Queen of Love

Chapter 5

Genevievehadnoway of knowing Aya would be at this bar tonight. As far as she saw it, everything was a happy accident in one form or another.

Happy accidents explain much of my life. From being born as the only child of wealthy Chinese parents to inheriting everything they had when she was still young enough to enjoy it and forge her own destiny, Genevieve was well aware of her privilege. Which was why she didn’t mind ditching the bodyguard for a night now that she had a better feel for Tokyo, which was as polite, clean, and inviting as Singapore. She loved the chatter of Japanese, both formal and colloquial, in the air. I’ve always loved the language. I simply never had an excuse to learn it. As a child of the eighties, she had spent most of her youth devouring Japanese dramas, movies, and music before Korean media took over as the preferred norm.

She knew, however, that things were very different in Japan, where there was one dominant language and people only knew a smattering of English, if that.

If I’m to own a successful bar here, she had thought while filling out a journal of marketing ideas, then I must get to know the locals on a psychological level. This wasn’t Singapore. Nor was it Taipei or Hong Kong. The Japanese had their own language and culture that was familiar to Genevieve but could also be frustratingly mysterious. For every Chinese character she recognized on a transit map, there was another that held a completely different meaning to someone like Aya. A topic they quickly got to discussing once Genevieve made a faux pas of misreading the Japanese character for “arm” as the Chinese “wrist.” Something very important when they discussed the merit of wristbands in current-day lesbian dating.

”…It was totally a thing,” Aya said, placing her empty highball glass on the bar. “One wristband for being a top, one for being a bottom, and one for being the elusive switch nobody wanted to hang out with.”

“Are you speaking from experience on that last one?”

Aya glanced away as she awkwardly chuckled. “No.”

I’d be surprised, otherwise. Aya was everything Genevieve had dreamed about for the past few years. She wasn’t only more masc-of-center and oozed confidence. She was a professional with relationship experience. As they shared the second round of drinks and spoke of their personal lives now that they were no longer in a professional situation, Genevieve was granted a clear picture of Aya being the consistent, monogamous “top” in most of her relationships. She never openly referred to herself as gay, lesbian, or even bisexual, but she didn’t need to. Her comfort in places like this bar and the way she talked about her past suggested that there had never been much room for men. Something Genevieve emphatically related to, even if they came from very different backgrounds.

“People used to be a lot more married to roles,” Aya said. “People take comfort in it, I guess. Whether you’re emulating the provider role or your everyday femme. Of course, there’s a lot more discourse now. You can’t walk two metaphorical steps online without the younger girls questioning everything and wondering why all of their old representation is so strict about gender roles, even in gay relationships.”

Genevieve allowed a vulnerable look to cross her face. “I like roles, too. Maybe it is our age.” What she didn’t share was that her definition of “role” was much different than what the bars and clubs of old talked about. Yet Aya was not someone close enough to her. She’s not someone I can talk about that to…

She wished. Although Genevieve had not traveled to Japan looking for a new partner – of any kind – she was open to the idea. Especially if it was someone who looked like they knew how to pin a woman to her hotel bed and make her feel good for a few hours.

Yet she also knew how to hold her hand until it was time to make the play of the night. Even better if she could call a bluff after raising the stakes.

“You know, I don’t hear a lot of those conversations in my other clubs.” When Aya offered to buy her a third drink, Genevieve declined. “People are more focused on having fun with their friends and partners. It’s a very different vibe so far.”

“To be fair, it’s a very different vibe in my own lifetime.”

“Do you…” Genevieve held back what she really wanted to ask. “Are you single, Ms. Sugiya?” While she probably did not run the risk of offending Aya, she did threaten to scare her off if Genevieve’s flirtations were not welcomed. It was hard to tell now which Aya cared about more – a friendly conversation, or eventually making a move. Maybe she’s worried about offending me, instead. Aya had a cultural position in this situation, but Genevieve was the wealthy client. Although money had transferred and she was about to sign some papers, she could back out at any moment. Especially if she was not satisfied with the service she had received from Atsukatta Real Estate. “Do you have someone waiting for you tonight, Ms. Aya?”

It took Aya a moment to realize what Genevieve was asking. That was the danger of communicating in a mutually secondary language. “No,” Aya softly said. “It’s been a long time since someone was waiting for me at home.”

Genevieve instantly picked up on the subtext. “Yes. Me too.”

They both faced forward toward the shelves of liquor on the wall. What a pair we already make. Different worlds, different languages; same worries, same desires.

They were even close to the same age. Aya might have been a couple years older than Genevieve, in fact. I haven’t dated someone older than me in… forever. It had been a while since Genevieve openly dated anyone. Her last serious relationship was with a woman over fifteen years her junior, and it ended with a difference in opinion that could not be easily chalked up to generational woes. I changed. Genevieve had never been a good “switch” in the bedroom. She might swing between extremes, but once she picked one, it was hers for a long while.

Right now, she wanted someone who could look into her eyes and make her melt. For once, Genevieve Liu wanted to be the sweet someone who was spoiled, coddled, and taken to extremes behind closed doors. She was tired of it always being the other way around.

It was also why she didn’t have many close friends left. Oh, being one of the wealthiest women in a wealthy country meant she had friends everywhere. Why, she had friends she had never heard of before! In her youth, she was much more easily swayed by charlatans and false friends, but only because her parents had died so young and didn’t have a chance to teach her the skills necessary to navigate life as a woman with money and a name like “Genevieve Liu.” Those lessons came with a big expense, but most of that was behind her now. The people Genevieve confided in were few and far between, but she wasn’t incapable of trusting someone.

Besides, women like Aya… they had no idea how wealthy Genevieve was, really. They might understand “rich,” but wealth was a different beast. Genevieve had never known a life of penny-pinching or budgeting. Most of her money was handled by two separate financial firms, one that managed her investments and another that oversaw her bank accounts and automatically paid her bills for her. Her inherited estate, Orchid Grove, was the center of her hectic universe, but she also owned condos and apartments in Taipei, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Vancouver, New York, and London. Soon, she would grab a nice place in Tokyo, too. Once she settled this business with the bar and the building it inhabited, she would set her sights on a small but expensive apartment that would act as her base of operations whenever she was in Tokyo to check on her investments. Suppose I will go with Atsukatta again for that one. The lack of fluent English speakers in Tokyo’s real estate world was jarring, but that only made it more important for Genevieve to add Japanese to her long list of spoken languages.

“What do you think of this place?” Aya eventually asked. “You must be here to take notes on what you like and don’t about your future competition.”

“The first rule of running a girl bar,” Genevieve gently chided one of her real estate agents, “is that you don’t see the others as your competition. They’re your compatriots. They have a different brand from you. You don’t move into the neighborhood unless you’re sure there is enough demand to accommodate you both. With any luck, your additional brand brings more people to the other bars as they are reminded you both exist. That’s why I’m here. I want to know what kind of brand the local establishments that are still running have. That way, I can ensure mine stands out in a meaningful way. It’s especially important for bars like these, which are very small and can’t host separate events to mitigate expenses. You curate your regulars, they bring their friends, and if you’re me…”

Aya raised her eyebrows in curiosity. “Douzo,” she prompted, encouraging Genevieve to continue.

“You hire English-speaking staff and pay them well. That staff will bring in the tourists and the expats. The club I co-own in Taipei owes much of its success to the international community frequenting it. Granted, it’s quite a large property that can facilitate private events on busy nights, but the idea is the same. Staff English-speaking bartenders, not just Chinese – or Japanese, in this case – and advertise the ever-loving hell out of it.”

Aya nodded, a bold attempt to show she knew what Genevieve was talking about. “Sounds like you have a solid plan. I wish you luck. Maybe I’ll be there opening night.”

Genevieve grinned. “I’d like that. Maybe…” It was as good a time as any to test the waters. “Maybe you could be my date. It’s no good for the owner to have nobody there to support her on her big night. You should have seen me at my last opening.” She was still too embarrassed to look at Aya and gauge her reaction. “So sad. Everyone had a date but me, the hostess.”

Aya cleared her throat. “One might say that as hostess, you were too busy to show your date their due attention.”