The Devil Inside Read online

  I find this place bizarre. It’s a transplanted piece of Japan that’s mutated into something strange yet familiar. The hotels and restaurants are full of middle-aged Japanese businessmen, seeking home comforts in this wild country.

  I park on the street and enter a plain looking doorway with a golden plaque beside it. In English, it says Black Rose. Below it, in Japanese, are the words hostess bar.

  I climb two flights of stairs and enter a dim lounge. A low chill out beat is punctuated by high-pitched laughter. In dark corner booths, businessmen in dark suits and loosened ties sip whisky, surrounded by barely dressed girls who are ten, twenty years their junior.

  We could be in Tokyo right now.

  A woman approaches me. She eyes me up and down, a predatory smile crossing her face. My beaten up appearance doesn’t faze her at all. A true professional, this one. She’s probably calculating how much money she can get out of me tonight. Her greying hair is done up in a severe bun, and she’s wearing too much makeup. This must be Mama-san.

  “Good evening, sir.” She bows and greets me in Japanese. She sounds deceptively cheerful. “Welcome to the Black Dragon. Please allow me to show you to a table.”

  In my plain dark suit, I look like one of her usual customers. Even in LA, my countrymen come here and buy overpriced drinks just so they can talk to women. It’s talk and touch only; no-one’s getting their dicks wet. Apparently, pussy is more attractive when it’s unattainable.

  As Mama-san ushers me into a dark corner, I pull her aside and whisper into her ear. “I’ll have a Yamazaki whisky. Neat. And tell Masa Takashi that his aniki from Ikebukuro is here to see him.”

  Mama-san stiffens and regards me with wary eyes. She hesitates as I slide into the corner booth. “I’m really very sorry, sir, but Takashi-san is not available right now.” She’s switched to polite Japanese. It irritates the hell out of me.

  I respond by speaking crudely. “If he’s here, then he’s fucking available. For your own good, Mama-san, he won’t be happy if he finds out I was here and no-one bothered to tell him.”

  Mama-san’s eyes widen. She recognizes my tone of voice. “I understand. I’ll let him know right away.” She bows in apology and hurries off. Mama-san didn’t get to where she was by being stupid. If she’s working for Masa, then she’s working for the Kuroda Group, and she might figure out that certain people will be asking for him from time to time.

  A hostess appears with my beer. She’s fawning over me and I don’t like it. She pouts as I wave her away in annoyance. I hate this hostess shit. I don’t do artificial. Thoughts of a certain waitress with mesmerizing brown eyes and a body like sin enter my head.

  Down, boy. Adele’s not for you.

  She’s seen me for the thug that I am.

  There’s a bit of a commotion, then Masa walks in. He’s put on weight since I saw him last. In a good way. He used to be such a lean, hungry looking kid. He’s wearing an expensive grey suit and has dyed his hair red, kept it a bit longish. Masa’s features are delicate, but his feminine looks are deceiving. He can be vicious.

  There are two heavy-set guys in suits trailing behind Masa. Looks like he’s come up in the world.

  Masa stops in front of me and bows deeply before sitting down. “Aniki.” He still calls me big brother. I’m only a year older than him. It’s a sign of respect. He’s being cautious. One never knows what a visit from me might mean.

  Masa’s eyes go wide as he takes in my appearance. The area around my left eye where that idiot punched me throbs with a dull ache. He can’t hide the expression of shock that unfurls on his face, like a blossoming flower.

  But he stays quiet. Masa’s smart enough to know not to ask.

  I take a sip of my beer. It’s good. Tastes like home. I show Masa a genuine smile, to put him at ease. “So you’re a little boss now, Masa. How’s business?” I speak in Japanese, even though Masa’s English is as good as mine, accent and all. It should be. We were taught by the same American whores.

  It’s probably why they’ve sent him over to work in LA.

  Masa grins, but his eyes are hard. “Things are good. There are more cashed-up Japanese here now than ever.” He leans forward, dropping his voice. “It’s been a long time, Aniki. I knew you were here, but you’re a hard man to find.”

  He leaves an unasked question hanging between us. I know. Why the fuck have I turned up now? Why no contact for three years?

  “I’m living the quiet life now, Masa. There’s not much use for that kind of work in this town.” That’s all he needs to know, for now. I feel a little bit bad about that, but it can’t be helped. I fish a cigarette from my jacket pocket. Masa leans forward with a lighter, cupping the flame as he lights the smoke in my mouth. It’s just like the old days. A hostess appears with an ashtray, breasts straining against her too-tight strapless top.

  Smoking’s a dirty habit, I know. I always figured I wouldn’t live long enough for it to kill me.

  I exhale, a white plume dissipating in front of my face. “Tell me, Masa. What do you know about Lucini?”

  “The Lucini family?” A frown crosses Masa’s pretty face. “They’re Italian Mafia. We’ve got an agreement. They leave us alone, we leave them alone. Why the interest?”

  “Two of their guys tried to extort one of our places tonight. I just wanted to know if that was the done thing around here.” I can’t keep track of all the different crime families in this city. Between the Italians, the Hispanics, the Armenians, the Koreans, the Vietnamese and the rest of the United fucking Nations, it’s hard to know who owns what.

  America is such a complicated country.

  “They should know better.” Masa looks surprised. “We respect each other’s turf. But business is drying up and they’re getting desperate. They might try stupid shit from time to time. What happened?”

  “We had a cultural exchange.” I watch the tip of my half-smoked cigarette as it burns, turning from ember to ash. “Now, they know about yubitsume.”

  Masa lets out a scandalized laugh. “No way. You made a gaijin cut his finger off? We don’t do that shit to non-Japanese. Coming from you, though, I’m not surprised.” His expression turns serious as the information sinks in. “There’s going to be trouble from this.”

  I grind out the cigarette and stand. “That’s why I’m here, Masa. I need you to sort it out. I don’t want them going near Fat Dragon Sushi again. Call me when it’s done”

  I pat Masa on the shoulder and drop my business card on the table. It says Kaito Araki - Chartered Accountant in Japanese and English. Masa’s eyes bug. “Accountant? Seriously, aniki? And is that the name you go by now?”

  I shrug, then smile. “It’s a living. Keeps me out of trouble.”

  Masa takes the card with reverent hands and stashes it inside his jacket. I down the rest of my beer. “Take care of the Lucini thing and I’ll call us even.”

  “Consider it done, aniki. If Lucini’s people are fucking with us, we need to send them a message. And you know we’ll never be even on this one. I still owe you.”

  This is why I can trust Masa to deliver. I saved his life once, and he hasn’t ever forgotten it.

  Adele

  When I arrive home, I hear shouting and gunshots. I sigh. When he’s not earning a living doing web design, my housemate Dio is a hardcore gamer. His office looks like a high tech military command center, with two massive screens bolted onto the wall and pieces of hardware everywhere. I don’t even know what half of it is for.

  “Hey Dio.” I pop my head in.

  “Hey Adi.” He doesn’t look away from whatever game he’s playing. He’s in the process of shooting a guy, who falls to the ground with a theatrical scream.

  Then another guy rounds the corner and shoots Dio’s character in the head. There’s a digital spray of blood and he falls to the ground.

  “Motherfucker,” he snarls, as he removes his headset. He finally turns to look at me. “Hey, you okay? You look kind of pale.” Dio knows
me well enough to read me. We’ve been friends since we were kids.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Something weird happened at work. Two guys came in and tried to extort money.”

  “Shit. You gave it to them?”

  “No.” I cross my arms and lean against the door frame. “They didn’t get the money.”

  “Huh? What the hell happened?” Dio scoots back in his roller chair, his blue eyes intense. I’ve got his attention because he went through a similar thing, a few years back. Dio used to run a computer game store in the same neighborhood, but the gangs kept demanding “protection” money and skimming all his profits. They knew he couldn’t fight back. So he shut up shop to work from home. It turned out to be the best thing he ever did. These days, he makes a lot of money from website design and writing code.

  “One of the staff there, he um, kind of beat them up.” Kaito’s black, implacable stare flashes through my memory. Scary as hell. But then, he was so decent with me afterwards. What was up with that?

  Dio’s eyes go wide. “That’s fuckin’ nuts. You know they’ll be back, right?”

  I nod. “That’s what I’m worried about. The guy who beat them, he told me he’d take care of it. But these guys looked like real hardasses. I don’t know what he can do.”

  Dio leans forward, all mock-conspiratorial. “Maybe he’s got his own family to back him up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Japanese have their underworld too, Adi.””

  “Um, no way.” I roll my eyes. Dio loves wild theories and reading about underground secret society shit. Kaito’s got some fighting skills, but there’s no way he’s into organized crime. He’s too clean-cut. And Fat Dragon wouldn’t employ a connected guy to do accounting. What kind of gangster does accounting? I’ve met the owner of the sushi bar a few times. Mr Nakajima’s a pleasant, elderly gentleman who brings the staff Japanese sweets and tea. There’s no way a guy like him would be into underworld stuff.

  At least, that’s what I try to tell myself. But after what I’ve witnessed, Dio’s theory almost seems believable.

  “Just kidding.” As if sensing my unease, Dio laughs. “It wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, though. At least you’d know that no-one would mess with you at work. Just be careful, Adi. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  As I nod, my phone buzzes. On the screen is a text from my little sister, Mina.

  Adi, pls come home. Dad’s drunk. Mom hurt.

  Shit.

  “Dio, I need to borrow your car. Trouble at home.”

  “Sure thing.” Dio throws me the keys to his Mustang. As I said, the website design gig pays good money. And he works from home. Lucky bastard. “You need me to come?”

  “No, it’s okay.” If Gavin is drunk, I don’t want Dio to have to deal with that. My father can be a mean asshole. There’s a reason I moved out of home before I’d even finished high school.

  That’s my dad, the alcoholic, wife beating ex-cop.

  Adele

  I arrive at my family’s house about twenty minutes later, thankful that the traffic wasn’t so bad. The porch light is on, casting a sallow glow across the tired wooden deck. Nothing has changed since I was a kid. There’s the same flaking, beige paint on the walls and the same pathetic, emaciated shrubs lining the path.

  Someone’s left the front door open. I let myself in and find mom and Mina sitting in the kitchen. Mom’s eyes are red. She’s been crying. There’s a big, swollen mark on her left cheek. Tomorrow, it’ll be a nasty bruise.

  My little sister Mina is beside her, running a gentle hand up and down her back. Tears well in her green eyes, which look big in her gaunt face. She’s lost weight since the last time I saw her.

  Anger rises in me. “You’re both coming to stay at my place,” I snap. “Get your things. You’re not his goddamn punching bag.”

  “Wait, Adele.” Mom’s voice is shaky. “He’s not himself. He’s drunk. He’ll be sorry in the morning.”

  “He’s always sorry in the morning, mom.” I can’t help sounding bitter.

  My mom, bless her, has a forgiving streak a mile wide. She’ll endure and make excuses for him and the violence will keep happening until she ends up in the hospital.

  For all his faults, she loves my father deeply.

  I sigh, knowing she can be as stubborn as me. Sometimes I don’t understand what goes on inside her head. “What happened, Mina?”

  My sister reminds me of a wide-eyed doe. She’s sixteen and gorgeous, in a gamine, too-thin kind of way. She’s slender, with graceful long arms and legs, yet to fill out with womanly curves. Where my hair is dark brown, she inherited mom’s lustrous golden locks. She’s a good kid. She looks after mom and tries to do well at school.

  That’s not easy when there’s chaos at home.

  “I think dad’s in some kind of trouble.” Mina looks vulnerable, but the way she’s got her arm around mom is protective. “Some weird people showed up at the house earlier tonight. Dad got into an argument. After they left, he asked mom for grandma’s diamond necklace. He wanted to pawn it.”

  “I told him no.” Somehow, mom’s able to smile. It’s a smile full of pain and sorrow. “That’s the only thing of your granny’s that I have left. I’ve hidden it. He’s not going to find it.”

  I remember that necklace. It’s an exquisite, vintage thing with a huge, elaborate diamond pendant. Made of real gold and real diamonds, it’s a throwback to days of wealth and decadence. I don’t know the full story, but according to mom, it was a gift to grandma from some silver screen Hollywood actress.

  It’s got to be worth a fortune.

  And it’s the one thing mom’s not going to give up.

  Even when she’s battered and bruised, mom has a bit of a stubborn streak. It runs in the family.

  Footsteps echo from the hall, and my father appears in the doorway. His face is flushed and he’s sloshing whiskey around in a lowball glass.

  “Marilyn?” He glares at mum, but freezes when he sees me. “What are you doing here, Adele?” As he walks forward, I step in front of mom and Mina. “Trying to interfere again?”

  “Nice to see you too, Gavin.” I’ve long since stopped calling him dad. I know it annoys the hell out of him. “I just dropped by, you know, to see how my family were. I’d hardly call that interfering.”

  He turns to Mina. “Did you call her? Do you have to go crying to your big sister every goddamn time?”

  “Leave her out of this,” I snap. “And stop harassing mom. How could you try and force her to sell that thing? You know how much it means to her.”

  My father stops in front of me, so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You don’t understand anything, Adele. I’m trying to keep my family safe.”

  He moves his arm and I almost flinch, but he’s only putting the glass on the dining table. I force myself to glare at him. I’m not scared of him anymore. “How much this time, Gavin?” My voice is quiet. “How much do you owe them?”

  “I don’t need your help, Adele.” He’s turned defensive. “Stay out of our business. I’ve got it under control.”

  “Clearly, you don’t.”

  “Don’t you come in here acting like you’re better than us, Adele. Got your college degree in what? Fine fucking art? All that money, wasted. Fat lot of good it did you, you’re still working as a goddamn waitress.”

  “How wise of you to point out my insecurities, Gavin. Get off high horse, you miserable drunk.” He’s hit a nerve with that last statement. None of my family have any idea what I went through to get that degree. I worked all the way through college, applying for every grant and scholarship under the sun. I paid for my own education. And if that wasn’t hard enough, there was the lecturer who made my life a living hell, nearly destroying my career before it started. I’m not going to get into that now. It’s still too raw.

  “Adele.” From behind, mom pleads with me. “Stop.”

  Oh no. I’m not going to let this slide. Because I can’t t
olerate the fact that he’s brought this shit home. I’ve seen the types of people dad associates with. They’re the same breed as the men who tried to threaten me in Fat Dragon. Thugs, lowlifes, unscrupulous moneylenders.

  I can’t stand that he’d let those people into the house, that he’d let them know where he lives. I can’t forgive him for letting them near mom and Mina.

  “He’s racked up a gambling debt again, hasn’t he mom? How much does he owe this time?”

  Mom stays silent.

  “Get off it, Adele.” Dad moves to stand beside mom. I clench my teeth in frustration. Even after all he’s done to her, they still seem to side against me.

  “How much?” I demand. I’m not going to back down.

  “It’s twenty grand.” Mina’s quiet voice cuts the air like a knife. “I heard them talking. If he doesn’t pay by tomorrow, they’re going to come over and smash the place up.”

  The anger in me explodes into full blown rage. Twenty thousand dollars might not seem like a lot to some people in this town, but there’s no way any of us can find that kind of money in a day.

  “Couldn’t control yourself, could you, Gavin?” I’m so pissed off right now. I’ve raised my voice, ignoring the way dad’s eyes have narrowed. “You just had to go and screw it all up, like you always do. When are you going to man up and take some responsibility for your actions?”

  I’m shouting now, and I don’t see the fist heading for my eye until it’s too late.

  “Shut up!”

  Pain lances through my skull and I gasp. I stumble back, disbelieving.

  “Stop it, Gavin!” Through the fog of agony, I can hear my mom’s voice. I clutch my left eye and look up at dad.

  He’s staring at me as if he’s never seen me before in his life.

  He’s never, ever hit his own daughter before.

  An expression of frozen shock comes over his face. “See what you made me do, Adele?” He’s whispering now, subdued. He steps back as Mina rushes to my side.