“Now, remember, when we start talking, what do you do?”
Ranko sighed, shaking her head as she walked alongside her elder sister Nabiki. “I shut up and let you work,” she grumbled over the clacking of her kelly green heels on the Shibuya sidewalk.
Nabiki nodded in the direction of a young man selling flowers from a cart on the side of the road. “Right! And when they start bringing up the code of conduct, what are you gonna do?”
The redhead growled, slumping her shoulders in her green blazer and cream-colored silk blouse. “I shut up and let you work.”
“You bet!” Nabiki grinned at her sister. “And what if they…”
“I get it! I don’t fucking talk! You ain’t gotta rub it in,” Ranko snapped. “Why did you even bring me if I’m not allowed to be a part of the conversation? I could be home, in bed, and not wearing this itchy-ass business girl skirt!”
Nabiki shrugged. “Kondo wanted to see you. He was pretty insistent on it.” She flashed a little sneer to her right as Ranko winced. “Maybe he thinks you’re cute, baby sister.”
“Ugh! Gross!” Ranko said, sticking her tongue out and making a heaving noise in her disgust. “He was super creepy in Singapore, too. And that was before he started prying into my love life with a fucking crowbar. Anyway, how come the boys don’t gotta be here, all gussied up and shit like this?” She tugged at the tight pussy bow collar of her blouse for emphasis.
Cocking her head to the side, Nabiki shrugged her shoulders again. “Maybe Kondo doesn’t think they’re cute? Besides, we’re not signing anything today. Today, we’re just talking. We can bring home a draft contract for the guys to look at just as easily.”
The redhead nodded with another quiet sigh of resignation as Nabiki reached for the brass handle of the Yokai Records office building. “And what am I supposed to do if they start asking me questions?”
Nabiki chuckled, leaning in close to her sister. “Talk about the fucking weather.”
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“Nabiki. Ranko. Good to see you. We thought you’d be here fifteen minutes ago.” Amaya Uyehara motioned to the seats at the end of the mahogany boardroom table closest to the doorway of the sixth-floor conference room. “Please, take a seat, and let’s get started.” There was a nervous glint in her eyes as her gaze met Ranko’s.
Nabiki pulled the chair at the head of the table out for Ranko, waiting for her to sit before taking her own chair to Ranko’s left. “Ranko’s a pop star, a college student, and a world-class athlete, plus co-owner of a successful entertainment venue in Minato. She’s very busy, you understand. This is why normally, you’d be dealing directly with me as her representation…” She glared at the heavyset man sitting to Amaya’s right. “... and not cornering her in hotel meeting rooms overseas without me.”
“Come now, Miss Tendo,” Kichirou Kondo retorted, folding his hands and interlacing his fingers arrogantly. “Your sister called us. If you have any concerns with what happened in Singapore, you should take them up with her.”
Nabiki clicked her tongue in admonition as she opened her leather briefcase. “Oh, believe me, I have. You should know that from now on, as a result of your little gambit, no one from the Dapper Dragons is authorized to sign any legally binding contracts without my signature as their business representative. The paperwork has all been handled. So, there won’t be any more of that nonsense, I can assure you.”
She loudly banged a stack of papers on edge against the tabletop, coercing them into a neater stack before passing sheets across the table to Amaya and Kichirou. “If we can get down to actual business, then? As you can see, we have nine songs ready to go, and the band can get into the studio and start mastering them and working on videos as soon as we have a signed contract. Ranko has a tenth song she’s working on finishing up now, and that will close our third album.”
I actually have twelve, Ranko thought, glaring at Kondo across the table. Just, there’s a couple you guys can’t ever see. Defying Destiny is just for Akane, and… She sneered quietly, keeping her mouth shut as promised. Somehow, I don’t think you pencil-dicks can handle the Viper.
“Ten?” Mr. Kondo sat forward in his seat, clicking his tongue dismissively as he folded his hands on the table and laced his fingers together. “But, Wild Orchid was twelve songs. Why would we want to step back? We should be raising the bar. Your fans deserve no less; don’t you agree, Ranko?”
They’re called Firebirds, asshole. If you don’t even know that, where the hell do you get off thinking you can tell me what to do with my career? Ranko opened her mouth to speak, her eyes widening silently in shock and pain as Nabiki kicked her shin under the table.
“The songs will come at the pace they come,” Nabiki said, hurrying to fill the space in the conversation before her sister could. “Fewer songs means you get an album out faster, and those extra two songs could just as easily be the start of a fourth album. We’re hopeful to have master recordings for the third record ready to go before the band leaves for China.”
Mr. Kondo shrugged. “Let’s not worry about a fourth album before we finish the third. I think thirteen songs is probably the minimum we want to think about.”
Ranko glared at the selfsure businessman, digging her fingernails into her palms. This prick is just… taking over my whole fucking career. And I just have to sit here quietly and play the good girl and take it. I hate this. I hate him. Her eyes turned almost pleadingly to Amaya. And why aren’t you helping?! I thought you were my fucking friend.
Nabiki smiled a bit curiously. “That’s something we could consider. Perhaps, in trade for a concession on your part. Say, tearing up that damn contract you bullied my sister into signing in Singapore?”
The redhead sat up in her seat, a smile of hope crossing her face. I’ll give them fifty songs for that, if it means I can just be myself again. If I can just feel like I can be proud to be Akane’s wife again.
“Now, Nabiki, you know I can’t do that. The Artist Code of Conduct is a non-negotiable Yokai Records policy.” And, more importantly, being the one to bring the little brat under the yoke is gonna get me the big office upstairs sooner rather than later. “As it is, we bent the rules to exempt the rest of the band.”
The odious man sneered in Ranko’s direction. “Besides… if she’s behaving, there’s no reason for her to chafe against it so much. She is behaving, isn’t she?” He rubbed his fingers together, an insidious satisfaction in his eyes. Let’s just see if my suspicion was right.
Ranko felt Nabiki’s comforting hand on her thigh under the table, but it couldn’t stop her from shaking in her fury. How fucking dare you… She bit her tongue hard behind a stage smile.
“It's less that she wants to… misbehave, as you say, and more that she doesn't like her business partners policing her personal affairs. Nor does she think it's fair for the code to apply only to talent. Clearly it's mutable to an extent, because you did exempt the rest of the band. Let me ask you, Mr. Kondo: do you and Amaya have to abide by the same code?” Nabiki sat back in her chair, confident in her return volley.
Mr. Kondo shrugged. “No, and it doesn't matter. Yokai back office staff aren't in the public eye. It won't cause an image disaster if someone in our legal department does something objectionable, because it won't be a major news item that will rile people up. The press wouldn’t even take notice. That said, if you're concerned about fairness, we would be happy to require Miss Uyeno, Miss Kimoto and the rest of the Dapper Dragons to adhere to the code as well.”
Ranko swallowed hard, trying in vain to hide her grimace. He has to know about them. No way he would have called them out by name and not Crash or Shin unless he did. At least he didn't mention Ken. I might have come out of this chair if he had. You’d better keep Ken Hirata’s name out of your fucking mouth, buddy.
“In fact,” he pressed, “I think you bring up a good point. We should require all of the band to sign. It's only fair, as you point out.”
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Ranko tapped her sister on the shoulder, leaning over and whispering in her ear.
Nabiki frowned, but gave her a nod of acknowledgement before turning to the boorish businessman. “We will give you twelve songs on the new album. And in return, you give us, in writing, assurance that everyone else in the Dapper Dragons, including those who may be added later, are permanently exempted from the Code. We’re not going to have you lording that over us forever.”
This isn't a negotiation, Ranko thought, sliding down dejectedly in her chair as Mr. Kondo nodded with a dark sneer. It's a fucking hostage situation, and he knows it.
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Nabiki tapped on the tabletop with the end of her pen. “Next order of business… show staffing. I take it you’ve received Lance Riker’s resignation letter. We’re going to need a new roadie for the last leg of the tour. The band is happy to hire one ourselves, at our expense.” And under our control, she added mentally.
“I did get it,” Mr. Kondo said. “Damn shame. Everybody always said Riker was a good one. We’re happy to take on backfilling the position, though.”
He’s the best, Ranko thought with a barely-veiled sneer. And that’s why he’s my new personal head of security. With a pay raise, to boot, ya cheapskates. She managed a softer smile, which she did let her adversaries across the boardroom table see. A brilliant idea on Akane’s part. Just another way that my wife makes me so much fucking better, all the time, you bigoted fucks.
Amaya coughed loudly, turning to her cohort. “You know, Mr. Kondo, your father did mention he wanted to find ways to cut down on the budget. Removing an entire salary from the payroll would certainly look good to the people upstairs, don’t you think?”
“Fine,” the brutish executive said in a tone of defeated acquiescence. “You hire somebody. But you’d better make sure they’re worth a damn!”
“Alright,” Nabiki shot back, sighing as she decided to let his challenge go unanswered. “Our last point is about the show itself. We’ve talked it over with the band, and we’ll consent to one change to the set list. Several of the guys have personal commitments over the next few months and the amount of time it will take to plan and rehearse more new material is not realistic for them.”
Sitting up in her chair, Amaya flashed a curious expression at the singer across the table from her. “Do you have anything in mind?”
Ranko waited to answer until she had received a nod of permission from her elder sister and agent. “If you’re okay with replacing it with another one of the new ones, I’d be willing to drop You Don’t Know Me from the show.” Doesn’t really feel right performing that these days, now that me and Ma have made up. “Not Yours, Don’t Touch stays, though. That one’s non-negotiable. The whole closing act’s built around it.”
Amaya nodded with a satisfied smirk. “I think that’s probably fine, Ranko.”
Mr. Kondo started to open his mouth, but Amaya cleared her throat. “As the Yokai executive producer in charge of the tour, this is my area, and I can’t be overruled on it except by the CEO.” She turned to the man in the black suit and the skinny tie to her right. “And that’s not you, is it, Kichirou?”
‘Bout fucking time you put that son of a bitch in his place, Amaya, Ranko thought, glowering at the chubby man.
“Fine,” he consented with a grumble and a glare in Amaya’s direction. I was only pushing that lever to force the Code on her anyway. I got that, so I still won.
Amaya bobbed her head again, standing from her rolling office chair and smoothing her bright yellow pencil skirt. “Then, if there’s nothing further, I think we can call it a day. Ranko, we look forward to wrapping the Wildfire Tour and working with you on the new album! Oh, and to celebrate, I’d love to take you and Nabiki to lunch! There’s a cafe across the street I absolutely adore.”
“I’m not really all that hungry,” Ranko grumbled as Mr. Kondo almost pushed her aside to exit the boardroom. Getting your ass kicked in silence for an hour and a half tends to fuck up your appetite.
“Oh, come on,” Amaya said, flashing Nabiki a glare with a measure of surreptitious urgency in it. “They’ve got some amazing zosui there you’ve just got to try, Ranko.”
What is she up to, Nabiki wondered. “Actually, Ranko, I’m feeling a bit peckish. C’mon. It won’t kill you to go be sociable for a few minutes.”
Ranko grumbled as she was led into the elevator by Amaya and her sister, watching the two with no small measure of confusion. No words were spoken as the little metal cubicle descended from the sixth floor to the ground-level lobby. Ranko swayed nervously in her green heels as she watched the tense glares between her two silent companions.
She followed the two women out the glass doors into the street, and through the crosswalk to a small sandwich shop. Ranko said nothing as the trio took their seats in a booth in the back corner, trying to follow Nabiki’s directive to keep quiet. I fucking hate this. It’s like living in a gilded cage. The redhead sighed softly to herself. I just have to try and remember why I did it. I saved the Phoenix, and my family. I owed it to them. This should feel like a small price to pay for honor, I guess. It’s just… not so small.
“Hi! Could we have a few moments, please?” Amaya waved off the approaching server without so much as ordering tea. The young brunette gave a curt nod and scurried off, leaving the three new customers to their conversation.
Amaya reached into a small wooden bin mounted to the side of the divider between their booth and the one behind it, pulling out a white paper chef hat, part of the handouts the restaurant gave to children to keep them occupied. She unfolded it and slid it across the table to Ranko. “Put this on.”
“Uh, no?” Ranko looked at the tall paper cylinder with disdain. “I’ll look like an idiot. Why would I wanna do that?”
“Because if you don’t, you look like a very recognizable fucking pop star with bright-ass red hair, in a very crowded place, Ranko. Put the damned hat on.” Amaya shot the starlet a glare that made the seriousness of her demand clear despite the quiet, almost whisper of her voice.
Nabiki blinked in concern as Ranko complied. She leaned over the table, looking around to ensure she didn’t recognize anyone at any of the surrounding tables. “Amaya, what’s going on? You’re acting like an extra in a spy movie over here.”
“Ranko…” Amaya scanned the little cafe with her eyes, checking to ensure she recognized none of the surrounding faces. Satisfied that she did not, she turned to the redhead in the silly paper chef hat. “They know.”
The redhead scoffed with a grin. “I mean, I thought you said nobody could tell who I am in this goofy-ass…”
“Kondo knows about Akane, Ranko.”
Ranko’s humor ended mid-sentence, and she nearly choked on her own saliva. “I… What are you talking about? What does my sister have to do with…”
Amaya shook her head urgently, the tips of her black hair almost whipping around the back of her booth seat into the table on the other side. “Don’t. I’ve known about your wife for over a year, honey. I’ve just been keeping it quiet for you around the office.”
Damn it. I knew it, Nabiki thought, sitting back in her seat next to Ranko. “But… how? She’s been so careful…” Lately, at least…
Amaya shrugged, her eyes darting around the cafeteria again to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “I don’t know. And I don’t think he has ironclad proof. But he knows something’s up. He seems awfully sure of himself. He’s an arrogant prick, and all he cares about is power and office politics, but… he’s acting too smug to not have something.”
“What’s he planning?” Nabiki shook her head as she made eye contact with the server, warning her with her eyes to keep her distance for a while longer.
Ranko said nothing, shrinking into the corner of the booth behind Nabiki as small as she could in her uncomfortable business attire. She was relatively certain the little cafe was spinning. Oh, no… what am I gonna do… fuck… what have I done…
Amaya shrugged, sipping at the glass of water on the table in front of her. “I don’t know. And I don’t think he can act - at least, not until he can prove anything. He’d be a fool to try anything; gods know Yokai needs Ranko at least as much as Ranko needs us. But now that there’s a contract in place, he might not have a choice. He was so hungry to get her signature on that thing, because he thought it’d make him look good to his daddy upstairs, and now it’s binding.”
“But… he could just tear it up, like Nabiki said,” Ranko offered hopefully. “It’s the get out of jail free card for both of us.”
With a nod, the executive rolled her eyes. “He could. But then he’d have to admit to his father that he couldn’t control you, and that would turn his victory in Singapore into a huge defeat. I don’t know that a prick like him is capable of swallowing that much pride to do what makes sense, and he doesn’t have the head for business to realize when it’s the smart move. Gods help us if he ever does take over the company, because he’s only in his position because of who his father is. He doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”
Nabiki sighed, shaking her head. “What a fucking mess. Alright. What’s our play?” She glared over at Ranko. While the elder of the Tendo girls said nothing, Ranko very clearly understood the expression of look what you fucking did in Nabiki’s eyes, and recoiled in shame from it.
“I think there’s still time to throw him off the scent, but we’re gonna need something big, and absolutely irrefutable.” Amaya glanced over at Ranko, who looked as if she wanted to crawl between the seams of the vinyl booth bench and hide there for the rest of her life. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any boys in your life who wanna do you a huge favor and get you pregnant or anything?”
As Nabiki watched, her younger sister slid down the bench onto the floor under the table. Her paper chef’s hat was dislodged from her head by the edge of the table, and rested in her empty seat. A low whine rose from the green linoleum floor. “Kill me now, please?”