Tokio Whip Read Online Free PDF Page A

faster.
    â€“ Oh those tanned boys, all tanned so.
    â€“ You mean those ones?
    â€“ When I used to come here in high-school … well, I guess it was the same. Sort of. All those boys trying to pick us up, and all we could do was giggle. Silly girls we were. Till we gave in! You sort of graduate from shop to shop, from Marui to Parco’s basement, then to the upper floors, and then if you’re a real lady – guess that count’s me out – to Tokyu. But you graduate in price too, count me out, two. It’s like a ramen bowl. Yup, I’d flatten it all.
    â€“ Would you?
    â€“ Poor little Hachiko; what did VZ say? – that the story is all made-up, that he wasn’t really waiting for his master, poor dead man, poor dog, but that he was really just an unwanted pet looking for some affection, and everyone really hated him. How terrible! Well, then maybe he was better off dead.
    ***
    Gangsters in the early morning build the Third New World.
    The only intelligent cabbie yet: “Never heard of the place. Let’s go.”
    â€œDon’t cry, please. Here, have a cigarette.”
    ***
    We may not find happiness, but we have a right to live.
    â€“ Sylvia Sydney, You Only Live Once (Fritz Lang, 1937)
    ***
    Triumphant, tripartite Tokio, we are one. – Lang to himself.

Chapter 2
    YURAKUCHO–SHIMBASHI
    Roberta was already here, you know; she’d lived in America, had done Europe, she and Lang, they were going nowhere standing still and falling – he couldn’t see it– she needed a change – there was a job available – here – maybe: and so she came.
    Cafferty’d spent the morning at the German bakery in Ningyōchō, stocking up on breads and cakes. The pot au feu simmered the afternoon; it would be easy later to prepare the daikon steak, as well as his favorite, steamed, young eggplant smothered with purple Osaka miso . He had a quick sandwich – salmon and tuna, double lettuce, no mayonnaise – and espresso at Doutor, then stopped to pick up some “traditional Japanese ice cream.” Home, he cleaned house, an easy job as he was such a neat man, always picking up after himself – and no, the moral irony was never lost on him. He had four wines, two white, two red, and a few beers available in case his guest preferred that. Candles? Why not? At ten minutes to eight he remembered the genkan ; he hurriedly cleared the area of his shoes and slippers, straightened the umbrellas, made the pile of old newspapers into a neat stack, and just as he was about to place a “fresh” flower (amazingly real-seeming) in the bamboo holder, the bell rang. He froze, could feel the sweat begin, froze again, and then relaxed because he knew it was all a signal that all was well, the old flame held, and it’d be a fine evening after all. He was ready to be witty, sympathetic, obscene, whatever his old friend needed, wanted. As he opened the door he briefly recalled Roberta telling him about her famous party, how she’d just finished dressing but hadn’t quite finished her hair – and wouldn’t have a chance the night long – when her doorbell rang, and how that nagged at her all evening and only got worse as the party got worse. He remembered her telling him so sadly, “Oh, Cafferty, I knew that if only my hair had been right, the way I wanted it, it would have been an entirely different evening. It should have been such a nice party, Lang and I should have been so happy – but ohh!”
    ***
    The nun carries a Prada bag.
    Melmoth-Lang roars Tokyo.
    ***
    The costs of confusion notwithstanding, Roberta has never really felt confused here – maps make sense – bus maps a bit confusing – but hey, what confusion? – feels like home – a system, maybe – I’ve made my own.
    ***
    SIR WILLIAM RUTLAND, MATCHMAKER
    As most Asians, the Japanese are known for having an especial respect and