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She had a fine figure, no doubt about that. Her curves fit between his hands like she’d been built for him and him alone. Her body was smooth and seductive, waiting to be touched in all the ways that felt good and sounded better.
“Yeah, baby” he whispered, “If you want to be slapped, you don’t have to beg.”
He’d never be unfaithful to his partner, but Sano Shinichiro had some kind of love affair going on with that beautiful bass guitar, running the fingers of one hand up and down the neck, while he slapped out a syncopated rhythm against the strings with the other. He explored variations on a blues lick he’d had on his mind all day, unable to decide which one he liked better. The lyrics were written but the melody to lay on them remained elusive and shy, refusing to reveal itself. Shin was in no hurry to complete it, but did look forward to hearing it done. But, the best things come to those who wait, and sometimes what you need arrives when you least expect it. These adages seemed to hold true for life’s precious moments but they worked for ideas, too.
“In here again?” A nasally voice interrupted Shin’s improvised solo concert. “What’s your plan for that bass, Sano, to wear all the finish off it so you can buy it at a discount?”
Sano Shinichiro unplugged the guitar from the amp and carefully hung the glossy custom painted instrument on the wall again, another outstanding Mitsuya original.
The strips of display lighting on the ceiling were positioned to show off the wide array of guitar options on display for sale in the store. One spotlight hit the bass at just the right angle to further amplify its beauty. Swirls of silver and white sparkled on the body of it and the twin dragon motif that curled up the entire fretboard and around the neck was a masterpiece of design, as usual. The damned thing was definitely out of his price range for now and he doubted the designer would lower the cost of it for him. Especially him.
Ignoring the one who spoke, Shin directed his response toward one of the store owners instead. “Why do you keep letting him in here, Draken?” He tilted his head toward the smug blond in the hipster glasses leaning against the counter, somehow too cool for good posture.
“Because DeeDee’s Music Supplies promises to treat guitars and synthesisers equally,” Ryuguji Ken, aka Draken, reminded him while he filed a delivery of classical music scores into their cubbies by instrument, level and title. There looked to be a slight smirk on the taller man’s face as he fingered the long strands of his black hair, pushing them back behind an ear. He stood up once he’d finished and walked over to his wife, seated at a laptop with a small pile of invoices for products delivered. He leaned down to kiss her before taking the machine and paperwork off her hands.
The co-owner, Mitsuya Takashi, consulted the main computer on the counter where he was standing. “It’s also because Haitani Rindou spent $8000 in the store so far this year whereas your last transaction was,” he paused to adjust his glasses before tapping more keys, “one guitar pedal rental and a pack of strings. We’re making next to no money off of you but we still let you hang out in here anyway. Think about that.”
Shin narrowed his eyes at Draken’s best friend, who matched his look, and he wondered, yet again, if the silver haired man whose dragon tattoo mirrored Draken’s liked him at all, or merely put up with him as some kind of favour to the family.
“Well,” Shin felt like defending himself for a change. “Ken married my sister and she’s two weeks away from giving me my first niece or nephew. Maybe I’m saving up for spoiling the baby. Think about that.”
Mitsuya stared at him a moment longer, then headed for the storage room behind the counter.
It was true, to a degree. Shinichiro was eager to get the uncle business started. He was ten years older than both of them and it had been years since he last played with a baby. He and Waka never planned on raising one, and a niece or nephew could be passed back to Mom or Dad once the spit up started. If the babe were his, he’d have to clean it up. No thank you. He felt sick merely thinking about it.
On the business side of business, his “between gigs” excuse was wearing thin and he’d rather pay his bills with new money, not his savings. Imaushi Wakasa kept reminding him that his money was also his money, them being spouses, but he was uncomfortable with adding zero payments into their joint bank account. It simply wasn’t fair to expect one person to keep two afloat, especially this long.
Shin’s sister startled him when she patted him on the shoulder, too immersed in his thoughts to notice her approach, even though there was a lot of her. He got the hint and moved closer to the wall to let Emma waddle her way through the narrow aisle, on her way to the staff room for a rest between music lessons.
“By ‘spoiling,’ big brother,” she remarked with a snort on her way by, “you really mean you want to buy every noisy toy you can find.”
“Like you wouldn’t do the same to me if roles were reversed,” he accused, jovially. She acted as if she never heard him and the staff room door closed on the mock argument.
He’d already purchased noisy toys, in fact. That baby had a date with destiny: the next generation of jingle judges was soon to arrive and Shin was going to make the most of it.
He decided to browse the CD display beside the till for a minute, checking the track listings for a couple new discs he noticed for blues artists he liked, then frowned when he spotted the cover of one disc in particular, not the standard inventory he’d come to expect in the store, though not a surprise given the familiar young faces on it.
So young.
The group of smiling boys dressed in styles more popular a decade earlier dominated the CD’s cover wearing colours he’d last seen in a box of specialty ice cream - hot pink, vibrant green, and garish yellow. The ice cream tasted terrible and, looking at the songs on the disc, Shin knew the sound would fit the flavour. And that song. How did I forget that they covered that song?
He waved the case in Draken’s direction before tapping the smug customer on the head with it. “Remind me again why DJ Dodo here gets to be the opening act for Toman this weekend?”
"It's DJ Rindou, smartass, and talent knows talent.” the younger man quipped, prideful and arrogant about it. “That’s why you’re not doing it.”
“Go to hell.” The words snapped out of Shin’s mouth without thinking first and he noticed Draken gritting his teeth. Swearing at one of their best customers crossed a line but Haitani Rindou merely scoffed at him, not offended in the slightest.
“Only if the devil’s willing to pay me as much as I’ll get for Mikey’s comeback show. I’m going to be rolling in it, man. And the chicks? You wish you were this lucky.” Haitaini sang out, cackling.
Shin’s little brother got the idea for Toman out of a silly dream their sister, Emma, had during their teens and, for Mikey and four of his closest friends, the dream came true. Multi-platinum stars within a decade, Toman was known and adored around the world. Shin hadn’t spoken much to Mikey since he left, trusting Emma to fill him in. Close in age, they’d been closer siblings, too.
Mitsuya returned from the storeroom with a package before Shin could think of a clever clapback that would redeem himself. Mitsuya slid the sizable box across the counter into Rindou’s waiting hands, some kind of techy computer, LED, electrical mixer light up machine that DJ’s liked to throw into their shows when they lacked the skill for true improvisation. Anyone could tap buttons and make a rhythm out of the delay function, Shin knew. Goddamned amateur hour. Stand on a stage with four strings across two dozen frets and see how well you do.
With the sale finalised and the DJ out the door with his new toy, Draken and Mitsuya shared a few words out of Shin’s hearing range. Mitsuya agreed with whatever Draken had said, then strode off to join Emma in the break room.
Junior employees were on hand to assist the handful of customers browsing so Draken gestured for Shin to join him in the storeroom for a little more privacy. He stood near the doorway so he could keep an eye on the till area and Shin sat at the desk nearby, cluttered with paperwork in various stages of completeness.
The wall above it had been papered, too, with outdated information on coloured post-it notes and discoloured photocopies of music themed comic panels. The calendar hadn’t been flipped to the next month yet so Shin pulled it down to turn the page from a shot of "Dizzy" Gillespie playing his trumpet to one of Charlie Parker and his saxophone. He pinned it back in place.
“Just so you know,” Draken said once Shin was done fussing with the calendar, “Emma held off interviewing for a replacement music instructor. She thought you might want the job while she’s out on maternity leave. She can give you her list of students and classes today if you want. We can’t pay a lot, but…” Draken drifted off and Shin could guess what he wasn’t saying - do you need money, brother?
Draken’s music career began and ended at the property lines for the store he loved owning, but he had perfect pitch when it came to understanding his musician friends. Never once had he shied away from being a sounding board for anyone who needed advice, support or a helping hand.
“I’ll do it and you can pay me what feels fair, but I’m not destitute by any means, Ken. I’m managing.” Shin doubted Draken believed him, but he let it sit as said.
Shin wanted little out of life, but the one thing he hoped to gain before he died was a large enough fan base that would notice the loss of him, miss him, and host tribute nights for him where they covered his songs. A Nick Drake level of fame. Niche, but loved all the same. And paid. Can’t forget paid.
“With Waka out of town I gather the gigs are on hold for the old Black Dragon boys?”
“Gigs are going nowhere.” Shin stopped there, getting a grip on his emotions before continuing. They’d been together for years and this was the longest he and Waka had ever been apart, but it made sense to take advantage of the sudden money making opportunity that Kodo Rengo offered. “Their regular busted his jaw doing something stupid.” Draken grimaced.
Shin picked up a pencil and started playing with it, feeling the familiar urge to open his new pack of cigarettes and light one up. Frustrations were better handled with nicotine in hand, though the venting smoke could only carry itself away, not take the bitter feelings along with it. And it wasn’t a cigarette he wanted in his mouth.
“Benkei signed a short contract to do some session musician work while we wait so we’re out a drummer.” He met Arashi Keizo and Imaushi Wakasa at an audition when they were starting out and the three of them hit it off, two of them in more ways than one.
Shin’s other band member, Akashi Takeomi, was a friend from childhood. “Omi had the big idea for a Tom Waits piano/bass duet show to keep us busy but his piano’s been drinking, so that’s on hold.” They didn’t always see eye to eye but they always had each other’s backs, no matter what they went through.
“Another breakup?” Draken guessed.
“He used to joke about me lacking all the luck with women.” Shin stated, nodding. “Either karma is being a bitch or he needs a man, too. It’s worked wonders for me, I have to say. He wouldn’t have to look too far to find a willing one: Benkei’s had his lovesick eyes on him for years yet he’s never made a move, the idiot.”
Shin swivelled the office chair so he could face the wall of framed photographs opposite. He found his band where he always found it, in the centre of a 3X3 display of Draken’s friends in the music industry.
Three of the four Black Dragons were posed and grinning behind their instruments. In this one, Omi had his black hair slicked back, as shiny as the body of his piano, teeth as bright as the keys. The white haired Waka cradled his trumpet like it was his baby but his lilac eyes and smile were all for the dark haired Shin. They were side by side and Shin had one hand on his bass. The other was hidden behind, on Waka's behind, giving him a pinch, probably. Shin vaguely remembered the day, early in their career as a group. Benkei, in the back with a buzzcut, looked to be the only one surprised by the photographer. She caught him scratching his back with a drumstick.
Above them, the members of Toman were not posing. Emma took the photo during one of their concerts so they were all over the stage, one static moment within a hectic show. Mikey’s choreography and the chosen shutter speed left his friends blurry in the shot. His was the only smiling face in focus, like he’d planned it that way; like he’d seen the camera.
“Speaking of breakups,” Draken hesitated. Shin’s curiosity was piqued but he chose to wait him out. It wouldn’t be a divorce announcement; Ken and Emma were made for each other and they knew it.
“Mikey’s doing the show this weekend, then he’s bowing out of the last leg of the tour so he can spend some time with Emma before the baby’s born. And he plans to be in town when the baby comes. And,” Draken stopped again, looking for Shin’s reaction. Shin gave him nothing to look at. “I don’t know how long he plans to stay.”
“Oh.”
Shin wished he could think of something more substantial for a response but nothing better came to him. Several minutes passed. The way Draken looked at him left Shin with the suspicion that Draken had expected him to lose his shit or cry. Draken liked taking care of people. He needed a purpose beyond the role of harbinger.
“He looked up to you so much when we were kids, Shin. We both did. You might not know this, but you’re the reason I wanted a music store in the first place. I’ve always been your biggest fan. I think you don’t notice that, though. Sometimes you’re too focused on what you don’t have instead of what you do.”
Dammit. Tears clouded Shin’s eyes, but didn’t fall.
“So I’m saying this as your brother-in-law, but also as your friend. Emma knows she played a role in what happened between you when they were kids. But they were kids, Shin. Every thought was a kid’s thought, every dream a kid’s dream. They were the opposite of sensible and they didn’t know or they didn’t care. They just knew what they wanted. You were a decade ahead of them in experience and intelligence and all they did was ignore you.”
Shin remembered.
“But you still forgave her. So …”
***
Shin remembered.
Emma at thirteen loved reality television and she was hooked on the programs where those lucky contestants could walk upon the stage, amuse the judges, and wow the audience with some variety of talent, unseen or undiscovered until that moment. Or so the show would have its home audience believe. The goofy hosts faced a backstage camera that filmed every reaction ahead of time and the editors could pick and choose which ones to use to build the story how the show wanted it told.
Mikey, a year older, never needed much of a push if the direction was toward the limelight. He was so full of himself back then, full of ambition and full of ideas and full of shit and Emma was willing to indulge his every desire for notoriety, for infamy. For winning.
That audition may have started as a joke to humour her but Mikey and his friends were not without skill, talent and harmony and Emma was soon Toman’s first superfan. She went with him to every round of auditions, stood in the wings when they first made it onto the show and later had to be restrained so she wouldn’t run across the stage when it turned out they won the season.
Shin only watched the final episode, watched his little brother and four of his friends dance their adorable hearts out, win their recording contract, and start their quick climb up to the top of the pop charts.
And stay there.
***
After a supper Draken made for the three of them, Shin relaxed on their recliner, letting his food settle. And he watched his expectant sister get pampered by her doting husband. They were on the sofa with Emma’s swollen ankles resting on Draken’s lap so he could massage them once in while, or rest his hands on any part of her that he could reach. They were incredibly cute together. They had always been cute together.
Shin fingered the screen of his smartphone, tempted to call Waka. The cuteness was close to overwhelming him and he felt desperately lonely. He put the phone in his pocket instead and tried to focus on what was happening on television.
Set to a station showing what passed for prime time entertainment, Shin watched as a bland good looking man mugged for one of the many cameras trained on him, like this was normal behaviour for him. The “plot” for the show, such as it was, had him facing a circle of sexy, interchangeable blondes, one of whom he’d have to pretend to want to marry. All the women were expected to play up their hatred for one another whenever the show runners thought the ratings were slumping, which was all the time.
In an industry saturated with shows like it, worse and better, any drama was fair game if it kept more eyes pinned to this one. Emma was sure “Janine” would “win” this season but Shin had been watching the show with her every night that week and he still hadn’t figured out which one she was. He was willing to bet Bland couldn’t tell the blondes apart either.
During another one of Emma’s trips to the bathroom, Shin opted to bring the evening’s meandering conversation back to the topic from earlier.
“Did you resent him at all, Ken, leaving like he did?” Shin asked, as a brother-in-law and a friend.
“No, why would I?” Draken flipped the TV to a sports network and turned the sound down. “I’m well adjusted, for one thing. I’m happy here and never wanted to be anywhere else. I love my life and I love my wife and while I’ve never understood why Mikey felt like he needed to be the centre of the universe, I was willing to let him go and pursue his dream without me being a part of it.”
Emma returned to the room in her nightwear and Draken turned off the TV, both ready to turn in.
Shin let himself out.
***
Shin dropped into bed at three a.m. after one of the best gigs he’d experienced in his life. The whole week of shows had been great. Better than great.
Haitani Ran, DJ Rindou’s older brother, called Shin out of the blue the week before and invited him to play in the lounge of one of his hotels, with an option to extend the short contract should the shows do well.
It was refreshing to play in such a beautiful atmosphere with excellent acoustics for an audience that did more than politely applaud while they waited impatiently for refills to their drinks. He and Takeomi came out of their sets completely buzzed, and not from any alcohol.
Shin knew why he got the invite; Ran had heard Shin’s band play elsewhere and liked them. Simple as that. Shin learned why he got the invite when he did after his first show was over; Ran wanted to mess with Rindou.
When Rindou wasn’t bragging he was complaining, and one of his favourite excuses for both had to do with Shin. Ran didn’t know the reason for it but he did know how to capitalise on it. He had a business rule against nepotism that extended to every venue he operated, which left his brother off some of the best stages in town. Knowing that Shin stood where he couldn’t – it had to burn, and Shin played better knowing that.
He wondered how long he’d have to avoid DeeDee’s until DJ Dodo got over it. Not like it mattered; Draken gave him the bad news – some rich bugger bought that bass guitar he’d fallen in love with so there was nothing to be in there for.
***
The ringtone annoyed him into semi-consciousness. Shin checked the time on his phone with half-open eyes before jerking awake completely. There were only a handful of reasons to call someone at four in the morning - good news, bad news, and loneliness - so Shin tapped the answer icon eagerly when he saw who was calling.
“She had a girl, Shin!”
***
The exhausted new uncle stood at the observation window with other tired men and women also looking for that one infant that was their infant in a sea of identical looking bassinets. Shin spotted the card labelled Ryuguji in the middle of the second row, but the angle and swaddling made it hard to get a decent look at her. He still smiled, knowing she was there.
“That’s a lot of babies,” a quiet voice murmured beside him. “Where’s ours, Uncle?”
“There, Uncle.” Shin pointed out the card for his brother, who slid the dark glasses off his recognisable face long enough to peer through the glass unhindered, then replaced them, smiling exactly like Shin.
Shin took a better look at the one trying to hide his appearance. Under the oversized black hoodie covering most of his head and body, Shin could tell that Mikey had cut his blond hair short and dyed it black. It wouldn’t fool the diehard fans that crossed his path but that’s what his surreptitious bodyguards were for, two of whom stood behind them pretending to also love babies.
“That was the shortest comeback ever, Mikey. You really quit Toman?” The news had exploded over social media and feeds were swamped with girls and boys screaming about it, crying over it, sharing their obsessive grief with the dozens or millions who followed them.
“I’m keeping the rights and I’ll still choreograph for them if they ask, but that stint on stage with the guys this month proved it to me. I don’t want to perform anymore.”
“Not aiming to sound like a dick here, little brother, but that sounds funny coming from you.”
Mikey let out a bark of laughter, startling the nursing staff on the opposite side of the glass. He ducked his head instantly and readjusted the large hood, then got serious again, inviting Shin to join him for an early breakfast at his hotel. “There are things we should talk about somewhere other than here.”
***
Shin looked around the room, impressed. Tastefully decorated in shades of cream and gold, every piece of art and furniture must have been hand selected by skilled and highly paid interior designers who understood that guests might want to brag about their wealth without being too ostentatious. He felt very much out of place, like he’d get in trouble just for daring to breathe the air in there but Mikey had stayed in similar suites for years. He lounged restlessly on the luxurious sofa with his bare feet on the table between them like a bored child while they waited for their food.
The room service breakfast spread arrived, abundant and delicious. And ordered to be as sweet as possible; Mikey aged his way to twenty-four but loved all the same things he did at three. Shin barely pulled his cinnamon bun into bite sized segments before Mikey had his sticky fingers on another one for himself. “I think they’ve ruined me,” he declared, licking his lips and tips before biting deeply into the next. “I’ll never have another if it can’t be one of these.”
They steered clear of serious topics until they finished their meal and hotel staff had rolled the leftovers away. Mikey dismissed his entourage at the same time, leaving the two of them alone in the spacious penthouse suite. They said little during the meal and it seemed that whatever Mikey thought was important to talk about could wait until he finished his coffee, too.
Shin took his cup over to the wall of windows and adjusted the blinds so he could see the city from that height. There would never be another chance without an airplane ticket.
“There’s a balcony if you want a better look. Or a smoke,” Mikey offered. He released the latch for the patio door and stepped out into the fresh, refreshing chill of the morning. Shin put his cup on a cork coaster advertising the hotel chain and followed, already digging in his pocket for the lighter.
Mikey made himself comfortable on a chaise lounge, leaving his brother to enjoy his cigarette and the waking city below them alone. The view was for Shin; Mikey had seen many skylines better than that one, Shin figured, though this one was a novelty for him from this angle, as the birds would see it. He finished his cigarette, then turned around to face Mikey, who had his eyes trained on a sky tinted pink with the dawn and crisscrossed by contrails in the colder atmosphere above.
Mikey seemed to come to some inner decision as he stared at the day ahead of them, though Shin had no idea what Mikey was about to fill it with.
“I had a breakdown, Shin.” Mikey kept his eyes focussed on the changing sky above them, surrounding the world. Shin focussed on Mikey
The world didn’t matter.
***
“They kept it out of the tabloids as best they could…”
Shin remembered the fervour a few months earlier when Mikey seemed to fall off the earth, unseen and not heard from for weeks. Fans panicked but Emma, still their number one superfan so many years later, still had his agent on speed dial. He refused to buckle under her intensity and reiterated that Mikey’s incommunicado status would continue without explanation for it. But he assured her that Mikey was fine.
A lie.
“... trying to drum up other gossip within the group to take the spotlight off me.”
Baji, Kazutora and Chifuyu took the heat for a while, letting public squabbles between the three of them change the dynamics of their relationship in front of the cameras but not behind closed doors. Those three were unbreakable but they loved the gong show they could create on a daily basis with their antics. Every move they made would be dissected by morning talk show hosts and later mocked by late night comedians.
Takemitchy gallantly took his turn, letting the agent arrange for him to get caught on camera having a scandalous date with someone other than Mikey. CAUGHT IN THE ACT! as all reports would verify, giving Mikey a reason to be off camera, to avoid the public shame of an unfaithful lover, and hide the real reason he was missing.
“It’s taken a lot of sessions with a court-ordered therapist, most of which were too painful for words, but he has helped me reassess what it is I value, to put it simply.” Mikey admitted. They’d returned to the comfortable seating while he shared his experience. Room service delivered another cinnamon bun but it remained untouched on the table, seemingly intended as a future reward for following through on his promise to explain himself.
“And he’s helped me get to the root of some issues I’d been ignoring. I wanted time with Emma and her baby, but that wasn’t the only reason why I needed to come back.
“I also felt like I needed to make amends with you, Shin.” He paused for a moment. “I’m twenty-four now, the same age you were.”
Shin leaned back on the loveseat as a chuckle started to shake his body. He wasn’t laughing at Mikey; he caught what Mikey tried to confess in a roundabout way. Mikey was now where Shin was then. The very same place. A decade older with a decade of work experience under his belt and new perspectives on how decisions can change the course of one’s life. Or someone else’s.
“Why did they let me?” Mikey whispered.
Shin straightened up and looked at his brother. Mikey was hugging his body tightly like he was trying to stop himself from falling apart at the seams. Shin moved to sit beside him.
“Why did they let me break my family? Why didn’t they listen to you? I can’t even ask them what they were fucking thinking!”
Ten years was a long time to go between hugs so Shin pulled his unresisting little brother into his arms, letting Mikey decide when to break it. He didn’t.
It should have been a tougher decision but their parents never hesitated to drop their old lives where they’d been standing and take Mikey away with them, to make new lives off Mikey’s millions and seldom cast a backward glance at the son and daughter they were leaving behind.
Mikey believed them when they said they were sending money home.
“I didn’t know.” An apology.
“We didn’t mind. We didn’t need it.” A reassurance.
Mikey’s lawyer withdrew the request for emancipation after the fatal collision rendered the motion moot.
“They wanted the best for you.” A belief.
Mikey scoffed and spat, “That was not the best.” A truth.
“No, it wasn’t. They were completely stupid.” Mikey barked out another laugh at that statement. “Sudden money makes people stupid. They didn’t make any good decisions once they knew what you might be worth. You had your whole life to build a music career if you truly wanted one. They should have insisted you finish school and decide on a career later instead of making it possible for you and your friends to reboot the Macarena .”
Mikey blushed and laughed for real. “Nobody needed that to happen.”
A serious moment between them and Shin still chose to drop a well timed, pointed joke to reduce the tension. A big brother type of move if there ever was one. Mikey broke the hug as they fell into a giggle fit. The years between them melted away, like they were kids again and Mikey rewarded, or consoled, himself with half of the sticky bun, his angst-filled story time over. He offered the other half to Shin, who took it gladly, likewise ruined by the gourmet pastries Hotel Haitani served those who could afford them.
Shin had confessions of his own to make once they’d cleaned themselves up, and he apologised ahead of time for spoiling the sweet feelings with sour memories.
Not knowing how much Emma would have told him, Shin gave his brother a brief rundown of his life after Mikey left, the ups and downs of gig work and pick-up bands and trying to make headway in his chosen creative field.
“I wanted a career, too, Mikey, but I didn’t want people to hear my name and have it remind them of you. I wanted success on my own merits, not because I had a famous brother who could pull strings for me and grease the wheels and shit. Would’ve been easier,” Shin snorted as he admitted that. He shook his head as he remembered the struggle, night after night of nothing but his guitar, a pocketful of change, and any bed handy, no matter who was in it.
“I wanted to build it for myself. By myself. That’s why I distanced myself so much. I stayed out of your life on very selfish grounds and the older I get, the more I’m sorry for it. But –”
Here, Shin made sure Mikey’s full attention was on him. “I didn’t fight our parents very hard when it came to the choices you were making because I honestly thought you and your dumb friends would prance around for a couple months, have a little fun, and come home again because someone bigger and better came along to replace you.”
Shin watched MIkey. His famous little brother tried very hard to hide how he was feeling, learning that truth, and he was failing. The shock and betrayal hit his eyes, the corners of his mouth. The realisation that Shin hoped he’d fail. No, not fail. Not really. Just – not succeed, not surpass the one hit wonder level. That Shin predicted Toman would be just another group of boys who shone brightly for a summer and faded before the snow fell.
“The look on your face now is the face I made on the day I realised you were not coming back.” Shin stopped, feeling too worked up and emotional, remembering the shock and sense of betrayal he felt knowing that his little brother didn’t want to come back.
“My little brother was famous and I still played bass guitar with dishpan hands, taking money where I could make it, even if it was in the kitchen of the lounge where I’d just played my set.”
Mikey’s expression suddenly changed to something inscrutable. He got up and left the room without another word.
“Shit, Mikey! I didn’t mean -” Shin swore at himself, mad at himself, wiping his regretful tears away, wishing he could wipe the past away that easily. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like he was resentful. He wasn’t. Luck might have kickstarted Mikey’s career but Toman’s combined talents were what kept them ahead of the pack after that point. They earned their fame, fair and square, and Shin was proud of them. Proud of him. He hated every pop garbage track Toman called their catalogue but he had nothing but pride in what they’d accomplished. These five random boys “discovered” on a midtier tv show managed to change the entire world.
Mikey returned to the room after a few minutes. He carried a sheaf of papers that he wordlessly passed to Shin, as if nothing had happened.
“What’s this?” Shin skimmed the small print in the document, full of legalese and complexity, then returned to the first paragraph, paying more attention the second time.
“Is this a recording contract?”
Mikey nodded. “I caught your show in the downstairs lounge last night.”
“You did?” Everything Shin learned that morning and this was what surprised him the most.
The whole week had been good to them. Shin and Takeomi hit their stride early. They used their first set to loosen up with the expected standards for a blues duo, plus a few other popular pieces they liked to cover and could tweak for their blues style. They barely needed to think about the bass strings or piano keys, the tools of their trade. The instruments were extensions of their bodies, as familiar as their faces and they relaxed into the familiarity, enjoying each other’s company, ignoring the audience lost in the darkness beyond the lit stage, only remembering their existence at the end of each song when they applauded again.
“I stayed for both sets.”
The second set had been reserved for their own catalogue, the music they’d built for themselves. Shin had a knack for lyrics and Takeomi knew how to hit the heart of the listener, what keys to play to bring forth their smiles and their tears. Every song left room for their missing players, the drummer and the horn, but the songs were full enough without them, full of energy, of passion, of loss and longing. Takeomi sang the lyrics for any song that needed a rougher edge to it and Shin’s tenor sang out clear as a bell for the rest.
“I picked this hotel because I knew you were playing here. Draken told me you’d be here. I’m going to be honest with you, too, Shin. I was ready. If he’d told me you were having trouble finding work I was willing to call in any favour, pull any strings. Anything to get you seen. Anything to get you heard.”
Shin didn’t know what to say.
“Every time you go into DeeDee’s and set up, he gives Mitsuya a signal to start recording.”
Shin still didn’t know what to say. Mitsuya came across as disinterested and cold all the time, like he hated seeing Shin cross the threshold of the store, like he took offence to Shin finding the best instrument the store had to offer, because it was one Mitsuya made. An instrument Mitsuya put his heart and soul into making beautiful. An instrument Shin kept picking to play without buying. Recording him playing it? To what end?
Mikey continued. “Draken has hundreds of recordings of those little improv sessions you perform for free at his store. Most of the tracks include you chatting with him while you play and others are overshadowed by the insults you and Rindou keep throwing at each other. And others have nothing in the way of the sound at all. Just you doing what you do. At first, he was only sending me copies of his favourites but I’ve since insisted I need to hear all of them.”
Now Shin found words. “Where are you going with this?”
“Your talent surpasses and rises above every obstacle that’s ever been thrown in your path, Shinichiro, yet you still find fun in doing what you love.”
Praise from Mikey. Shin never thought he’d see the day.
Mikey left the room again, returning moments later with a hard shell guitar case stamped with the twin dragon logo from DeeDee’s Music Supplies. The logo was appliquéd onto every custom-built instrument they sold. Mikey put the case on the table in front of him.
Shin stared at the case.
Mikey left again and returned with an amp, eyeing the wall for an outlet. After finding one, the signal lights flickered and the box hummed, energy surging through it, ready for use.
“I’m saying I want to be your manager. I’m saying that if you’re finally ready to release an album, I’ve got a dozen producers lined up and drooling over the chance to work with you. And the eleven that don’t get picked will still buy your album. It’ll be that good, that classic, that necessary. Nobody will want to be without it.”
Shin opened the case.
“Talk it over with the rest of your band, obviously.”
The swirls of silver and white didn’t glitter under the ordinary light of day. Mitsuya’s paint job was intended to be appreciated under the spotlights aimed at a stage, to light the bass guitar like it was alive and dancing under the hands of the one who held it. The twin dragons that curled up the length of the neck and around it seemed darker, sharper than he remembered. Mitsuya must have pulled the strings off to repaint it before finishing the sale, replacing them once it dried.
“It’s an offer and an opportunity and it’s yours if you want it.”
Shin removed the bass guitar from its case and plugged it in. He didn’t trust his voice to be steady enough to sing any lyrics so he picked at the strings lightly, tracing a melody intended for a sweet piano or acoustic guitar. He conjured up an old favourite out of his new instrument, trusting that Mikey would recognise it, so many years later. Once it was assured that he did, Shin improvised, making the old new again, breaking the morning into a morning of his own making. Making it special.
As Shin completed his improvised reworking of the old folk song, pieces of his future felt like they were falling into place. They were recognisable pieces he’d played with before and before he’d been convinced that he knew their shapes and where they fit. But now? Now Mikey had shown him the possibility of a new pattern, a way to connect his past to his future in a way Shin never considered before. Never dreamed possible. The future was new and unrecognisable, but - thanks to Mikey - visible.
Achievable. Shin considered the instrument he held in his hands, one he never thought he’d hold anywhere but on a sales floor. And now it seemed to be his. Mikey’s generosity opened a door, opened a possibility. Opened a universe. Mikey and Shinichiro looked at one another and Shin understood this completely. Mikey smiled.
“I shouldn’t be the only person in the universe who gets to hear you.”