Chapter Eight: Counter-Interrogation as a Designated Driver

Many hours later I accompanied a listing Janae Campbell out into the suburban parking lot. The sun was long-since set, but the city never slept, and neither did this secluded parking lot, apparently. We were nearly run over by an overlarge electric vehicle cutting in from the street.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” Janae said, returning to a natural resting spot on my shoulder.

“Eh, isn’t that the model with the self-driving beta?” I asked. “Amazing that they make an entire brand of car without a break or turn signal. What’s up with that?”

Janae laughed. I struggled to keep us both upright and on track. A problem arose:

“Maybe you shouldn’t take the car,” I said offhandedly.

“Pshaw. Maybe not.” Janae took a step towards the heavy-duty SUV. “That’s not… not goanna work.”

I stifled the urge to laugh. Janae pushed herself away from my shoulder and wandered across the lot to another, sleeker ride.

My Vespa awaited, still taking up a whole slot in the busy lot. It was a miracle I hadn’t gotten ticketed or towed, quite fortunate for us both. Janae struggled to get onto the back seat.

“Drive me,” she said, curtly. “Drive me!”

“Yikes.” I gasped. “As you wish, princess.”

“I’ll tell you where to go,” Janae said as I climbed aboard. “Don’t worry about my car. I’ll go back to get it in the morning.”

I turned the key, and my sleek motorized bike purred to life. We backed out, then pulled off into the California streets

“Don’t you have work in the morning?” I asked after a sharp turn left (at her insistence).

“That’s a tomorrow problem,” she said with that same dogged insistence.

Very well. I didn’t complain, merely steered and drove. Janae kept barking out turns well in advance, with no need for a GPS. It was quite impressive, especially while buzzed at the absolute least. She clung to my waist, only occasionally loosening that grip to point and nudge.

“Soooo, how’d you meet Yuki?” I asked on a long straightaway.

“Guh. Met her at the airport,” Janae said. “Fresh off the plane.”

“Funny how that works out,” I mused. “But please, continue.”

Janae hiccupped, then continued without really acknowledging that I’d said anything at all. “… the organization assigned us.”

I eased off the throttle on a quiet stretch of roadway, sensing a whiff of conspiracism.

“The, uh, organization, eh?”

“Staffing organization,” Janae clarified. “The Japan branch let us know that a VIP was crossing the Pacific on short notice. I was flown in from a job in Omaha and landed with a few hours to prep for the handoff.”

The particulars of what and why Yuki was doing here in the United States were certainly of interest to me. One assumed she was here to film the movie. But was there something more? Had she needed to flee Tokyo to escape the Yakuza? Or something similarly scandalous?

At Janae’s prodding, I turned a sharp left.

“So, uh, you haven’t actually been with her to Japan?” I asked.

Janae shook her head, a motion barely detectible to me. I briefly assumed she’d ignored me, until…

“Miss Yuki hasn’t been back since she landed. Hasn’t talked about family or anything. Just know that she’s here to fulfil some agency contract. Like a trade with a Hollywood studio.”

I spent a red light puzzling out what American celebrity Japan could have conceivably borrowed in this trade. Eh, no matter. The light turned green, and I was off.

“Keep traveling on this road for twelve miles,” Janae said.

We were on a course well east of the core of L.A. Far away from the lights and glamor of the city proper, or the fancy mansions of Beverly Hills.

“Did she pay the mansion in cash?”

“It’s owned by the studio. Or conglomerate. Or what have you?” Janae looked westward toward the core of the city proper. “Evidently, they refurbish it at great cost between movie shoots. Numerous stars have lived there just in the past year.”

“Huh.” I nodded.

I was getting more information out of this joyride than I’d ever expected.

The ride continued down winding local streets. Turns grew more frequent as we zipped through sleepier neighborhoods. Janae’s apartment was a three-story stucco midcentury Spanish courthouse-type affair that had maybe been renovated back in the eighties.

“Nice place,” I lied as we pulled up to some rusty front grating.

A great many people who kept the film industry going made do with housing far closer to this than Yuki☆’s rented-out palatial mansion. Still, given Janae’s fancy suit ad general demeanor, I’d expected her to at least have a standalone house.

“It’s only temporary,” Janae said as she dismounted.

A great deal about Janae and Yuki’s lives appeared to be temporary. I didn’t say that.

The long ride had served to sober Janae up a great deal. She made her way towards the apartment front gate under her own power.

“Uh, what about your car?” I asked.

“Don’t bother coming here in the morning to escort me or anything,” Janae said with a wave. “I’ll handle the car.”

“It won’t get towed at the bar?” I asked.

“No, no, don’t bother. I’ve done it before. Safe travels home.” Janae said this last part in a bored and disinterested tone.

Nevertheless, I kept the Vespa idling until Janae had successfully fumbled for the lock on her door and was through the threshold. Just before I was about to head out, she poked her head back through the door.

“You have my blessing,” she said with a slightly buzzed slurring sound.

+++

Mostly, I assumed this meant ‘you have my blessing to continue delivering for Miss Yuki.’ At least, that’s what I could puzzle out on the ride home.

Shoot, I thought, I never got the opportunity to check out RV camps up in the hills. Janae’s surprise interrogation had kind of gotten in the way. That, and the origin of that mysterious drone, weighed heavily on my mind as I returned to the concrete lots of the urban RV park and back to my mobile command center.

I spent a brief evening trying to look into Yuki☆’s life as an idol before hopping on a flight and evidently starting a career as a movie star. I found something regarding a solo concert career and something at a Tokyo-based comic convention? It was all in Japanese, though, so it’s not like I could understand any of it. With those efforts stymied, I changed course by trying to look up professional-quality drone photography outfits around town. There were… quite a few to choose from.

Before long, sleep overtook me. I swear I closed my eyes for just a second, then when I opened them again, I had a half-charged phone and a a blaring notification for an extra-large delivery from the airport ready to pick up in forty minutes!

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I got to work. Last night was rough, and I hadn’t even gotten a proper rest!