Page 65 of Something Like Forever
“What’s next?” Corey askedwhen they stood outside again. “Should we check out the chickencoop again?”
“I’m happy with thisplace,” Tim said.
“Then we’re free! No moreappointments or searching.”
“We’re done,” Timsaid.
For now. There would still be a lot of workto do.
“I guess I should reportto the agency and let them know that I’m available.”
“I still need you!” Timsaid. As much as he was coming to love Tokyo, he didn’t want to bein the city alone. “There’s gotta be more you need to show me. Thisproject won’t be successful until I understand Japanese culturebetter. Educate me.”
Corey tilted his head backand forth as he considered options. “You haven’t seen Marcello’sother project yet. Do you need to?”
“The selfie studio? Yeah!Let’s go!”
They travelled to Shibuya,a ward known for its trendy youth-driven shopping. What betterplace for getting pretty and posing for a picture? Tim already knewwhat to expect because Marcello had shown him plenty of photos. Themain entrance was loud, full of flashing lights and high tempomusic. An attached shop offered camera equipment and accessories,including a variety of selfie sticks, of course. The noise diedaway in the main area, which was cluttered with all sorts of thingsideal for snapping a quick photo. Painted wooden boards with holescut out for faces, giant teddy bears, weird mirrors and lights. Hewas reminded of a carnival. A number of doors led to privatebooths. These included screens that could be pulled down asbackdrops, or used for chroma keying—green screens or whichevercolor so that different images or even animation could be addedlater. Costumes and props were available to rent too.
“We have to try this out,”Corey insisted. “Let’s take some photos together.”
Why not? Patronage wasstill picking up before the evening surge. They didn’t have much ofa wait. Choosing from the catalog wasn’t easy. Should they dress uplike pop stars? Or as the Mario Brothers? Or maybe in traditionalJapanese yukatas, which were a summer version ofkimonos.
“I think I’ve got it,”Corey said, swiping at the touch screen monitor. “Ohdefinitely.”
Fifteen minutes later, Timwas standing in one of the narrow booths, wearing a red and whitebaseball cap, green gloves, and a blue jacket with white sleeves.“What’s my name again?” Tim asked.
“Ash Ketchum,” Coreychided. “You should know this.”
“Pokémon was after mytime.”
“We’re practically thesame age!”
“This is dumb.”
“It’s not!” It was hard toargue with someone who was dressed head to toe in a yellowjumpsuit, complete with a hood that had two pointed ears at thetop, mostly because Corey looked so damn cute wearing it. He madehis dark eyes even bigger than usual, stuck out his bottom lip in apout, and in a high-pitched voice said, “Pika pika!Pikachu?”
Tim shook his head andtossed the ball he was holding into the air, catching itrepeatedly. “I’m supposed to throw this at you, huh?”
“Pika?” Corey said, thepout becoming more pronounced.
Tim laughed. “Okay. Let’s get this overwith.”
The experience was a lotmore entertaining than he had anticipated. They had chosen to mounttheir phones on the available tripod rather than rent the expensivecamera equipment. The umbrella lights were standard, which wasnice. Mostly they argued about the best pose, or laughed whilechecking the results on their phones. They played with differentbackgrounds too. In the blink of an eye, nearly an hour had passed.By then even Corey was over it.
“I have to get out of thisthing,” he complained. “It’s making me sweat. I hope they washthese between uses!”
“No kidding,” Tim said,not happy that he now had hat hair. “I would do this againthough.”
“Me too,” Corey said,clearly pleased with the experience. “Let’s go to the gift shop. Isaw a sign that said they offered prints.”
Tim knew they did becausethat was part of Marcello’s plan. The man was inspired, although hehoped that Corey was kidding. Or that he chose the photo where Timhad him in a headlock. He bet that had never happened in thecartoon!
Once they returned thecostumes, they browsed the gift shop. Corey found the printers,which were automated. While he was distracted, Tim wandered. He hadan appreciation for photography, but it wasn’t his creative outlet,so most of what was on sale didn’t interest him. People in thisarea seemed really friendly though. He caught more than one personwatching him, and when he made eye contact, they would always nodand smile. Tim smiled back. That’s all he could do since he didn’tspeak the language. He wasn’t the only American here. As hecontinued to shop, he heard a voice speaking English. One thatsounded oddly familiar. Tim had trouble placing who it was until helooked up. And saw himself.
Tim stared. The monitorplayed a video, complete with Japanese subtitles. In it he wasmixing paint on a palette before applying it to the canvas. Heremembered that day. Kelly had come to the new public studio spacein the Austin gallery to take photos. At least he thought it wasjust photos. He didn’t realize that Kelly had recorded video too.Surrounding the monitor was a long board covered in text hecouldn’t read and a few surreal photos of the Eric Conroy Gallery.Two paintings hung to either side of the display—the painting fromthe video now completed, and another Tim had chosen to send toJapan. Feeling self-conscious and confused, he rushed back to whereCorey was.
“I need yourhelp.”
