Maybe Asao is partially right? The script is all fucked up now, so I don’t want to deal with it. He’s messy. “Whatever the case,” I say, “it’s never happening, so don’t worry. I look forward to reading through your proposal, Doctor.”
I nod politely, turn and leave the bathroom. Case closed. As I walk down the hallway, my phone buzzes inside my jacket pocket. I pull it out and look at the screen. Two additional messages quickly pop up. All from the harpy.
[We’re scheduled to feed tomorrow Violet. You sexy motherfucker.]
[11:00 am DON’T BE LATE.]
[If you’ve fed from some low-leveler or human in the past week, don’t even bother coming.]
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I groan. I should feed from some low-level vamp or human tonight, just to spite him and call bullshit on his empty threats.
Seven
Jae
Recently, I realized that I rarely ever make the first move. I’ve never done so with another man. I can think of a few times when I’ve initiated physical intimacy with a woman. With men, they always make the first move on me. I don’t know why.
Have I not liked anyone enough? Or did they just choose me and I went along with it? Do I unconsciously expect someone else to make the first move? This deserves deeper analysis at some point.
Currently, I’m holding my journal as I pace back and forth outside a meeting room at the hospital. Junichi is inside. I hear his voice, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. I also can’t hear anyone else talking. I think he’s on the phone?
“Tu no dejes que esa gente te hable así.”
I have context clues now, though. He’s definitely speaking Spanish. What dialect, I have no idea. Could be Mexican Spanish, Puerto Rican Spanish, Spain Spanish and on and on. While this doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s part Latinx, it at least tells me a little more about him. My mind has been in a wild state of tug-of-war all week—half worried about this proposal and half thinking about him. Particularly how stunning his golden-brown skin looked in that plum suit.
“Por qué diablos tu ordenaste una caja de fideos? Qué tu vas a hacer con toda una caja?”
I have five more patients to see today. One of which is new, and I’m always chuffed to meet new patients and understand their unique circumstance. Something in it is thrilling, like a fresh riddle to solve, and I genuinely love helping.
“Oh, guineos! Ah bueno… tá bien.”
Risa told me Junichi doesn’t have a formal office in the hospital, since he’s hardly ever here. When he is, it’s usually for meetings, so he camps out in a conference room until everything is done. It’s been a week since I saw him at the gala. I’m nowhere near finished with the proposal, but I need some parameters. Guidance?
When I think I hear him say “adiós” a minute later, followed by a stretch of silence, I take a chance and knock on the door. He tells me to come in. This conference room is one of the nicer ones.
There are some meeting rooms in the hospital that feel like they’re made for hostages, with no windows and only harsh fluorescent lighting. This particular room is filled with natural light. It’s at the back of the building, so the windows are facing the thicket of trees behind the hospital. The afternoon light is yellow gold, and the leaves are still bright green as they flicker in the gentle breeze. A month from now, I’m hoping everything will be washed in red and orange.
Junichi is sitting at the table, in a chair off to the side, not at the head. He’s alone like I thought—dressed surprisingly casually. He’s wearing a gray cotton shirt, but it’s layered underneath a blazer that looks like a creamy jumper, and it’s patterned with thin black horizontal stripes. His jeans are deep blue and he has on expensive-looking trainers. Black leather and laces with stark white soles, like it’s the first time he’s ever worn them.
He looks fucking delicious, and the room is filled with his clean, woodsy-lavender scent. He’s texting on his phone, but stops and flicks his black irises up at me under his dark lashes. “Hello, Doctor Davies.”
English today. That’s nice. He sounded angry when he spoke in Japanese before. “Hello…” The table is too wide to sit across from him, and sitting next to him seems awkward. I sit at the head of the table and face him.
“Risa said you wanted to ask me about the proposal?” He’s texting again, but then stops and pointedly sets the phone on the table, face down, giving me his full attention.
I swallow, ignoring the stupid anxiety in my gut. “Yes. This is my first time writing a proposal for this establishment… and for you. While I’m obviously answering basic questions—who this proposal is for, what it aims to accomplish, why it is relevant and so on—I was hoping for more finite parameters. Perhaps a better idea of your expectations when reading a proposal?”
Before I go blindly careening off a cliff, I figure it’s best to know what he’s looking for. This way I don’t waste his time or mine.
“Very smart. Your idea is to create a database of vampire surrogates for same-sex mated couples, correct?” Junichi asks.
I blink. “How did you know?”
“Haruka told me.”
“Right…” I’m sitting here with the owner of an award-winning major metropolitan hospital whose best friend is like the purebred king of vampires in Western Japan. I’m suddenly having an out-of-body experience. I have no idea how I ended up here and vaguely associated with this elite circle of creatures.
“Haruka suggested I help you with fleshing out the proposal, since I know things about our culture that you’re not privy to,” Junichi says. “So it’s good you came to me. He said he’ll help you with the back-end research and establishing contacts wherever needed.”
I nod. “Okay, brilliant.” I lay my journal on the table, open it to a fresh page and grab the pen tucked inside. “Since you already know the basis of the proposal, can you tell me what initial concerns you have based on your cultural insight?”
Junichi folds his arms and adjusts so he’s sitting back comfortably. He crosses his ankle over his knee. “Well, I’m not concerned about participation, or how much we’ll need to pay the surrogates. If Haruka’s and Nino’s names are slapped on this, you’ll have plenty of vamps willing to sign up for just about anything for little or no compensation.”
“Right. I was thinking that might be the case.”
“My biggest concern is communication and how the information will be organized once we receive it. I think we should do a small test market first. How are we presenting this to the vampire community? We need to be careful about the language we use, because ranked vamps can be very haughty and indignant about their blood. And what about unranked vampires? Inevitably, they’ll learn that we’re doing this. Are we not accepting their biology and telling them to go to human agencies? We can’t discriminate. If we do this for purebreds and ranked vampires, we have to do this for same-sex low-level couples who want it too.”
I nod again, writing at a furious pace. I hadn’t thought of that. “I agree. I absolutely do not want to discriminate.”
“There needs to be a clear understanding,” Junichi explains. “Once we have things firmly established, I think hospitals in other regions should have their own processes apart from ours, but we’re all communicating with each other and using the same database. Does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense. We would create the framework, then offer it to other hospitals to adopt and administer.”
“Exactly. You should consider the workload you’re taking on. This is a vast project, and there needs to be a hard line for where you turn over the reins. Hospital by hospital? City by city? Country by country? These are also things to think about.”
I’m still writing and nodding, but he’s absolutely right. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I want the database to be available internationally—meaning anyone can help any vampire couple anywhere. But would it be better if one major hospital handled this per city? So the information is being funneled cleanly instead of through multiple hospitals and channels? More hospitals (and smaller ones, at that) means more complications. More room for errors. Shit. I have a lot to think about.
“I’d like you to have those things figured out in your proposal.” Junichi unfolds his arms and clasps his hands in the gap of his thighs. “A clear, streamlined path for how this will work—without anyone being offended or excluded.”
