'Nother Sip of Gin - Rhys Ford Page 0,3
fine.”
There was barely enough room to walk, and both of them had to duck several times to avoid a low-slung wire or lantern dangling in the way. Judging by the glass beer and sake bottles in wooden racks hung above many of the curtained doors, the alley was where someone came to drink. The boisterous laughter breaking free of one place was as familiar as any Miki’d heard in countless cities, but the food smells wafting from a walk-up yakisoba shop definitely was Tokyo, a rich blend of salty savory with a hint of curry beneath it. His stomach grumbled a bit as they passed, Damien catching him by the elbow when Miki slowed to peer at the picture menu taped to the side of the shop’s open order window.
“Later. Or at least come back when I’m screaming in pain and need something in my mouth besides my own tongue,” Damien said, hurrying him along. “The shop’s just right there.”
“Fine,” Miki reluctantly agreed. “But you owe me some noodles. Maybe even a beer.”
“Jesus, if it’s not music, it’s food. You’ve got two tracks in that busy head of yours,” his brother replied. “Let me just meet up this Ichiro Tokugawa guy and I’ll cut you loose to get some noodles. Just… don’t pull a Stan. I want you there when he starts.”
“Dude, I’m not going anywhere,” Miki promised. “I’m here ’til the end. And if this Ichiro guy screws up your tattoo, I’ll even buy you that whiskey… right before I call Edie to come bail me out of jail for murder.”
THE FIRST bite of pain came fast and hard, a splash of fire on his skin, then settling into his bones. Gripping the back of the chair he was sitting on, Damien breathed through the sting of coals being dragged across his flesh and focused on whatever was in front of him… whatever he could see through the filmy veil of tears clouding his vision.
He’d loved the tattoo, an elaborate kirin with a defiant smirk and flaming mane, but Ichi warned him it would take more than a few sessions to complete. They’d made arrangements to meet again in San Francisco and Los Angeles when Ichi came over to do a tour, but the initial work—the hardest part—would be done in Tokyo, a six- to seven-hour stretch of outlines and packed-in black stippling.
There was going to be a hell of a lot of drinking once he was able to get out of the chair.
His brother, Miki, was hungry… although to be fair, Miki was always hungry.
He’d gotten taller since the day Damie heard him belting out Joplin on a Chinatown fire escape, and gained a bit of muscle mass, adding a wiry strength to his lanky frame. His hair was longer, a messy chestnut-streaked brown mane, and his face had filled out, taking him from a chipmunk-cute kid to a stunningly pretty young man. His green-flecked hazel eyes were the same, guarded, skeptical, and usually hooded, taking in everything around him.
Just like he was doing right now.
At midnight, the tattoo shop was busy, filled with the chatter of artists and a couple of clients who kept sneaking glances over at the mixed-race singer sprawled out over a weathered velvet wingchair Ichi’d dragged over for Miki to sit in. Sitting was… difficult for Miki. He lounged into things, his lean body a sinuous liquid pour of elegant dismissal of physics and manners, his long legs draped over chair arms. If it were anyone else, Damie would have thought the artful arrangement of limbs and the erotic cant of Miki’s head against the chair’s upper swoop was a calculated pose meant to seduce and arouse.
Damie knew better. Miki was fucking oblivious.
Not so much that his eyes didn’t narrow when Damien hissed at the mounting pain, but still, clueless as to how he was affecting many of the people in the shop.
Oddly enough, as gorgeous and sensual of a creature as Miki was, he did absolutely nothing for Damien… except invoke a need to protect and possibly shove as much food down his brother’s throat as humanly possible.
Someone in the shop switched the music over, flipping from classic L’arc En Ciel to Sinners Gin, and Damien laughed at Miki’s eye roll.
“Why don’t you get those noodles you wanted?” Damien suggested through a hiss. “I’m going to be here a while.”
“Want some too? Or do you want me to grab you some coffee instead?” Miki eased up out of the chair with a