Page 9 of Spider Demon's Kiss

The story this told was that Sato was a man who did everything he could to pretend he wasn’t where he was. My guess was that there was rage behind his expressionless exterior. There had to be a way I could use that to get out of this marriage. But how?

“Dante Ricci and family here to see Sato,” I said to the com box outside the gate.

“Park. Security will meet you there,” someone replied in a Japanese accent.

I turned to Lorenzo.

“Here goes nothing.”

“You sure it won’t be better to take care of this silently?”

“If you’re asking if it would be better to put a hit on a man with some of the best security in the city, I’m sure,” I said seeing a flash of our Pa in him.

“Think about it,” he said leaning forward to get a better look at the place. “We could put a sniper in one of those tree-lines. Or, it doesn’t have to be here. There are unguarded roofs around his office. With the right shooter, we could solve this problem in a second.”

I looked at Lorenzo feeling my heart thump. There was no mistaking that he was our father’s son.

“Don’t even think about it, Lorenzo. Or better yet, think about what comes after that. You think his people back in Japan wouldn’t be able to piece together his elimination with a forced marriage proposal? How long will it take for shit to hit the fan?

“There are better ways to handle things, Lorenzo. I tell ya, you and Matteo are exactly alike.”

“Don’t you compare me to that piece of shit.”

“Hey, watch the way you talk about your brother.”

“What are you talking about? You call him that all of the time.”

“That’s because I’m the one who has to keep cleaning up his messes. When that’s your job, then you can say it. Until then, he’s your brother and you love him.”

“Whatever,” Lorenzo replied sinking back into his chair.

It probably wasn’t the best idea to piss off the only backup I would have if things went belly up. But Matteo needed as many people on his side as possible. I couldn’t let Lorenzo write him off like that.

Exiting the car, four of Sato’s men met us. I was sure that someone inside thought this would be an impressive show of force. Truth was, if I shifted, these four wouldn’t even slow me down.

“Guns?”

“We’re not giving you our fuckin’ guns,” Lorenzo snapped.

“Lorenzo, give them your fuckin’ gun,” I ordered reaching for mine. “We are entering Sato’s home. We need to show him the respect he deserves.”

Oh yeah, Lorenzo was pissed at me. Big fuckin’ deal. He’ll get over it.

The inside of Sato’s house was as impressive as the garden. There wasn’t much he could do with the 1920s architecture, but he made it work. The hard wood beams that traverse the ceiling, the minimalist design tiles and wooden décor, it felt like I was in a different world.

“This way please,” the largest of the men said ushering me onto a balcony overlooking acres of land.

There was a man already there. Not Sato. Someone else. He stood humbly wearing what looked like a Japanese ceremonial gown and he had a book in his hand.

“You, there,” Sato’s security guy said gesturing for me to stand next to the man. “You, there,” he said ushering Lorenzo to the side.

Lorenzo looked at me asking if he should go. I nodded and approached who I assumed was Sato’s interrupter. Because, of course, Sato didn’t speak English. Yeah, whatever.

It took about a minute of standing awkwardly with this man for Sato to arrive. Strangely, he didn’t look at me. With his eyes averted, he took a position more than an arm’s length away on the other side of the balcony as Lorenzo.

What was going on? I knew that Japanese culture had a lot of customs like bowing and shit, and a lot of it stretched into business. But I didn’t know enough to say how weird this was.

It got even weirder when music began playing. Any music at a negotiation would be strange. But they were playing that wah-wah music. You know, it’s that music they play in the quiet moments in Samurai movies. Why were they playing it now?

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