A Dissection of the Heart

Isao Takahashi

It was still a good thirty minutes at least before the time the American had texted him for them to arrive by. Still, Isao Takahashi was antsy to see the blonde devil that fascinated him so much the night before. Plus, he figured, it was better to arrive early to social events. He looked out the tinted window of his black SUV, the picturesque home situated on its own plot away from prying eyes seemed almost too picture perfect. The demon he saw working last night would never live in such a peaceful looking home. He frowned at the thought before opening the door and stepping out, signaling to the men in the row of identical blacked out SUVs to come on as well.

She had said to dress casual so he and his men forgoed their usual black suits. Most of his men donned jeans and tee shirts, as did he. Though he also wore a leather jacket, liking the edge he thought the accessory gave him. They made their way through the little gate and crossed the yard. Noticing the smoke coming from the back yard, Isao led the group around the side of the house. He was surprised at the practically professional set up in the back yard. Tables were lined in neat rows, a long set of serving tables heading them off. A row of grills and smokers puffed fragrant smoke from small chimneys, decorative lights created a glowing canopy above them.

He could see the American setting out rows of paper plates and plastic silverware on the serving table. “Hey!” He called to him, startling Speciale into chucking a handful of spoons into the air. “God da.mn it!” Speciale yelled, wheeling around to face them with a glare before bending down to start gathering the soiled utensils. “Watch your mouth,” Isao’s second in command warned the irritated New Yorker. Speciale did little more than roll his eyes as he got up to throw away the spoons in a large trash can at the edge of the patio.

“Sā, otokonoko-tachi o rirakkusu sa sete kudasai,” (Go ahead and relax boys.) Isao said over his shoulder to the group of men standing stiffly behind him. Immediately, the men began disbursing to mill about the patio a few finding seat at the tables. Isao walked up to the American with purpose. “Where is she?” Speciale shot him a frown, raising his eyebrow. “Rosalind? She’s busy inside, cooking. If you haven’t noticed we’re not exactly ready yet.” Isao shrugged, turning on his heel to start making his way towards the back door of the house. He supposed he could forgive the insolence of the American since he did give him valuable information.

He slipped inside the house unnoticed, slowly making his way down the halls. A pleasant smell wafted from within the home, he let it lead him around the empty house. He stopped at the edge of a doorway where the smell was strongest. Peering in, he could see the voluptuous shape of the woman’s as.s through her short sun dress as she fiddled with a pot on the stove. Her back was to him, curls pulled back from her face in a high pony tail bouncing as she worked. Isao leaned on the door frame, eyes studying her.

She hardly seemed to him the same woman who expertly carved up a man, singing over his screams. The woman in front of him now was bright and cheery, an air of lightness surrounding her as she worked around the spacious kitchen. Nearly every surface was covered with one dish or another in various stages of readiness.

A sudden shriek drew his attention back to Rosalind. Suddenly seeing him in the doorway shocked her so much she almost dropped the large pot of mashed potatoes she was carrying. “Jesus, don’t sneak up on me!” She managed out, setting down the pot to put a hand to her chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she said as she finally looked at the stranger in her kitchen. Isao just smirked, holding back his amusement at her reaction.

“Oh,” she said after a beat, “Anata wa eigo o hanasemasen ka?” (do you not speak english?) Isao chuckled, “Don’t worry, I can speak english.” Rosalind nodded, picking back up the pot of potatoes. “I’m guessing you came with the yakuza for the party?” She smiled brightly at him before easing passed him in the doorway and continuing back through the house towards the back door. “Uh, yes, I came here with them,” he said cautiously. “Do you need any help with that?” He asked, pointing to the pot in her hands.

“Sure, then I can run back and grab the slaw,” She said as she quickly handed the pot over to him and began dashing back toward the kitchen. He only had to wait a moment before she reappeared holding a tin serving tray full of coleslaw. “Thanks!” She beamed at him as she led him through the back door. “Y-yeah, it’s not a problem.” He replied, following her to the serving table to set down the sides.

Rosalind dusted off her hands, turning to the back of the property before starting off to the row of grills and smokers where the American sat admiring one of the metal contraption’s contents, Isao following in tow. “How we lookin’ Speciale?” She chirped, throwing an arm around his shoulders as she looked in at the tender meat. Speciale chuckled back at her, “Why don’t you have a taste?” He offered her a shred of meat from his hand which she happily accepted. Isao watched with a frown as her full lips closed around his fingers, licking the sauce off of them as she pulled back. His pants grew uncomfortably tight as she let out a low moan.

“f***k that’s good! I think it’s about ready to come off.” The two smiled at each other before taking several serving trays and began loading meat onto them. There was ribs, brisket, pulled pork, and sausages all being unloaded with haste. Isao began getting irritated as the pair of Americans ignored him, focused on their task as they chatted pleasantly. “Oh!” Rosalind exclaimed as she noticed Isao waiting there. “Would you like to help… I’m sorry I don’t guess I got your name.”

Isao gave her his most charming smile, “Isao Takahashi, I’d love to help you with anything you need.” He winked as he reached for a full tray. Speciale gave him an odd look, glancing between him and Rosalind. “Rosalind,” She managed between giggles, “But you can call me Roz.”