the night before.
“Well, hello there.” The man aimed a lopsided leer at D as he slowly approached the cab. His teeth were stained yellow from tobacco and D noticed that he had a snaggletooth. He opened the driver’s side door and hauled his bulk out of the front seat with some difficulty. “As soon as I got this address I knew I’d be seeing you again, my friend.”
In an attempt at gallantry, the cabby waddled around the car to the back passenger seat door and jerked it open. “After you,” he purred.
For a moment D gave serious thought to simply turning around, walking back into the pet shop, and calling for a different cab. Though it was tempting, it would have been rude to do so. The man was only trying to be nice and polite. Such gallantry was rare in this city of angels especially among the less expensive professional drivers where the one finger salute – or worse - was commonly used to show displeasure while out on the roads. Besides, he had told Jin Li that he would meet him at the restaurant in an hour and a half. If he were to call a different cab company he would never make it on time. And D was nothing if not punctual.
“Thank you,” Fixing a smile onto his face, D slid gracefully into the backseat.
The driver slammed the door and huffed his way back around to the front. The cab lurched to one side as he squeezed behind the wheel. Again, he slammed the door – it seemed that he knew no quieter means of accomplishing the task – then twisted his bulk around so he was looking at D. For one moment D almost lost his weak smile as the man dragged his gaze slowly along the full length of his body, taking great interest in the quality of his clothes and his physical attributes. There was something obscene about the way his eyes lingered here, gaped there. He felt like a slab of meat set out on display before a very hungry wolf.
“Where are you going today, my friend?”
“The Din Tai Fung in Arcadia, if you please, sir,” D replied calmly. He started to give the cabby the address, but he was cut off with a wink and another leer.
“Yeah, I know where that joint is. Fantastic dumplings. A bit pricey, but it looks like you can afford it, if you know what I mean.”
D leaned back in his seat with a weary sigh, “Yes, I do.”
"Maybe I’ll get a bite to eat there my self. I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast and I’m starving.”
D did his best to disguise his horror at such an idea.
The driver twisted the key in the ignition switch and gunned the engine. With a jerk of the wheel they were heading down the narrow streets and on their way. Traffic was much busier at this time of day and for once D was grateful for it meant that the overweight man had to pay more attention to the road and less time leering at him through the reflection of his rear view mirror. Even so, he frequently caught the other man’s gaze sizing him up in a very disquieting manner.
The city scrolled by on either side of the car and the cabby kept up a steady stream of chatter despite the fact that D made little effort to join in the conversation. This didn’t seem to deter the man any. After twenty minutes, D was tired of staring out the window and passed the time staring at the rather large bald spot at the back of the cabby’s head. Like many men, he thought that combing his hair over the spot would somehow hide it, but sadly it only seemed to emphasize it even more.
He darted a glance at the rear view mirror and caught the man’s eyes as he stared, paying more attention to him than the traffic. Both men narrowed their eyes, D in irritation, the cabby in a lecherous squint.
“So,” the cabby drawled, his eyes burning with a sort of hunger that had nothing to do with food, “you a tranny?”
“I beg your pardon?” D’s voice was sharp, his words clipped in a verbal warning that would have had more sensible men running for the hills. The driver either didn’t notice or chose to ignore said warning.
“A tranny,” The cabby repeated, winking and nodding his head. “You know, one of those tran-sex-shuls.”
An odd sort of stillness stole over D and the driver must have mistaken his blank face for lack of understanding. “You know,” he prompted, “men who dress like women.”
D bristled and sat up straighter in his seat. Judging from his surroundings, they were only a few blocks from the restaurant and delivery from this cab.
“No, I am not a transsexual,” D’s reply was icy.
Maneuvering the cab into a vacant parking spot, the cab killed the engine. “Just asking, no need to get uppity.”
“How much do I owe you, sir?”
The cabby rattled off what seemed to D to be a rather inflated price, then held out one hand, palm up in anticipation of payment. D counted out the fare and placed the crisp bills into the other man’s hands. He then exited the cab with calm grace mentally making note to call a different cab company on the way back to Chinatown.
“A pleasure doing business with you, sir,” the cabby gushed unconvincingly.
D inclined his head in way of acknowledgment and made his way to the restaurant’s entrance. Jin Li, he noticed was standing near the double doors, hands deep in his suit pockets. His smile of greeting was so warm and genuine D couldn’t help but return it in equal measures.
Unnoticed by either D or Jin Li, the cab remained in the parking spot. The cab driver watched the two men as they made their way into the restaurant. Jin Li held the door open for the Count then followed him in after casting a glance at the parking lot in general. But he never looked directly toward the cab.
The cab driver, a recently divorced man with a gambling habit and paying child support on three children, had removed his fake horn-rimmed glasses and had taken several snapshots of the two men entering the restaurant with his new, state of the art digital camera. Once they were inside, he waited a few minutes to make sure they wouldn’t be coming out any time soon. He then flipped open his cell phone and punched in a number from memory.
The line was picked on the second ring and Kuan Yin Zhang’s voice came through the phone’s mini speakers loud and clear. “Hello.”
“Hey, boss, it’s me, Chang.”
“Is everything going according to plan?”
“Yeah, more or less, I guess. I just dropped Count D off at the Din Tai Fung in Arcadia. He’s having some sort of secret rendezvous with Sung’s brat.”
A tense sort of silence filled the other end of the line and for several moments Chang thought he had been disconnected. He really needed to get a different network, he thought. This one kept dropping his calls. Fortunately, before any lasting panic could set in, Kuan Yin’s voice was back.
“Are you sure he’s meeting Jin Li Sung?” He asked, horribly eager.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s Jin Li all right. I even snapped off a few picture with my digital camera. I’m looking at them right now. There’s no mistake. It’s Jin Li.”
“I want you to lay low and keep surveillance on that restaurant. When Jin Li comes out, I want you to follow him. Do you understand?”
Chang frowned at the idea of being ordered to just sit and watch the restaurant. He was hungry, damn it! “But what about the Count? Shouldn’t we have someone tailing his ass?”
Kuan Yin’s voice crackled over the line with barely concealed impatience. “Just do as I tell you. Tail Jin Li when he leaves the restaurant, but don’t let him see you, got that? When he gets to whatever rat-trap motel he’s staying at, I want you to call me with the location. Is that clear?”
“Yeah, but what about Count D?”
“Listen to me, fuck-head, I don’t give two shits about Count D right now. We’ve been watching him for quite a while now and, believe me, he’s not going anywhere. Besides, when the time’s right, we won’t need to find him because he will come to us.”
The line disconnected abruptly. Chang glared at the phone for a few moments then angrily flipped it closed and slid it back into his pocket. His stomach growled loudly, but he didn’t dare get out of the car to grab something to eat. Mumbling under his breath, he settled down to wait.
TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N *Chinoiserie, from 'chinois' the French for Chinese, was a style inspired by art and design from China, Japan and other Asian countries. In the 18th century porcelain, silk and lacquer ware imported from China and Japan were extremely fashionable. This led many British designers and craftsmen to imitate Asian designs and to create their own fanciful versions of the East. The style was at its height from 1750 to 1765.
Pairings: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai/Yaoi.
Title: Man-Eater
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial', which is set before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty
D stood before his full length mirror in his dressing gown and examined his reflection critically. His face seemed a bit paler than normal and there was a hint of dark circles under his eyes, tell tale signs of a night of restless dreams and broken sleep. For a moment he considered concealing the signs of fatigue with powder, but then decided that such measures would only draw attention to them. Fretfully he smoothed a hand over his hair and mentally reassured himself that no one would notice.
He turned and walked over to his wardrobe, opened the double doors and rifled through the large selection of garments, his lips pursed and his mind a thousand miles away. Finally, he made his selection then dressed quickly, his nimble fingers working the clasps and frog closures with practiced ease. When he was fully attired, he stood before his mirror again for one final inspection.
The high necked chao-fu he had chosen to wear was simple, yet elegant. The fine black silk was graced with single gold and red embroidered dragon gyrating as it turned back on itself to reach for a green silk pearl, the symbol of good fortune. It was one of his finest robes and he thought it complimented his personal allure and mystique magnificently. He smiled into the mirror and his reflection smiled back.
Tearing his gaze away from the mirror, he turned to a black lacquer nightstand next to his bed. The nightstand was an antique that his grandfather had brought over to the New World many, many years ago. Despite its turned tapering legs with carved paw feet and mother-of-pearl inlaid images depicting fanciful dragons, it was not a true Chinese artifact; rather it was of the Chinoiserie* style, but still a magnificent piece by all accounts. Carefully he pulled open the only drawer and removed the letter Jin Li had given him the night before, unfolding and spreading it out on lacquered surface.
The handwriting was smooth and graceful, the characters carefully formed and in long vertical lines, which stretched down the thin paper with an almost eerie precision. D didn’t bother reading the letter, for he had read it the night before after settling his jangled nerves with gingersnap cookies and jasmine tea sweetened with honey. Still, certain cryptic words and phrases seemed to leap up off the pages. Unease stirred in his heart.
Dishi Sung was dead and he could not question the man or verify the information contained in the letter as the truth. And he couldn’t ask Leon to help in such a matter – the headstrong detective would no doubt think he was crazy… or pulling his chain. The man, though intelligent enough, was stubborn and resisted any and all attempts to understand or even acknowledge the more mystical aspects of the natural world.
No, he couldn’t ask for or expect help from that direction.
D found himself wishing that his grandfather were here in the shop with him. As the oldest surviving member of their race, he would surely be able to answer some of the questions that ran rampant through his mind. But he had not seen his grandfather in many years and only had contact with him through infrequent letters and the occasional exotic gift from whatever country he was currently traveling through.
That left only one person he could talk to. Only one person he could trust.
Reluctantly D pulled open the nightstand’s drawer and withdrew Jin Li’s business card. He turned it over and stared at the telephone number for several moments, uncertain.
“I’m switching hotels tonight, but I’ll be staying in the Los Angeles metro area… just in case.”
Finally coming to a decision, D folded Dishi Sung’s letter and tucked it into a concealed pocket in the depths of one bell-like sleeve. He left his room and made his way toward the main rooms of the shop. His slipper-clad feet made no noise as he passed along the corridors as silent as any ghost.
In the main sitting room, his hand came to rest on the handset of the black 1920’s European table top telephone. Suddenly, he found himself hesitating. He didn’t know for sure what was going on or what to expect, but he did know, or rather suspect, that contacting Jin Li Sung would only drag him deeper into whatever it was that was going on.
Closing his eyes, D tried to summon his resolve. In the darkness behind his eyes, the bloody, grinning face of Kuan Yin appeared, taunting him. D shuddered and indecision was replaced by determination. He was already deeply involved whether he wanted to be or not. Good and evil were already divvying up sides so he might as well take his place beside those who professed to want to help him.
D picked up the handset and dialed the number on the back of the card, his finger turning the rotary dial. The line rang once, twice, again. He caught sight of movement through the corner of his eye and he turned to see the young Chris enter the parlor with his entourage in tow. Pon-chan skipped slightly ahead of him, all pink ribbons and lace, her smile easy and contagious. In contrast, Tetsu slunk a step behind and to the left of the young human, eyes scanning the room restlessly. D offered a warm smile and bid the trio a warm good morning.
Finally, someone picked up and D heard a familiar, sleep-bleary voice mumble in Chinese, “Hello?”
Feeling Chris’ curious eyes on him, D replied in kind, slipping into his native language as easily as a silk robe. “Good morning, Jin Li Sung. It is I, Count D.”
Immediately all trace of sleep disappeared. “Count, I never thought I’d ever hear from you again.”
That’s because I had no intentions of ever contacting you, D thought with a small sigh. Aloud he said, “I have read your father’s letter, Jin Li, and I need to speak with you as soon as possible.”
The sound of cloth rustling could be heard over the line. “Uh, sure, no problem, Count,” Jin Li replied, “Just tell me when and where.”
D paused to think for a moment. Where should they meet? He didn’t want to risk a rendezvous at any of his favorite restaurants here in Chinatown. As a well known member of the community, he simply couldn’t risk the curiosity or the tongue wagging.
I know where you live and I know who you talk to. We’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while now.
If Kuan Yin had been telling the truth, and he had no reason to believe he wasn’t… at least not about that, then it would be wiser to meet Jin Li somewhere outside of Chinatown… somewhere where Kuan Yin wouldn’t expect him to go.
“I would like to meet you for lunch at Din Tai Fung in Arcadia,” D murmured. “It’s a Taiwanese chain renowned for having some of the tastiest Shanghai-style dumplings in Los Angeles. I would like to see for myself if this is true.”
“Of course, anywhere you would like. What time would you like to meet?”
D glanced at the clock and mentally calculated how long it would take for a cab to pick him up and drive him to the restaurant. Then, recalling the sleep-heavy tones of the young man’s voice at the beginning of the telephone conversation, he added an extra half hour to allow Jin Li time to wash and dress. “It is a popular restaurant and I’ve heard that lines are almost always long, so the earlier, the better. Meet me at the restaurant in an hour and a half?”
Feeling very much like he was arranging a date, D gave Jin Li the restaurant’s address and directions on how to get there. The young man thanked him profusely before disconnecting.
Carefully, D placed the handset back in the cradle then turned around only to find three pairs of eyes staring intently at him. Pon-chan and Chris’ eyes revealed an honest curiosity for neither of them understood more than a few words of Chinese. Tetsu, on the other hand, did understand Chinese and his expression now was one of open suspicion.
“Who was on the phone, Count?” Tetsu asked in his usual abrupt manner.
Something was definitely going on, he thought, but he didn’t know exactly what it was. Whatever it was, though, he was certain that it wasn’t anything good. The Count seemed distant and preoccupied. Plus, judging from the bags under his eyes, he had had a rather restless night. Now, he wasn’t one to pry into the Count’s private affairs, but coming home in the wee hours of the morning with his clothes cut to ribbons and the fight with Leon (not that fighting was so unusual for them but this time it had seemed different somehow) and now he was making calls to persons unknown… well, it was enough to trigger something in him a little stronger than mere curiosity.
“A… friend,” D replied, adding a bit of truth to the lie in order to make it more believable as he had done with Leon last night, “Jin Li Sung from China. We haven’t seen in a long time.”
Tetsu’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t seem prepared to openly challenge the Count’s statement. Relieved that there would be no further questions, D turned to Chris. “I’m going to meet my friend for lunch.” Chris opened his mouth, eyes alight with anticipation, but D, anticipating what he was going to say, gently cut him off. “And, no, you may not come. This will be a grown-ups meeting. No children allowed.”
Smiling to ease the boy’s disappointment, D added, “There’s money in the petty cash jar. Why don’t you, Pon-chan and Tetsu order in for lunch? Anything you want.”
“Really?” Chris’ eye lit up at this unexpected treat. The Count was usually such a stickler about nutrition. Not that he minded eating his fruits and vegetables, but sometimes he wanted normal kid food… kind of like the stuff Leon always got him when he was over at his apartment visiting, at least when D deemed it clean enough – ice cream sandwiches, pizza and caramel popcorn washed down with whatever soda his big brother had on hand. “Can I order pizza?”
D frowned mightily at this suggestion then he sighed in resignation. “I suppose there wouldn’t be any harm in indulging in such foods once in a while…”
“Great! I’ll order pepperoni with extra cheese!”
“Make sure you have some salad and milk along with your meal, Chris.” D reminded gently.
“’Kay!”
In an exuberant display of spontaneity, Chris gave D a hug before rushing off to find the pizza coupons his brother had stashed in the junk drawer… not that D actually had much of a ‘junk’ drawer to speak of. He was too much of a neat freak for something as uncivilized and unorganized as that.
D stared after the young boy, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He wasn’t a physically demonstrative individual and seldom gave indications to his deeper feelings outside of happiness or anger at Leon for his boorish behavior, but the boy’s embrace had surprised and pleased him all at the same time. Chris’ turned his radiantly happy face back towards him as he waved the coupons gleefully in the air and D felt a sudden, powerful wave of emotion.
Was this love? He wondered. It must be, though it felt different than it did with his brother, simpler, more innocent, yet undeniable the same emotion. On the other hand, his feelings for Leon were far more complicated. They confused him, and turned him hot and cold in turn. It was love he supposed, but a different kind of love, neither one better or worse than the other.
D oversaw the ordering of the pizza and handed the young boy a handful of smaller bills to pay for the meal, making sure that there was enough for a generous tip for the delivery driver. He then called for a cab and sat down on the couch in the parlor to await its arrival. To his surprise, the pizza delivery man, a skinny blond youth with several facial piercings and tattoos on every exposed inch of flesh, arrived before his cab did.
Smiling, he watched Chris hand over the money, counting out the dollar bills with studious care. “Keep the change,” he added magnanimously and grinned as the delivery man turned and ascended the steps leading to the shop.
Chris proudly carried the pizza box being careful to hold only the edges in case the heat of its contents had seeped out into the bottom of the box. Pon-chan was in charge of the bread sticks and Tetsu laid claim to the soda. D smiled at the small procession.
‘They know where you live, where you work, who you talk to… and who you love.’
Instantly the smile disappeared. D rose to his feet and patted the air to catch Tetsu’s attention. “Tetsu, if I may speak to you for a moment?”
Tetsu glanced first at Chris then back to the Count as if he already guessed what the he was going to talk to him about. Shrugging his shoulders amiably, he made a show of walking casually over to where D stood next to the door.
“What’s up, Count?”
D cut a glance toward the kitchen and pitched his voice low. “I’d like you to keep a close eye on Chris for the next few days.”
Tetsu’s gaze sharpened and his voice also lowered to a conspirator’s whisper. “Sure, Count. No problem, I’ll keep an eye on the kid. I always do, don’t I?”
“Yes, and you do a wonderful job of keeping him safe.” D reassured him, “I just want you to be a little extra cautious, especially when you are outside the pet shop.”
“What’s this all about, Count?” Tetsu demanded, “Why all the secrecy all of a sudden?”
For a moment D looked uncertain of how to answer the question, but then his face cleared as if he had reached some sort of decision. He opened his mouth as if to speak but before any words could escape his lips, he was interrupted by the honking of a car’s horn. The cab had arrived at last.
“I’ll explain everything to you when I know more myself,” D murmured as he opened the front door. “I promise.”
*****
To D’s dismay, the cabby turned out to be none other than the voyeuristic Chinese man from the night before.
“Well, hello there.” The man aimed a lopsided leer at D as he slowly approached the cab. His teeth were stained yellow from tobacco and D noticed that he had a snaggletooth. He opened the driver’s side door and hauled his bulk out of the front seat with some difficulty. “As soon as I got this address I knew I’d be seeing you again, my friend.”
In an attempt at gallantry, the cabby waddled around the car to the back passenger seat door and jerked it open. “After you,” he purred.
For a moment D gave serious thought to simply turning around, walking back into the pet shop, and calling for a different cab. Though it was tempting, it would have been rude to do so. The man was only trying to be nice and polite. Such gallantry was rare in this city of angels especially among the less expensive professional drivers where the one finger salute – or worse - was commonly used to show displeasure while out on the roads. Besides, he had told Jin Li that he would meet him at the restaurant in an hour and a half. If he were to call a different cab company he would never make it on time. And D was nothing if not punctual.
“Thank you,” Fixing a smile onto his face, D slid gracefully into the backseat.
The driver slammed the door and huffed his way back around to the front. The cab lurched to one side as he squeezed behind the wheel. Again, he slammed the door – it seemed that he knew no quieter means of accomplishing the task – then twisted his bulk around so he was looking at D. For one moment D almost lost his weak smile as the man dragged his gaze slowly along the full length of his body, taking great interest in the quality of his clothes and his physical attributes. There was something obscene about the way his eyes lingered here, gaped there. He felt like a slab of meat set out on display before a very hungry wolf.
“Where are you going today, my friend?”
“The Din Tai Fung in Arcadia, if you please, sir,” D replied calmly. He started to give the cabby the address, but he was cut off with a wink and another leer.
“Yeah, I know where that joint is. Fantastic dumplings. A bit pricey, but it looks like you can afford it, if you know what I mean.”
D leaned back in his seat with a weary sigh, “Yes, I do.”
"Maybe I’ll get a bite to eat there my self. I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast and I’m starving.”
D did his best to disguise his horror at such an idea.
The driver twisted the key in the ignition switch and gunned the engine. With a jerk of the wheel they were heading down the narrow streets and on their way. Traffic was much busier at this time of day and for once D was grateful for it meant that the overweight man had to pay more attention to the road and less time leering at him through the reflection of his rear view mirror. Even so, he frequently caught the other man’s gaze sizing him up in a very disquieting manner.
The city scrolled by on either side of the car and the cabby kept up a steady stream of chatter despite the fact that D made little effort to join in the conversation. This didn’t seem to deter the man any. After twenty minutes, D was tired of staring out the window and passed the time staring at the rather large bald spot at the back of the cabby’s head. Like many men, he thought that combing his hair over the spot would somehow hide it, but sadly it only seemed to emphasize it even more.
He darted a glance at the rear view mirror and caught the man’s eyes as he stared, paying more attention to him than the traffic. Both men narrowed their eyes, D in irritation, the cabby in a lecherous squint.
“So,” the cabby drawled, his eyes burning with a sort of hunger that had nothing to do with food, “you a tranny?”
“I beg your pardon?” D’s voice was sharp, his words clipped in a verbal warning that would have had more sensible men running for the hills. The driver either didn’t notice or chose to ignore said warning.
“A tranny,” The cabby repeated, winking and nodding his head. “You know, one of those tran-sex-shuls.”
An odd sort of stillness stole over D and the driver must have mistaken his blank face for lack of understanding. “You know,” he prompted, “men who dress like women.”
D bristled and sat up straighter in his seat. Judging from his surroundings, they were only a few blocks from the restaurant and delivery from this cab.
“No, I am not a transsexual,” D’s reply was icy.
Maneuvering the cab into a vacant parking spot, the cab killed the engine. “Just asking, no need to get uppity.”
“How much do I owe you, sir?”
The cabby rattled off what seemed to D to be a rather inflated price, then held out one hand, palm up in anticipation of payment. D counted out the fare and placed the crisp bills into the other man’s hands. He then exited the cab with calm grace mentally making note to call a different cab company on the way back to Chinatown.
“A pleasure doing business with you, sir,” the cabby gushed unconvincingly.
D inclined his head in way of acknowledgment and made his way to the restaurant’s entrance. Jin Li, he noticed was standing near the double doors, hands deep in his suit pockets. His smile of greeting was so warm and genuine D couldn’t help but return it in equal measures.
Unnoticed by either D or Jin Li, the cab remained in the parking spot. The cab driver watched the two men as they made their way into the restaurant. Jin Li held the door open for the Count then followed him in after casting a glance at the parking lot in general. But he never looked directly toward the cab.
The cab driver, a recently divorced man with a gambling habit and paying child support on three children, had removed his fake horn-rimmed glasses and had taken several snapshots of the two men entering the restaurant with his new, state of the art digital camera. Once they were inside, he waited a few minutes to make sure they wouldn’t be coming out any time soon. He then flipped open his cell phone and punched in a number from memory.
The line was picked on the second ring and Kuan Yin Zhang’s voice came through the phone’s mini speakers loud and clear. “Hello.”
“Hey, boss, it’s me, Chang.”
“Is everything going according to plan?”
“Yeah, more or less, I guess. I just dropped Count D off at the Din Tai Fung in Arcadia. He’s having some sort of secret rendezvous with Sung’s brat.”
A tense sort of silence filled the other end of the line and for several moments Chang thought he had been disconnected. He really needed to get a different network, he thought. This one kept dropping his calls. Fortunately, before any lasting panic could set in, Kuan Yin’s voice was back.
“Are you sure he’s meeting Jin Li Sung?” He asked, horribly eager.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s Jin Li all right. I even snapped off a few picture with my digital camera. I’m looking at them right now. There’s no mistake. It’s Jin Li.”
“I want you to lay low and keep surveillance on that restaurant. When Jin Li comes out, I want you to follow him. Do you understand?”
Chang frowned at the idea of being ordered to just sit and watch the restaurant. He was hungry, damn it! “But what about the Count? Shouldn’t we have someone tailing his ass?”
Kuan Yin’s voice crackled over the line with barely concealed impatience. “Just do as I tell you. Tail Jin Li when he leaves the restaurant, but don’t let him see you, got that? When he gets to whatever rat-trap motel he’s staying at, I want you to call me with the location. Is that clear?”
“Yeah, but what about Count D?”
“Listen to me, fuck-head, I don’t give two shits about Count D right now. We’ve been watching him for quite a while now and, believe me, he’s not going anywhere. Besides, when the time’s right, we won’t need to find him because he will come to us.”
The line disconnected abruptly. Chang glared at the phone for a few moments then angrily flipped it closed and slid it back into his pocket. His stomach growled loudly, but he didn’t dare get out of the car to grab something to eat. Mumbling under his breath, he settled down to wait.
TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N *Chinoiserie, from 'chinois' the French for Chinese, was a style inspired by art and design from China, Japan and other Asian countries. In the 18th century porcelain, silk and lacquer ware imported from China and Japan were extremely fashionable. This led many British designers and craftsmen to imitate Asian designs and to create their own fanciful versions of the East. The style was at its height from 1750 to 1765.
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Date: 2007-08-25 09:30 am (UTC)Okay, now that that's out of the way-- I'm going back to reread the whole thing! Much love and thanks for making my night!
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Date: 2007-08-28 11:44 pm (UTC)