“Good morning, sir.”
“Morning…”
Not five seconds after I arrived, the location manager let out a giant yawn. If he, like so many others, thought showing weakness was a way to build a rapport with me, he was utterly mistaken. If anything, it just pissed me off.
“You look tired,” I said.
“Yeah, I was up late last night trying to get some editing done, but it didn’t go so well…”
Like I give a rat’s ass. It’s your fault for sucking at your job. If you want a healthy work-life balance, then I recommend you find a career in a different industry.
“Ah, I see. Sounds rough,” I replied, my gaze chock-full of sympathy for good measure. Truth be told, I hated people who complained about work while they were on the clock.
“You never really have that problem, huh, Kunieda? Seems like you’re always in top form.”
“Yes, I’m privileged to have such an excellent team roll out the red carpet for me.”
Translation: Do your job, peasants. But the location manager didn’t know this, of course, so he gave me a sleepy smile.
Wipe that smirk off your face and wake the hell up. Haven’t you heard that some people determine your worth based entirely on your smile? You might not be one of them, but I am!
“You’re too kind… Anyway, let’s get going.”
On the drive over, I decided to ask about Tsuzuki Ushio.
“How did he land a job creating a title sequence for the late-night timeslot, anyway? I watched a few of his videos, but they didn’t appear to make any particular social statement. If anything, they mostly seemed like something out of a picture book.”
“Do you know Shitara-san? The producer for The News?”
“I know his name, but not much else.”
“He met Tsuzuki-san while he was working on this surrealist kids’ show for a network affiliate. Ever heard of Midnight Kindergarten?”
“Oh, yes. The DVDs sold like hotcakes, as I recall.”
“Yeah, totally! Everybody was talking about it, and word spread like wildfire… Heck, even I bought a copy! It was just so wild—you can tell none of the higher-ups were supervising this show all that closely. Like when they took those ordinary moms and dressed them up in trashy gyaru makeup to see if the kids could still recognize them…”
“Interesting.” Don’t care. Get back to my question, please.
“So anyway, it was around then that Shitara-san first contracted Tsuzuki-san to do a promo for his show. And when he made his big comeback as producer for The News, he was like, ‘I’m calling the shots now!’ and immediately brought Tsuzuki-san into the picture without any consultation from anyone else. Or so I heard.”
“I see.” If he was Shitara’s little pet—not that he was my producer, but still—I’d better make damn sure I didn’t get on his bad side.
“Anyway… Like I wrote in the shooting schedule, we’ll come and film once or twice a week, then play three or so minutes of footage on The Evening File once a night. Then, on the night of the inaugural broadcast of The News, we’ll tell the viewers to stay tuned to our channel to see the full finished product at 10 p.m.…and that’s that.”
“Got it.”
“But yeah, as far as I know, today’s just a meet and greet. Mainly so we can get an idea of who this Tsuzuki Ushio guy is.”
Then I noticed that the view outside the car window looked awfully familiar…and sure enough, our final destination turned out to be no more than a ten-minute walk from my apartment. It was a neighborhood just on the outskirts of downtown, separated from the high-rise condos by a single large highway. Ugh, what if we bump into each other on the street? Not that he’d ever recognize me, of course, given my usual disguise.
I stepped out of the car and immediately came face-to-face with a square wood building. The first floor appeared to have an unusually high ceiling; I could tell from the tall—and firmly shut—roller door.
“I’m told this place used to be a bike shop,” said the director. “Apparently, he rents it for cheap. First floor is his workshop, second floor is his living space.”
“Ah, yes. I can see where the sign used to be.”
“The door’s this way. No need to take your shoes off unless you want to head up to the second floor.”
Passing through the narrow space between Tsuzuki’s house and the one next to it, we walked around to the back, where we discovered a plain aluminum door—the back entrance, evidently—labeled with an equally plain “Tsuzuki” nameplate. Plus a really rusty red mailbox that looked about as old as the building itself.
The assistant director stepped forward and pressed the button on the intercom, but there was no response. “Maybe he’s asleep,” he mused with a wry grin. His second attempt proved fruitful, however; the lock clicked open, and the door opened a fraction.
“Sorry about that,” the man mumbled, blinking his eyes sleepily. Everything about him screamed just woke up. Then he let out a big yawn, and instantly I was pissed.
Why do these idiots all think they can slack off? Didn’t anyone tell you what time we planned to get here? You don’t have to serve us tea and biscuits, but at least make yourself presentable, damn it!
“Good morning! Sorry to disturb you,” said the director.
“No, for real, it’s my fault. For some reason I thought this wasn’t happening until tomorrow.”
“What? Don’t be silly! I told you about it on the phone yesterday, remember?”
“Do I have time to wash my face and get dressed?”
“No problem. You do that, and in the meantime we’ll take some footage of the exterior. Kunieda, could you wait inside? Oh, right. This is Kunieda—he’ll be leading the interview. He’s a co-anchor for The Evening File.”
“It’s great to meet you. Thanks for having me.” I bowed to him at the exact correct angle for the exact correct time, then flashed my flawless camera smile. Male or female, young or old, it was guaranteed to max out anyone’s affection meter.
“Sure.”
And yet Tsuzuki only afforded me the merest passing glance, his gaze dull with drowsiness. Then he turned to the director standing next to me.
“I thought it was going to be a lady anchor. Isn’t that what you said when we first talked about it?”
“Oh… Well, you see, there was a bit of a scheduling mishap. I apologize; I thought I told you.”
“Meh, it’s no big deal.”
Oh yeah? Then quit complaining about it. Besides, don’t you swing both ways or whatever? You should be grateful you got an Adonis like yours truly! And for that matter, not only are we paying you for your work, but we’re promoting you, too! Show some goddamn gratitude! I thought to myself. All while maintaining my winning smile.
“Sounds like there was some miscommunication. Sorry about that,” I offered courteously. “I promise to give it 110 percent effort.”
“Meh, let’s just get it over with,” Tsuzuki shrugged, brushing me off like I was a speck of dust. “I know you’re just doing your job and all, but I can’t waste too much time talking to the camera. I got a deadline, y’know.”
I proceeded to grab this flippant man by the collar and punch him in the face several times. In my mind, that is.