“Listening in on the locals.” Genevieve snapped her chopsticks together before dipping her large soup spoon into the shoyu broth. “It helps me improve my Japanese.”
“Finding out you listened to so much Japanese pop and watched so many jidai geki as a kid has explained a lot about how you’re able to pick up the language so quickly. Pretty soon, you won’t know what I’m saying when I start cursing every time I stub my toe.”
“That’s part of the fun, isn’t it? I love the thought of us finally sharing a language one of us speaks natively.”
“Getting tired of English?”
“Never! It’s too useful!” Genevieve finally sipped her ramen broth. “Mm! It’s good.”
“Told you this place was good.”
“How did you know? Have you eaten here before?” They weren’t too far from Shibuya Station, but Genevieve’s new apartment wasn’t exactly in the middle of all the action. This area was more residential than touristy. The perfect place to put a corner ramen shop for the denizens who were coming and going from work and school.
“No, but I walk by often enough, and this guy is always slammed during lunch. You’ll see a line of salary guys and their secretaries standing around the corner. Made me figure dinner must be quieter, but still good.”
“I’m going to pretend I’m on a variety show.” Genevieve slurped up a noodle. Broth splashed against her chin. “Make the most disgustingly sexual sounds I can whenever I eat something. You know, so the audience can understand my desire to eat more.”
Aya laughed.
“Seriously, though.” Genevieve stared at the back of the schoolgirl’s head as she and her father sat around the corner. “I’ve got to come up with a name for the bar. You should have seen the look on the contractor’s face when I told him I didn’t have it yet.”
“I’m sure it was perfectly neutral.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said before. How it’s gotta be short, snappy, and flirty. Like… Ladylike.”
“Ladylike was a bit of a mouthful, honestly.”
“When it shows up on Google Maps, the tourists have to know exactly what it is. It’s gotta be a place my marketing team can submit to the English-speaking blogs so we can start generating good press and SEO. All of my research indicates that’s how foreigners find their gay bars here in Japan. They don’t just roll into Shinjuku and start looking. Or do they?”
“Mm, not in my experience. There’s a reputation for small bars that aren’t so foreigner-friendly. And, according to my Western friends who come over to visit, they already know what it’s like to not be wanted somewhere. So, they look online first.”
“It can be the same in Singapore.” Genevieve’s ramen was going to grow cold before she had the chance to eat more. “Although it’s mostly a class issue.”
Aya snorted. “I got that feeling.”
“Tell me about your work today.”
They passed the rest of their dinner talking about Aya’s work. Apparently, Nick Cheng isn’t the only Singaporean from my parents’ old circles buying up property through Atsukatta… Did it blow Genevieve’s mind? A little. She didn’t hear much chatter back in Singapore about Japanese real estate, even from those who regularly conducted business with the island nation. Nor were people asking her questions. Like Genevieve, though, Nick Cheng had his reasons for wanting a reliable residence in Tokyo. Some of the other names – like Fiona Huang and Onkar Khan – surprised her. Fiona was a fashionista before anything else, and Tokyo wasn’t as trendy as it used to be. Onkar was based out of Singapore but spent more time in his parents’ native India or in Europe. Why did everyone want to buy in Japan? Had Genevieve inadvertently made it trendy again?
After dinner, they went straight to Genevieve’s apartment, where she showed off the new furnishings and décor. Aya was interested in checking out the walk-in closet and voiced her dismay to see the dresser now covered in shoes and jewelry racks.
She liked the bed, though. She’s never going to leave it again. Genevieve was all right with that.
Before they settled in for the night, Genevieve inaugurated her kitchen counter by cutting open one of the free mangos. As the juices squirted across the cutting board, she picked up the yellow chunks and deposited them into a porcelain bowl. Aya didn’t hesitate to use a small dessert fork to eat her after-dinner snack.
“Sheesh, that’s juicy.”
“Mizumizushii.”
Aya rolled her eyes. “Nobody says that.”
“I say that, apparently.” Genevieve rinsed her hands under the faucet. “Fine. It’s juicy.”
“There you go. The name of your new lesbian bar. Juicy.”
Genevieve scrunched up her face and turned off the sink. She joined Aya at the counter and shared the same fork with her. Not too bad. The really bruised parts were in the trash, but the rest of the mango was tasty. It could have been straight from Malaysia, like Genevieve’s favorites back home. “Why don’t I cut to the chase and call it Pussy’s?”
“There used to be a bar with that name. Didn’t last long.”