PART 1
QUEEN OF LOVE
Chapter 1
“I’llletyoulead.” Wrinkled hands stacked papers atop a standard leather briefcase. “Your English is much better than mine, Sugiya-san.”
Aya tore her eyes off a square-shaped ad depicting a local English language school. The smiling Japanese woman in her simple dress and coifed hair pointed to the word “BASIC,” as if that word was a selling point to the denizens of Tokyo. “BASIC Will Teach You the Basics of English!” the rest of the tagline said.
The only reason she wasted brain cells on a piece of cheap marketing was because Aya needed all the practice she could get. For the past two years, most of her English speaking skills had been used over the phone or shaky Zoom calls. While the occasional foreigner already living in Japan needed a place to stay, it was nothing most of her coworkers couldn’t handle. Leon from Berlin, and Sophie from Canada usually spoke enough Japanese to get their needs across to the crackpot team of Atsukatta Real Estate.
“Your English is quite notable as well, Ishida-san.” Aya kept her eye on the subway stations ticking by when she said that. Next was Shinjuku San-chome, their stop. “But I thank you for the compliment.”
“It’s why you’re here.” Shotaro Ishida, Aya’s boss and the head of this account, was ready to depart. Yet neither of them got up from their seats. “Your English skills, I mean. Ms. Liu speaks almost every language there is in Asia. Except for Japanese.”
My English is technically the best on the team. She had the highest TOEFL score in her batch of recruits and had pleased many of the big-money clients. Atsukatta Real Estate had, in recent years, become one of the most recommended agencies for English speakers looking to rent or buy around the Tokyo area. Since Aya started ten years ago, they had gone from housing lost language teachers to selling whole buildings to overseas interests. Too bad we don’t work on commission. That was part of what made Japanese agencies one of the most respected in the world. When the agents all received a flat salary for their hard work, foreigners trusted them to not push places for the sole purpose of making an expensive sale.
“Jya, let’s go.” Mr. Ishida stood as soon as the train slowed into Shinjuku San-chome station. As blurry faces passed by the windows and the Tokyo Metro station signs lit up the low ceiling, Aya quelled the acid in her stomach with a deep breath. She needed all the wherewithal she could garner for today’s potential sale.
She motioned for her supervisor to head out of the train first, as was customary. She followed closely behind, a briefcase at her side and a face mask pulling against her ears. The sharp aftershave of Mr. Ishida’s clothes hit her in the face as they ascended the nearest escalator.
There are two reasons I’m the one with him today.
The first was her impeccable use of professional English. TOEFL scores and good reviews aside, Aya was a “charming people person,” as the president of the company had drunkenly said at a recent after-work party. Then he hit on me. Again. She was so used to it, she had the perfect shut-down ready every time. “Mr. Takatani, I am forty-one years old. I am already the same age as your current wife.” That turned him off every single time.
The second? Aya Sugiya knew this area. She had been to Shinjuku San-chome Station so many times that she could lead her boss out of the proper exit with her eyes closed. She also knew the most efficient crosswalk to utilize without having to walk a block out of the way of their destination.
Hell, she knew the bar they were headed to.
The place wasn’t there anymore, of course. “Ladylike” had closed down at the start of the pandemic, and had sat empty ever since. Not only was the owner of the commercial building keen to fill the void Ladylike left behind, but he was ready to sell the whole five stories for the right price. He didn’t care if the gay bar below or the queer-friendly job agency above were kicked out with new ownership. The man had debts, and that building was one of them.
If someone from Singapore wanted to buy the place, what was it to him?
Of course, coworkers like Mr. Ishida were always politely mum about Aya’s knowledge of Shinjuku Ni-chome, home to the highest concentration of gay bars in the world. It isn’t what it used to be. The Ni-chome Aya had frequented when she was a twenty-something lesbian was long gone, and back then, it wasn’t like lesbian bars sprouted on every corner. More like every other corner. Yet it was the one neighborhood where she could show up with her skin hanging out and not a single man stared at her. They were too busy staring at assless chaps and bare chests at the local Bear Café – where, unlike the name implied, guests did not hang out with actual bears. Unless they meant the big and hairy men kind.
Things had already slowed before the start of the pandemic. Many of the neighborhood staples that catered to women – Apex Female, Juicy Fruits, Goldy’s, and of course, Ladylike – had either disappeared in the past few years or changed ownership so many times that the regulars barely recognized the neighborhood anymore. More and more Japanese women were coming out as gay in the 21st century, but there were fewer places to meet new friends and potential lovers. Aya would know. She had tried the online apps and felt like she was screaming into a void from the depths of her own dark apartment.
Coworkers like her boss, Mr. Ishida, were well aware Aya wasn’t the “marrying kind of woman.” While it never came up in conversation, she was the first name on the list when the overseas client requested a tour of a building in Ni-chome. The woman had done her homework about what kind of business she wanted to open in Tokyo. The agency had done the rest by assigning Aya to the account.
Damn, it’s depressing. The sign for Ladylike was gone, but the letters remained imprinted upon the side of the building. Pretty sure I threw up over there once. Aya still remembered her friend patting her on the back while vomit coated the corner of a dark alley.
Mr. Ishida acquired the key from a lockbox and opened the door into the musty remnants of an old lesbian haunt. Although the building’s maintenance man often opened the windows to air the empty businesses out, the air was still warm and thick, even for a bright and early April day. The kids had returned to school for a new year, but this bar might as well have been trapped in 2008. No wonder Ladylike struggled to stay afloat before the pandemic put the final nail in the coffin.
Mr. Ishida opened his briefcase on the bartop. Aya stood in front of the shelves where a large selection of beer and spirits once awaited pouring. All that remained now were stickers indicating where one should store the Asahi Beer and where the Heineken was best displayed.
Like most of Aya’s life, the place was now a ghost of the past.
“Hello.”
Aya’s ear was instantly drawn to the doorway, where the client had appeared. Holy…
She had seen a picture of Genevieve Liu before, but the woman gracing the doorway was above and beyond the usual rich types that did business with Atsukatta Real Estate.
Probably because Ms. Liu was wealthy, not rich.
That exuded from every pore in her flawless skin, which was as smooth as the voice announcing her presence. A dark linen dress with an empire waistline immediately brought attention to the slender shoulders poking from the sleeves – and the feminine heels gracing her delicate feet. Ms. Liu didn’t wear jewelry aside from the diamonds in her ears, but the sheen and smoothness of her black hair already looked more expensive than most of Aya’s haircuts.
The makeup was not thick on this woman – but the charm sure was.