Chapter 2

Early one morning, as rain pounded the sides and roof of the high-class Sacred Lotus, a small Japanese man soundlessly made his way towards one of the whorehouse's back rooms. A few minutes later, sighing to himself, the man emerged, clasping a heavy sheaf of leaflets in his scrawny arms. He headed to his usual work area behind the front desk, pushing aside his chair so that it squeaked.

The minutes ticked by as the Japanese man immersed himself in the signing and filing of each sheet of paper. He was so lost in his work that he failed to notice the door screeching open, and a series of heavy footsteps marching towards him.

"COUGH!"

"Alfred?" The man finally looked upwards. He pushed back his chair. "What can I do for you?"

With a hard flick of his right wrist, the towering blond man agitated specks of rainwater off his glasses, before settling them back on his nose. He squinted as he removed his hat. From across the desk, deep blue eyes stared hard into the Japanese's smoky ones, as the American wriggled out of his bomber jacket as well. "You know what I came here for, Kiku."

As though bemused, Kiku continued to smile and stare amiably upwards towards the American man, who was at least a foot taller than he was. Alfred waited, but as the other man remained silent, he grew impatient and cleared his throat. "The arrangement we talked about earlier today. When I got you on the phone this mor—"

"Ah, yes." Kiku slowly capped his pen before putting it in the drawer; each movement was so methodical, it was as though he were performing some type of tai chi. "That." The drawer seemed stuck; Kiku raised it upwards a bit before sliding it fully in successfully. "Well," he glanced upwards again, his expression unchanged, "I thought I alluded to certain complications that you might not be able to comprehend."

"Certain complications?" Alfred parroted back.

"Many, in fact." Kiku sighed as he took out another sheet of paper and began studying it, avoiding Alfred's persistent gaze. "In fact, another has just occurred to me. You are familiar with our sister house, the SuFin House?" Kiku's eyes sparkled as he mentioned the large whorehouse only a few streets down. "We have, if not exactly a contract, but a mutual understanding between us. Now, Mr. Jones," he enunciated slowly, "you, who appear to be so keen to acquire Yao's—er—talents—must be aware. Yao is a popular attraction, a main draw-card, if you will, at the SuFin, where we let him work two weekends out of the month. If he were to, say, simply disappear… well, our proprietors are at the SuFin would be most upset."

"But you're doing them a favor, by lending him to them in the first place."

"Business is business, and fostering strong ties is essential to our mutual survival. The child is quite valuable. You do agree that the SuFin would feel the burn in their pockets?"

You're an insane tightwad, Alfred wanted to reply, but he bit his tongue. Instead, his eyes roved around the room as he stared at the various pornographic pictures that were hung up along the walls. Although the majority portrayed various young, beautiful men and women of every size and shape, splaying their limbs in different erotic poses, he could not have felt more indifferent than, say, if he were touring some incredibly dry pottery museum exhibit.

Alfred averted his fine eyes.

"These are just details that I can easily take care of, Kiku. Can't we…." Here Alfred trailed off, trying to search for the right words, what would force the other man to utter the only word he cared to hear: yes. "Can't we call Yao down here himself? This is his future we're talking about, after all."

Kiku had picked up another scrap of paper. "Alfred, there is one more point. You haven't considered the possibility that… well… that Yao might not prefer him?" He raised one silky black eyebrow. "Or—pardon—you, even, Alfred?"

"Kiku, please. Do me this favor—for Arthur won't stop talking about him. From one—" Alfred suddenly reached out, placing his hand over Kiku's hand. He raised the pale hand to his lips and paused as he closed his eyes. The lips descended gracefully onto the white knuckles. "Call him down." Slowly, he returned the other man's hand down on the desk.

"I've been the owner of the Sacred Lotus for over ten years, Mr. CFO of Kirkland Enterprises. I have built this business into one of the most well-recognized bathhouse establishments in all of Western Europe." Kiku's gaze remained blunt; yet, a smile tempted the corners of his mouth. "What… happened between us was ages ago; I'm no longer privy to your—"

"And have I ever betrayed you?" Alfred's grip on Kiku's hand remained steadfast. He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of black hair behind the other man's ear; whispering in a lower voice, "This sort of thing requires utmost trust in you on my part, as I know you retain complete trust in my word."

As Alfred pulled away, Kiku leveled his gaze at the American; there was absolutely no indication of what he was thinking behind those depthless black eyes.

Give him over, give him over.

The Japanese man had risen soundlessly to his feet. Alfred's eyes squinted as they followed the Japanese's retreating back. Kiku had pulled behind a filmy carmine curtain to reveal a back room, whereupon Alfred noticed several silken ropes dangling from the ceiling. Kiku reached out and seized the red one, giving it a good hard tug.

Breathlessly, Alfred waited, mentally blocking out the shuffling, knocking sounds, and lewd giggles that were now echoing more clearly throughout the house (no doubt, the other whores were conducting their first business transactions of the day). He glimpsed a shadow emerging from the stairs. Was it…?

Yes.

The slip of the Chinese boy was making his way down the stairs; the front of his shirt was splattered with water that he'd apparently used to recently wash his face, and his long hair was tied back carelessly with a red silk ribbon. The boy had a scowl on his face, which he pointed accusingly towards Kiku behind the desk. As he scanned the room, his eyes fell on Alfred; and then a most tender look of recollection almost immediately replaced the scowl.

"Sir, we know each other, do we not?" Yao asked softly, while lowering his gaze; displaying the fruits of his rigid, formal training by Kiku.

Alfred stared at the boy, into those fringed, fawn-like, golden eyes. A draft from the ceiling fan in the room had blown up several silk strands of dark hair, which were floating across Yao's cheeks and down his naked neck. That neck in particular looked so fragile and slender—

Concentrate, man, concentrate.

But before Alfred could utter a word, Kiku said, "How would you like to go away and live with the English, Yao?"

Alfred ground his teeth—even if he were the boy's owner, who was Kiku to word it in such a careless way?

"I beg your pardon?" Despite the cool tone, Yao's face had blanched slightly, and his smile seemed to become more brittle.

"Mr. Jones here has a certain proposition for you, dear," his master explained.

"Yao," Alfred butt in, his face glowing, dropping the polite and formal façade, "this is your most lucky day. You may recall from a few months back, my cousin Arthur—the one with the brows— came to pay you a visit." (Why was the child looking even paler, if that were possible?) "He … We're here to… well…" Why should he mince words? "He would like to have you live with us. I'm here to rescue you," he finished in a strong voice.

At these words, Yao's face fell. The sudden disappearance of his smile and sweet, coy mannerisms seemed to ignite a chemical change in the atmosphere of the entire room, as chilling as gathering storm clouds.

"Oh, really?" Most uncharacteristically, Kiku's voice had risen sharply. "And how much will you pay him? How on earth will you be able to take care of him?"

"I will pay him," from his pocket, Alfred took out a thick wad of bills, "whatever makes Yao happy."

Kiku stared at the money, speechless. "Arthur is absolutely, unquestionably willing to pay whatever is necessary," Alfred declared. As though to drive home the point, he tossed another wad onto the scratched desk top.

"How much is in here?" Kiku demanded, picking up one stack, his face alight with astonishment.

"200,000 USD. And that's just a 20% advance." Watching the Japanese man's reaction to these words, Alfred grinned to himself. The nervousness had dropped from his voice. "While strong ties with other bathhouses are indeed essential, our business will prove more beneficial to the Sacred Lotus in the end. I can have the rest, the full payment, by the end of the month."

"Kiku!" Yao exclaimed in disbelief. He had been watching the transaction unfold with panicked, shiny-wide eyes. "Please, at least give me some time to think about this."

"Hush," Kiku snapped at the younger boy, fingering through stack he had previously picked up.

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"You have by the end of the month to give me the rest of the payment," Kiku said firmly to the American. "No later."

"Wait!" Yao had fought his way over to the desk and was now clutching the Japanese man's sleeve. "You don't need his money. Please, don't give me away! I'll work harder and not take any more days off!"

"Yao," Kiku said in a low tone, which Alfred had never heard him use before.

"Don't give me away, Kiku! Not to him!"

"I'm here to rescue you, Yao," Alfred cut in again, trying to hide his impatience.

"I don't want to go with you!" Yao was kneeling before Kiku, clenching handfuls of Kiku's shirt. He stifled a sob of fear. "Haven't I been a good boy? Haven't I been good, sensei?" One tear welled in one golden eye and streaked his cheek; it was closely followed by several more. "Why is this happening to me?" he lamented in a long wail.

"There is one stipulation," Kiku said, trying as gently as he could to extricate the panicked Yao from his shirt. Surreptitiously, he stuffed something that looked like a tissue into Yao's back trouser pocket. "He comes back here to the Lotus, twice a month. Every other weekend."

"KIKU!"

"Done."

"NO! Damn it, you make me sick!" Alfred sighed; the boy was now in the midst of a tantrum. The huge American man effortlessly scooped him up and held him fast in his arms. "Kiku!" Yao twisted his neck and spat towards the Japanese as he tried to smack at Alfred's face. "I thought we were going to take care of each other!"

"Be quiet," Alfred growled urgently at the flailing child in his arms. "I said be quiet!" He grabbed onto Yao's wrists; this was not difficult, as the child was apparently as frail as he initially appeared, and was also heaving with sobs. Kiku was averting his gaze; he looked a bit distraught as the child let out a screech like a siren.

"Be careful with him," Kiku said sharply. The sleeves of Yao's cheongsam had ridden up, exposing his skin. Alfred frowned as he noticed that the white flesh of Yao's forearm had been bruised blue with his finger-marks.

"I'll be in touch with you later," Alfred said as he gathered the little prostitute in his arms, and turned away towards the front entrance.

"I'm rescuing you," Alfred proclaimed firmly, as he carried the boy bridal-style out the front doors of the Sacred Lotus. "You'll see in time—you won't believe your good fortune. I'm your rescuer, see?" Alfred peered at the beautiful little face, still lovely in spite of the tear-marks, cradled within the crook of his arms. "I'm your… your champion."