3

"But from each crime are born bullets that will one day seek out in you where the heart lies."
Pablo Neruda

Z

The high from my first win in Tokyo took forever to fade. Every night I dreamed about taking the turns in the parking garage before flying up the ramp to take my spot in front of the cheering crowd; it was a nice change from the usual things that haunted my dreams at night. I spent the next few days fixing up my new car until it was fast enough to outrun anything that challenged me and smooth enough in the curves to handle my aggressive drifting style.

My fabulous mood even lasted through a Saturday long shopping trip that I had dragged Neela on. While she was a little more girly then me, she was still a tomboy who hated shopping. After she helped me pick out a few race outfits, she left me to do the rest. By the time I had finally plopped down at a table outside a little restaurant for an extremely late lunch and early supper I was starving. I ordered the safest sounding thing on the menu and started picking at it with chopsticks.

"Shorty, you look like a girl with a whole lot of class. I can hook you up. You like Michael Jordan? I-" A voice started babbling out a sales pitch as I tried to maneuver a piece of chicken off my chopstick and into my mouth.

"I'm not interested." I snapped as I dropped the chicken onto my new sweater. I looked up in annoyance to see the guy from the races that was talking to Han. The way his expression changed I knew he remembered me too. He dropped down into the seat across from me.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Twinkie." He extended his hand for me to shake as I blushed darkly at my rudeness.

"Eliana, but everyone calls me Ellie." I shook his hand with a small smile.

"New to Tokyo?" He asked, gesturing at my chopsticks.

"Yeah, I still haven't gotten the hang of these, or gotten used to the food." I scrunched my nose as I poked some type of vegetable that looked completely inedible.

"Yeah, it's a little different."

I fell into an easy conversation with Twinkie. He kept me laughing the whole time. By the time it had gotten dark, I was completely up to date on all the Underground gossip, knew who the top racers were and their rides, and anything else I ever needed to know. Since all of my friends were back in the States, I hadn't had a good conversation like this in a long, long time.

"So where you from?" He asked me between bites of the greasy looking fish he had ordered when he realized that he was going to be there a while.

"I'm from San Juan, Puerto Rico, but when my mom died I moved with my dad to Talladega, Alabama and then to Rock Hill, Arizona."

"That is a random set a places." Twinkie remarked through a mouthful of noodles.

"It really is."

"How'd you wind up here with DK and his little group? You're a good racer, but you do not fit in with his crew of a-holes." I looked down at the table for a long second as I felt his eyes boring into me.

"I really don't know. After my dad died I just kinda took a break and left for a while. I came here and couldn't leave. I met DK, he had a nice car, I didn't know the scene around here, so I just hung with him." Twinkie smiled comfortingly and nodded at my choppy explanation.

"Are you two-anything?" He asked slowly.

"Oh, no. No." I gave a mixed snort chuckle at the thought." I don't date egotistical wangsters who look like they've been bashed in the face with a frying pan." Twinkie laughed.

"Sorry. I was just wondering after he was all over you." He gave me a look that said he was wondering exactly why he was.

"I like to steal things and he was not about to leave me alone." I answered simply. Twinkie's eyebrows shot up as he gave me a quick once-over. I didn't look like the criminal type in my new girly black sweater over skin tight skinnies with the over-the-knee black boots that Neela made me get, but my arrest for stealing a Corvette in Atlanta and my habit of pick pocketing in San Juan said otherwise.

"Well, that explains the driving, but-"

"I know; I don't look like much." I cut in with a smirk. I got away with just about everything because I didn't look like I was capable of breaking the law.

"Musta been one tough crew you ran with. You don't look the typical good-girl-gone-bad type." He joked as he gestured to me with his greasy chopsticks.

"Not quite and I'm not. It's kind of a family business."

"One awesome dad." Twink remarked.

"Actually, yeah. I picked up most of my driving skills from him and his friends that are pretty much family members." I felt my face turn dark red as the words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Oops. That was entirely too much information.

"Sounds like us at Han's. Did you have anyone else besides your dad and family friends?" I couldn't tell if he was trying to change the subject because I was obviously squirming uncomfortably or what, but I wasn't going to complain that he gave me a way out of that part of the conversation.

"I had a brother, and a friend that was like a brother. When my brother went to Afghanistan, the friend took his spot, kinda." I shrugged. "I don't have either of them now." I remarked sadly.

"The friend?" Twinkie smiled kindly at me filling in what had happened to Brent.

I stared at the bottom of my cup of green teas. It took me a while to look up to answer. "Okay, so our family was really tight knit, ya know. If we took you in, then you were completely in. But there's just some rules and promises that you just don't break."

Okay girl, just stop talking. You just told your life story to a guy you've never met. I started to open and close my mouth, fishing for the words that would stop this conversation and keep the personal things from spilling out.

"And up and moving to Tokyo is one of 'em. I get it." Twinkie offered to end my floundering.

"Yeah. Sorry, I haven't talked to someone like this in a long time." I said weakly.

"It's cool. I think I know some people you got to meet. Our crew's a lot like that. You'd be a lot happier with us instead a DK and his monkey." Twinkie stood up and I followed him. He grabbed my many bags and gestured for me to show him
the way to my car.

He fell into step beside me as he started happily describing Han's garage and crew. I still felt uncomfortable after unloading my entire story on somebody I'd just met. I couldn't help it though; Twinkie was just one of those open, kind people that made everyone comfortable around him. I haven't been around someone like that in a long time.

"You really need to stay away from DK. Ya know his uncle is like the head of Yakuza." He told me bluntly as we made our way down the crowded side walk to where my car was conspicuously parked.

"I know." I spoke softly with a grimace. Twinkie's eyes started to widen. "Everyone knows. That's his ticket to fame. I don't care how good he is, no one would look at him if it weren't for his uncle." I finished with a flourished eye roll. I don't think I distracted him.

"You're probably right." He started to put everything in my car for me. "Are you going to follow me or do you just want directions?" I opened my mouth to answer but my phone rang.

"Maybe later Twink. I have to be somewhere. But here-" I reached for his phone which he handed me. I put in my number as quickly as possible. "I'll come by some other time. Besides, I think I don't think I'm dressed for a Tokyo party."

"Alright, shorty. I'll holla at you tomorrow."

Z

When I answered the phone after saying my goodbyes to Twinkie, I had been given an hour to be at a disreputable and run down area on the other side of Tokyo. After dropping off my bags, I picked up one of Kamata's boys and winded my way through back streets that had a post-apocalyptic ghost town feel until I got to a rotting, Yakuza-owned warehouse.

The air was freezing cold inside the warehouse, but I think it was the suck-the-life-out-of-you part of town we were in that was so chilling.

The homeless where wrapped up in jackets and shabby blankets and leaning on buildings with a hollow, hopeless expression that looked permanently etched on their faces. The women strolling down the street in heels and skin tight clothes on probably would have had the same expression if their faces weren't practically painted on. The worse thing I saw was the addicts; they reminded me so much of my mom.

They kept me waiting for the shipment. I spent most of my time leaning back against the front fender watching the small group of men move around in the office type room through the open door. The Yakuza babysitting me had taken my keys and was sitting in a chair beside the door so he could keep an eye on me.

As I waited, an uneasiness set in down in the pit of my stomach. The people around me looked so out of place against the back drop of the poorest part of the city; they were dressed in expensive clothes and I kept seeing the flash of a Rolex face under the light when someone's sleeve would move. It made me sick to think that while they were huddling around a table probably covered in money while the people on the streets looked like they were starving.

One of the men turned away from the table with a bag in his hand. He wordlessly handed it off to my Yakuza babysitter. He stood out of his chair before slinging the bag over his shoulder and tossing the keys to me in a fluid motion. They bounced off my stomach as struggled to catch them.

As I felt my lip curl in disgust at the well-dressed men in the office, it suddenly dawned on me; I was working for them, and that made me just as bad as they were. The uneasiness in my stomach got worse as the guilt set in. I had always felt like a victim, and to an extent I was, but I had a nice two bedroom apartment, a garage, and more money stashed than I would ever spend. I wasn't exactly suffering, but these people were, and for all I knew, I was helping the ones responsible for that.

I was suddenly brought back to earth by the Yakuza tapping on the trunk for me to unlock it. With shaking fingers, I adjusted my keys and hit the trunk button. As I sick as I felt because of this realization, I knew there was nothing I could do to change it.

Z

I killed the engine the second I put the Mazda in park. It had not been a smooth trip. My fingernails were digging into the steering wheel because of my white knuckled grip which I just couldn't loosen. I glanced at the Yakuza next to me to see him pale and hyperventilating slightly. He opened his door and shakily stepped out. I finally relaxed my grip and popped the trunk so he could retrieve the duffel bag full of-whatever it was full of. I never really asked. I got out slowly and leaned on my door to wait for whoever was getting the shipment.

For some reason, the cops had decided to have a raid. They usually wouldn't dare show up in that side of town and for good reason. Half the cops in this town were owned by somebody. The other half were way too afraid to try anything to make a dent in the crime rate.

A black Mercedes pulled up about twenty feet away from us and Kamata's top officers started filing out. I was already shivering from my lack of a coat, but I felt a little chill go down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold as one of them glanced at me before opening the door for Kamata.

Of all the people I've ever had to work with, Kamata was by far the most terrifying. He gave off an aura of complete control and authority that was unmatched. He was so intimidating that it was just an unconscious response to shrink back a little when he walked by, to pay attention when he spoke, or to want to run the second he started walking towards you.

I felt myself pale slightly when he stepped out. He was always dressed in an expensive handmade suit with a long coat on and matching hat. Today was no exception. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it as he surveyed the damage on my Mazda. He walked towards my back bumper and ran his hand over a groove in the side that hadn't been there before the run. He nodded at one of his men to transfer the bag into the trunk of the Mercedes.

"Walk with me." Kamata said simply as he started slowly down the waterfront. His voice gave me the creeps. It was gravelly from years of smoking and drinking and I could barely understand him because of his accent.
I felt myself go completely white as I dragged my feet behind him. He glanced back to see what was taking so long and I reluctantly sped up enough to be beside him.

"You're every bit as good as they said you were, though not nearly the hand full I thought you were going to be." He took another puff on the cigar as he looked out at the ocean. Oh, how I hated that smell. He pulled a wad of money out of his inside pocket, pulled one bill of the top and handed it the rest to me. This was how he always did: the single bill went to my uncle's debt, and the rest went to me. I took it wordlessly and pocketed my pay.

"I think I have another job that would be perfect for you." He continued with a small glance at my stony face to gauge my reaction. "I need some cars boosted and moved into Hong Kong. I will give you the details later." He started to leave, but thought for a second and turned. "Drop your car by my nephew's. He will repair it for you."

I watched him walk back to his car and get in with his boys. They left me alone on the waterfront. I let out a sigh of relief that all of this was over. I used to be happy behind the wheel, but now it was way out of hand. I used to love the way the car moved for me when I finally got everything right. The way it felt to hit the accelerator and leave every thought of the day behind. Now I just felt ashamed of myself. Now I was just helping put drugs in the hands of addicts; money in the hands of people who didn't deserve it. I made me sick.

Z

An hour later I was pulling into the back of the mini casino-ish building that DK had taken up shop in. The bouncer let me without question. I walked in to find Morimoto on the couch with some girl who was either a racer-chaser or a prostitute, DK spread out in his desk chair with two girls around him, and the rest of his crew playing a game that I always thought was Japanese dominoes. The girls with the weird spiked hair and white eye shadow that absolutely couldn't stand attempted to greet me, but were ignored.

"You look nice." DK commented as he looked me up and down. "Big plans tonight?"

"Nope. I have something I need help with" I answered shortly. I was way too tired to come up with a witty response to any of his comments.

"Oh?" He asked mockingly as he leaned further back in his chair. "I can't think of anything you would need."

"I need some body work done on the Mazda and I was told to leave it for you." His eyebrows went up. I mouthed uncle at him and he nodded in understanding. "It was nothing I couldn't have fixed, but you were recommended."

"Leave it out back. I'll call you when it's done." I just nodded. I felt so drained. I turned and smacked straight into someone's broad chest. I looked up to see Han smiling at me.

"Well, hello." He joked.

"Sorry." I mumbled before stepping around him. I was almost out the door when DK called me back in. He shooed everyone else out and had Morimoto get me a drink. Han had made himself comfortable in one of the recently vacated chairs with a glass of what I thought was scotch. I joined him quietly.

"How much work needs to be done?" DK asked me as he extended his hand towards Han who put an envelope that probably held money in it. Han shot me a curious glance. He obviously missed that part.

"Good bit." I answered tiredly.

"Don't tell me the princess of drug running had trouble. Maybe she wasn't as good as Daddy said she was." Morimoto joked in Japanese. He couldn't seem to process the fact that I understood him. Han's eyebrows went up. I was too tired to answer so I shrugged and sipped my green tea.

"How long do you think it will take?" DK shoved the money into a drawer after he counted it and came to sit with us.

"New rear quarter panel-left, I think- and possibly a new back bumper. There was a little more heat than usual." I said bitterly. Stupid cops.

"Fine. I'll get it fixed."

"Thanks. See you later." I got up tiredly and made my way towards the door. I felt so drained after the run.

I had retrieved my purse and was already down the next street when someone grabbed my arm. I eeked and jerked around see it was just Han.

"I'll take you home. You shouldn't be alone on this side of town." He said kindly.

"Didn't you hear?" He raised an eyebrow at my bitter question. "I'm Yakuza. No one will mess with me." I felt myself tear up a little. Oh, great. I've been holding all of this in for three months and it all spills out in front of the hot one. Just, great. I bet I look like I'm psychotic right now.

He ignored me, threw a long arm over my shoulders and started dragging me back towards his Silvia across the street. "Kid, I know just what will cheer you up."

"A rewind button on my life?" He chuckled.

"You been drifting in the mountains yet?"