[ 3 ]

Takami trailed behind Fantasy like a comically shrunken shadow. The woman was on a mission, and he wanted to know why. She crushed a lit cigarette like it was nothing, her rough hands barely scuffed with ash.

"Why're you still here?" Birdie's voice sounded next to Takami, hushed and shaky in tone.

"No one's told me to leave yet," Takami said with a shrug.

Birdie rolled her eyes and picked up her pace, her gaze trying to reach up to Fantasy's. The tall woman didn't reciprocate, continuing at her fast pace. Other heads peeked out of dressing rooms, whispering amongst each other. Long nails would point at him and then retreat if he turned his head too fast.

"—He was lookin' kinda… um… scared?"

"Don't tell me things I already know," Fantasy scoffed. "He should be… daring to show his face here."

"Not… Not like that," Birdie explained, wringing her hands. Her little legs had to move faster to keep up with Fantasy's long stride. Birdie teetered on her lace-up magenta boots. "I—"

"That's enough," Fantasy said, cutting off Birdie's explanation with a hand.

Geez, what did this guy do? Takami came to a halt as they stopped in front of a metal door. Fantasy's hand curled around the rusting doorknob. She exhaled and muttered something to herself. Then, before Takami could process, the door flew open, and strangled cries sounded from inside.

Takami blinked. The door hit the wall so hard that the hinges bent, and spidery cracks caused the drywall to crumble. He continued to gawk as he hung in the doorway, but his attention snapped toward the opposite side of the new room.

Fantasy's raised fist dripped with scarlet. A bald man held himself up on the floor on all fours, a silvery gold chain hanging loosely from his neck. His head hung low, and a tooth mixed with strawberry colored spit hit the carpet.

Takami didn't know much about club politics, but the punishment didn't appear to fit whatever crime he committed. Wires and sound equipment crawled up the walls and huddled in corners like coiled snakes. Fantasy's face was blank as the man lifted a hand.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't bash your skull in," Fantasy growled.

"Hey, Fantasy. Long time, no talk, huh?" The man coughed, and his nose sat crooked on his face.

"Cut the shit, Reo," Fantasy said. "I'll give you five seconds."

"Please, hear me out this once. I know, I know, I haven't been the most trustworthy—"

"One."

The bald man's speech picked up. "I… I don't know who else to come to! You're the—"

"Two."

Fantasy leaned down, twisting his shirt in her grasp. His knees started to leave the ground as she lifted him to meet her gaze. Takami's mouth gaped. He couldn't rip his eyes away from the sheer power imbalance. That man was at least two hundred pounds, and Fantasy didn't even break a sweat.

"Please, just… just listen to me! This once. I'm… I'm sorry for all of the shit I did to you and your girls—"

"Three."

He grappled at her hands, his face paling. "It's… It's bad! It's real… I… I don't…"

"Time's almost up," Fantasy spat, and she raised her free fist.

Birdie shielded her face from the incoming carnage, letting out a small squeak. Takami waited with bated breath to see what was going to happen. His eyes flew between the bald man, Reo, and Fantasy. The entertainment value was off-the-charts, that's for sure.

"It's… It's one of my girls! Someone… Someone took her," he said, his voice cracking. "They took my Hina."

Fantasy stayed in her position, her teeth still bared. Her eyebrows flickered. With a small grunt, her jaw flexed back and forth in an internal debate. Fantasy's grip loosened, and the fabric slipped from her fingers. Reo hit the ground with a thud. He retched and then slapped the carpeted floor with his fist once.

"I'd heard the stories," Reo said while hacking. "But I didn't think it would happen to me and my club. But… I saw it… or him. Or her. I don't know. It was dark and—and look at me!"

Fantasy pressed her chin to her chest, peering down at her chest. Her bloody hand wiped itself across her cornflower blue beaded top and left behind streaks of purple. Then, Fantasy took a step backward, putting space between herself and the man. Her fingers dug around in her pocket.

"Karma's a bitch," Fantasy said through gritted teeth, a skinny cigarette now between her fingers. "But, your girls don't deserve the hell that you do."

"Exactly," Reo said, shaking a finger in agreement, even though his face fixated on the floor. Takami pushed a puff of air through his nose. Is this guy for real?

"You're the only one I could think of to talk to. Didn't you lose like four girls? That's what Sano said down at Kissing Rain. Everyone else is too scared to speak up."

"Never thought I'd live to see you scratching at my door like a pathetic dog. Reo, this is Hawks. His business with me is none of your concern," Fantasy said. "Hawks, this is Reo. His talents include harassing my girls online and getting arrested for flashing."

"That was one time," Reo whined. "And it was just a moon. Damn, everyone's a critic."

"Not to take her side or anything, but one time is too many," Takami said, leaning forward with his hands in his pockets. He turned his attention to Fantasy, cocking his head. "Can I say 'nice to meet you, Reo,' or is that pushing it?"

Fantasy exhaled smoke. "Don't bother."

Reo rolled back into a sitting position. He cleaned his face with his sleeve, and stained the faded white fabric. His sweatpants were matching; dusty and dingy like the rest of him. Reo's face was circular and flat, with pockmarks scattered across his cheeks.

"As I was saying," Reo said, huffing between his words. He flung out a hand after speaking. "I saw them."

"Can you describe them to me?" Takami asked, squatting down and letting his hands hang over his knees.

"My eyesight's pretty bad, so I'll do the best I can," Reo said.

Great, he's blind too? Takami hid his annoyance beneath a blank expression.

"Okay," Reo started. "I was walking out to take out some trash. My club is across the street and down a couple of blocks. It's the one with the fountain in front. Bottom's Up?"

"The plug-in one?" Takami asked, remembering how tacky he thought it looked.

The black plastic fountain had white grime building up around the spouts, and the hose ran openly toward the back. Also, the club name? Atrocious. Takami grimaced.

"Yeah." Reo nodded. "Hina… You know Hina, right, Fantasy?"

Fantasy glanced at the ceiling and then back at Reo. "Yeah, I do. She's pretty."

"Hina walked around the front to ask me about something, I don't remember what it was, but it was something about makeup or something," Reo said, staring down at his hands and fidgeting with his sleeve. "And… while I was walking inside, I… I saw her. They ran by me, and she… she yelled for me. Then, they disappeared. I… I ran. I actually ran up and down the sidewalk like some mad man. But her eyes… They were so terrified."

Takami's brows furrowed, and he raised a hand to his mouth. His pointer finger rubbed the side of his cheek while he listened. Fantasy's eyes focused on the cigarette in front of her.

"I'm a bad… bad, bad man," Reo said. "But I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to her. I couldn't even do what I was supposed to and protect my own club."

"Well, the likelihood of her being dead is slim," Takami said, stretching out his arms and cracking his knuckles. "If that makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't."

"Whatever," Takami quickly responded with a small shake of his head and then continued. "It's important you try to think of anything that makes this person stand out."

"Well… Um… He… or She… They were wearing a purple jacket with black sneakers." Reo scratched his forehead. He stopped fidgeting. "Wait, I do remember. They said something about… about something nightmare?"

"Nightmare?" Takami got to his feet. "Just nightmare?"

"Yeah, yeah. Like it was some sorta weird code or something. I couldn't hear the first word they said, but I definitely heard nightmare," Reo said, looking up at Fantasy and Hawks.

"You know anything about this, kid?" Fantasy asked, her heels clicking on the ground as she drew near again.

"No, nothing about nightmares," Takami said, racking his brain for any association. "What's Hina like? We need a baseline comparison between victims. So far, there's only been two connections: gender and the type of work they do."

Takami's gaze reached Fantasy's. He couldn't deny it; his investment in the case began to spike. He'd never seen such a pathetic display. A man blubbering at the feet of an exotic dancer was something to write home about. What exactly is their history?

"Hina?" Reo's voice cracked. Takami expected him to launch into a vast physical description, but the man's eyes wouldn't leave the floor. His voice lowered instead. "You know… My track record isn't the cleanest to ever exist, but she… I helped her one day. I never help nobody. But for some reason, I did for her. She was really struggling with street candy, you know? The works. I couldn't offer her much except for a job."

Takami's chest tightened. He didn't know what Reo was talking about, but it didn't sound good. Street candy? I've never heard of that before. Must be some kind of drug. Tears glittered in the corners of Reo's eyes, and he pressed through the emotion.

"She's generous… Nice. The girl that would help all the other ones out, like sewing and shit. I don't know, I wasn't ever there for that, but I knew it was happening. It wasn't long after I hired her that everyone was better," Reo said. His hands balled into fists. "I've been hearing about these disappearances and didn't think it would happen. I should've done… should've… should've done more."

"Does that correlate with Ichika, Fantasy?" Takami asked, unable to look at the tears slipping down Reo's cheeks.

Fantasy's hardened expression cracked. She sighed, her shoulders sloping. "No, it doesn't. I know what Hina looks like. There are no similarities in appearance."

"Damn," Takami said to himself. There was no correlation other than being at the wrong place, right time? That didn't make anything easy.

"That's all you saw, Reo?" Fantasy asked, putting a hand on her hip. The cracks filled, and she leaned back into her casual stance. "C'mon, you sack of shit. I know your criminal record. I can't truly ask this because your club is full of freaks at any given time, but you didn't see anything earlier today? Game recognizes game."

"I swear it. No one was weirdly hanging around my club. I… I don't know what to do."

"Well." Fantasy sighed. "There's nothing you can do except run your damn club and report any suspicious activity. Who's in charge there? You just left it to come crying to me?"

"You're right. I should go back. I… I—"

"You what? You lost a girl? Join the fucking club." Fantasy's words bit, harsh and short. The way she lashed out caused Takami's stomach to drop. He frowned at her, opening his mouth to protest, but no words fell out.

"Now pick yourself up like the rest of us, and hope you get to see her again," Fantasy said and pointed toward the door. "Get out of my sight."

The protests finally rose from his throat. Takami held out his arms and approached Fantasy, standing at her side. "Woah! Are you serious? He saw the perpetrator, and you're just going to kick him out?"

"I said what I said," Fantasy said, blowing smoke into Takami's face.

Did anyone ever tell her those are bad for you?

"Fine. Let me know what you figure out, Fantasy. I know you've been sticking your nose places you shouldn't. Thanks for listening and not completely… beating my ass," Reo said and added a chuckle at the end. He shuffled toward the doorway, brushing by Takami's shoulder.

Fantasy gave a subtle jerk of her chin at Birdie, who gave an understanding nod. "Don't expect such a warm reception next time."

Birdie jogged to catch up to Reo. "Lemme escort you out, Mr. Reo."

Takami found himself following Fantasy again, who glanced over her shoulder and beckoned him to keep up. Darkness ate away at the light. Cool blue lights flooded Takami's vision as the satin breeze of the entrance curtains caressed his cheek. They were back in the main club area, which was livelier than ever. The performer on stage hit every beat, roars from club-goers pounded his ears like they were human drums.

"Why're we out here again?" Takami asked, resting his arms on the tall corner table she directed them to. Fantasy lifted the cigarette to her lips, her eyes searching the crowd.

Takami waved a hand in front of her. "Hello? Earth to Fantasy? Why'd you kick him out? He's a key witness. This is a together thing, you know. Team effort?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to shut up and listen?" Fantasy's eyes skirted through each individual that passed by. "Tell me what you see."

"Listen, lady. I don't have time for whatever this is—"

"You see that man over there?" Fantasy interrupted, pointing with her cigarette toward a lean man with a green collared shirt.

Takami sighed, throwing back his head. I don't have time for this bullshi— "What about him?"

"He's jealous of his friend," Fantasy said and used her cigarette to outline his silhouette. "The way he's standing. His arms are crossed. He keeps trying to get between one of my girls and the other men, you see? But his eyes are never on the girls. They're on red shirt."

Takami decided to look. At a nearby table, a group of men ordered rounds of rainbow-colored drinks. The green-shirted man's jaw was stiff, and at every opportunity, he'd try to strike up a conversation with any passing woman. His foot struck the floor in vicious taps as his stare hurled daggers. Takami tilted his head, observing the red-shirted man now.

His smile beamed, blinding against the bursts of indigo light. His hair was dyed a platinum blonde but poorly kept up. A silver cross bounced off his chest when he laughed, but his facial expression never fully leaned into the emotion. He wildly gestured with his hands, nodding as everyone encouraged him with grins.

"As for him?" Fantasy sucked on her cigarette again, motioning toward the red-shirted man. "He's losing it."

Takami tore his eyes away from the table and back to the woman next to him. "Why are you telling me this? And why does it matter?"

"Because you're terrible at reading people."

The lights of Fantasy's eyes were the only thing Takami could see between the flashes of the sparkling navy radiance. White and glassy, smooth like the ocean before a torrential downpour. She rolled her nails across the table, and her long lashes kissed her cheek when she blinked.

"If we're going to work together, you need to learn quickly," Fantasy said.

"Reading people isn't my job," Takami replied, watching her lips quirk upward. "I'm here to solve this case, and that's it."

Cheers erupted near the stage, the lights melting into a bright pink. Fantasy turned out to face him directly. Strands of blue curled around her face, the bright red lip-gloss still glinting. Reo's blood freckled her cheeks like it were on purpose.

"Then solve the case. Right now. Go on; I'm waiting."

Takami's heart hammered in his chest. Who was this woman? This complete stranger? What the hell was her problem? She couldn't solve the case for two years, and she turned away their crucial witness? He shifted his weight, not breaking from her intense stare.

"I can't do that, because we're standing here staring at random clubbers," Takami said, his voice stretched with tension.

"Hmph." Fantasy smirked. "Fair."

Takami scanned those who walked by, keeping watch for any wandering ears. "Why'd you turn Reo away? And answer this time. He's the best lead I—we've had so far."

"I won't answer until you tell me about their striped friend." Fantasy motioned back toward the group of men. Indeed, a man in a multi-colored striped shirt cupped a drink with two hands. He swallowed it all without hesitation.

Takami let out a grunt in frustration and narrowed his attention on the man. He didn't have time for whatever game she was playing, but he didn't have a choice. He hated the position she put him in, waiting at her side like a puppy. Takami put his chin in his hand, lazily watching.

I'll just make up something, and then we can get back to the case.

The striped man's feet pointed away from the conversation. Takami squinted, getting a closer look at his facial expression. One corner of the man's mouth raised into a half-smile, but like his green-shirted friend, his stare never left the central man. His jaw jutted out, and he rubbed his hand down his face while laughing.

"He… wants to get away from the conversation," Takami said out loud, forgetting all about the internal promise he made two seconds ago. "And I think he has similar feelings of hatred, like the other guy."

When the striped-shirted man started talking, his eyes never touched on the subject. They'd swing around the room or skirt the floor. The man motioned toward the bathroom, and his friends nodded, pointing a finger to him. Takami straightened his shoulders, deep into observation. The man's expression curl in disgust. He moved along the wall, turned a corner, and disappeared out of the club.

What the hell… He left? And I could see it. I could see what he was going to do. With the way his eyes moved and the way his feet positioned themselves— He was planning it all along.

"He lied, and he left, but I could see it coming. Am I done now? Did I win?" Takami whipped his head back to look at Fantasy.

"Yes," Fantasy said, nodding as she took a drag. "There are some things that can be answered just by shutting up and listening to what bodies are telling you."

The words struck him in the chest. Mentally, he felt his soul knock itself down a few pegs. Rage flickered, lighting itself behind a few sharp retorts he could sling. But the words never fully formed and settled in the back of his mind like little pebbles. What did she know anyway? Nothing. He could've figured that out.

Yeah, he didn't need her prompting.

"What a waste of time," Takami pocketed his hands, then he willed himself to relax. A wave of calm washed over his burning hot thoughts. "Well, if you're so good at listening, what did Reo tell you?"

Smoke slithered up her hand, curling around her palm like a serpent. Fantasy's eyes roamed back to his. She didn't have a smile on her face. Instead, her icy stare turned his blood to stone.

"Lies."