Queen of Love

Genevieve was gay, too. Or at least open to it enough that she didn’t mind hanging out in lesbian bars and opening one of her own.

“I’d say it’s a great coincidence…” Aya had to speak up to be heard over Rihanna blasting from the speakers, “but there aren’t many places open for a drink tonight. Not if you want to find someone like-minded to talk to on your off time.”

Genevieve propped her elbow on the bar, her long and dazzling fingers scraping against her face. A foot clad in a silky ballet flat lazily spun in circles. Between the impressive length of her hair and the swishy skirt around her legs, Aya could only sum Genevieve Liu up as long. Maybe willowy. Her height, hair, and fashion choices all gave that illusion, didn’t they? She’s a woman who’s used to being the center of attention in any given room. She certainly had Aya’s attention.

“What are you in the mood to talk about tonight?” Genevieve immediately pursed her lips after asking. “Or are you waiting for somebody?”

“I just got back from visiting my sister in the suburbs,” Aya said. “She’s got two kids. I needed some adult time before heading home.”

“Oh… where’s home? May I ask?” Genevieve’s finger twirled in the air. “Do you live around here, in Shinjuku?”

“No, but not too much farther. I live in Meguro.”

“I’ve heard of it. In fact, I think it was someone at your agency who suggested I look into property around the area. Apparently, it’s very hot. Is it hard to get to from here by train?”

“No. Actually, I can take the Fukutoshin Line down to Shibuya and walk the rest of the way home if I don’t want to transfer. I’ve done it many times.” Aya chuckled. “Before I got this job and moved to Meguro, I used to live out in Edogawa. Now that’s a slog.”

Genevieve’s polite expression was like a porcelain doll’s: sweet, inoffensive, and somewhat ghostly. Then again, these lights did nothing to flatter her skin. Aya would know. She had admired Genevieve’s natural beauty in the natural light of Ladylike’s gutted insides.

“My research says the nearest rail station is Shinjuku San-chome,” Genevieve said, “but do most people walk the distance to Shinjuku Station? I’d think it’s much easier to get to places around the metro from there.”

Aya slid her drink down the bar before hopping off her stool. Genevieve’s grin grew wider when she realized Aya was about to join her.

“I’d ask what kind of notes you’re taking,” Aya began, nodding to the Chinese characters in Genevieve’s notebook, “but I can’t understand a bit of them. Is that Mandarin?”

“Yes. With a smattering of Hokkien, which I also speak.”

“You speak many languages, don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t like to brag, but being Singaporean means you’re exposed to all sorts of plain speak. Mandarin is my native language, but I’m also fluent in English, of course, as well as Malay, Cantonese, Hokkien, and some French. As I mentioned before, my Japanese leaves a lot to be desired. It’s the language I’d like to focus on next.”

“Sou desu ka?” Aya may have said the equivalent of ”Is that so?” but it was mostly to tease Genevieve.

“That’s one of the few phrases I know.”

“What else do you know?”

Genevieve lifted her bourbon glass. “Kanpai.”

Aya had no choice but to add her highball to the toast.