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One might not expect an Ultimate Gambler to mingle openly with the rich and famous. One might expect her to stick to shady mahjong parlors and other back-room dealings with business executives and perhaps the odd celebrity, who’d all pretend not to recognize her should they run into her elsewhere. Occasionally perhaps one of them would be photographed with her at a glitzy hotel in Macau and rumors would be whispered, but never confirmed. Her name would be known by few, but spoken with respect and awe in the underworld through which she moved.
As romantic as such a shadowy life sounded, however, in the end Celeste didn’t see the point in having connections if you didn’t use them for anything. Which was how she had ended up at a party thrown by the owner of some record label. Celeste’s personal interest in music mostly encompassed instrumental pieces that sounded like they would play at a vampire’s castle in a movie, but meeting rich people was an excellent first step to separating them from their money, and the more she did of that, the closer she got to purchasing that castle.
She had not particularly expected to encounter any of her classmates at such an event, but Celeste couldn’t claim to be entirely surprised when she saw Maizono there. Maizono was a singer, after all. Perhaps the record label the host owned was the one with which Maizono was signed. Celeste had never really thought to pay attention to that.
She didn't approach Maizono; they were both there on business, and Celeste doubted Maizono wanted a classmate getting in her way. She found herself, however, watching Maizono from a distance--or as much of a distance as could be had in one room of a Tokyo apartment, even a very luxurious one. She watched Maizono work her way around the room, subtly shifting her persona for each person. Celeste couldn't hear any of the conversations, but any gambler worth her salt knew how to read body language, and she could see Maizono alter hers to emphasize innocence for one person, flirtation for another, ditziness for a third. It was this kind of performance, Celeste thought, that made her the ultimate idol, rather than the kind she gave onstage. Plenty of girls could sing and dance; it was a rarer skill to not only maintain a persona so consistently, but to be constantly making tiny alterations to it to suit each audience. Celeste wondered briefly if any of it was real, where the real Maizono was under all that--but then she thought of Taeko Yasuhiro and realized that it was, perhaps, hypocritical of her to even contemplate it.
So engrossed was Celeste in these observations that it took her nearly an hour to realize she hadn’t done what she’d come to do at all, and she noticed it then only because one of the people she knew at the party came up to talk to her. She was vaguely annoyed by this, despite the fact that she really had nothing more important to be doing at that moment. She made noncommittal noises as the man who’d approached her rambled on, apparently oblivious to her lack of interest; at last he went away, and Celeste looked around again for Maizono.
Maizono, it seemed, had also been cornered by a man she didn’t particularly want to talk to, but she didn’t simply look bored. She looked uncomfortable. And if Maizono, of all people, looked uncomfortable, something had to be really wrong. As Celeste watched, Maizono began surreptitiously looking around, as if searching for an escape route. Her eyes met Celeste’s.
Celeste didn’t exactly come up with a plan. It was more that she started moving across the room towards Maizono and realized only when she was about halfway there what it was that she was going to do. She swooped down on Maizono, saying, “Sayaka-chan! I haven’t seen you in so long. We simply must catch up.”
Maizono, to her credit, didn’t miss a beat. She smiled warmly at Celeste and said “Of course! I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.” Turning to the man, she said apologetically, “I hate to leave, but you see, she’s a friend of mine from junior high, and being so busy with my career I really haven’t kept up....”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s any need to bore him with the details,” said Celeste, taking Maizono by the arm and steering her gently away.
Together, they went out into the hallway, where Celeste realized abruptly that there was no reason for her to be holding Maizono’s arm anymore, and backed off so abruptly that she bumped into an end table. Maizono had to have noticed, but she seemed to be pretending not to have done so.
“I hope I didn’t startle you too much,” Celeste said. “It’s just that you looked like you were having trouble.”
“Oh, no, you were wonderful,” said Maizono. “You could be an actress.”
Celeste preened a bit, but said modestly, “I’m good at bluffing, that’s all.”
“It’s lucky you were here. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.
Celeste wondered if Maizono was performing for her now--playing up the vulnerability, the gratitude. The thought made her unaccountably annoyed. “You would have figured something out, I’m sure,” she said. “You must deal with pathetic men like that all the time.”
Maizono’s expression darkened for just a second; when her cheerful demeanor returned, Celeste thought it looked more forced, though that could have been her imagination.
“Anyway,” Maizono said, “thanks again, but I should really go back in, and I’m sure you have things you need to be doing as well.”
“Of course,” Celeste said. She could tell when she’d been dismissed.
She went back to the party and made more of an effort to chat up wealthy people whom she had not already started bleeding of their fortunes, and she did well enough, but her heart wasn’t really in it.
As she was contemplating leaving, she saw Maizono out of the corner of her eye, heading into the hallway alone--probably in search of the bathroom. Maybe, Celeste thought, she’d stick around just a little longer, to say goodbye to her classmate. Then she saw the man from whom she’d rescued Maizono earlier follow her out into the hallway, and alarm bells went off in her head.
Once again, Celeste started moving before she had much idea what she was going to do. She slipped out the door into the hall just in time to see the man reaching out as if to grab Maizono’s arm. Celeste grabbed his arm instead, and dug her fingernails in.
“Ow! What--"
“Don't fucking touch her, you filthy pig,” said Celeste.
The man twisted around into what looked like an uncomfortable position to try to glare at Celeste. It was a rather weak attempt. Celeste had seen much better.
“What's it to you what she and I do?” he said. “I thought you were just some old acquaintance from junior high.”
“I lied, actually,” Maizono said. “She's my girlfriend. And she's very possessive.”
Well. That was unexpected. The man looked at Celeste, evidently having the same reaction. So, of course, it was up to her to convince him.
“It's true,” Celeste said. “And if you ever go near her again, or tell anyone what we just told you, I want you to know that while I won't personally rip your guts out and strangle you with them, there are at least five hitmen in this city who owe me favors.” She dug her nails a little deeper into his arm for good measure. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Uh,” said the man. “Sure. Just- just let me go, will you?”
It was lucky he was such a coward, Celeste thought. He was a few inches taller and probably a good deal heavier; he could have pulled away if he'd tried, though probably not without some fairly deep scratches on his arm, which must be what was stopping him. Well, if he wanted to give her the upper hand, she would graciously accept it. She didn't let go. “Do you promise to do as I asked?”
“I...”
Celeste placed her other hand where his neck and shoulder met and dug two fingers into the hollow of his throat.
“I promise, okay? I promise,” he said, a bit hoarsely.
“Good,” said Celeste, letting go--and not a moment too soon; her fingers were starting to hurt. Pushing past the man, she slid an arm around Maizono’s waist and said, “Now, then, I think we should be going.”
“I agree,” said Maizono, sounding entirely sincere. And so they left, together.
They were silent at first in the elevator; at last Maizono said, “Do you really know that many hitmen who owe you favors?”
“Maybe,” said Celeste, with what she hoped was a mysterious smile.
Maizono gave a small laugh. “I guess I shouldn't ask about things like that. But honestly, thank you so much. I really owe you.”
“Don't worry about it, Maizono-san,” Celeste said, aiming for an air of lofty magnanimity.
But Maizono just said, “After all that, I think you can call me Sayaka.”
“If you like,” said Celeste, still going for cool and aloof, but she maybe had overdone it a little, because Maizono--Sayaka--looked disappointed. So Celeste added, “And, er... perhaps we could see each other outside of school again sometime? On purpose, to do something a bit more enjoyable?”
“I'd like that,” said Sayaka, smiling. And Celeste couldn't be sure, but she thought the smile might, in fact, be genuine.