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Ah.
He was single.
Why not?
Quinton howled with laughter at something Mangjeol said.
She was gone.
Oh well.
For the evening at the most trendy restaurant in Tokyo, the thirty-year old Ross wore a slightly-rumpled linen suit. His thick curly hair that went more red than brown. He stood at six foot two, proportioned like a Rugby player.
Like Quinton, Ross looked perfectly at home among the glowing architecture of Zumaki Restaurant. Wealthy and raised in wealth, he was comfortable in places only connections could afford.
“Mother and Father won’t shut up about getting married.”
“Neither will you,” said Ross.
Quint chuckled. “Whatever. Ross, I want to know what happened to you. Out of nowhere you start dating black girls. What’s up with that?”
“I won’t be talking my girl problems out with you, Quint, if it’s all the same.”
“Yeah, why the fuck not? We’re grown men; we can talk about girl problems if we want to. You forget I have a sixth sense. Plus everybody was talking about you dating black girls.”
“Why is it a problem?” Asked Mangjeol.
“Because Quint’s a racist,” Ross told him.
Quint said incredulously, “How can I be racist? No, Ross! You got me wrong. I’m not a racist, by no means. No two shakes about it. How can I be a racist?”
Ross grinned. “Remember that one time in the bathroom—”
“Fuck, Ross! If you call me racist for that, then hell, I guess! But that man was definitely Puerto Rican, I would stake my life on it! Anyway, how can I be a racist?” Quinton demanded. “Ask Mangjeol how many women here I’ve fucked! And I don’t care if they’re Japanese, Chinese, Korean— it’s all the same to me! I love their women, Ross. It’s like I died and went to whore heaven.”
“I’m very happy for you, Quint.”
“Fuck marriage. I say, just try a new woman every night. You should get Mangy to hook you up. He found Akisa for me, didn’t you, Manny? I loved that girl with all my heart and soul. Wonder what happened to her.”
The third member of the rooftop party raised a glass of Soju to his lips. He had rarely looked up from the view of Tokyo below. This was the connection into Zumaki.
He was tall for a Japanese man, and broad in the shoulders. Thick black hair sprouted up sharply in all directions from his head, falling artfully sideways across his eyes. He had tanned skin and a heart-shaped face, which was now the fashion.
Mangjeol had received even more covert looks than Ross. In fact, it seemed like every Asian woman in here was ready to spread it for him, attracted to his looks, but also to his power and money. Too bad. Mangjeol never gave a fuck about girls. He never really gave a fuck about anything.
Still, Ross was surprised to learn he had gone to the sex trade.
Ross untangled the conversation. “What’s this about a whore? Is it true, Mangs?”
“It’s true. I never told you about Akisa? Mangs found her for me.”
“You still owe me for that, Quint,” said Mangjeol. Not for the first time, Ross judged. But Manny was a tolerant guy. Until he wasn’t.
“Hey now, I got you, Manny. Ease up! Look, Ross, bro gets pussy from everywhere, young as you want,” Quinton bragged, slinging an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “He’s been the plug since I came here. For everything.”
Ross saw a current of something pass through Mangjeol’s eyes. The Korean man shook off Quint, turning his attention to Ross. “Perhaps we can discuss it later.”
Mangjeol then directed the conversation to frat gossip, which Quint filled in earnestly with everything he’d heard about the Brothers of Kappa Alpha since graduation.
