Bovian Image - 8. Chapter 8

Five Years later

Japan

Chapter Eight

Off peak hours at Streamers were always the best time to visit the coffee shop for a quiet conversation with a friend. Sipping his ristretto, Savan Bovian closed his eyes in silent appreciation of a cup of quality coffee, before he set the branded glass mug back on the wooden table. He lifted his head to smile at the twenty-two year old singer seated across him, sipping her own coffee. She was dressed casually, and had a pink Niad cap pulled low over her head. It was effectively hiding her identity, although if anyone took a closer look there was no doubt she was the award-winning singer Valerie Aki.

She met his gaze and grinned.

“You were right, this is really good.”

“I know my coffee,” Savan said with a satisfied nod. “I hope it wasn’t inconvenient to meet like this.”

“Not at all,” Valerie replied. “Unusual, but I like it. You surprise me, Mr. Bovian.”

“Please call me, Savan. Why do I surprise you?”

“I didn’t think you would take my request considering your popularity these days. It’s very hard to get a hold of you.”

“I haven’t accepted to work with you yet. We’re still getting to know each other,” Savan replied with a small roll of his leather-clad shoulders.

He glanced outside the windows, watching pedestrians walking on the streets of Shibuya.

“How tight is your schedule on a normal day?” he asked.

“It depends on what is going on,” Valerie replied. “Some days are packed, others not so much. I have to consult with my manager and agent. Savan, please tell me this is a yes, I really need you as my hair stylist. You work magic.”

Savan shook his head at the praise and returned his attention back to her. She was currently wearing her brown hair in a low ponytail. She tended to go with the current trends, if they worked together, she might not like the direction he chose. He never followed trends.

Styling was creative for him; he preferred working with the individual’s natural beauty to direct hair cut designs. Some clients didn’t like that approach so he tried to stay away from long-term commitments.

“How did you hear about Bovian Image?” Savan asked.

“A model who is working with you on the upcoming Niad Fashion show,” Valerie answered with a small smile. “She said you were phenomenal. Anyone who can impress Mika Lucianne is beyond great. It’s rumored you did her hair and she couldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Hmm,” Savan frowned. He didn’t like thinking about Mika Lucianne. “Give me your direct number. I don’t like dealing with managers and agents.”

He reached into his leather jacket pocket and pulled out a black phone. A gasp escaped as he looked at it in surprise. The small disposable phone was new. He had bought it this morning before driving to Shibuya. His heartbeat skipped and he glanced up guiltily.

Valerie was busy rummaging in her hobo bag, so she didn’t note his momentary panic. Gripping the gadget tightly, Savan wondered when the deep-seated fear in his gut would end.

Suddenly, sitting still became impossible and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. His dark gaze swept over the other customers in the coffee shop. No one was paying attention to him. He let out a short breath and turned to Valerie.

He had almost forgotten. The past five years seemed to rerun one after the other.

Trapped in a dingy room in the middle of the night, forced to his knees while Jiro shoved the barrel of a gun into Xiao Wei’s mouth. Zun screaming in fear as tears streamed down his mother’s face.

He had begged for their lives that night and forfeited his own.

Savan gulped back the lump that rose up to his throat at the memory of the missing person’s reports his father had made. His old face plastered in newspapers, television, the internet, he gripped the phone more tightly.

His gaze moved to the faint reflection of his face in the windows beside him. He was a taller now, and thinner, though not too thin to be unhealthy. He’d grown his hair. He wore it in straight, uneven edges. He’d dyed the jagged mass black in the back with a blond fringe that fell over his right eye. Liang, his business partner called it his emo disguise. The fitted leather jacket was over a black t-shirt, and his black tight jeans disappeared into black half boots. The earrings going down his left ear finished the look.

He did not resembled the boy he had been five years ago. The man looking back at him was no longer protected or cherished.

Savan leaned his right elbow on the table and pressed his palm to his temple. He couldn’t think about this right now. Not here, in public, shaking his head, he jerked when Valerie touched his right arm.

“Savan, are you alright?” Valerie asked, her voice filled with concern.

“My name is—,” he stopped, lifting his head up fast.

Valerie was frowning at him.

Damn it, using aliases should be easy by now. Moving his hand away from her touch, he glanced down at his left hand where he still gripped the disposable phone tightly. The call that had prompted him to buy it filled his thoughts.

“Savan,” Valerie said, her tone unsure.

His continued silence was unsettling her, but he couldn’t seem to keep it together. Savan gave her a slight smile when he realized she was expecting a response to something she’d said. He had no idea what.

He shouldn’t have agreed to meet Valerie. Not today anyway, he grimaced. Pushing his chair back, he stood up and bowed slightly.

“Something’s come up, Valerie,” he said. “Let’s reschedule, you can come to the salon in Harajuku.”

He didn’t give her time to respond but rushed out of the coffee shop. Zipping up his leather jacket against the chilly weather, he stuck the phone into his left pocket and hurried to his motorcycle. He was weaving through traffic in the next minute.

My name is—

He maneuvered around a slow moving van, and increased his speed as traffic let up. The wind felt good on his face, leaning lower, he allowed the powerful machine to take over, sweeping him in to breath-taking speed. When he was flying, the sound of the wind deafening, cars flying past him, he didn’t know what they were anymore, he let out a soft sigh and acknowledged the truth.

My name is SarEr Nan.

It felt blasphemous to think it as he slowed down to take an exit that would lead him to a quiet residential area. He’d had so many other names. Jing in Beijing, Tao in Shanghai, Lee in Seoul, countless more as they had moved around China and India.

Now, he was Savan, and Zun was Liang.

It was their longest alias. Frankly, it was starting to make him worry.

Savan pulled into a park and stopped the motorcycle in the parking lot. He sat still looking around the park for a moment before he reached into his pocket and pulled out the disposable phone. A small gadget that hadn’t cost much, but afforded him the anonymity he needed. No registration and once he threw it out; no one would ever know where the call had come from.

Despite the promise to leave them alone if they left Hong Kong, Jiro’s men made it a point to make sure they left whatever country they ran to, if Choi Yang’s search got too close.

They always threatened to kill Zun’s mom, so before they’d moved to Japan from New Caledonia, two years ago, they’d taken measures to protect her. The only day they could contact Xiao Wei was on Mei’s death anniversary.

He and Zun were taking serious risks with the flourishing business that was scaling up faster than they had imagined. They’d both trained in hair design in the course of their numerous escapes from Jiro. It had seemed the logical course of action to open a hair salon in Harajuku when they moved to Japan. Their success while appreciated was making him worry. He was half scared of that bastard Jiro walking into their salon one morning and forcing them to pack up and leave.

Out of habit, Savan looked around again to make sure no one had followed him. Paranoia was something that he couldn’t afford to lose no matter how safe he felt. It kept them alive. Jiro’s men could get very aggressive in their campaigns. He had two bullet wounds on his left thigh for underestimating those bastards.

He dialed the number he’d memorized with diligence and brought the phone to his ear. His right hand gripped the motorcycle handle tightly when it rang on the other end.

“Hello,” Xiao Wei answered, her tone hesitant.

“It’s me,” he said, his heart pounding so hard he was sure everyone in the park could hear it. “How have you been, Xiao Wei?”

“I’ve been fine, my dear. Are you taking care of yourself? Zun called me earlier. He’s worried about you. Are you eating?”

“We’re fine,” he answered trying to reassure her. He kept his tone up beat. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve made a few friends and we’re meeting later to burn incense for my Mei. I know you two can’t be here, but I was hoping that I could see you even if it’s a short visit. I miss you both so much.”

“We miss you too, but you know we can’t risk you again. We have to keep you safe. Forgive me for keeping your son away from you this way.”

Savan closed his eyes, trying to reconcile the maternal concern she so easily gave with the crime he’d committed against her. How could she remain so compassionate with him after all the problems he’d caused her?

“Please burn extra incense for me. I thought about sending something but it isn’t safe.”

“I understand. SarEr,” Xiao Wei said, that name made him gasp, his fingers turning white on the handle. “Stop blaming yourself, this isn’t your fault.”

“I have to go."

“Alright, eat well, my dear. I love you, my son,” Xiao Wei said with a tearful voice.

He turned off the phone.

Tears tracked down his face and he sat for a moment letting them flow. After a minute, he got off the motorcycle and walked to the trashcan mounted on the sidewalk. He dumped the phone and wiped his face with his palms. Walking back, he swung back on the motorcycle and took in a deep breath.

Enough moping, he thought as he rolled out of the parking lot.

Savan was waiting to merge into traffic when his actual cell phone rang and he had to stop to reach for the bluetooth clip in his trouser pocket. He answered the call keeping his attention on traffic.

“Savan, what happened with Valerie? She’s panicking and her manager keeps calling the shop,” Liang said into his ear. “Where are you?”

“On the way back,” Savan answered. “I told her I’d meet her at the salon next time. Give her an appointment if she calls again.”

“What’s going on?” Liang asked, no doubt reading too much into the situation again. Savan sighed and merged into traffic.

“I’m on the road. Let’s talk when I get there later.”

There was a pause, before Liang said, “Fine, if you’re done carrying burdens you should drop, don’t forget you have a fashion show later today.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Savan said as Liang ended the call.

He doubted he could forget anything that darned fashion designer did.

Keeping at a legal speed, he set a course for Ginza. His thoughts centered on his latest big job. Two months ago, Mika Lucianne had insisted that she wanted Bovian Image to style the models for a private fashion show. Cole Lucianne, the head designer at Niad Fashions, was doing the show to bring in important European buyers and he was especially including designs from his private collection for the show. No one had seen the designs except the models that were to wear the dresses.

Mika had called Savan and forced him to audition on her to get the contract. He was still angry with her for the way she’d done it. She had a very condescending attitude that rubbed him in all the wrong places. They had gotten into a bitter argument when she challenged his talent. Damn woman was too hard headed for her own good.

Of course, compared to Mika, her son was the King of Hell.

Cole was a monster compared to her, Savan thought bitterly.

That idiot, with his rules, and demands, letting out a slow breath to keep calm, Savan consoled himself with the fact that after today, they didn’t have to see each other again.

His phone buzzed again, and he reached up to answer it just as the traffic light on his lane turned red. He answered with a bored tone as he brought the motorcycle to a stop. Mika Lucianne exploded in his ear.

“Where the hell are you? We have a crisis and you’re out playing, seriously Savan, is anything important to you?”

“What crisis?” Savan asked, rolling his eyes at her dramatics.

He had two stylists on site already, and he’d done most of the prep work the day before, any crisis would be on the side of Niad.

“Yui has cut her hair,” Mika said and then promptly hung up.

Crisis was an understatement.

Yui was the main event in the show. She was supposed to be spotting amazing, life changing locks that would have stunned the audience into shelling out money. She was killing him. After all the prep work he’d done the day before, he was going to shoot her when he saw her.

Savan glanced at his watch and shook his head, it was a little after five o’clock, the show was starting at seven. Without the crisis, he would have had plenty of time to work on the models before the show. With this, he could almost feel the shiver of an icy gaze drilling a hole in his back.

Cole had to be literally having a cow.

Yui had officially screwed the rest of his day.

***