The Flower Master (Rei Shimura #3) by Sujata Massey

shift in rhythm gave me a chance to slide out from between Richard and Enrique's sweaty bodies. Richard pinched my arm hard but whispered in my ear, "Good luck. Now you're the belle of the ball."
    Completely mortified, I ran straight for the door and into the massive Latino-Japanese bouncer who had let me in for free.
    "Your drinks are not paid," he said.
    I felt for the shoulder strap of my purse before remembering Richard had swept me up so fast I'd not been able to take it to the dance floor. I made some pleas, and the bouncer followed me back to the bar, where my purse had been perched next to my glass. Both the glass and the purse were gone.
    I glanced toward the dance floor, but enough people had stormed the floor at the change in music that I couldn't see Richard and Enrique. I would have to handle things myself.
    "Somebody in your bar is a thief," I said to the bouncer.
    The man laughed. "Si. You are talking about yourself, trying to sneak out like a bandito."
    "I had a bag with twenty thousand yen on the counter, and its been taken!" Credit cards, address book, my MAC lipstick—all those things were also lost.
    "Is this what you want?" Takeo Kayama was suddenly standing next to me, dangling my small purse on its long chain like a used tea bag.
    I grabbed it from him, wondering if he had taken it in the first place. I glanced toward his booth and saw that Che had vanished.
    I opened my bag. The money, lipstick, and address book were all there. "What do I owe?" I asked the bouncer.
    "Two thousand fifty," the bouncer said, slightly mollified.
    Takeo watched closely as I handed over two thousand-yen notes and one hundred-yen coin.
    "I will get change," the bouncer said.
    "Don't bother." I hastened toward the door.
    "People don't tip in Japan," Takeo said, following me.
    "I'm not standing around for fifty yen, okay?"
    "You're dressed up like a little gladiolus. Where are you going?" There was laughter in Takeo's voice.
    It was obviously the way a headmaster-in-training could speak to his underlings.
    I didn't answer, just kept walking. I was furious about his participation in my little drama.
    "Maybe you're going home. Twenty-five-fifty Shiomodai, apartment one. Yanaka is a rather old- world neighborhood. I didn't know any young people lived there."
    "So you went through my address book? Either you want to date me really badly or you're planning to kill me." I stopped. What would have normally sounded like a snappy comeback was suddenly inappropriate.
    Takeo stopped smiling. In a lower voice, he said, "Let's go around the corner. There's an izakaya where we can talk."
    He was suggesting we go to a pub on the spur of the moment, as if I were some kind of pickup. Or because he was worried that I'd seen him with Che Fujisawa.
    I shouldn't have gone, but looking over Takeo's lean frame, I decided that, angry as I was, I could still stand having a drink with him. Especially if he paid the bill.

Chapter 7
    The izakaya around the corner was packed but, to my eye, disappointingly bright and ordinary. Students, young salarymen, and office ladies were squeezed into booths, the tables between filled with bottles of beer and small plates of grilled sardines and rice balls. We had to wait in a line in the vestibule with everyone else. So much for being with the son of one of Japan's ten wealthiest men.
    Takeo seemed blasé about the wait. He lifted a pack of Mild Sevens out of his jacket pocket.
    "Smoke?" he asked.
    I shook my head and said, "I wouldn't have thought you'd smoke, given your interest in environmentalism."
    "Nicotiana is a marvelous plant. I became interested in it when I was studying horticulture in California. But you're right, smoking is a bad habit. I've been trying to quit."
    After five more minutes, a waitress with a pierced eyebrow led us through the rowdy front section to the back section, where we had to take off our shoes and step up to a floor covered with tatami mats. Here the low tables were made of pine,