Something vibrates against my butt. My hands reach behind me and — oh, it’s the alarm on my cellphone, vibrating. Time to catch a train if I’m to get to work earlier than usual tomorrow. Yoshino is on the other side of the room at the bar with her gentleman caller and his entourage.

“There she is!” Everyone applauds as I approach. Yoshino punches me on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you could move like that! Look at you. Full of surprises, girl!”

“I’m no expert. I just know the basics.”

“Liar! You were twirling like a freaking ballroom dancer. You got a double life the rest of Zozo don’t know about?”

“Nah, the trick is to go limp.”

A blond man leans over, crushing Yoshino from behind; she cringes at his beer breath and pulls away. “That’s what she said!” he guffaws.

“I’m sorry, were any of us talking to you?” I ask. He stops laughing with a crestfallen look, like I just stole his puppy and kicked it across the snack bar. “That’s what I thought. Hey, Yoshino —”

“Listen,” she says. “They all want to go for food, then come back for karaoke. Would you mind coming with us? We won’t be long!”

She’s already locked her arm with mine and is smiling up at me with a pitiful puppy whining sound. Damn it. “I can stay for one or two songs. Manager wants me at Zozo super early tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes, your trial lesson! Don’t worry. Thanks, Cyb.”

“Your friend coming with us, Yosh?” Matt asks, turning to me. “We’re going to Mickey D’s. You’re not, like, vegan or anything, are you?” What kind of stupid question is that?

Outside, the crowd of us herd down a few side streets and into a bright shoutengai. The fresh air is heavy with the scent of rain and cinnamon gum. It takes forever to locate a McDonald’s, walking past several Lotterias, KFCs, and conbinis before we find one. I let Yoshino’s powerful arm guide me. The lights and lit-up signs make my senses throb so hard I can feel them like my own pulse. It’s like the music from Kappa Garappa has followed me, the rhythms of the music having seeped into my veins, still pumping a beat. I wonder if this is what a migraine feels like.

“You okay, Cyb?” Yoshino asks me.

“Hungry.”

“Aw, don’t worry, baby,” says Matt’s blond friend. “Whatever you ladies want is on me!”

“No, it’s okay,” I reach into my back pocket for my wallet, wishing I’d brought my purse, which I’m pretty sure had a whole bottle of Advil. My headache is coming back. “I got it.”