Chapter Eleven
You Try At Working Out Chaotic Things
"He has a sore throat, so no questions today, gentlemen. Play nice."
I don't have a sore throat. That's just Kiyomi's excuse of the day for why I won't answer questions shouted at me by freelancers in the street. She pushes past a few cameras with the fearlessness of a woman who finds strength in being alone in gender among a hoard of elbowing men, and makes up for the discrepancy in height by wearing knife-like heels. We wade through these people daily. Even though bodyguards keep most of them at a distance, there's always the odd one who slips through to flash a camera right in our faces until we get into the car. They press their lenses against the darkened windows, knowing that they'll never get a shot from it, and that is the reality of celebrity and fame. It annoyed me at first, but I've accepted it as you would accept the relatively minor annoyance of a few mosquitos when you've fallen into a zoo enclosure and find yourself surrounded by crocodiles.
"You'll be telling them that I only speak French soon," I say to the window, not expecting a reply. She's far too busy looking for her compact mirror and I've been busy with having an opinion on everything, because apparently Prime Ministers are supposed to have a favourite contestant on TV talent shows. It's very important to have a wide knowledge of the frivolous while remaining solid, level-headed and serious about things that officially matter. Before that, there were weddings, honeymoons and Kiyomi moving into the Kantei. I sold my apartment, and since a lot of my things were unsuitable for who I am now, they had to be put into storage or sold. As it turns out, I made some wise investments and that money will now sit in my private account. I am a strong believer in private accounts. Sharing things complicates life unnecessarily.
"We're late," Kiyomi tells me after a few minutes. She repeats it, leaning towards the driver, who's in a better position to do something about the problem than I am. The car speeds up, she falls back into her seat and huffs out another "we're late," like she's suffering from a punctual form of Tourette's.
"What a tragedy," I sigh. We're driving past Tom Ford's now and I can think of better ways to spend this afternoon. My private account wants me to have a new suit and a couple of shirts. Maybe a tie.
I twist the gold band on my ring finger to cover up the tan line underneath, which acts as a fading memory of summer, my honeymoon, and ruins my hand. Kiyomi doesn't wear her ring often; her excuse being some mangled feminist statement of independence. The real reason is that she feels that it 'clutters' her finger and distracts attention from her engagement ring, which she still loves as some people love their children. Her feminism didn't stop her from taking my name. We're happy in some ways, since she never pesters me for attention and we require nothing from each other apart from what is expected and unspoken. We share a calm house. Disagreements are rare, since any potential argument is either ignored or some speedy truce is made. Ultimately, neither of us can be bothered. We like each other in the way I imagine incestuous twins do. I'm under no illusion that she's in love with me in the way that Misa was - thank God - since she is primarily concerned with herself and her own wellbeing. She probably thinks that she's in love with me as much as she thinks that I'm in love with her, but if I died tomorrow then she would make the very best of the situation and find comfort in the arms of the press. I prefer her like this. She's supportive and appreciative in a distant way, like I'm as much of a prize as her engagement ring.
It's Prime Minister's Questions time. I'm waiting to be questioned and I'm waiting by the stairs. I like to make an impression and make my entrance when everyone else is seated. Sometimes my party (and, recently, a few unhappy and revolutionary members of the opposition) stand when I come in. Which is nice. There's also some morbid fascination which I find in watching them file into the chamber beforehand. I make myself look occupied with my phone so no one talks to me.
The fairly new addition to the higher ranks of the opposition - some kid - is standing alone by a pillar in the lobby while his fellow MPs walk past him like he's not really there. He talks on his phone with his face pointing downwards towards the ground. He's interesting because he's recently been promoted to Shadow Head of Justice, and I have no idea how or why. He's younger than I was when I was promoted to Transport, so I can only think that they're desperate and that this is their way of undermining my professional accomplishments. What's strange about him, and it's probably the reason why no one in his own party speaks to him, is because he's weird-looking. He's small and has white hair, dark eyes and wears white suits to make himself look even worse. He's from Hokkaido. I wonder if he bleaches his hair that colour or whether he was violently scared on a ghost train once. Holding his stupid, toy-like phone to his ear, he locks eyes with me for longer than is polite. He doesn't nod his head, smile or look away like other people do, he just stares. My lips curve at the sheer nerve of him, and then he does the same thing.
"Why do you look so happy?" a voice says behind me. My lungs empty, but apart from that, I'm amazed by how little I feel. The only change is that the taste of old coins fills my mouth, and I realise that I've bitten the inside of my lip accidentally as the voice continues to speak in my ear. "Oh. You smell blood from the red camp. I know what you're thinking: How dare he stand within these sacred walls. Unusual suiting choice he's made there. He definitely stands out."
It's not that I didn't expect this at some point, but I was waiting for the right moment to do what he's just done to me; creep up from behind and shock him into an emotional malaise so he'd be at a disadvantage. He came back to work a few months ago, I know, but he stayed away from me and I stayed away from him, which was no small effort since his office is now in the Kantei. The moving of his office was an unwise move on my part, but I arranged it in the immediate aftermath of his leaving as some statement to myself that he'd come back, even though I wasn't assured of it at the time. In the end, it served as another reminder that I shouldn't make hasty decisions in life or allow the heart to get the better of the head, because that's when you make mistakes.
I turn to my left and see his amused face barely hold itself together as he reviews the childish man ahead of me. There's a difference between seeing someone from a distance and having them right in front of you. Sometimes, if I happened to be free and by my office window at the same time, I'd see him walk from the car park to the Kantei in the morning, and sometimes I'd watch him leave in the afternoon. Having glass separating us gave a sense of watching something on TV. I haven't really have time for it lately. Once, Kiyomi brought me a coffee while I watched him arrive at the building. She snaked her arms around my waist, sighed when she saw him and the others arrive and said: "Another day."
"You do remember me, don't you?" he asks me.
"Of course I do."
"Good, because that would be embarrassing."
"You're back."
"Seems that way. I got a note from your secretary saying that my contract was being left open," he tells me, his eyes squinting with suspicion. "Did I misunderstand it?"
"I thought that you might stay in London."
"Did you want me to?"
"No! No, I meant that I didn't know what you were doing. It's good to have you back. At work. I just didn't expect to see you in the House."
"Watari wanted to speak to me about his son's fraud case. I'm so lucky. Look at all the bedtime reading he gave me. I'm like a citizens advice bureau giving out free advice."
He looks bored as he lifts up the two binders full of paper he's holding like I should break down in tears at the sight of them. He might have taken them, but he won't read them. He's done this before. I'm more interested in why it's taken him so long to acknowledge that I'm alive.
"So, when –"
"Fraud isn't my area - you know how I love homicides - but I can tell that he's going to lose just from reading the charge and his statement to the police," he says quickly, interrupting me with his story like we saw each other yesterday and not seven months ago. "I wouldn't have my firm go near it with a ten foot pole, so it'll be fun thinking of an excuse. I was thinking of the trusty: 'I'm a barrister, not a solicitor. Please don't talk to me!' or 'I'd love to help you but my dog ate my registration to practice.' Maybe I could give it to one of my apprentices for experience. What do you think?"
"Right yeah that sounds like a really good idea but when did you get back?"
"A few weeks ago, as you well know."
And he's still a fucking liar. He's been back for well over two months, but I can't let on that I know that. I kept his job open and gave him a new office. I even had a wall knocked through and had it completely redecorated with him in mind so he'd have absolutely nothing to moan about, and not so much as a thank you. Ungrateful bastard.
"I –"
"You practically ran into an elevator to dodge me, and you always take the stairs," he says, smiling at me as he leans back on the bannister. "It's ok, the embarrassment is all mine. I shouldn't have said those things to you. I was caught up in the moment, and it's your fault because you were really very forgiving and patient and kind to me. The kindest. And you know that I like it when you're horrible to Jeevas. The list goes on. Or maybe I was still drunk, I don't know, but it wasn't fair of me to make you feel uncomfortable anyway. Take it as the ravings of one of your greatest fans from way back. I just wanted to sack all this avoidance. Well, I was quite happy to avoid you, but then I realised that I'm not sixteen and that I work for you, and sometimes we used to have meetings and sometimes it would be about work. Sometimes. And it was for me to try to sort it out, not you. Running memos through Mihael is stupid, especially because he's not talking to me at the moment."
"Why?"
"It doesn't matter. It'll blow over."
"I kept meaning to call by your office," I admit. "I was going to go for the aloof twat approach."
"Well, it is a classic but I'm glad that you didn't. Are you going for the shocked twat approach now instead?"
"I am certainly shocked."
"But not a twat," he says fondly. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I made it very difficult for you and I apologise. I hope that you can forget it and feel that you can talk to me without feeling awkward. I'd hate that. I was worried about it."
"I don't feel awkward and neither should you. There's nothing to worry about."
"Light, you should see your face. How was the wedding? Have you cut your hair?"
"No. Why?"
"You just look different. In a good way, I mean. Not that you ever looked bad. I guess that sometimes you expect people to look exactly the same as when you left them, y'know?"
"Yeah. How did it go with the firm? And... I told you that I was sorry about your father, didn't I?"
"You did. Everything's good, thanks."
"How was the funeral?
"Well, he was buried. It wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs but the pallbearers didn't drop him, so I suppose that it went as well as could be expected." His eyes drop and he points at my hand after seeing the wedding ring on it. "Oh look, you're shackled and everything. Is Kiyomi ok?"
"Fine. You?" I don't know why I'm bothering to ask because, now that the initial shock has worn off, I can see that he looks fucking amazing. How can anyone come back from funerals and litigation looking better than before they left? Maybe he's given up sugar and whiskey for vitamin supplements and gyms? Or maybe I just forgot.
"Great. So, no awkwardness now? Clean slate?"
"I'm glad you're back, L."
"It's good to see you, not just your heels as you run away from me."
"I didn't run."
"Ok, you walked very quickly. I really appreciate that you're being so understanding about my temporary and unusually fragile state back then," he says, looking behind me and smiling at something or other. When he looks back at me, he pats me on the shoulder and starts to walk away. "I'll let you murder the opposition. Do your best."
"Do you want to go for a drink later?" I ask to make him stop.
"Will you put it on your tab?" he laughs, and I laugh to be reminded of what seemed like my catchphrase before I was Prime Minister. Now people put my drinks on their tabs. It's how the world works. "Thanks, but I have something planned. Maybe another time."
"Sure. Call my office," I say. "Actually, there's a thing tomorrow."
"A thing? How exciting."
"Sycophants anonymous social evening. You didn't get the memo? The opposition whip has organised it to encourage 'good feeling between the parties'," I tell him. He looks as cynical as I feel about it.
"Like that's going to happen. I smell a massive rat, do you?"
"PR should be there."
"Oh. I should be there then."
"If you can make it. He's hired a floating bar boat restaurant, fuck knows. I'm hoping that he tries to put it on his expenses because that'll be another one gone."
"God, he's such a show off," he sighs. "'One of the people', my arse. He's very retro, isn't he? Isn't he the one with the big lapels? It's not a disco is it?"
"Would I be going if it was? It's just an informal thing."
"On a boat."
"On a boat, yeah. It leaves Hinode docks at half eight."
"I'd hate to miss the boat. Great. Informal. So we can bring... what do you call them, civilians?"
"He didn't say that you couldn't. I suppose so, if they have ID," I shrug. My definition of the term is an unstructured suit and no tie if you really want to hammer in the informality.
"Right. Well, I have to go. See you on the rocking boat maybe."
"L?"
"Hmmm?"
"Don't be embarrassed."
"I'm not. It's impossible for me to feel shame."
"Good. Because. You shouldn't."
"Light, I have to tell you something," he says, serious for once. He looks behind himself towards the doors again, and when he turns back to me he looks happy again. It doesn't stop him taking a few steps back as he talks to me though. "But it can wait until tomorrow. You know that they can't start without you, don't you? It must be nearly time now. Good luck, Prime Minister."
We pull up at the dock. The lights from the cartoonishly futuristic floating glass cage of a boat makes everything look blue in the darkness. My bodyguard hops out while the car is still moving so he can inspect the fraught with danger environment before we get out. Everything runs like clockwork: I step out, my bodyguard tails me, the driver opens the door for Kiyomi and she's waiting for me by the time I walk around the car and reach her. The sky and our way to the pier is scattered with stars and people respectively. It's bitterly cold but I'm wearing the correct clothing for the weather. We decided to ignore the informal dress code and it looks like everyone else did too. There's no weather or occasion I have experienced which necessitates lazy dressing and padded layers for adults. My guard skirts around us like a sheepdog, herding us towards the boat while we ignore him.
Once we get inside, it is essentially a bar on water and it's already crowded. I'm pounced upon immediately by members of my own party. There are clean circles on the boat as the parties have split themselves into groups. No, this was never going to be a communal thing unless we all get so wasted that we forget who everyone is. I see the leader of the opposition - some perpetually greasy, argumentative and envious idiot called Tsukino. He and his wife bow, Kiyomi and I do the same and the hatred burns a path between us. He's having a difficult time fighting a mutiny in the ranks since his MPs have only just realised how old, boring and useless he is compared to me, which is part of the reason why his whip has organised this farce. Bearing that in mind, I'm not sure why I've been invited, because it only highlights the problem. I've noticed that he's been trying to imitate me during speeches lately, has employed a stylist to dress him like me, his wife looks like she's trying to dress like Kiyomi and now has a similar haircut. What they don't realise is that they can only emulate a winning formula; they cannot better it. Those in opposition must be opposites in every way to distinguish themselves totally. He doesn't seem to understand this, and his policies are non-existent apart from opposing all of mine, so I have nothing to worry about.
Someone has unwisely invited Jeevas, and he's brought Naomi. Who invited Mikami will remain a mystery, but it could have been me. When everyone is here, I will make a point of shaking his hand and that will give them all something to talk about. While I'm the centre of gravity, buffered by my planetary system of MPs, I notice Mihael and his hair, which has been made platinum by the blue lights. He must be the civilian, so I scan the room for L and find him by the bar taking to the Shadow Treasury. L has always been admired by the opposition and I'm fairly sure that they've been trying to buy their way into making him defect, something which their Head of PR kiboshed so I didn't have to. I must make him feel secure and valued as a member of my staff, so I break away from my little group of thugs to do just that. My bodyguard follows me as I enter the no man's land of a bar area, and lurks at a discreet distance. The Shadow Treasury notices my approach, makes his excuses to L and fucks off with his cosmopolitan.
"Nice suit," I say to L's back, and I'm horrified when he turns around. "Is that a red tie?"
"It's a present from someone who didn't know that this colour is banned," he explains, rolling his eyes at me. Or with me, I'm not sure. "I didn't want to upset them."
"Oh, yeah, your birthday! I'm sorry I didn't get you a present but I didn't know exactly where to send it."
"Why should you buy me a present? But yes, it was my birthday and I am another year closer to death. Nothing gets past you, does it?"
"Not much. I have lived through some of your birthdays, and each of them were memorable in their own way," I tell him, and then frown when I realise that it's not an open bar and the waiter doesn't seem to recognise me. L pours some radioactive green liquid with a sugar cube lurking in the bottom of a martini glass down his throat and coughs once.
"But this birthday was extra memorable," he struggles through a splutter, since his voice has been eroded by whatever he's drinking. I smile into my vodka as we walk towards a quiet open window so that the sound of the water partially drowns out the noise of a boatful of people talking at the same time. I'm amazed by how pleasant we're being. I want to thank him for setting such a tone of friendliness because, if left to me, I would have milked this for all it was worth and driven him absolutely insane. Because no one takes the reins and leaves me; I leave them, and that has been a thorn in my side for seven months. He's the most infuriating bastard I've ever met, and I lot of times when I had him in my office or in my bed or who gives a shit where, I'd think about killing him. Now I'm half-stupified just because we're talking. I hope that I'm well-lit. The Tokyo skyline at night has always flattered me with a soft glow.
"And why was that?" I ask.
"B came to town like the Santa of Halloween. Do you remember that I told you about B?"
"You've been gone for months, L, not decades. He's your friend who thinks that I'm a psychopath, isn't he?"
"He's reassessed you since then."
"Great. What's the diagnosis now?"
"You'll be pleased to know that now you're a narcissist and a psychopath - the favourite mental cocktail of serial killers the world over - but he's not sure which subtype you are."
"I'm a subtype too? Well, that's nice. Let me get you a proper drink."
"I've got one, thanks."
"That hardly counts as a drink. It's green."
"It really is. I feel the burn, so it must be doing me good."
"Or it's bleaching out your digestive system and slowly rotting through like a high strength acid. So, what else did B say about me?" I say while both of us lean on the window frame like pensive poets watching the skyscrapers drift slowly by.
"You don't want to know," he laughs.
"I do."
"I better get this right then. He said that you've created a grandiose persona and alternative reality to cover your weakness and shame, which you suppress or project onto others instead. This would all be regular madhouse, but you're overly sensitive too, just to make it worse, so you can't accept the concept of failure and insult. You want everyone around you to admire you and see how omnipotent you are, and you feel that you're entitled to it. You're arrogant, possessive, envious; you're a unique and special snowflake and other people exist only as an extension of yourself. Basically, you think you're fucking fantastic, and so did I. But, silly me, I also pointed out that you're not fucking fantastic in many, many ways, both supporting and annihilating you, and you couldn't reconcile your feelings for me. You saw me as a threat to your balance of mind. It's very common for politicians, apparently, because what is the government but a collective and internalised narcissism factory? I suppose that it is like a ready-made cult for you. Anyway, that's what he thinks," he finishes with a dismissive snort. I can't speak. I can't even feel anything. From the corner of my eye I see him look at me, but he's just in the periphery. Mostly all I can see are the flashes of light rolling in the water. "Are you ok?" he asks after a while.
"Do you believe that?"
"No! It's just B, and he's got issues they haven't got names for yet. When we were seventeen, he told me that I was a sadistic nymphomaniac with insomnia, unresolved parental anger and a lack of empathy, and he was surprised that I hadn't killed anyone. On balance, I think I'm marginally more messed up than you are. At least you're empathetic, eh? Think of that."
"How can you say that you're worse than me? His description of you just sounds like a typical human being. You let him say that about me?"
"I couldn't stop him, he was on the phone. A few years ago he reassessed me and, in addition to my seventeen-year-old self's psychosis, now I'm an egomaniac who's fixated on my own morality and justice, or lack thereof, and I only take cases on for money or because I find them interesting. The last part's true and I don't see any problem with it. I have an unconscious desire for death too. That's the latest. He's working on that one. But I don't think he likes the sound of you, no."
"I don't like him either and you can tell him that. Tell him that my diagnosis of him is that he's a dickhead and that he needs to stop evaluating people based on your shit conversations. None of it's true."
"Of course it isn't. He's never even met you. You know, if he saw you, I guarantee that his diagnosis would change immediately. He'd be after you like... I don't want to think about it, it's a horrible thought. But I didn't take any notice of him and you shouldn't either. I'm sorry I told you; I just thought that you'd find it funny. Listen, I'd leave, but the boat's moving and I think I'd drown because you know that I can't swim," he says sadly, like he's considering doing it or would do it if I asked him to.
"No, don't drown. It is funny. Just don't talk to him about me again."
"I can't promise that. He's my confidant. My rock of ages."
"There was me thinking that I was. I am fucking fantastic after all."
"And fantastic at fucking. When you were there anyway. See, it's not so bad. Every cloud."
"What do you mean, when I'm 'there'? Surely by definition it means that I would have to be 'there', wherever 'there' is. Where's 'there'?"
"'There' is awkward territory again and we're leaving that behind us now. You mean too much to me to risk that."
"You confuse me," I tell him quietly and I'm surprised by how heartfelt I sound. I try to read him through his eyes, but there's nothing to see.
"Don't look so sad," he says. "It's a mutual confusion society. I'm sorry."
"It's ok, I'm used to it. I just wish... Oh! Didn't you want to talk to me about something?"
"Did I?"
"You said yesterday that you had something to tell me."
"Ahh. Yes, I did. A few things, actually. Like, why is Mikami here?"
"Someone must have invited him." I have no idea.
"Someone."
"Does it matter?"
"We can discuss that behind closed doors. Sadly, there are few doors on this boat to close."
"It is sad. I'm sure that we can find some though."
"A baby's changing room, maybe?"
"Yeah."
He returns my smile. In the world, we're the only two people who know why we're smiling, and I've never had that before. When I smiled, no one knew why but me. I was getting used to idea of forgetting and obliterating what's past so it never happened at all, it was fine. But now I won't lose it, I could have everything. It's just one mistake in my life; just one small rock I tripped over which changed nothing but me. The road is still the same. I want to take him back to my apartment like I used to, but someone else is living there now, in our rooms. I want the love and the sorrow even if I'm broken by it.
This is all very nice until he looks like he's just asked me to set fire to myself.
"Sorry," he says. "This shit ain't easy, is it? All that's past should stay there."
"L, could we go back to that day? There's something I want to do that I wasn't able to do then."
"Which day?"
"The last time I saw you."
"Yesterday?" he laughs, knowing exactly which day I mean. "You always were a charming bastard, Prime Minister. We can't go back."
"We don't have to. You never left."
For a minute there he knew that I was right, but he turns his face away from me suddenly to look back at the water, destroying the moment like it was a piece of paper he's just ripped up.
"Do you hear that?" he asks.
"Hear what?"
"I thought I heard something out there."
"I don't hear anything apart from waves and these fuckwits. What did you think you heard?"
"It must be just me who can hear it then."
"I can't really call you a doctor right now. Can you hang on until we dock before you crack up?"
"B thinks that it's –"
"I've had enough of him. I don't care what B thinks. What do you think it is?" I really have had it up to my neck with B. B can piss off.
"That this reminds of when I was a kid. Trapped in a place with people I hate, surrounded by water."
"Thanks."
"I didn't mean you. My parents used to take us to this place in the middle of nowhere by the sea and it was fantastic. I mean that sarcastically, by the way. My parents hated each other and I hated my brothers, so it was a great idea for us to go on family holidays. What could be better than to lock ourselves in a tiny, over-priced, rented house for weeks with nothing to do but make each other's lives a misery? We went every year until I was fourteen. I read a story while I was there about a city that was flooded. I mean, completely submerged by the sea."
"What, Atlantis? Did you find Atlantis? I'll be disappointed with anything else."
"Ha! No, not Atlantis, but something like it. I knew that it wasn't true but... The story is that you can see the spires of the churches in the sea and hear the bells under the water during storms, all those lies made up by nutters. I spent nearly every day sitting on the cliff, reading and listening for bells in the rain because I didn't want to go back. And I made myself believe that I heard them. I wanted it to be true, and I've heard them ever since. Only sometimes, like now. It's why I don't like open water or the rain much; it reminds me of it, and I keep hearing these imaginary fucking bells," he sighs, closing his eyes as he palms his forehead. "God, I wonder where Stephen is. Introduce me to Kiyomi again."
I wasn't expecting that. He zones in on Kiyomi like a target missile, leaving me wondering who Stephen is. I don't want L to speak to Kiyomi or to anyone but me right now, because even when he makes no sense it's still preferable to what everyone else says. This chat with Kiyomi is unlikely to end well. She isn't too impressed with him, particularly since she received his RSVP back for the wedding invitation she sent against my advice. His reply was, 'Fuck no.' I follow him to Kiyomi and arrive just in time to hear him break up her conversation with my Head of Defence. She looks like she's made of steel and her back visibly stiffens when she sees him. Her lipstick is almost black and cruel in this light as she looks at me for reassurance or to explain why I'm allowing L to stand anywhere near her.
"Hi," he says.
"Hello," she replies.
"Kiyomi, due to my hereditary rudeness, I think that we got off on the wrong foot last time we met, and for that, I'm sorry. I'd like us to start again if you can forgive me. Your ring is really very expensive looking. It screams Cartier. When I saw it I thought Cartier. Cartier, in the flesh."
Since she's not as idiotic as other people, she's cautious at first. After a pause, she realises that it might a genuine apology, or at least she'll accept it as one, and she smiles, taking his hand and his penitence.
"There's nothing to forgive. It's a shame that you couldn't make the wedding. It was so bad. Did Light tell you? The civil one was ok but the traditional one was almost funny."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm doubly sorry to have missed it now."
"You were in London, weren't you? Come and sit with us. I want to hear all about it," she says, covering her eyes when a blast of cold air hits our faces as someone tries to close one of the windows. She's already walking away and expecting us to join her.
"Just do what she says. It's easier," I advise him. "Jeevas is here. Feel free to maul him because I'm not allowed to."
"Why?"
"He's ill and I'm told that it's in bad taste for me to be anything but nice to him now."
Yes, poor Jeevas has been diagnosed with a sadly incurable disease. Diseases, actually. Individually, they might be treatable, but as a conglomeration of attack they've fucked him to the point that sometimes he can't stand properly with or without heavy medication. He doesn't mind since he's having the time of his life, but what he's suffering from is also ravaging and he now has a greenish tinge to his skin. Before that happened he simply lost weight and ran around showing off his new and slightly impressive cheekbones, but thankfully he just looks ill now with no benefits. He can't work anymore (not that he ever did), but for Naomi's sake I've put him back on salary for as long as I can. I also personally contribute to his medical bills, and that's the only thing that stops him from running around with wild and fantastic stories so he can pay for them himself. I'll also have that philanthropic act leaked to the press at a convenient time. He has his morphine and he doesn't care how he gets it or who pays for it as long as he has it. Now that seeing L again has gone as well as I could have hoped without him jumping me, I'll set him on Jeevas if necessary. I like to meet with Jeevas often to see how he declines as his disease progresses. It is very sad.
I walk with L to a cornered off part of the ship which is full of tables, and people around us stare at me, which I'm used to now. I'm used to being stared at, but at least now it's for who I am more than for what I look like. It's a bit of both, probably, because it's so important to be charismatic and attractive in politics, and it's served me very well so far. When we get to the table we're thrown headlong into the middle of Jeevas, who's talking bollocks.
"I went astral and –"
"Oh, I love that club," Kiyomi interrupts as she sits down, exchanging an air kiss on the cheek with Naomi.
"Fucking amazing club," Mikami agrees. It makes Jeevas snap.
"It's not a club! I projected. Astrally. In an out-of-body way. Rose above and saw myself in the car. The shit I've seen, man. The elves were pristine."
"It's called being intoxicated, Matt," Naomi tells him, smiling at me at me as I sit down. Everyone smiles at me apart from Jeevas, who just looks at me coldly and throws sushi into his mouth.
"Where's your guitar, Jeevas? Let's belt out a chorus of 'Helter Skelter' and drop some acid," I say. "Then if we've got time we can kill some hairdressers and talk about how God is an alien lizard."
And then the expected delicate waterfall of women's laughter comes. It pleases me that Naomi can laugh so easily when I'm jabbing needles into her husband. Of course, Kiyomi is obligated to laugh on command.
"You're killing me," Jeevas mumbles through his food when he can't ignore me any longer. It's quite ironic really, because something else is slowly killing him as he speaks. All he can do now is pump himself full of drugs and wait for death. "We've ordered already. Sorry, PM. I'm gutted."
"I didn't expect you to wait. For you, having a brain is surplus to requirements," I reply as I flap open the wine menu for effect. L silently draws a chair up between myself and Mikami, but his presence has been noted.
"Oh, and Lawliet! Haven't see you for a while. I thought that you were dead," Jeevas coughs. I can almost hear his heart and lungs clicking like his bones.
"Sorry to disappoint you," L says. He looks like he's in some kind of religious contemplation. An enthusiastic waiter appears and he wants our order and he wants it now. He'll endeavour to impress us with his machine-like efficiency and speed. L orders another bottle of wine for the table and I have what I usually have when I see it on the menu. No need to stray when you find what's right for you, and it's hard for even the worst chef to balls up raw fish. If I'm sick after sashimi, they will pay. I hope it's sustainably sourced fish because that's a very important government drive at the moment.
"Do they do any salads without any shit on it?" Kiyomi whispers to Naomi, handing her the menu. Naomi must point out which salad has no shit on it and Kiyomi orders that and something non-starchy. This is all part of her new detox regime which is mostly made up of cabbages and green tea from what I can tell.
"How did everything go, Lawliet?" Mikami asks. "Did I hear right that your father died? Does that mean that you own the law firm now?"
"It went fine. Yes, he did die. And yes, I own it now. There was an exciting court case planned but my brother wisely decided to drop it in the end. I hate it when people do that. I wasn't even allowed my moment in court and a lap of victory.
"But you're still working here?" he perseveres. 'Here' means the government, but to anyone outside of the government, 'here' sounds likes it could mean the boat, the whole of Tokyo, the whole of Japan or the whole fucking planet. Even though Mikami hasn't been 'here' for some time now, he hasn't adjusted to life outside and considers the House his true home even though he's still an exile at present.
"Our esteemed and bountiful Prime Minister has granted me an office in the Kantei, no less."
Jeevas' lips purse up like a shrivelling oyster under hot lights. "That's because you were always his favourite. Can't beat a bit of cronyism in the ranks, eh, Lawliet?"
"I feel special. I admit."
"It's actually because PR is integral to a stable government," I chip in. "I think we've learned our lesson about cronyism from The Lady's tenure. I'm trying not to be insulted that you think I'd be so corrupt, Jeevas, but let me tell you, it's quite difficult."
"Yes," L nods slowly. "There you are, and from the horse's mouth. I'm not special, I'm just integral to a stable government."
Mikami can't seem to get his head around L's time management skills.
"But how do you run the firm and work here exactly? They're two full-time jobs, aren't they?"
I study L's face and feel my own tense with a worry I had last considered just after he left - that if he won the firm, he'd try to get out of his governmental obligations by finding some small escape hatch in his contract. He'd find one even if there wasn't one to be found. He'd get the dictionary out, start reinterpreting the terms and convince the judge that the dictionary was incorrect. The thought of him doing this seemed so likely to me at the time that I moved him into check by having my office reissue him with his contract and informing him that he was expected to return as soon as possible. I decided not to include a note telling him that if he didn't, then I would sue him for everything he had and shoot him in the fucking face, which I thought was quite restrained.
"The partners who didn't attempt to steal my inheritance from me are running the day-to-day business and I get a round-up of daily events. We also have meetings on Saturdays. We had one this morning, as it happens. It was thrilling," he answers, looking particularly irritated by Mikami and his question.
"Is the round-up of daily events like a newsletter? Naomi gets one of those with little bouncing rabbits on the header, don't you, love?" Jeevas mutters, inspecting his mummified nails. L glares at him but it has little to no effect.
"Or they call if there's anything urgent," he says, turning to glare at Mikami instead. "It doesn't affect my work in PR."
"Didn't want to suggest that it would," Mikami laughs with difficulty. "Just sounds like a lot of work."
"I manage."
An awkward silence follows during which Jeevas consistently grins while he chews on his food. Since L is obviously feeling violent and annoyed now, he goes straight for the jugular.
"You look sincerely unwell, Jeevas."
"Why, thank you, Lawliet. It's very kind of you to let me know that."
"I hope it's serious."
"Boys, please," Kiyomi says, like she's the mother of all of us. Yet more food arrives to fill the table and I sneak a 'take me' smile at L, who doesn't see it. He's being told by the waiter that they're not supposed to serve alcohol in this area without it being accompanied by a meal. L launches into an aggressive defence about how he's already eaten elsewhere and that this waiter and the company he represents are encouraging obesity, type two diabetes, high cholesterol and blocked arteries, making them responsible for that burden on the health service. The waiter apologises and gives him his wine free of charge, probably because I'm here and he doesn't want to upset me so much that I'll raise taxes. Jeevas pops a pill in between pushing mouthfuls of food into the hole in his face, and everyone pretends that he's not, even though he makes a big deal of rattling the tablets in the bottle.
"It's not pissing fair that some people think that they can live by different rules," he says, scowling at L and his free wine. "You have to order food with your wine. That's how it is."
"Last time I checked, we weren't living in a communist country. We are not equal. You can abide by the rules, but I choose not to because I'm superior to you in every sense."
Oh my good God.
"By the way, Lawliet-san," Kiyomi says, disrupting the massacre again, "thank you for the wedding gift. We loved it, didn't we, Light?"
I didn't know that he'd sent us anything apart from wishes for apocalyptic weather. After seeing the five identical juicers which Kiyomi had lined up in the kitchen, I lost interest in the presents.
"You sent us a gift? What was it?" I ask him.
"I can't remember now," L answers cheerfully. Kiyomi looks confused by my interest, instead of my usual and expected yes or no when I don't know what she's talking about. L and I both look to her for an answer, since she brought it up, and her face is broken by a guilty grimace.
"I don't remember either, I'm sorry. But it was very nice and we loved it."
"You're welcome. I'm glad that it was so memorable," L laughs. I think he takes my sigh to mean that I don't like his sarcasm with Kiyomi. It's not that at all and I couldn't care less really, I just wonder what the present was. It was probably a juicer. "Belated congratulations," he adds.
"Thank you," Kiyomi's chopsticks make a gentle piano-like sound as she places them on her plate. "So, how was London?"
"Everyone has a beard now, even the women, especially in Shoreditch. They all wear tweed too, which Light warned me about but I didn't -"
"Not too happy, Yagami? You look sour," Jeevas interrupts. "Can't have that. Happiness isn't on the agenda for this parliamentary term."
Shut up shut up shut up and let L speak, you walking corpse. His sushi drops out of his chopsticks and he curses their combined stupidity instead of himself.
And I take Mikami's steak knife and throw it at Jeevas' forehead. It slides right into his skull like it was going through nothing at all. I have very good aim, which doesn't surprise me. He sinks down slowly under the table as a tiny trickle of blood runs in a line down the side of his nose. His eyes roll back a little, his mouth falls open and everyone carries on eating. They haven't noticed. Then I realise that it didn't happen. I let my lips stretch into a crescent of good humour and expose all my incisors to him instead.
"I'd like to see this as a very optimistic time, both for me and my wife, but also for the nation," I say. "I hope you're around to see it."
"Light," Kiyomi whispers.
"I'm in offline mode."
"Yes, but Naomi."
"Oh, yes. Sorry."
"Light, we've been friends for a long time," Naomi reminds me, "so could you just try to be nice to my husband for one hour, please?"
"I would be nice to your husband, but you married Jeevas, and he's smirking at me."
"I'm not smirking," he smirks.
"Is that a smirk? I think that's a smirk."
"It's a smirk," L concludes.
"Stop it, Matt," she tells him. "We all know that you're not well but that doesn't mean that you can be rude. Stop being smug and stop smirking at Light."
She's slowly becoming used to the continued battering of her sensitive nature. She's the sort of person who should live in a hut on a hill with some small dogs and see no one, speak to no one, never watch the news or read the papers or do anything which has the potential to upset her. She could cope when Penber was around as he balanced out the bad and good for her. Jeevas is just bad, and now he waves his hand up and down limply at the table.
"Don't worry, she was like this when Mihael and I had a farting competition the other night. These fuckawful steroids give me wind, man. Serious wind. Blew him out of the building, didn't I, love? Mustard gassed the fucker. It was like the Battle of the Somme."
"I don't want to be reminded of it, thank you. And stop swearing."
More food arrives, by which time Naomi, Mikami and Jeevas have finished their mains and get their desserts, so there is peace for a blissful time. Everyone chews while L keeps looking towards the exit on a regular basis.
"Oh, are you looking for Mihael? I saw him around somewhere. Go and find him if you want," I say to him. He obviously doesn't want to be here at all, and I'm here, so I don't understand that at all. None of us want to be here, but he could at least try to look engaged.
"He's here?" Jeevas gasps, immediately looking around the boat as far as he can see for his one true idiot in arms. L coughs into his hand before he speaks.
"Mihael and I aren't speaking at the moment apart from to tell each other to go away in several different languages. I'd rather no one brought him over because I've exhausted my vocabulary."
"What's he done?" I ask. "It's not about Halle is it? That's old news."
"It's not about Halle, but I'm sorry that you felt that you had to fire her."
"We disagreed."
"The way I heard it, you bullied her until she left."
"No nothing like that. Of course she'd say that to you. She was dismissed, which was handled in accordance to her very temporary contract, but it makes me the devil incarnate anyway. Truth is, she had certain weaknesses which made her unsuitable."
Jeevas guffaws like a five-year old. "I like women with weaknesses."
"Would one of those weaknesses include Mihael?" L asks me, ignoring Jeevas with the expertise I thought that only I was capable of. "I heard. It's the leather."
"I found her unprofessional in a lot of ways."
"As opposed to me, since I'm the paragon of professionalism."
"She tried her best, I suppose. Her best just wasn't very good."
"Or, to be specific, she tried her best with Mihael. Perhaps she was too busy chasing him and that's where it all went wrong? I had to give him a very stern telling off. My poor golden boy is traumatised."
"Is he?"
"No, he isn't, but she probably is, the stupid woman. Mihael... no. Just look at the way he dresses himself. You don't touch him because he'll tear you to pieces and everyone knows that."
"I didn't touch him," I say, forgetting for a second that other people are here.
"I'm glad to hear that but I was speaking generally," he replies. "I'm sorry that it had a detrimental effect on their work. It certainly was a team effort by all accounts."
"I wish I'd known."
"I wouldn't have suggested her if I'd known. You should have seen what she did to his back. Don't worry, we have all suffered. I'm sorry that my staff have libidos but it's not my fault. I can't be held accountable for who's going to start knobbing who."
"I didn't mean that it was your fault, I just won't stand for sexual harassment in the workplace," I say robotically, surprised by his defensiveness. "Any kind of harassment is completely against my ethics. There's a list of work standards and practices included in their contracts. Does anyone actually read their contract?"
"No, such is the curse of small print, but it wasn't harassment since her attention wasn't exactly unwanted," he explains, cracking a tiny, forced smile.
"Hey, Lawliet! Now that you're back, you and Yagami can take up your tennis again. Bit of fencing, y'know what I mean? Bit of how's your father," Jeevas says, furious not be the centre of every conversation. He leans towards us on his bony elbows. L mirrors the pose and everything about him is beautiful with hatred. To stop myself from making an embarrassing noise which would probably make me sound like a chicken running into a wall and climaxing, I drink my wine and think about dynamic stochastic general equilibrium.
"What are you talking about, you insane little man?" L asks.
"I just remember how you loved your tennis."
"Would you like a game of tennis, Jeevas? Don't tell me that all you've ever wanted was to have a rally with me and that's the only reason you've always been such a dick. I'm not sure if it's legal to do that in your state of health, I'd have to check. I'm afraid that I might kill you."
"Naomi, please exert some control over your husband?" Kiyomi pleads. That a woman is sticking her nose in and sticking up for me and a relative stranger makes Jeevas explode with fury.
"Kiyomi, this is nothing to do with you! We do this banter all the time. Me and Yagami, and Lawliet too when he's actually in the country. It keeps us alive."
"We must stop then," I say. "I'd hate to think that you're hanging around just for our sake. Don't you have a hospital to book into? I'll write a cheque."
"Yes, it must stop, Matt," Kiyomi agrees. "If you say anything else to provoke anyone at this table, I will stick my heel in your groin to save them putting a catheter in there."
"Hahahhahaaa!"
"You think that I'm joking?"
"Calm down, love. Jesus. Is the PMS getting you down?"
"Don't be so patronising."
"Yeah, Matt. Please stop talking. Eat your mango and morphine before it gets cold," Naomi begs, very upset now that Kiyomi's involved.
"It was served cold; it's a sorbet, woman. Maybe Yagami should put his dog on a leash?" he says snidely. I very nearly choke on my tuna but swallow just in time. I'm just about to slap Jeevas the fuck down because I think bets are off now, but Kiyomi puts her hand on my arm.
"Don't worry, Light. I can handle this. Matt. This is because I wouldn't have sex with you, isn't it?"
"What?" Naomi shrieks, and I put my chopsticks down with a clatter on the plate as I laugh.
"Shit, Kiyomi, that was years ago," Jeevas chucks back. "And I was drunk. I must have been."
"It was a year ago, actually."
"Oh my God! My best friend, Matt. My best friend?" Naomi shrieks again. Their marriage is turning out to be a dream made of cyanide. I pick up my chopsticks again, having recovered from my brief fit of amusement.
"This is a bad habit of yours, Jeevas. You seem to appreciate my taste, which I suppose is flattering somehow. I'm not angry, I just find it funny and brave of you in a suicidal kind of way. What happened exactly, Kiyomi?" I ask.
"It's not worth talking about. It'll ruin my salmon."
"Fuck the salmon! I want a re-enactment and please do expressions."
"Maybe later," she waves me off. She's noticed that Naomi is drinking her wine like she's been in the Sahara for a month. "Sorry, Naomi."
"It's ok. I'm the one who's sorry," she replies, pouring herself another glass. Mikami wisely takes the wine bottle away from her because she doesn't handle her drink very well. Jeevas shifts in his chair so he's as far from Naomi as he can manage without leaving the room.
"Nah, it never happened,"
"That's the funniest thing I've ever heard, Matt," Kiyomi says, completely dull in tone.
"No, you're forgetting about when he said that he'd love, honour and obey," I remind her. Her teeth look almost pastel blue in their whiteness against her dark red lipstick. We're like two despots in an alliance and it's such a comfortable situation. Perfect, actually.
"I wish that I'd been there. What you need is a good lawyer, Naomi," she smiles, inclining her head pointedly towards L. Naomi's eyes become immediately liquid at the idea.
"Oh, stop it, please!"
"People tend to enter into marriage without thinking about it," L comments calmly, drifting into some dreamtime for lawyers. "They're all so full of stupid romantic notions that they forget that it is a legal and binding contract, and long may it continue. What I like is how dirty divorce cases can be. I almost specialised in it, actually, but then mediation and mutual agreements became vogue and ruined it for me. Perjury is hardly ever prosecuted here, so I used to hear the most brilliantly overwrought stories of abuse and misconduct. Obviously I urge my clients to do this because I love a bitter divorce. I'm a bit busy at the moment, but I'd be happy to advise, Naomi, and I have an excellent divorce lawyer who can represent you. I'll add my fees onto Jeevas' expenses if you decide to do the right thing."
"Oi! Shut up, you!" Jeevas stands, probably thinking that L should be intimidated by a skeleton in a science lab. My eyes flicker back longingly towards Mikami's steak knife until Naomi, at a loss without her bottle of wine, leaves the table suddenly like a fleeing princess. It's so like her that I almost groan from the predictability. God knows where she thinks she's going unless she's going to find a lifejacket and swim to shore. Disturbingly, Jeevas must think the same thing. I must be tired.
"Naomi, where are you going? We're on a fucking boat!" he calls out after her, stopping when people on neighbouring tables start pretending that they're not looking at him. After flinging himself back onto his chair again, he takes the wine bottle from Mikami. "Fuck you very much, Kiyomi."
"What did you say?"
"I said: 'Thank you very much, Kiyomi.'"
"I'll go after her," Mikami mutters. I thought that he'd find this funny too. I'm disappointed. Jeevas smacks his back as he leaves.
"Cheers, Miki. Smooth it over for me, yeah? Bloody women."
"The women's liberation movement totally passed you by, didn't it, Matt?" Kiyomi says. "So did just being a decent person. All you do is snort various things up your nose and treat Naomi badly. She'll see that she's wasting her time on you, as is the whole human race, and she'll find someone better. Maybe she already has."
"What do you mean?" he asks, with wide, dry eyes, but Kiyomi only taps the end of her nose with her finger. I don't know what she means either. I'll have to ask her later. L reaches in front of me with his hand outstretched. I want to grab it and thank him for being born.
"Kiyomi, I'd like to shake your hand," he says. Oh.
"It was a pleasure," she smiles back at him as they clasp hands over my plate. This could be described as heartwarming. I imagine that, after a few more evenings like this, we'll be wearing Christmas jumpers and talking about our situation over mulled wine in a log cabin. All I can look at is his blushed lips compared to her painted ones and think of what a wreck they've made of me in their different ways.
"Bitch," Jeevas snipes venomously at Kiyomi, breaking my train of thought.
"Please?"
I sigh loudly. For one brief moment, I'd forgotten that he was still here. "Jeevas, get the fuck out of here."
"Just sack him, darling," Kiyomi tells me. "Properly, this time." She's very bored with her orange juice and is swilling it around in the glass in the hope that it might make it more interesting.
"You two are so perfect for each other it makes me sick. Even more than I was anyway," Jeevas spits at us. He throws some notes on the table which I don't think will cover both his and Naomi's part of the bill. I'll probably end up paying for Mikami too unless he comes back.
"Never mind. Maybe one day you'll find your very own perfect partner. Bacteria or something like that," Kiyomi says. He smiles back at her sarcastically and climbs out of one of the windows and onto the deck outside. If only there was no deck. I could cover up the splash and screaming with a long, fake coughing fit and the panic that would ensue. I'm left with my two favourite people at the table. They balance me out nicely, so I'm quite happy with how this turned out. I might even order dessert.
"Hey."
We all turn to find some tall, dark-haired Westerner standing behind L, who looks pale against the man's weak attempt at a tan. If you're going to tan, do it properly. He must work outdoors. He looks like someone I'd expect to find shirtless and pruning rose bushes in someone's garden. God, I hope that he's not an assassin who's going to tell me why he's going to shoot me before he does. He could at least spare me that.
"Hey," L replies, and it surprises me. I look between them, trying to figure out if I recognise the man or whether L's just come back with improved manners and a liking for gardening assassins. L's friends all seem to look the same, but this one is scruffy around the edges and is dressed very badly. It's possible that I've met him and forgotten. He seems very forgettable.
"So this is where you disappeared to. Am I interrupting something?" the man says. Well, yes, actually. Who the fuck are you and why are you here? He speaks decent Japanese but he has an accent from somewhere I can't place. Thankfully, I see my bodyguard appear behind him, so I'm alright.
"Can I help you?" I ask. My guard is going to help him the hell away from me soon but I must at least give him a chance to have something to tell his grandchildren one day.
"Prime Minister Yagami, isn't it? And Mrs Yagami! Why didn't you tell me?" he asks L for some reason. "I would have..."
"Brushed your hair?" L suggests flatly.
"Yeah," he laughs, pressing his blown about rat's bed of a hairstyle down. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting business. I'm just sorry if I'm interrupting."
"You're not. Do you want to go? It's just that we're kind of stuck on here until the captain's had enough," L says. I am infinitely confused. Is this a pick up? Do they even know each other? I know that L works fast but not this fast. He's doing this on purpose and forcing me to sit through it, isn't he? Bastard. I feel my eyes narrow when I realise what he's trying to do. And there was me thinking that he was going to be reasonable in this. L stares down my bodyguard, who has his hand prepped on the gun at his hip. The stranger turns around and notices how close he is to death.
"Whoa, is that a Sig P230?!" he asks excitedly, taking the gun from the guard's holster and turning it over in his hands. "I haven't seen one of these for years! Is this what they issue you with now? My uncle had one of these when I was a kid."
"That's very interesting. Now give the nice man his gun back," L says, delicately pinching the barrel between two fingers, taking it out of the man's hands and offering it to my bodyguard, who looks dazed. I'll have to get more officers sent over from the Security Bureau to replace him because he's obviously hopeless and this is humiliating.
"It's alright, you can go," Kiyomi tells the guard. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend, Lawliet-san?" she asks. L makes no move to explain and the lunatic next to him laughs after a few seconds of waiting.
"Obviously not. It's always me who has to take the initiative, isn't it?" he says to L before bowing to Kiyomi and I deeply. "I'm Stephen Gevanni. Pleased to meet you. I didn't think that I'd be meeting the Prime Minister and his wife on a boat after seeing a Hitchcock retrospective. What a day."
As soon as he says his name, I look at L, who's purposefully avoiding me, and he's standing now like he's ready to run off. Straight back into awkwardness again then. I don't know what all this is supposed to signify but it's a piss poor attempt and a waste of time. It genuinely hurts me that he felt that he'd have to stoop to this level just to get my attention. While I sit there without words, Kiyomi decides to play hostess.
"Pleased to meet you too. I'm Kiyomi and this is my husband, Light, and please, no formalities. You went to the retrospective? My sister is the curator there. Which film did you see?" she says. She clearly likes this stranger who's straight out of a fortune teller's crystal ball and would like him as part of our social circle. I have no say in it.
"We saw Vertigo this afternoon. Tell your sister that she's done a great job. We had a good time," the Gevanni man answers. Vertigo? What the fucking fuck? On the face of it, it doesn't mean anything, but I know that it's one of L's favourite films and he has a poster from it on his living room wall. Well, he did at one point. And they had a good shitting time. Fuck.
"I've never seen that film! Sit down, Stephen," Kiyomi more or less commands him.
L watches this 'Stephen' man and all his teeth sit next to Kiyomi. He continues to stand for a few moments before sitting back down himself in Mikami's chair, opposite me, which is useful because I can decipher his face and shoot daggers at him at the same time.
"I'd never seen it before either, don't worry," Gevanni admits. Oh, he means Vertigo. He's very nice and polite and honest, isn't he? I dislike him intensely. He's just barged in on a private party, is trying to steal L, demonstrated how useless my bodyguard is, he's suddenly my wife's best friend and all in the space of three minutes. "L said that I had to see it or he wouldn't be able to have a decent conversation with me about anything ever again,' he says, turning to L with an insipid smile.
"It's essential," L informs us like he's Roger fucking Ebert. "If you haven't seen it, you're culturally and emotionally void so, no, I wouldn't be able to talk to you."
"Have you seen it, Prime Minister?" Gevanni asks, desperate to include me in the conversation. "Please tell me that I'm not the only one who was, until now, culturally and emotionally void."
I don't reply, I just look him over. Him and his blue eyes and his cheap suit. I'm amazed that he found something so cheap that it looks intentional. Maybe it's an anti-establishment statement? He looks like he could be that kind of cunt. It's too tight and short in the arms and the padding at the shoulders is shit on a stick. No cufflinks. Terrible tie. Has he stuffed the end of the tie through his shirt like a schoolboy? I want to see his shoes to make a complete evaluation, although I'm almost certain that they're going to be scuffed brown loafers which he's wearing over white cotton socks. They're probably machine overlocked by three-year-olds who are paid a peanut a day in a sweat shop. I only ever wear hand-linked silk or cashmere socks unless I'm running. Natural fibre on the leg and instep, reinforced with microfibre at the toe and heel for increased durability, fit and wicking properties. They're just better. He wouldn't know what a properly finished sock looks like. The whole thing is a disaster. He's a disaster.
"Light?" Kiyomi prompts me, but gives up quickly and goes back to Gevanni. "Ignore him, he's got a headache. What's it like?"
"It was... weird and depressing. I liked it more than the one about the killer birds though. There's some great lines in it. What was that one, L? The one you like? The line she says to Jimmy Stewart when they're in the forest."
"Here I was born, and there I died," L answers.
"It was only a moment for you. You took no notice," I say slowly, perfectly still in my chair and in perfect, memorised English, completing the quote. His eyes flash back to mine and I love the colour of them. I've been waiting for them and for them to look at me properly. They reflect everything they see back at you, filtering and changing them with his thoughts like mine do, but no one else sees it. No, you didn't think I'd watch that film, did you? I remember looking at the poster in his house and thinking that the orange madness of it was kind of ugly. Then L talked about the film as we stood in front of the framed print like we were in an art gallery. I think I was bored then. It was a long time ago. He said that line to me. He told me about the scene because it was his favourite. When I actually watched the film a few weeks after he left, it was just how he'd described it. I felt like I'd seen it before.
"I didn't know that you'd seen it, Light!" Kiyomi says, nudging my shoulder with hers mockingly. "So, you're seeing each other then? Lawliet-san, you dark horse."
Gevanni agrees, nodding his head like one of those crap toys you see in some of those independent taxis that I tried to avoid when I had need of them. He turns towards L, making him break his eyes away from mine. I hate him as much as I hate murderers.
"It's a shit film. I'm glad you liked it," I tell him. Yes, Prime Ministers can swear too. I am not safe for work right now. The look on their faces is priceless.
"Is the ship docking?" L asks Gevanni.
"I don't know. I could find out if you want," he says, his expression changing like water into ice. I should be saying that. L should be asking me and I'd be desperate to leave with him. Desperate to get away from all these people, and Kiyomi and this Gevanni person shouldn't even be here. Gevanni looks worried when faced with L's indecipherable expressions, when I understand him. I put a lot of years in until I did understand him. A lot of thoughts and hours upon hours and words and fucks and bruises and torn muscles until I understood him, and it couldn't be for nothing. Not to be forgotten as an 'experience' and something which passed the time. This is all wrong. Unlike L, he's is one of those idiots who can't hide what they think, and I know everything I need or ever want to know about him. Even my eyes have had enough of him and look down to my lap and the inverted triangle of unfocused patterned carpet in the gap between my legs. My shoes look pointlessly well polished. I feel pointlessly well polished. My shock has become a disbelief and a smouldering anger which might flare up at the slightest thing, but mostly I feel stricken and desolate. Even more so when Kiyomi taps me twice on the arm like I'm a fucking ouija board.
"Light, pour Stephen a drink. So, what do you do? Are you a lawyer too?"
I pour some wine into Kiyomi's unused glass and Gevanni looks at it, offended by the measly amount I've given him, but takes it before answering Kiyomi's question.
"I'm in the CIA," he says proudly, sipping like a bitch. I look at L for an explanation for all this, but he's staring out of the windows now. He couldn't have found any old person, he had to find a foreign agent on holiday, didn't he? Well, I hope he's satisfied.
"Oh..." Kiyomi looks at me, unsure of how to take this news. What's the official opinion? I look up at the ceiling. The government doesn't consider him a threat. He's a simpering moron in a bad suit. She seems to understand this and faces him again. "But you speak Japanese so perfectly!"
"Thank you," he smiles. "That's probably why I was sent. I'm just helping out with a case over here."
"What case?" But he comes over all classified and coy, so she tries to ease him into her trust. "It's ok, you can tell us."
"It's concerning Secretary Wedy's death."
"Oh, yes, that was so sad. She seemed lovely, didn't she, Light? You spoke with her more than I did."
"She was interesting," I say. "Her death was very unfortunate." And beyond that I have nothing to add. Kiyomi rolls her eyes at me. She was expecting my best behaviour and charm for this meeting with a nobody who has the personality of a piece of dry toast. I should say how tragic it is because she was 'lovely' and 'nice' and 'too young' but she was none of those things, it didn't upset me and it wasn't tragic. It was only annoying that she'd decided to die in my country and I knew that I'd be pestered by the press for a few days. I don't want to impress anyone, let alone some agent who probably spends his life eating bagels. I made a short statement which encapsulated my devastation just after she died. If he's worth anything at all, he would know that.
"What did she die of?" Kiyomi digs at Gevanni, her interest piqued with the possibility of scandal, murder and conspiracy. "Any news yet? It's not murder is it?"
"I can't really discuss it, unfortunately. It's confidential," he replies with a regretful smugness. Boring bastard.
"It looks like deep vein thrombosis but these things drag out with multiple autopsies and tests which apparently take eight weeks. I had an office block built in eight weeks; who do they think they're kidding? And how dare a politician die abroad? It has to be suspicious," L elaborates. Gevanni looks at him with the stupid, shocked expression of thousands on his face.
"L!"
"You can't discuss it, but I can."
He glances at me and my smile briefly, but quickly looks back down at the table and starts aligning the cutlery in front of him.
"Ha, you..." Gevanni elbows him before turning back to Kiyomi. "Anyway, I'll be here for another month or so until it winds up."
"Oh, that's sad. Just a few more weeks?"
"I don't know. Maybe I'll stay," he says, looking at L's downcast face. The corner of L's lip turns upwards slightly as he breathes out a soundless laugh, and if I could, I'd kill them both right now. I'd do it just to prove a point. If I could stop and reverse time to do all the things I'd like to do, it would take me a year to get through a single day, but I'd start with killing them over and over again.
"The boat's stopped. We'd better go or we'll be trapped here all night," L states, standing. "Kiyomi, thanks for the entertainment."
"You're welcome."
Gevanni stares up at him like he's preparing himself for a huge joke he's missed out on. "What happened?"
"I'll tell you in the car. See you," he says to the table, and walks away. Nothing for me.
"He does that disappearing thing a lot, doesn't he?" Gevanni asks. "Oh well. It was nice to meet you both."
"I hope that you decide to stay, Stephen" Kiyomi says, holding her hand out to shake his.
"So do I, Kiyomi. Prime Minister Yagami."
He bows to me, the little toad, and traipses after L. Kiyomi drinks her orange juice in the silence which enters the stage upon their departure, leans back in her chair in an unguarded moment of terrible posture and holds my hand on my lap.
"And then it's just us," she says.
A/N No idea how all that is going to read to people who aren't full of synthetic chemicals. These characters needed to be on a boat. Don't ask me why, I have pneumonia in one lung. Hurray. I'm still going to a gig later though, so we'll see how that works out. Erm, I had this problem with 'Cure' and someone picked up on it. Some of the play on words things in here wouldn't work in Japanese. There you go. I prefer funnies over reality.
Gevanni! Om nom nom. Not going with 'Stephen Loud' because that's a stupid name. It kills me that I have to write him from Light's shitty, bitchy, biased, tosser point of view. Political!Light makes me laugh in bad ways though ('dynamic stochastic general equilibrium') and I just love/hate him, so it's ok.
Can't remember who mentioned 'Sixteen Saltines' in a review and I can't check (my phone is top of the range at not working properly), but it's on the mixtape. GOOD CHOICE! Better than The Carpenters. Also advance thanks/credit to thebarstool for music recs and all round brilliance. I'm saving them up for the right moment. If I haven't replied to a review lately, sorry. Lung. Thank you. And thanks to whoever put 'A Cure for Love' on goodreads (!). I was told a week or so back that it was there and I didn't believe them until they emailed me the link. It was tvtropes all over again. I didn't even know fanfiction was allowed on there. What is the world coming to? I really, really want to add it to my 'couldn't finish' pile and leave a bad review, but my RL 'we read bad books for lolz every three months' bookgroup follow me on goodreads, and they'd take it as a reading suggestion, so no. Everybody, have some thanks. Ramble, ramble. There was originally no A/N. What happened? Stream of consciousness shit, that's what.
Yes, I researched socks for this chapter. Ask me about socks.
