Linda struggled with every step through the neon lit back alley. The icy November rain made her hands shake. It wasn't the best moment for this as she continued to hold her hand over the gunshot wound in her side. The signs above her were all in Japanese and she cursed under her breath. How was she going to find the Sushi shop if she didn't even understand the names?
"Look for the cat on the blade... Look for the cat on the blade." She repeated to herself, using the sides of the alley to keep her up and walking.
The fact that she knew it would happen and let it was the worst part. Her husband of only a year was responsible for this. Maybe he hadn't shot her but it was done on his orders. She should have fled right then as soon as she saw his ex round the corner at the bottom of the stairs in their own house. They probably never stopped fucking right under her nose. It was fitting. If she hadn't had the will to live, she should've died in a gutter for her stupidity alone. At least, that's what she thought about it.
Luckily for her, the weak wristed bitch couldn't even buy a proper handgun so it must have been a small caliber that hit her. It shocked her but she didn't fall. Maybe it was survival instincts or maybe just sheer rage strength but she punched and clawed that whore's face until she was the one on the ground and escaped out the front door.
To be a part of a rival gang, her house was idiotically close to Little Tokyo where the Yakuza had their headquarters. If anything popped off, they could have just strolled over and started a firefight. Gangs... She spat on the ground with distaste. She hated gangs now.
Her life had been simple before gangs: empty, lonely, but simple. Her mother and father died when she was eighteen and she had no one else. She was an only child of only children with dead parents. What they left her in the will she used to go to college and majored in business. She was smart and hard working. With no family to go home to, she went to school year round and got her MBA in 4 years. At 22 she entered the workforce: book smart but inexperienced and naïve.
A company she didn't know shit about hired her and her illegal life began. It started simply enough. Something like a shell game with small companies but things got more complicated as time went by. In her heart she knew what she was doing was against the law but who else would hire her after this? His entrance couldn't have been better timed.
Martin Cole was a beautiful sociopath, the King of Uncanny Valley. He just seemed off but so desperate she was for any affection after nearly five years without, she married him in a week. He got bored easily and saw violence as natural as blinking. She never took a hit, quick feet and good reflexes kept her safe but others, be they man or beast, were never safe. Linda personally removed every dog from the premises just because she couldn't watch them being tortured anymore. He didn't even hate dogs, simply always looking for a reaction from something, anything.
His crazy ass wouldn't choose divorce, she knew it. She saw him getting bored with her, not even using his stinging criticism and sharp insults to torture her in the only way he could: emotionally. He avoided their bedroom, which was a relief for her because he was a selfish lover, and stopped eating dinner with her. It made so much sense for Lola to be waiting for her. He'd chosen her because it confirmed the suspicion she'd always had. It was a last torture before death. He'd never been faithful.
A Cheshire cat gleamed happily on a knife blade underneath Japanese characters. It looked exactly like one of Tomiko's sketches. She was so talented. A tear of thanks rolled down Linda's cheek as she stumbled and nearly fell down the steps. She caught herself with a cry and entered the restaurant.
It was nearly empty; most would be at this hellish hour on Thursday before dawn. There was a young man mopping, another cleaning and sanitizing the bar counter and about 4 big men in nice suits drinking coffee in the corner. They all turned to stare at her and who wouldn't when there's a bleeding black woman coming in from the rain.
She was thankful for the hard plastic chairs and tile floor so she'd feel less guilty about bleeding all over the place. With all the dignity she could muster, she eased forth, pulled up a chair and sat down.
