Cajun Justice(63)

“A place like what? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you and Tanaka were just in a place like that!”

“Hey, sis! It’s not like that.”

“Exactly! It’s not like that. Japanese men work very hard and they just wanna talk to American girls. There’s no sex involved.”

“Do you date them?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Who was that Watanabe piece of shit? He was tatted up like a lifer at Angola.”

“I don’t know,” Bonnie said. “Tonight was the first night I met him.”

“First night you met him?” Cain asked incredulously. “He had his arm all over you.”

“He’s yakuza,” Tanaka interjected.

“Now you’ve done it! Beating up the yakuza will certainly piss them off,” Bonnie complained with fear in her voice. “There’s no way in hell I can even go back into the Angel Cloud now.” She seemed to be panicking. “And my purse is in there.”

Bonnie pulled her iPhone out of a small pocket on her dress. Cain could see that text messages were popping up on her screen. She turned and started walking away.

“Where are you going?” Cain asked, following her.

“Just leave me alone! You’ve caused enough problems tonight for the both of us!” Bonnie rounded the corner and called Sabrina. “I can’t go back inside after what just happened. Would you mind grabbing my purse and bringing it to me?”

Cain heard Sabrina’s raised voice when she responded. “Those men who fought the American. They took your purse.”





Chapter 50



The following morning Cain was already at his desk when Tanaka arrived at the office. It was a Saturday, and although both had the day off, their personalities were such that they wanted to occupy themselves with work.

“Good morning, boss,” Tanaka said.

“Good morning, Tanaka-san. Just because last night went to shit doesn’t mean you gotta go back to calling me ‘boss.’”

“Okay,” Tanaka replied.

Cain looked back at his computer and continued pounding on the keys to his keyboard.

“Would you like for me to turn the lights on?” Tanaka asked.

“Negative. I have a migraine. Feels like someone hit my head with an expensive bottle of champagne—even though it wasn’t my head.”

Tanaka lowered his head and spoke more softly. “I feel responsible for last night’s fight. I should have never recommended we go there.”

“No, Tanaka. It’s not your fault. I got migraines before I ever moved to Japan. Doctors don’t know what causes mine. But I know one thing: all these fluorescent lights that the Japanese love so much don’t help prevent them.” Cain dropped two Alka-Seltzer tablets into a drink he was putting together and watched it fizz for a few seconds. He stirred the drink with his index finger.

“What are you drinking?” Tanaka asked.

“Homemade concoction.”

“Should I even ask?”

“To get rid of this pounding headache and hangover. Ice-brewed coffee, two shots of espresso, two Alka-Seltzer tablets, and ten drops of Tabasco sauce. Any flavor will work, but the habanero one works the best, I find.”

“That does not sound very good,” Tanaka said with a sour face.

“It’s not, but you remember what ol’ Frank Rogers would say?”

“In an emergency, even the Devil eats flies.”

“That’s right. The Devil is used to eating Kobe fillet steaks, but he’ll eat flies in an emergency.”

“I hope it helps,” Tanaka said, not sounding very convinced of the drink’s medicinal qualities.

Cain gulped it down. His eyes closed and his face scrunched up. “It’s gooood.”

“If there is anything I can do, please let me know.” Tanaka turned to head to his cubicle.

“Wait. Before you leave, I do have a few questions.”

“Hai,” Tanaka said, turning back around.

“I’ve been researching the yakuza more,” Cain continued, “and there’s very little information about them.”

“More?” Tanaka asked, not realizing that Cain had already been looking into Japan’s secret society of organized criminals.

“What did you think about that one guy’s tattoo?”

“Irezumi are taboo in Japan. People with tattoos are prohibited from public beaches, fitness gyms, and onsens. Only yakuza and Westerners in Japan have irezumi.”

“There’s gotta be exceptions, right?” Cain was thinking about Sato but didn’t want to mention anything yet.

“I don’t know of any exceptions.”

“So, just from the tattoo, you knew they were yakuza?”

“That. And also his pinky. It was cut off.”

“Yeah,” Cain said. “I saw that when I was wrestling with him.”

“The yakuza’s pinkies are cut off when they are punished, or to show their loyalty to the organization.”

“I’ve seen that before in a movie. Eighties flick with Michael Douglas. You know what I can’t quite understand?”

“Please tell me.”

“Every single Japanese person I’ve met has been nothing but incredibly polite. You said it yourself: the nail that sticks out gets hammered down. But Watanabe called Bonnie a whore.”