Free Hard Rain by Barry Eisler Page B

house. I never could have
    conceived of this kind of thing growing up."
    The waitress walked over and set down two crystal tumblers, each with a
    measure of Talisker, and two glasses of water. Naomi expertly tipped a
    drop of the water into the whiskey, swirled it once, and raised the
    tumbler to her nose. Had she still been in hostess mode she would have
    waited, taking her cue to drink from the customer. We were making
    progress.
    "Mmmm," she purred.
    We touched glasses and drank.
    She closed her eyes. "Oh," she said. "That's so good."
    I smiled. "How did you wind up here at world-famous Damask Rose?"
    She shrugged. "My first two years in Japan, my salary was about three
    million yen. I was tutoring in the evening to make a little extra. One
    of my students told me he knew some people who were opening a club
    where I could make a lot more than I was making then. I checked it
    out. And here lam."
    Three million yen a year maybe twenty-five thousand dollars. "This
    certainly looks like an improvement," I said, looking around.
    "It's a good place. We make most of our money with private lap dances.
    Just dancing, no touching. If you'd like, I can do one for you. But
    no pressure."
    Lap dancing would be her economic bread and butter. That she had
    treated it as an afterthought was another good sign.
    I looked at her. She really was lovely. But I was here for something
    else.
    "Maybe later," I said. "I'm enjoying talking with you."
    She smiled, perhaps flattered. Given her looks, my demurral must have
    been refreshing. Good.
    I smiled back. "Tell me more about your family."
    She took another sip of the Talisker. "I have two older brothers.
    They're both married and work in the family business."
    "Which is?"
    "Agriculture. It's a family tradition that the men go into the
    business."
    The reference to agriculture felt deliberately vague. From what I knew
    about Brazil, it could have meant coffee, tobacco, sugar, or some
    combination. It could also have meant real estate. I gathered that
    her family was wealthy but that she was discreet about it.
    "What do the women do?" I asked.
    She laughed. "The women study something trivial in college, so they
    have a proper education and can be good conversationalists at parties,
    then they get married into the right families."
    "I gather you decided to do something different."
    "I did the college part art history. But my father and brothers
    expected me to get married after that and I just wasn't ready."
    "Why Japan, then?"
    She glanced upward and pursed her lips. "It's silly, but whenever I
    hear Japanese it sounds like my mother to me. And I was starting to
    lose the Japanese I had acquired from her as a child, which was like
    losing part of her."
    For an instant I saw an image of my own mother's face. She had died at
    home while I was in Vietnam.
    "That's not silly at all," I said.
    We were each quiet. Now, I thought.
    "So, how do you like working here?" I asked.
    She shrugged. "It's okay. The hours are crazy, but the money is
    good."
    "Management treats you well?"
    She shrugged again. "They're okay. No one tries to make you do
    anything you don't want to."
    "What do you mean?"
    "You know. When you do lap dances, some customers want more. If the
    customers are happy, they come back and spend big money. So, in places
    like this, sometimes management can pressure the girls to make the
    customers happy. And to do other things."
    My expression was appropriately concerned. "Other things?"
    She waved a hand. "Nothing," she said.
    Change tack. "What about the other girls?" I asked, looking around.
    "Where do they come from?"
    "Oh, all over the world." She pointed to a tall, auburn-haired beauty
    in a red-sequined dress who was charming Botox Boy. "That's Elsa.
    She's from Sweden. And that's
    Julie next to her, from Canada. The girl who was dancing opposite me
    is Valentina, from Russia."
    "What about the girls from Japan?"
    "That's Mariko and Taeka," she said, pointing to a petite pair at a
    corner