Part II
"Have a good evening, sir!" bid Shingo politely, as the hotel guest got into his car and drove away. He retreated to the awning of the hotel's main entrance to take a smoke break before someone else wanted his or her car parked or brought around.
He sighed and watched the ribbons of opaque smoke curl up and drift away into the night.
"Busy night," one of his coworkers remarked, as he lit up next to him.
"Uh," Shingo grunted. He leaned against a concrete pillar, still warm from the heat of the day. Together, they puffed in silence, enjoying the brief respite. When they finally saw approaching headlights, his coworker groaned.
"I'll take care of it," Shingo volunteered, flicking the remainder his cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot.
"Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Nakayama Hotel."
The guest exchanged his car keys for a numbered wooden disc. "Thank you…Shinji," the man said, glancing briefly at his nametag.
"You're welcome, sir. Please enjoy your stay."
Shingo jumped into the silver BMW Z3 Roadster with pleasure. As he pulled the car around to the back of the hotel, he admired the sleek interior, and the smooth yet responsive handling. The center console had chrome trim, and the gauges bathed the dash and cabin in a ruby red glow. He knew that there were some European cars with red instrument panels…Audis, for instance. But they were rare to see, and more so because they were imports. He smiled happily as he eased the BMW into its numbered space. He was glad he had volunteered to pick this one up, despite the fact that the man had called him "Shinji".
"Shouji Shinji, what kind of name is that?" he muttered. He got out with reluctance, running a hand briefly over the series of shark-like gills on the side of the car. With one last longing sigh, he shoved the keys into his pocket and headed back to the entrance.
Several hours later, Shingo bid goodnight to his coworker and hopped into his Civic for the long ride home. The hotel was located 50 kilometers away from his 5th floor flat in Myogi. He had purposely picked a place that was far away, to preclude any possibilities that someone he knew might see him there. It wasn't that he disliked his job, or that he was particularly ashamed of it, for that matter. He just preferred to keep his private life just that, private. He had to admit it was part of the reason he had gotten so angry earlier, when he ran into Nakazato at the auto parts store. It had felt like a supreme invasion of his privacy, to have his family life just laid out for anyone to see.
The Myogi driver grunted and slammed the accelerator to the floor. He was pushed back into the bucket seat as the tachometer needle tipped sharply to measure the RPM increase. Shifting into neutral, he pushed the RPMs almost to redline again. Then, quickly downshifting to third, he upshifted back to fourth and sped around a black Silvia that was blocking his lane.
"Idiot," he spat.
Besides wanting to keep things to himself, he also enjoyed the long drive. It gave him a chance to clear his mind, and work off some excess aggression.
As he drove, he mulled over the strange incident. Shingo knew he didn't hate the Night Kids team leader. Certainly not as much as everyone thought he did, at any rate. He just hated Takeshi's condescending attitude. From day one he'd done everything in his power to impress the guy, but nothing seemed to work. Maybe it was just that he never seemed to say the right thing, or never did what was expected of him. Whatever it was, if Nakazato was the Black Lightning, then he surely was the Black Sheep. He frowned at the thought, then concentrated on flicking his lights in irritation at a slow moving Integra GS-R. A moment later, the Acura's blinker winked on, and it ponderously switched lanes. He sped past it with satisfaction.
But honestly, now that he thought about it, the other driver had not made a single derogatory or condescending remark during their entire conversation in front of the auto parts store. Nakazato had actually been civil to him, and all in all, if it hadn't been for all that misplaced anger and embarrassment, the encounter might even have been affable.
"If he was like that all the time, I might actually like the guy," he muttered. But then, the image of Nakazato and him hanging around together like best friends popped into his mind, and he laughed. What a ridiculous idea! Even if they could manage to tolerate one another for more than a few seconds at a time, the chances of Takeshi actually volunteering to spend more time with him were pretty slim.
"What am I thinking? The guy hates me, and for all I care, the feeling's mutual."
He sighed and started to turn up the radio when his phone rang, nearly startling him out of his wits.
"Shingo," he spoke into the phone. He lowered the radio volume and slowed down guiltily. "Hi Mom."
"Your father and I both have to work tomorrow. It's a very busy time of year for our companies, and they need everyone they can get. Do you think you can watch Ryo and Miki tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" He frowned. "Tomorrow's Saturday! I…I have a lot of things to do."
"But you're not working, are you?"
"Well…no." He sighed. There was no point in arguing. If he refused to help, his mother would have to take off work, and possibly jeopardize her position in the process. He had no choice but to agree. "Sure, I can do it. What time should I be over?"
"Good! Well, the kids don't wake up till about 9:00am, so come by before that. We should be home by 6:00pm, but we may not." She sighed wearily. "We'll all be glad when the busy season's over."
"Yeah."
"Thank you Shingo, what would I do without you? I love you so much!"
"Uh, yeah. Ok, loveyoubyemom." He pressed the "end" key gratefully and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat; it drove him crazy to be doted on.
The alarm clock on the floor registered 1:00am when he finally flung open the door of his apartment. He flipped on the 13" TV and went into the kitchen to ransack the fridge. Finding nothing but beer and condiments, he settled for a beer. Shingo relaxed on the bed, sipping his drink, smoking a cigarette, and watching the nightly news. The story of the day was apparently about a hysterical woman who prophesied an apocalyptic earthquake that would destroy most of Japan. He yawned sleepily.
I'll be sure to add that to my list of things to worry about, he thought sarcastically.
After his dinner of nicotine and alcohol, he fell into an exhausted sleep, TV still flickering ghostly blue light around the walls of the tiny flat.