Chapter 29Kenta took pride in whiskey having saved him, not ruined him like in some old blues song. He parked on a side street of Shimokitazawa, intent on a drink of top-shelf stuff at Whiskey Creek, the whiskey and cigar bar he owned half of. He needed to rid himself of the presence of Yoshitaka Kirino. He’d left the windows open on the drive back, but whiskey would work even better.
He pulled open the door to the cigar-smoke, sour-mash interior and headed to a seat at the counter. Shun was tending bar as always, dressed immaculately in a tux with a sharp new haircut, buzzed around the neck with long strands curling down. He had been a model before he inherited the bar from an uncle. What he didn’t inherit was good sense with money.
Kenta worked there for a year, after prison, learning
