“You’re making a grave mistake, just like you did twenty-two years ago,” the first one says. “Be rational, Sato-san.”
“I lost that part of me the day I lost that last
name. It’s Chester now, and I will not be intimidated by you or him. Tell him that the days of me running away are over. Do you hear me? They’re over.”
“That’s not very wise, Sato-san,” the second man emphasizes.
“She said her last name is Chester.” I step out of the shadows, my fists balled at my sides. Mom and I have our differences, but I would beat anyone who bullies her the hell up.
Not that I thought anyone was able to bully my mom, who’s always been larger than life and just as intimidating.
Three pairs of eyes slide to me. Mom’s are frantic. The two men’s are contemplative at best.
One is short and older, around his mid-thirties. The other is taller, leaner, and looks way younger, probably around my age. Both men are Asian and are wearing dark suits with a white shirt and no ties. The taller one has black button earrings and what appears to be a tattoo of a snake peeks from his collar up the side of his neck. His looks are discreet, like some sort of a smart accountant who somehow turns out to be a serial killer.
A shiver rattles me at the way he’s watching me with an intent that could break stones. His gaze is sharper than that of the other one, who has a round face and a bland stare.
I inch closer to Mom so we’re both facing them and whisper, “Who are these people?”
“No one you should worry about,” she says in English, then switches to Japanese. “Leave right now or I’ll call 911.”
“If you could, you would’ve done that already,” the short one replies in the same language.
“I’ll call them if you don’t leave us in peace,” I say in Japanese while I point my phone at them as if it’s some sort of a weapon.
The taller man smiles, but it’s predatory at best. Or maybe it’s amused. I’m not sure which way to read the glint in his eyes.
He offers me his hand. “My name is Ren. Pleased to meet you, Hito—”
Mom steps in front of me like a mama bear ready to cut a bitch down. Her words are growly and deep. “Leave. Now.”
“You’re making a grave mistake,” the shorter one tells her.
The tall one, Ren, peers over Mom, which isn’t hard since she’s short, and smiles at me. The feeling of being targeted hits me again. “We’ll meet again…Naomi-san.”
Mom looks ready to grab a bat—or better yet, her gun—and shoot them down, but they bow, perfectly demonstrating Japanese manners, and then waltz out the door.
Neither Mom nor I bow back, which is considered rude. Our feet remain caged in place as we watch the front door until their car, a black van, leaves the property.
Wait.
A black van?
Images of the van that followed me a few weeks ago slip back in my mind, but I quickly shoo them away. I’m making up stories again and that’s never a good thing.
Mom’s posture relaxes a little, but she doesn’t lose the sharp look in her dark eyes or stop breathing harshly through her teeth.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her beside herself since the red night. She has always acted cool and collected, and I actually started to doubt if she has a heart or if it was replaced by ice at some point.
“Who were those men, Mom?”
“No one.”
“They were clearly someone. Are they from your past?”
Her gaze snaps in my direction and her pupils are so dilated, it’s like she’s on drugs. “Why are you saying that?”
“They called you by your old last name.”