Page 20 of A Dom Vs. Domme Story
“You think I don’t know that?” he scoffs. The more this guy talks, the less I like him. “That’s why I took him to the hospital when he got sick.”
“What?”
“Nan desutte?”
Both of us lord over him with our feminine powers that are sure to make him shake in his boxer shorts. Kunihiro does an admirable job of looking unfazed, however. “Relax! A little food poisoning from the club. I took him to the hospital. He’ll be fine. Surprised they didn’t let him out today and he didn’t come back.”
“Oh my fucking God, which hospital?”
Junri puts an arm in front of me before I can grab this ass by the collar and shake him until he gives me an answer. “What are you talking about? He’s in the hospital? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why hasn’t Uncle said anything?”
“Because Uncle doesn’t know. Ian got sick after he left. You arenotgoing to tell him that our important business associate got sick on my watch, Jun.”
“Shinjirarenai!” I hear he say for the second time tonight. She berates her cousin in their native language for a good couple of minutes. I glance over at his date, who is currently filing her nails on the bed. She couldn’t care less about us. “You’re really something else, jackass,” Junri finally says in English. “Kathryn’s been so worried about him all day, and this whole time he was in the hospital? You didn’t even tell me or Aunt?”
“Well, you know now, don’t you? Hey, don’t tell Uncle. He’s mad enough at me about other things.” Gee, can’t imagine what. “He doesn’t need to know about this. Tell Aunt if you want. She likes me.”
Can I slap this guy? Seriously?
“Which hospital?”
Kunihiro rattles a name off in Japanese. All I get out of it is Ginza.
“Come on.” Junri motions for me to follow her out of the hotel room. “I can take you there.”
“Don’t tell Uncle. Promise!”
Junri makes no promises as we march out of the room and back toward the elevator. My mind is full of so many worst-case scenarios. My Ian? In the hospital? Food poisoning? On one hand, I’m glad he wasn’t hiding from me. On the other? I’m about to barrel my way toward a Japanese hospital where I don’t know the local customs at all, and I don’t know how many candy-stripers will go down in the process.
***
If I were in a better state of mind, I’d remark on the subtle differences between American and Japanese hospitals. But I’m nowhere in the right state of mind to be making those kinds of calls, so I’ll say this:
Where the fuck is Ian?
The information desk on the first floor is helpful enough. Junri makes the inquiry, and the woman behind the counter points us up to the second floor. Some wing named after a politician who passed some laws in Minato or wherever the fuck we are that made it easier for this hospital to take on expansion projects. I don’t care. I’m more pissed off at the nurse behind the main desk of the wing we now find ourselves in.
“Do you speak English?” I ask. “I’m looking for Ian Mathers. He’s my boyfriend. They told me had food poisoning and…”
Junri firmly steps between the desk and me. “Sumimasen,” she says with her super polite tone. “Ian Matherswa koko ni imasu ka?”
The nurse glances between us before checking something on her computer. “Amerika-jin desu ka?”
“Hai. Amerika-jin desu.”
More careful studying of charts and tables that look straight out of 1994. Aren’t computers supposed to be super advanced here in Japan? What’s with this? Does this hospital suck? Should I immediately arrange to have him transferred to a different hospital? Shit! If we were in America, I would know what to do!
The nurse points between us and asks something. Junri responds, pointing to herself, but turning to me. “She wants to know your relation to him.”
Really? We have to do this? “He’s my boyfriend,” I say. “Do you understand that?Boy. Friend.”
Junri dresses it up in her translation. I hear partner instead of boyfriend.
The nurse studies me as if I’m some hussy off the street. Her eyes dart to my left hand, where I’ve been wearing my promise ring all day. Yes, it looks like a wedding ring. I’m very aware of this, and now, more than ever, I’m grateful to have accidentally thought ahead.
“She wants to know if you are his wife.”
The tone implies everything I need to know. This woman stands between Ian and me, and what? I’m supposed to lie? In the face of one of my least favorite questions? “No,” I answer in too much haste. “Not his wife. Not his sister. Definitely not his daughter or his mother.” God, I wish Caroline were here now! “His partner.”
