Part VIII
The ringing cell phone jarred Takeshi out of a deep sleep. He was momentarily disoriented by his surroundings. Then, he heard a soft snuffle and glanced down to see Shingo snuggled in his arms, sleeping soundly. He suddenly remembered the night before and grinned. Dislodging his arm carefully from where it was wrapped around his partner's waist, he got up and hunted around the floor for his pants. He found the ringing phone buried under a pile of clothes.
"Hello?" he asked groggily.
"Takeshi, where are you?" his father's voice crackled frantically through the earpiece. He winced and held the phone farther away from his ear.
"Uh…I'm at a friend's house. Why?"
"The headlights in the Datsun were left on last night, and now the car won't start. Can you come give us a jump?"
Takeshi glared at his watch. It was 8:00am on a Sunday morning.
"I suppose. How soon do I have to be there?"
"Now. I promised the guys I'd play a round of golf with them this morning, and they can't play with just three."
"Yeah, alright, I'll be there."
He hung up the phone. 'Were left on' indeed! He sat back down on the bed carefully and bent down to kiss Shingo softly on the forehead. Then he stood up and dressed, throwing his clothes on quickly. On the way out the door, he briefly contemplated leaving a note, but then decided he could probably call Shingo later when he rolled his lazy (but cute) ass out of bed. With one last rueful glance at the sleeping figure, he left the apartment, closing the door softly behind him
When Shingo woke, he was confused to find himself alone. He looked around briefly, but Takeshi was gone. He swallowed the bitter disappointment that surged up. He didn't want to feel abandoned, but it was difficult not to, given the circumstances. He rolled over and buried his head in the pillow, wondering if he should get up that day at all. He felt sore all over, and his wrist ached. He groaned. Just as he was finishing up a debate with himself over whether or not to sleep in, and had decided to sleep in, the phone rang. Flinging the covers off in disgust, he answered it.
"Shingo."
"Yo, Shingo, it's Michio. Let's have lunch."
"Now? I just woke up."
"Don't be so lazy. Get your ass out of bed and I'll be by to pick you up in 20 minutes."
"Fine, fine. But you're paying!"
"Oi, how come?"
"Because you woke me up!" Shingo growled, hanging up the phone.
Half an hour later, Shingo was sitting in a Vietnamese restaurant sloppily shoveling pho into his mouth. Michio sat across the table, watching with amusement as he tried, with a decided lack of coordination, to wield chopsticks with his wrapped hand.
"So what happened?"
"What do you mean?" Shingo asked, swallowing a mouthful of noodles.
"Last night, Takeshi told us all to go home. Said he'd go looking for you himself. Of course, we all figured he'd want to um, 'have a word with you' in private, so we scrammed. And today, you show up with a messed up hand." Michio leaned forward eagerly. "So, what happened?"
"Nothing happened. He took me home, that's all. The wrist thing is from the gumtape, steering wheel kickback, etc."
Michio's mouth dropped open.
"What do you mean 'that's all'? You two fight like animals, and after all that shit you said about him, you're telling me he didn't even take a swing at you?"
Shingo winced.
"Yeah, that's what I'm telling you. Besides, it's not so bad. We get along alright."
Michio snorted.
"What? You get along all right? Since when? Since you gave him a bloody nose and he gave you a concussion? Since then?"
"Shut up. That was different."
"Different? How is it any different now than it was then? Shingo, we had to take you to the hospital!"
"Oh come on, it wasn't that one-sided. I got some good hits in too!"
"That's not my point!" he sighed in exasperation. "Whatever. I guess I'm glad you two have kissed and made up."
Shingo recoiled in horror. "What? How did you-" he clamped his mouth shut as he suddenly realized that Michio was speaking figuratively.
"How did I what?"
"Uh, nothing. Hey, look at those girls over there!" He pointed, hoping Michio wouldn't notice the deliberate change of subject.
"Oh yeah, pretty cute," Michio said appraisingly.
"I like the one in the red…nice ass."
"You know, now that I think about it, I think I've seen them around before."
"You have? Where?"
"Hmm, I'm not sure, but they look like the ones that hang around the galleries during races. Actually, I'm sure of it! See that one in the blue skirt?"
"The one with the pigtails? Cute."
Michio snickered.
"Eh, you wouldn't want that one. You know what they say about used cars, you never know where they've been."
Shingo blinked in surprise.
"How would you know, Michi? You don't even know her!"
"Yeah, but I know for a fact that she's had at least one person on the team, if not more.'
"Who?"
"Nakazato Takeshi, of course!"
"S-say what?"
"Heh, don't look so shocked. Nakazato's famous, and he's good looking. You don't think those girls flock to the galleries to see the likes of us, do you? It's common knowledge that our vaunted leader, er, samples the fruits of his position, if you know what I mean."
Shingo watched in horror as the girls walked past them and out the door, giggling inanely all the while.
"Who else? How many more?"
"When did you get all interested in Takeshi's sex life, eh?" Michio teased.
"I-I'm not!" Shingo stuttered defensively. "I just…wondered, that's all."
"Well, I don't know who, or how many. But they say he's quite the player, lots of girls, different ones every week. Hell, I'd kill for a sex life like that!"
Shingo choked on his food, coughing violently and gulping down a glassful of water. Michio patted him in concern.
"Geez, you alright? You shouldn't eat so fast!"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he wheezed. "Let's just get outta here."
"Sure, anything you say. We can go back to my place and hook up with Keichi. He says he's installed a boost gauge."
"Ah, well, we'd better have a look at it then," he replied half-heartedly.
As the green Silvia edged it's way out of the parking lot and headed for the highway, Shingo's cell phone rang. He was about to answer when he saw the number that flashed across the LCD. A surge of irrational rage made him turn it off and shove it back into his pocket. He glared angrily out the window, unsure of what to do about the information he'd just acquired. Takeshi you bastard…
"Who was that?" Michio asked distractedly as he dodged his way through the midday traffic.
"No one important."
"Ahh."