Street Dreams

Chapter 4 - Arrival

    Hana had learned through some of the shortest conversation she had ever experienced that his name was Ren. There was no last name to call him by, at least that's what he claimed. She began to wonder if anyone else at this branch knew his last name. Normally, silence was something that she could deal with. It was a matter of the culture to use quiet moments to reflect on what has been said. But everything about this man sent up warnings in her. She resigned herself to looking out of the window, and watching the passing scenery. There were the occasional trees, and bushes. When she saw a tumbleweed roll across a street, she pressed to the window. She had never seen one outside of movies, and thought that they were just a construct of Hollywood. "A tumbleweed! They're real!?"

    Her English was practically perfect. She had been sent overseas, briefly, for school, and it was something she was proud of. The stoic man driving, however, did not seem to notice. "You will get used to them."

    She settled back into her seat. The drive seemed like it was a lot longer than it was. Hana blamed it on the fact that her husband-to-be seemed like an utter bore. When she was at home she was doted on, during the good times at least. She went out clubbing, stayed away from home for days to avoid the bad times. Her mind drifted to darker places. She remembered her father. He hadn't been particularly pleased with the fact that she was leaving to go to America for this arrangement, but he had agreed to it, nonetheless. She just blamed it on the fact that he wouldn't want her to be anywhere away from him. Yet, he wanted her far away at the same time. It was a two-sided struggle she never quite understood. At least he hadn't left her with any bruises to greet this guy with. She only had a few bruises on her arms, though they were no fault but her own. Hana was certain that the make-up covered them acceptably.

    Once they had hit the main drag, she began to try looking at the casinos that passed by. There were people going in and out of them, even this early in the morning. It was much busier at night, she assured herself. It had to be. Seeing a particular woman, dressed in off-brand clothes that were at once flashy, yet just understated enough not to announce her presence to everyone, Hana pointed, "Is that a hooker?"

    It was intended to be shocking, but there was no shock. She almost thought he was ignoring her until he shook his head. "They are around. That is just another thing you'll get used to. Though, it is illegal in the city limits. That is why we have houses outside of the city for that. Some decide to start their business illegally, though." There was a long pause, then he spoke again. It sounded rote. Hana could tell that he was forcing himself. "Are you hungry?"

    She crossed her legs, pulling out a pack of Seven Stars. Slipping one of the cigarettes out, she lit it with a match, then opened her window to let the smoke and flick the dying matchstick out. She was sincerely beginning to think that she should just try to get back home. But, if she did that, it would be like spitting in the Mori-gumi's hospitality and good will. It would not turn out well. Her father did not like being disgraced, and she was in no rush to find herself in a hospital bed. "Yeah, I'm fucking starving."

    

    Ren was a little surprised at her choice of words, and the fact that she used it so casually. He considered that while they were sitting in Flavors, the Harrah's buffet. His eyes slid down her, looking over the girl who was to be his wife. She was slender, almost boyishly, with just the slightest curve at her hip, and petite breasts. Having become used to American women, she looked almost childish, except for the height, which almost matched his. She must have inherited the height from her father. Her black leather miniskirt showed off long, slender legs wrapped in thigh high stockings. Those were nice enough, at least. Her face was acceptable, framed by wavy hair kept almost as light as Hiroki's. He didn't like it when Japanese girls bleached their hair. He barely tolerated it when his friend did it. Her legs and face were the only saving grace. Would he fuck her? He looked her up and down again... maybe. When he realized that he would have to, at some point, the prospect annoyed him.