A Dissection of the Heart

Jiro Watanabe

Rosalind raised the little glass to her lips, hesitating as she eyed the group of men that so rudely interrupted her party. The men were huddled, speaking quickly in hushed voices with their leader. The man at the center of the group turned his gaze to meet Rosalind’s, giving her a slight smile that chilled her to the core. Every movement this man made dripped with ice. Soon their conversation broke off and the men disbursed, most forming a line for the food. Rosalind finished her shot, tapping the glass on the table twice when she was done.

“You chill?” Speciale asked her, knowing by her tense stance that she was not pleased. “I’m… aggravated,” she sighed, “I’m going to get myself a glass of sake to cool down with, do you want anything from the house?” She gave him a tight smile. “Nah, I’m fine. I’ll grab you some food while you’re gone.” He said, standing from the table. He gave her a small pat on the shoulder before joining the line. Isao said nothing, eyes glancing between Rosalind and the leader. “I’ll be right back,” Roz said to Isao, who gave a little nod, before turning and making her way back towards the house. Isao noted the quick, tense movements she made as she rubbed a hand over her shoulders before slipping into the unlocked back door.

“Sore ga, min'na ga hanashiatte iru akumadesu yo ne?” (So that is the demoness that everyone has been discussing, huh?) A deep voice rumbled from behind Isao. “Jiro,” he ground out tensely, “Kanojo wa watashi to watashidakedesu. Anata jishin no bijinesu o ki ni suru no wa anata ni totte yoi kotodesu.” (It would do you well to mind your own business, she is mine and mine alone.) Jiro’s black eyes burned down at the confident young man. Perhaps a bit too confident for his own good, he thought to himself before seating himself beside Isao.

Jiro leaned over, smirking as he whispered in Isao’s ear, “Hontōni ima? Sore wa watashi ga kiite iru kotode wa arimasen. Chottoshita gēmu o teian shite mo īdesu ka? Dare ga saisho ni on'nanoko o teniireru ka o mite ikimasu.” (Really now? That is not what I hear. May I suggest a little game? We'll see who gets the girl first.) He chuckled darkly, righting himself as Speciale set two plates of food down across from them and sat down. Isao’s jaw tensed as he folded his hands in front of him, his brown eyes whirling with hate. The tension that overtook the evening was thick in the air as Roz made her way back outside, slender hand tightly grasping the stem of a full wine glass, a milky liquid sloshing in it gently as she walked.

“Miss me boys?” She cooed as she slid into her seat beside Speciale. “Oh yes, how ever did we manage without you,” Speciale chuckled, earning himself a giggle and a punch in the arm from her. Rosalind raised the glass to her lips, taking a slow drink as she raked her eyes over the two men across from her. “You really know how to crash a party,” Roz said pointedly as she set her glass down, flicking her eyes up to Jiro with a sly smile.

“Well,” Jiro smiled coolly, “When I heard my dear friend Isao was going to be here with his men I really had to invite myself along.” Isao scowled into his beer, cursing Jiro to hell in his head, as Roz flicked her eyes between the two, narrowing them slightly. That caught her off guard, Jiro thought to himself, pleased that he was able to still get under Isao’s skin while they were at this stalemate. “Were you not aware that you were breaking bread with the leader of the Sumiyoshi-kai?” Jiro asked, amusedly watching a cool anger burn in Rosalind’s sapphire eyes as she stared daggers at Isao.

She blinked before speaking, choosing her words carefully knowing that she was vastly outnumbered should they loose their tempers along with her. “No, actually, he didn’t mention that little tidbit.” She raised her glass to her lips, taking a large drink of sake. She savored the warm rush of a buzz coming on from all the alcohol. She raised an eyebrow over to Speciale who had been unusually quiet. “I take it you knew?” He gave her a sheepish smile, “Would you kill me if I said yes?”

A tense beat passed before both Rosalind and Speciale began laughing at the utter absurdity of the situation, leaving Jiro and Isao left to stare at them as if they grew two heads and started breathing fire. “Oh lighten up!” Roz chuckled out, waving to the shot glasses in front of them. “Loosen up with some shots and eat.”

Isao gave a self satisfied smirk over to Jiro, obviously relishing the fact that Rosalind was not so swayed by his white lie of omission. “Say, Roz,” he ventured, “I think I will take you up on that offer but I think I missed the steps. Mind showing me how you do it?” Isao winked as Rosalind giggled, pouring another round of shots. “Like this,” she said, holding her hand out for his which he gladly gave over. She dabbed a little wetness on the back of his hand and pouring a bit of salt over it. “Lick,” she purred seductively as she leaned over, her cleavage on full display from the cut of her sundress to the two mafia lords sitting across from her.

Rosalind brought his hand up to her mouth, gently kissing the salt off of it. She swiped her tongue against his hand, not breaking eye contact with him as she released him with a small wet smooching sound. “Sip,” She smirked at them as she sat back again, raising a small glass to her full, ruby lips. She shot it back, tapping the empty glass on the table twice as she reached for a lime with her other hand. “Suck,” she finished, snaking her tongue out to guide the lime into her mouth. Isao and Jiro were transfixed by her little show, much to her delight. Isao let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he chuckled back, “I think I got the jist of it.” Speciale and Rosalind burst into a fit of quiet giggles.

“You’re the worst, Andi,” Speciale said with a lopsided smile as he began with a shot of his own. “I think you mispronounced ‘best ever’,” Rosalind shot back with a smile, coyly looking over to the two across from her through her lashes. Jiro’s inky depths burned with lust and jealousy while his face was the same cold exterior he arrived with.