Billionaires in Tokyo

“Ian’s missing,” I text. “I’m currently looking for him. Seriously, if you happen to find out anything, please let me know? I’m worried sick.”

The car pulls up in front of a dark strip of cafés, bars, and other businesses that are already closed for the night. I shove a few bills of yen into the driver’s hand and get out. One of the only bits of English on the piece of paper I received matches a sign hanging high above my head. “Life of Lily.”

Most Japanese business names don’t make any sense. Oh, they make sense to the Japanese, but to little ol’ me they might as well be English gibberish. Or French gibberish. I may not be fluent in French like Ian is, but I know when it’s totally, utterly incorrect.

Another difference between locations here and back home are that the bars and restaurants in Japan are so small. We’re talking practically miniscule. Seat maybe up to a dozen people at most. This goes for the larger chain places, too. Good luck finding a seat that doesn’t have you bunched up against someone only two inches away. The Japanese are excellent at not making you feel too claustrophobic even under these conditions, but it also makes it way, way more awkward when you walk into a tiny restaurant and realize everyone in there is looking right at your blond ass.

It’s too much to ask for an English-speaker in here. So when the one woman on duty walks forward with panic on her face, I have to think quickly. She’s either going to pass out or throw me out. It’s not unusual for these tiny places to kick foreigners to the curb.

“I’m looking for…” Nope. This woman does not speak English. That panic is only getting worse on her face.

“Kathryn?”

Oh, thank God!

A tall figure gets up in the far corner of the room. Poor Ms. Junri Isoya looks almost as shocked as the server in this classy, albeit tiny, restaurant. Probably does not help that I’ve clearly caught her on a date. The man sitting across from her gives me one of those indifferent gazes that sends two totally different kinds of chills down my spine. What do you want for me? My tracks will stop for any tall and dark stranger who can look at a woman with nothing but sex in his eyes. I know that I’m a lucky woman to have Ian, but I’ve got a feeling Junri is pretty lucky herself.

Anyway, I shouldn’t be staring at people I don’t know…

“What are you doing here?”

The server approaches us. Junri says something to her in Japanese to get her to back off. The other women – it is mostly women in here, isn’t it? – politely look away, but their ears are burning a deep, crimson red as they eavesdrop.

“I’m so glad I found you. Your… I don’t know who she is, actually, but she told me that you were here and that you were okay with…”

She takes me by the forearm and drags me toward the bathroom. Of course, the ladies’ room is much too small for us to both fit in, but she makes do by cornering me and lowering her voice. “Who gave you this location?”

“Uh… well, I went to your room, and a young woman told me…”

“Maji de…” Junri relaxes, but I have a feeling someone is in trouble. “I can’t believe she… never mind. What’s the problem?”

Problem? I’ll give her a problem. “My boyfriend, I mean Ian, is missing and hasn’t been seen since your uncle and cousin took him out partying last night.”

It takes a few seconds for her to understand what I’m saying. “Missing? You mean you can’t find him?”

“No. The last people who saw him were your family.”

“Shinjiraremasen.” I don’t know what that means, but it’s probably not good. “He’s not answering messages or anything?”

“No, we had a date today, but he never showed up. He won’t answer his calls or texts. His assistant can’t find him, either.”

“Tokyo is a big place. Easy to get lost.” Junri glances at her date, the man paying no attention to us as he scrolls through his phone. “Maybe he got lost on his way back to the hotel.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I still would have heard from him.” Even if Ian was drunk enough to stumble into a ditch for a few hours, he still would have found a way to get back to the hotel or at least call me. Unless his phone died. Or… oh God, unless he was robbed! In a city that doesn’t speak a whole lot of English, and he doesn’t speak the local language! “Do you know anything?”

“No. My uncle has already gone back to Sapporo. Have you talked to my aunt?”

“I haven’t seen her.”

“My cousin may not be back to Nagoya yet. We can ask him, since he was also there.”