Page 61 of Something Like Forever
He let Corey worry aboutthe details. As soon as they were in the Mazda again, Tim gotcomfortable and sent a text to Ben.
I’m online again!Hopefully I’m in your front pocket right now and vibrating.;)
Yay!Ben responded.At the hospital.Sorry.
That just makes ithotter, Tim replied.Wanna play doctor?
I’m working! Otherwise, yes.
Tim decided to leave Benalone and focus on his surroundings because the future gallery’slocation was just as important as the space itself. He quizzedCorey about the different neighborhoods and struggled to rememberthe various names that were mentioned.
“This one is close toRoppongi,” Corey explained.
“The nightlifearea?”
“Very good! It’s farenough from the sleazy bars to be quiet and safe, but still closeenough that locals and tourists alike won’t struggle to findyou.”
“Sounds ideal,” Tim saidas they pulled over and parked. “Marcello sent you the list of whatI’m looking for?”
“Sure did,” Corey said.“There’s our real estate agent.”
She was an older Japanesewoman. Tim forgot her name about two seconds after Corey introducedthem. He really needed to work on that. Maybe Corey could helptutor him somehow. For now, Tim turned his attention to thebuilding, which was on a corner. That was its one saving grace. Thedingy appearance, and the smell of old cooking oil inside, turnedhim off.
“This used to be a hibachigrill,” Corey translated.
That was obvious from thetables, chairs, and long grills, all still present. The restaurantseemed to have hurriedly closed its doors one day and never openedthem again. The only things missing were the dishes andcutlery.
“You can tell from thefurnishings that it was a tourist trap,” Corey murmured.“Definitely meant to give Westerners an ‘authentic’experience.”
Interesting, but Tim waspuzzled about why they were in a restaurant at all. Then again, theEric Conroy Gallery in Austin had been a shoe store once. All thatreally mattered was a large open space, which this place had, andlight, which it definitely didn’t.
Two pairs of eyes soughthis feedback, Tim shrugging in response. “I was hoping for lots ofwindows.”
Corey translated this, thereal estate agent pointing to the far wall. Tim wasn’t sure what hewas seeing until he got nearer. Fish tanks. Lots and lots of fishtanks, built into the wall. Tim tried not to laugh as he turned toCorey. “Are you sure you know how to speak Japanese?”
“It’s a difficultlanguage!” his guide protested before trying again.
The woman led them to the opposite side ofthe restaurant and peeled back brown paper, revealing filthy glassand a distorted view of the street outside.
“Very nice,” Tim said,trying to wipe away the dirt. It resisted. If he had to guess, acombination of grease and cigarette smoke was to blame. “Let’s keeplooking.”
The three of them walked afew minutes to a nearby basement. The exposed brick walls appealedto him, but the property was too small, and again, too dark. Theyleft the real estate agent behind and met another on the oppositeside of Roppongi. They were shown what was clearly a one-bedroomapartment, a warehouse space that was much too large, and threeproperties actually suitable to a gallery, none of which excitedhim. During a brief break for lunch, they compared notes, Coreysearching on his phone for better options and making calls. Timreceived one of his own.
“How are mattersprogressing?” Marcello purred.
“Slowly,” Tim admitted. “Ihaven't found anything that I'm happy with.”
“I'm not surprised,” camethe response. “Remember what a struggle it was here?”
Tim did. They had searchedhigh and low for the ideal place, a process that ended up takingsix months. More when renovations were added. Tokyo was, bycomparison, a much more complex city than Austin. Regardless, hewas determined that this search wouldn't be as drawn-out. No waywas he staying away from Ben for half a year! “We'll find somethingsoon,” he said. “It's still the first day.”
“Quite right. And what doyou think of Mrs. Hashimoto? She has the wickedest sense of humor,wouldn't you agree?”
“She couldn't make it,”Tim said. He raised his gaze to the table where he had left Corey,who was rubbing his head wearily while on a call of his own. “Mr.Tanaka has been helping me instead.”
“Corey?” Marcello chuckledwarmly. “You sly devil, you!”
“Why do you saythat?”
