The door chime into Joji's is heard with its light, breezy jangle, and a trio of men in suits barrel in with eagerness. All three of them have their blazers draped over forearms, their neckties loosened up, and the the top three buttons of their dress shirts undone, revealing white undershirts beneath. They're not other yakuza, they're normal businessmen who also happen to be regulars at Joji's.
“What's goin' on, Joji!” The first man jovially greets the proprietor as he approaches the counter. He's wearing tan khakis and dark brown shoes, and holding a tan blazer; his dark blue tie dangles from his neck, slacked from the loosened knot yet still pinned to his shirt with a tie clip. His short, mildly wavy hair has become slightly disheveled from the everyday pressures of tedious office work, and his thick glasses rest half-way down the bridge of his nose. His name is David Kobayashi.
“Evening, David.” Joji casually greets his jovial customer. “The usual?” He asks, already moving towards the collection of drinks behind him.
David nods. “You know it, Joji.” He stands between the two gangsters and gives them forceful slaps on their backs. “What's happenin', boys? Have an exciting day today?” Before he can even receive a response, he turns and joins his coworkers at the sofa against the wall opposite the bar counter. The three men are clearly exhausted from their repetitious day jobs. Their slumped postures while sitting and sleepy expressions suggest they could knock out at any minute, but that likely won't last when they have a few drinks in them.
“God, I'm jealous of you yakuza kids sometimes.” The second of the tired businessman trio, Naoki Ayano, speaks up in a low, gruff voice while his head is resting over the top of the backrest of the sofa, causing him to stare directly at the ceiling. However, he has enough energy to lift his hand at point at the men at the counter. “You guys can skate by doing some illegal shit here and there. You don't have to endure twelve-hour days, six days a week, just to afford a two-bedroom apartment.”
“You say that every other time we're here.” Devin responds, realizing he's heard this rant for the umpteenth time.
“Yeah, and I mean it every fuckin' time I say it.” Naoki responds snappily, though still refusing to lift his head. He possesses a stocky build, a buzzcut hair style, and a goatee, so he could probably pass for a yakuza if he wanted. “If I were fifteen years younger, I'd ditch this shit and hook up with one of those Sanada-gumi families.”
“No, you wouldn't, Naoki.” The third businessman, who is slumped so deeply into his seat that his butt is practically no longer on it, and his head is kept up by the backrest, replies. His name is Keiji Hatano. He has a tall, slender build, with a head of thick hair and clean shaven face. “You talk that way all the time, but you're actually really cowardly.”
“Yeah, you're right.” Naoki responds with no resistance to the comment, lacking any energy to argue. “A cockroach showed up in my bathroom a few nights ago and my daughter was the one who killed it. She just turned nine.”
“Here you go, gentlemen.” Joji approaches the coffee table in front of the sofas and sets down a tray of multiple drinks. A couple bottles of IPA for David, vodka for Keiji, and a long island iced tea for Naoki.
David is a pretty simple man who enjoys various types of beers, including lagers, ales, and stouts, though IPA is his go-to for when he isn't in the mood for anything in particular. Keiji likes hard liquor, particularly vodka. He'll drink one bottle throughout the night, on ice, usually. However, when he has a particularly hard day, he downs it in straight shots. Naoki likes to experiment with cocktails somewhat regularly, much to the pleasure of Joji, who enjoys concocting new things. Though a long island iced tea is what he'll order when he has no ideas for the night.
“Thanks, Joji.” David says, immediately reaching for a bottle when the tray hits the surface of the table. “Once I get one or two of these in me, the karaoke party will begin!”
The regulars finally kick off their night of drinking properly. As usual, David begins his karaoke bonanza by the time his fourth bottle of IPA is emptied. He has a habit of buying everyone a round in celebration of obtaining a new high score on a song, so when he's on a roll, everyone can end up with more than a few drinks in them. After a few hours of lighthearted fun and casual discussion, the two gangsters decide to break themselves away from the increasingly chaotic festivities and leave the bar before they're swept up in a storm of drunken karaoke madness and are left incapable of bringing themselves home.
Outside, the rain has finally stopped, leaving behind shallow puddles lining the street and high late-spring humidity. With the sky totally dark and likely still overcast – which is hard to tell thanks to the overpowering light pollution – the vivid neon lights of the metropolitan Kyoba shine brighter than ever. Life-sized hologram barkers stand at the front of different clubs, urging passers-by to indulge in the opportunities of debauchery they offer at an exorbitant price. Being natives who've developed an immunity to the sensory overload, Atreus and Devin proceed to make their way to Mystik, only slightly tipsy from the drinks they had at Joji's.
“I didn't expect the real estate meeting to be so short, so I didn't plan on going to the club tonight, which means I didn't call ahead of time to reserve my usual table.” Devin laments his lack of preparation. “So cross your fingers it's available.”
“I don't think you'll care about which table you'll get as long as Ami's free.” Atreus bluntly guesses his friend's true priorities.
“You're absolutely correct.” The eager hostess fanboy readily admits. “But table selection is still important for the mood, you know? Typically, if you want to just sit back and enjoy a show with the company of a pretty lady, and you don't really give a shit about socializing, you get a table closer to the stage. But if you're there specifically to interact with a girl you like, you get a table a bit further away, where there's less distractions. They're usually cheaper too.”
“So you have the hostess club meta game down, huh?” Atreus teases.
“Hell yeah, I do.” Devin gives a corny double thumbs up. “Either way, whatever table we get, I think it's the perfect night to finally bring out my reserved bottle of Chateau Margoulis Rocheford, aged twelve years.” He brings his right thumb, index, and middle fingers together and kisses their tips like a caricature of a chef.
“Isn't that like a three thousand dollar bottle?” The augmented man asks with a raised eyebrow, silently questioning the spending habits of his compatriot. “How the hell did you afford that?”
Devin sighs and slumps his shoulders. “By living very frugally for a month,” he shamefully admits. “I don't get to drink it very often, because I want it to last as long as possible. It'll probably be aged twenty years by the time it's finally empty.”
“Then why did you buy it? Don't tell me it was just to impress Ami.”
“No, no, no.” Devin shakes his head fervently. “Impressing Ami would be a nice bonus, but that's not why I reserved the whole bottle. I bought it to get noticed. You see, my usual table is near the middle of the floor. If I can whip out that bottle at the right moment, during busy hours where other influential people are around, I can leave an impression. Eyes tend to wander in that sort of environment, and you can really leave a presence with smart spending.”
“Has that worked at all so far?” Atreus asks, reluctant to place any trust into such a plan to artificially boost one's social standing.
“It has, actually.” The flashy networker gives an eager response, raising his finger in a matter-of-factly way. “Last time I brought that wine out was about a month ago, and guess who was at the table next to me? Raymond. Eugene. Ernst.” Devin enunciates the name dramatically.
“The criminal defense lawyer?” Atreus raises his brow in surprise. “He visits Mystik?”
“Fuck yeah, he does.” Devin responds with a strong nod. “He even has his own wine bottle, too. And it's more expensive than mine – he even had three hostesses with him. Dude likes to party.”
Raymond Eugene Ernst is a criminal defense lawyer who lives in the greater Los Angeles area, and has recently received a significant amount of notoriety and media attention for his successful defense of a lieutenant of the Blue Star, a Korean gang that operates in Jeonju, a Korean and Korean-American district to the west of Kyoba. Ernst is one-half of the partners that make up his firm, called Ernst & Emerson. Since the widely-covered Blue Star trial, he's been a highly requested asset among the criminal underworld in regard to protection from the law.
“What did he say to you?” Atreus asks, his curiosity piqued.
“First, he complimented on both my taste in wine and in women, because I had Ami with me at the time.” Devin responds with a smug half-grin. “Then he noticed my pin, and started asking me questions about my yakuza background. He actually seemed pretty eager to work with the Sanada-gumi.”
Of all the Asian gangs that occupy Los Angeles, the Japanese Sanada-gumi is, by and far, the largest and most influential of them all. If a criminal defense lawyer like Ernst wanted to make bank by associating with the biggest clique on campus, then the Sanada-gumi is the clear choice.
“And what did you tell him?” The augmented gangster presses for more details.
Devin puffs his chest out in pride before describing his conversation. “I told him that my boss – Ryuji – had a direct line of communication to the senior advisor of the clan and is one of the most favored and trusted family patriarchs. And man, you should've seen his fucking face after I told him that. His eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas. That man wants to get in on that sweet Sanada-gumi business. Then he gave me his number and checked out for the night.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Have you called him since then?”
“Nope.” Devin quickly responds with a shake of his head. “You see, I'm the one who's in the position of power in this interaction, because I made him interested in my business, not the other way around. So, I'm gonna let him simmer for a bit, let him wait for a response. Just before he starts to lose hope, I send the call, we set something up, and starting greasing the wheels, you know?”
“Just don't wait too long.” Atreus starts to feel a pang of doubt about his friend's long-winded social scheme. “If he's as important as we think, then he's a busy guy and will probably settle for a Blue Star or 86M partnership if you dawdle too much.”
Devin slightly tilts his head in consideration. “Blue Star, yeah, but 86M isn't established enough around here for him to bother, probably.”
The 86M they refer to is a Chinese gang currently established in Lam Tong, a Chinese-centric district southwest of Jeonju. They've only showed up very recently, imported from Macau, and live a very low key existence in Los Angeles as of now, but their numbers are growing steadily.
“Then that just means the Blue Star will be able to snap him up easier because no one else is trying to make a deal.” Atreus insists. “I think now's the time to call him up and set up a meeting with you, Ryuji, and him.”
“Yeah, you got a point.” The hostess club addict concedes. “Tomorrow morning I'll contact him and see if I can start setting things up proper.”
With Devin's upcoming business-related prospects discussed, the two men soon arrive at their destination: Mystik, the highly preferred hostess club of Devin, as well as the workplace of his muse, located between two multi-story business buildings. The entrance is decorated extravagantly with vibrant lights and a marquee of different performing artists scheduled for the week. Two neon pink hologram hostesses stand at each side of the door, quietly but seductively beckoning passers-by to enter. For the sake of customer convenience, a large screen immediately inside the lobby faces the street through a window, showing portraits of every hostess currently on-shift to eat and drink with, along with whether they're available or occupied, and, if occupied by a customer, how much time until they're available again.
“Alright, let's see if Ami's free...” Devin utters as he approaches the screen of many beautiful, charming young women dressed in different styles, though with equally expensive tastes. “Oh, fuck!” He suddenly exclaims, slapping his forehead with his open palm and reeling back in frustration. “She's started her vacation yesterday! I fucking forgot!”
Atreus leans forward to also take a look at the screen, he finds Ami's portrait near the bottom – a very pretty Japanese woman sporting a feminine face with soft features, and wavy dark brown hair partially tied into a high ponytail, but straight locks draped along her temples and cheeks. Next to her picture is bright red text: 'Ami: Unavailable (on Vacation) / Returning May 18'.
“God dammit.” Devin continues his lamentations. “I'm usually so good with keeping up on her schedule. She even told me she was going on vacation soon the last time I talked to her. I can't believe it slipped my mind.” He heaves a long sigh, punctuating it with a non-committal shrug. “Well, fuck it, I guess. Let's go to Crown and make use of your employee discount, then.”
Atreus unleashes a sigh of his own, annoyed about double backing, but does it anyway. The two retrace their steps to return to the street that Joji's bar was on, but thankfully Crown is between their current location and the bar, as opposed to beyond it.
They soon reach their destined club, which, similarly to its competitor, is bookended by two other buildings. Unlike Mystik, however, the entrance is slightly more modest, opting for a lower quantity of bright, flashing lights decorating the entire street side of the establishment, and instead utilizing a single, large screen above the name sign that displays a mesmerizing string of kinetic patterns that draws the eye and almost hypnotizes the passing pedestrians into entering. There's one, individual bright blue hologram hostess pacing back and forth in front of the entrance, posing and beckoning alluringly. Sometimes she even dances and twirls, offering a more complex, visually engrossing performance than the two in front of Mystik.
Devin approaches the screen displaying the current on-shift hostesses. “Do you have a preference?” He asks without looking back, examining the collection of striking women. “I've only been here like twice in the last three months or so, and I wasn't the one choosing, so I don't have any idea who's good or not.”
“All of them are good, really.” Atreus gives the diplomatic, but honest answer. “Crown has a pretty thorough vetting process. I've been here long enough to see all the girls work, and each one is popular with a certain type of customer.”
“Which would you say is the most popular in general?” The curious hostess aficionado asks, stroking his right cheek with his left hand in measured deliberation. “It's hard for me to pick a girl based on looks, since I'm not really picky in that regard. I just like a girl who's easy to talk to and isn't stand-offish.”
“Well...” Atreus approaches the screen. “Rose is up there, but she's occupied right now.” He points to a caucasian girl with fiery red hair. “Minami is popular too, but she's occupied also.” He brings his hand to a Japanese girl with brown hair in a bob cut.
“How about her?” Devin interjects, pointing at a young woman with wavy black hair brushed over her head and sitting on her left shoulder.
Her black eyeliner and eyeshadow help her blue eyes pop, which provides an attractive contrast to her fair skin and bright red lips. She has a facial bone structure that's slightly sharper than most Asian women, with prominent features such as higher cheekbones cheekbones and pronounced jawline. She sports a slight smile in her portrait, and welcoming eyes that juxtapose her almost supermodel-esque face that might be intimidating to men who would see her on the street. Her name is Reiko, and the 'occupied' timer next to her name is only thirty seconds away from hitting zero, meaning she'll soon be available.
“Reiko's quite popular, as well.” Atreus replies, showing slightly less enthusiasm compared to the other girls he pointed at.
“She's got some, like, slightly European features.” Devin comments, really taking his time to admire her beauty. “And her eyes are amazing. Blue eyes, black hair, and pale skin? An amazing combination. Seriously.” He straightens his posture and looks at his friend with the expression of a man who's made a firm decision. “Let's go with her. And whoever else is free – we'll let the staff choose. I'm up for a surprise.”
“Alright.” The augmented man responds with a small nod, and leads the way into the establishment.
The interior of Crown is somewhat old-fashioned compared to its modernized exterior, reminiscent of classic cabarets in visual style with a tasteful blue, silver, and black color palette. The front lobby is a small area that splits into a hallway to the left and right, leading to one of the employee sections and restrooms, respectively. Directly ahead of the front entrance is open double doors guarded by a tall, thick-necked, broad-shouldered Japanese-American bouncer behind a velvet rope. Beyond him is the hostess club proper, with customers and hostesses having the time of their lives, popping champagne and loudly making merry as a jazz band plays on the distant stage and a group of people are cutting a rug on the dance floor. Several waiters are seen walking briskly back and forth between multiple tables and the kitchen – which lies beyond the sight of patrons – with platters of food and drinks.
Behind a counter to the immediate left of the double doors is three male clerks who greet patrons and guide them to their tables, two of whom are already talking to a customer. Atreus and Devin approach the clerk who's currently free.
“Hey, Atreus.” The clerk eagerly welcomes his co-worker, the stainless steel tag on his chest proudly displaying his name, Jacob. “You a customer for the night?”
“Yeah, we are.” Atreus answers with a deep nod. “Table for two, and we'd like to have Reiko accompany us, plus whoever else is available. Surprise us.”
“No problem.” Jacob interacts with the touchscreen monitor in front of him for a brief moment before detaching it from its stand and cradling it in his arm like a tablet. “I'll give you a booth near the stage. Oh, and feel free to place your umbrella in the rack next to the door.” He walks out from behind the counter and approaches the guarded doors. The bouncer unhooks one end of the velvet blue rope and allows the three men to cross the threshold.
“Easy night, Shin?” Atreus asks the bouncer as he passes.
“Yeah, no trouble so far.” The brawny, intimidating, but well-dressed man replies with a shrug. “Typical weekday.”
“Good to hear.” The augmented man remarks with an encouraging pat on the bouncer's shoulder before continuing on.
Now inside the energetic, bombastic center of the club, the classy, but debauched allure of the establishment becomes even more apparent. From the doors, a carpeted aisle separates the two halves of the first floor tables, most of which are already densely populated with maudlin customers and their female companions of choice. Two wide staircases at each side of the huge room, kept by their own bouncers, lead up to the more isolated VIP area, where an extended library of particularly expensive food and drink are available for consumption, prepared by a dedicated chef in an open kitchen.
Jacob leads the two gangsters to the end of the aisle and to the first vacant booth that's immediately next to the dance floor, where the slick, polished wooden panels beneath the feet of the prancing patrons reflect the bright, multicolored stage lights.
“Here you go, right next to the aisle.” Jacob gestures to the booth to the immediate left of the path. Atreus and Devin slide in near the middle of the cushioned, circular seat made of clean royal blue corduroy. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?” The clerk asks, holding his tablet handy in expectation of an order.
“Did you want to eat here, too?” Atreus asks his friend.
Devin tilts his head in consideration. “Food's a little expensive here. Does your employee discount cover it?”
Atreus shakes his head. “Nah. It only covers the base fee.” Disappointed in the fact, he heaves out a small sigh. If anything, an employee discount on the food in a high-class establishment such as this would probably save more money in the long run than a discount on the initial fee. Then again, that's probably why the discount isn't for the food to begin with.
“Shit.” The hostess club connoisseur curses in equal dissatisfaction. “We'll just eat somewhere else after this, then. Let's stick to drinks – non-alcoholic, since I'm still coming down from those whiskey sours.”
“Alright, what drinks would you like?” Jacob asks as he hits a couple buttons on his tablet to prepare for the order. “Our non-alcoholic drinks include soft drinks, juices, various coffees and teas, and, of course, water.”
“What sizes you guys got?”
“Juice, coffee, tea, and water all have their one, set sizes, but for soft drinks, we have small, which is eight ounces; medium, which is sixteen; and then large, which is twenty-four – all served in glasses, of course.” The clerk spouts the information without a single instant's lapse in speech or thought, as expected of an employee at one of the two top clubs in Kyoba.
“I'll take some apple juice, then.” Devin gives this order matter-of-factly, having no issue with the thought of ordering a glass of juice in a hostess club.
“Sure thing.” Jacob places the order in his tablet in a few simple strokes of his finger. “And you, Atreus?”
“Green tea – hot.” Atreus answers.
“Alright.” The clerk makes a few more inputs and recites the men's entire night's order back to them. “So, you'll be seeing Reiko and a second girl – dealer's choice – and your drinks are an apple juice and hot green tea. Is there anything else?”
“That's all. Thanks, Jacob.”
“No problem. The girls will be here in a moment, as will a server with your drinks. Enjoy your time with us.” Jacob gives a small, courteous bow and leaves the gentlemen to wait for their drinks and company.