“Uh, who’s making googly eyes at who now?” I ask defensively.

Zaniel ignores my question. “Come on. Let’s get a cup of coffee — uh, not from Tully’s though, I think they were getting ready to call the police on me for sitting there so long. A man can only drink so many swirkles.”

“I’m full, thanks.”

“Then let’s go for a walk. Give you plenty of time to let your stomach settle. If you liked this udon guy, I know a place in Osaka that you will love. It’s real close to where Festivalgate used to be —”

“Osaka? At this time of night? With you?”

“Yeah! Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe. Think of me as your ‘bodyguard.’” He pauses a beat. “I heard they make this huge ohagi platter that you’ve gotta see to believe.”

“Oh man, I love ohagi,” I blurt before I can stop myself. Who am I kidding, I was doomed to give in to any of this strange man’s requests as soon as my ass hit that stool. “I guess my betsu bara can shift around a little in the next hour. But I’m warning you, if you try anything, I will take a chunk out of your jugular and make it look like an accident.”

“Fair enough, my lady.” He bows and leads the way. He takes my bike with him.

twelve

A VERY CURIOUS SENSATION

虎穴に入らずんば虎子を得ず

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

Zaniel can’t sing. That’s not to say I’m chastising him for it, because he did warn me. I just find it funny that everyone at Zozo thinks he’s Mr. Perfect, but when it comes to carrying a tune, he can’t do it. He can, however, keep up with rap lyrics, so our rendition of the Fugees’ “Ready or Not” starts out rocky and ends with a clean finish. The crowd below the stage goes wild. Most people are eating or on their cellphones, but they are all cheering. One elderly salaryman in the pit below us is bowing Wayne’s World–style, and the ones around him make scooping motions with their arms and shout “Motto, motto!” But we’re only allowed to sing one song at a time, so we bow and jog backstage.

“Whew! I didn’t think I was going to survive that!” Zaniel gasps. “You were right, though, it wasn’t that fast, so … Cybelle?”

“Yeah …” I trail off, distracted. There’s another set of stairs back here, leading down into darkness. There’s a cold chill coming from it, which is weird because it wasn’t cold outside at all. “Hey. What do you think is down there?”

Zaniel shrugs. “I don’t know. Come on. We still have to pick our next song.”

“Right. Um, how do you feel about ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’?”