Whitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 02

"Is this Nik Knight?" a sharp, Japanese voice asked.

"Yeah, hi, who is calling?"

"Apologies for the early morning wakeup. I understand you worked until the early hours of the morning. My name is Musashi Yamato. I'm calling on behalf of the manager you worked for last night. We have a new job for you we'd like you to try out."

"Different club?"

"Yes. It is hard to find good foreign workers. We'd like you to work the door of another club. Higher pay, but the clients are...rougher. Not as affluent."

"So I'm supposed to be muscle?"

"Ha, maybe. The manager told me you kept your cool in a heated situation. The words out of the woman's mouth were most unladylike."

"I don't understand Japanese. Hard to get mad at something I don't understand."

"True. Still, if you're interested, drop by the address I text you. A yes or no would be appreciated, either way."

"One question, Mr. Yamato."

"Yes?"

"Why me? In-shape gaijin can't be that unique in Japan."

"Ha, well, I can answer that easy enough. Your ads on the trains. Brings in customers, even if you're a doorman."

"Okay. Thank you. Please text me the pay as well, and I'll let you know if it doesn't conflict with other business I have, sir."

"Very well. I look forward to working with you."

Click!

"Work?" Anri slurred out.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep, babe," he replied, kissing her forehead.

Looking down upon her, he smiled. So innocent. Only half an hour ago she acted like a succubus, but now rested upon the pillow like an innocent princess.

X

A week of schooling passed without incident. Subway to school, teach, sit-in on unintelligible faculty meetings, go home, lather, rinse, repeat. Anri, however, turned into a temptress. A siren singing a song of serenity to a wandering sailor. The gym was located a subway stop away from home. While lifting weights, his phone would vibrate on repeat. Anri blew it up with dirty messages and ideas she wanted to try out next. She led the kink charge, and Nik was aboard for the ride.

Friday night. The new club nestled itself away inside an even dirtier and grungier corner of the red light district. The only reason Nik didn't turn around and forget the entire operation was because it was Japan. The country boasted a high safety rating, especially for foreigners. Who was going to pick a fight with him? It'd be silly to start shit with a foreigner, especially one who couldn't speak the language.

"Rising Sun...Live Jazz...Open 24/7...Huh, no wonder they need the help."

No one stood outside. Was this a host club?

Opening the door, soft jazz music escaped into the quiet street. Just like the club from last weekend, small-time restaurants and shops surrounded the area. A small man stood near a podium off to the side of the doorway.

"Hi, is Mr. Yamato in?" Nik asked the doorman.

"Yamato-san..." The man pointed to a room. Nik assumed it said 'manager', or the like, in kanji above the door.

"Domo," he replied, walking towards the room.

The small club had a dozen tables and a few booths. Nothing too exciting. A man stood on the stage, playing a tune on a sax. A bar ran against the wall leading to the office. A couple souls sat there, sipping their liquor while enchanted by the solo.

Knocking on the office door got an immediate answer.

"Hi, Mr. Yamato?" Nik asked, walking inside.

"You must be Nik. Welcome," he replied, sitting behind a desk. "Welcome to my little slice of paradise."

"Not a problem. Doesn't look like you need a lot of muscle though. Seems like the peaceful type of joint."

"It is, it is," he answered, standing up.

Musashi stood tall as Nik, and a match in physique. A toothy grin broke the intimidation that a scar across his eye caused. Judging by the pin-striped suit and fedora, Nik took him for a Yakuza thinking it was the 20s and 30s.

"Work the door, check people on a list, and make sure the drunks don't cause a problem, right?" Nik said, confidently.

"You catch on fast. Grab the tux from the locker and you'll be on the clock."

"I've got to ask," Nik said, opening the lone locker in the office. "How'd you get so good at English? I don't hear an accent."

"Grew up in the States with my family before moving here for university."

"Makes sense. Sorry for butting in."

The apology got a hearty laugh back.

"The scar and outfit scare the piss out of my workers, it is good to have a man with balls around."

Nik nodded, taking the tux out of the locker.

"How do you guys keep finding a tux my size?" he asked.

"Your agent. He has your sizing on hand."

"Sounds like your organization has everything figured out."

"We try to run a smooth ship," Musashi commented. "Relive the doorman so he can take his break. You'll be working there all shift. I made sure to write the names in romaji."

"The place is going to get that packed?" Nik asked.

"We're a popular joint. Looks can be deceiving."

"Sure, you're right about that," Nik replied.

Suited up, he bowed and then went off to work his shift. In the back of his head, there was a nagging feeling more than met the eye. If it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, it was a duck. The guy screamed Yakuza, retro Italian mafia attire aside.

"They have rules. You're a civilian. Just a gaijin helper at the door. No reason to bust your skull if any problems occurred," Nik thought to himself.

At least this spot allowed him to sit while on duty. A customer would walk in every fifteen or twenty minutes, but none would leave. The place was popular, in the sense no one left once entering. Cool jazz music filled the air. The solo sax guy turned into a female singer and then turned into a full band. They seemed to all be together, yet each had their own separate style.

Three burly gentlemen sauntered in past midnight. Dressed in fine suits, it didn't belay the rugged machismo radiating from them.

"Three?" Nik asked, holding up three fingers.

The smaller of the trio laughed, saying something in Japanese to his compatriots. More fake courage. Nik just smiled, asking again. The leader put up three fingers. Slightly bowing, Nik led them off to one of the empty booths.

"Enjoy the night, sirs," he said, before bowing and walking back to the front.

"Great," he thought, "more gangsters. Definitely a Yakuza joint you got yourself wrapped into now. Fuck."

The front of the club remained calm and peaceful for the rest of the night. No customers with a stick up their ass to get in his face. Normal customers, looking more like jazz connoisseurs or couples on a date.

In the office, after closing, Musashi looked happy. A bright smile illuminated the room.

"Great job. Not a single problem all night. Customers left happy."

Nik didn't look surprised. It seemed to him like a normal, uneventful, standard night.

"Okay. Great. I don't feel bad for how much you're paying me."

Musashi clapped his hands.

"Money well spent."

Nik's mind raced a mile a minute, perplexed at the situation. It felt weird. The money on tap wasn't normal for a doorman, couldn't be.

"Are you going to call me back here again or am I going to a different location?"

"I'd like you to work here again next week, same time."

"If every Friday is like tonight, easy money. Can't turn it down," he said, cheerfully.

He tried not to show concern that the situation weirded him out. Still, any extra cash to get rid of student loans couldn't be overlooked.

"I'll pencil you in. Keep up the good work."

Leaving the club, Nik sighed. In his pocket rested another ornate envelope, full of cash. Cold, hard cash. Thoughts of the situation went through his head on the way home. Was it really his modeling career earning the salary bump? Was something shady going on that he was oblivious to? Was he unknowingly digging a deeper hole without knowing it?

The entire trip home, all those thoughts and more raced around. That is, until he opened the apartment door.

"Welcome home, Master," Anri cooed.

She knelt down in front of the door. Hair done up in a traditional geisha style. Her own, unique kimono beautifully gracing her gorgeous physique. Painstakingly applied makeup finished off the supermodel look. A traditional woman welcoming home her lord and master. Nik couldn't help but smile as the door swung shut.