Trigger Warning: This chapter is longer than usual.

The Lombardi family drifted in a wavy line toward a smiling hostess at the restaurant entrance. As Rob closed in, Sophia glanced back, smiled, and raised her hand. Rob called out cheerfully. "Hello." After a half-turn, Makiko looked away. Five feet of clean carpet separated them. She stood very still, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Unbelievably, seven, eight years had passed since they last saw each other. "It's great to see you, Makiko." He spoke to her averted face, hoping to meet her eyes.

Sophia gazed at her inert sister, then at him. "It's great to see you too."

Screw caution. He swept over and gave Makiko a hug. She lifted her chin and looked at him without smiling, her eyes bright. Her hands did not graze his back. Afterwards, Yukiko gripped Makiko's elbow and pressed their cheeks together.

Rob wanted another hug, badly, but Mr. Lombardi put out his hand. An elegant man of about sixty, he had a firm handshake. "It's nice to finally meet you." He added a sentence in Italian.

"Sorry," Rob said. "I picked up zero Italian growing up."

Sophia brushed into him. "My friends and I love your song. Can I get a picture of us?" She held up a digital camera.

Yukiko shushed her. "Not now."

Her father put his arm around Sophia's shoulders. "She brought a CD for you to sign. We hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Nothing about Makiko's expressionless face suggested she wanted one, but she looked directly at him now, her round eyes bright as flares under the angular edges of her brows.

"Your name has been in the newspapers quite a lot lately," Mr. Lombardi said.

He probably referred to the upcoming exhibition and the Gears tour, not the incident in Afghanistan. "I've had some ups and downs, but this is the best, the icing on the cake. I'm very happy to see you, Makiko."

Yukiko still clutched Makiko's arm. Makiko placed her hand over her mother's. Yukiko let go and spoke through clenched teeth. "Friends of mine, who do not know we are acquainted, mentioned your exhibition. Congratulations, word is out."

That was difficult for her. And generous. "Come see it," he said. "All of you."

Sophia pressed her hands together in prayer. "Will the Gears be there?"

Rob laughed. "I can't promise that. Anna Lord will. Makiko knew Anna. Her father Alan and I palled around, you remember?"

"Yes." Brief eye contact and a word. A start.

"Will Vincent be there?" Sophia said.

"He may fly in at the last minute, but he's dating a fashion model who may or may not drag him somewhere else."

Sophia opened her mouth. She yanked Makiko's arm as if trying to pull her to the floor and roll together. Makiko's hair whipped around as she slipped from Sophia's grasp, her first natural movement since Rob arrived. She smiled - a beautiful sight, even if not for him. Sophia pulled Rob's arm, in the manner of someone much younger than ten or eleven. "Which model? Is she coming to Tokyo too?"

"I don't know who. Once I've met her, I'll be able to keep her name straight."

Yukiko took Sophia's hand off him. "Mr. Pirone is not here to talk to you about models."

"Let's sit down." Mr. Lombardi flourished his hand at the patient hostess. "We have a reservation?"

"Yes," Rob said. "My assistant made it."

A waitress wearing black nylons led them across the dining area. On the way to the table, Sophia sidled up against him again. "I can't believe you're my sister's father."

Rob had no idea how to respond. Makiko appeared not to hear. Yukiko grimaced. Mr. Lombardi reached for his wife's hand and shook his head at her. Sophia leaned in closer. "Are you going to bring us to a Gears concert? That would be nice."

"Sophia," her father said sharply, "Mr. Pirone is here to see Makiko. This is not about you." When they arrived at the table, he gripped Sophia's shoulders and led her to a chair next to Yukiko. With an upturned palm, he indicated a chair on the other side of the table for Makiko. With one for Rob beside her.

Rob took it, sliding the cloth napkin out of its wooden loop and onto his lap. He took a menu from the waitress. Makiko hesitated until Mr. Lombardi narrowed his eyes at the empty chair next to Rob. She slid the chair out with her slender fingers and sat. When the waitress handed her a menu, she bowed her head. Rob quickly selected a chicken dish and a glass of wine, water if others were not drinking. Makiko concentrated on her menu. Sophia tilted hers. The menu hid her mouth and one eye, but her grin still showed.

Maybe Makiko was nervous. Her character seemed more stereotypically Japanese than Sophia's, more reserved. Or just older, refined... elegant...

While Yukiko ordered, Makiko tapped Rob's hand. She spoke softly. "You have an assistant?"

"Kind of. Her name is Margot. I rent her, so to speak."

He wanted to explain, since it interested her, but the waitress came around the table for their orders. When the waitress left, Yukiko began a conversation about the Hasegawas, the gallery owners who initiated Rob's original exhibition. They ceded control to a larger venue, a museum, after the Gears CD, and the song Vintage Rob, increased interest. Rob's success was dominating the conversation. Turning to Makiko to blab about having an assistant seemed obnoxious. Still, he wanted to draw Makiko in. "Do you speak Italian?" he said.

"I speak Japanese, Italian, English, and French." She used a clipped interview voice.

"That's amazing."

Eventually, the waitress circumnavigated the table with appetizers.

Makiko glanced at her mother and drank water. Before lifting a fork or dabbing her mouth with a napkin, Makiko sometimes nodded. Most of the time, she listened to the others without reacting, which Rob believed was uncharacteristic of a teenager. No doubt, she deferred to her mother. With Yukiko present, they could not have a real conversation. Makiko probably felt constrained too.

The meal was an investment; they would talk next time, really talk.

Sophia kidded Makiko about being silent. Even Mr. Lombardi chided her gently. "It's okay," Rob said, wanting to keep things pleasant. He looked at Mr. Lombardi. "How long have you lived in Japan?"

"I spent part of my childhood in Tokyo and have been in business here for almost thirty years. I watched the bubble grow and burst." He laughed and put his arm around Yukiko's shoulders and smiled at Sophia and Makiko. To escape the spotlight, Rob encouraged Mr. Lombardi to elaborate. It turned out Mr. Lombardi's father had been a career diplomat. Cultured people and amusing coincidences colored the stories of his upbringing. While he talked, the main course arrived on wide plates. Steam curled off the crisp chicken skin and colorful vegetables of Rob's entree. A white sauce flavored Makiko's small piece of fish. During the meal, Sophia begged her father, mother, and sister to share portions of their food. As often as possible, Rob directed laughter and witticisms at Makiko. She didn't turn her head toward him completely, and she rarely spoke to anyone other than Sophia in full sentences, but he held out for a smile. Clearing the food from his plate began to feel like a countdown. Each forkful hastened the end of the meal.

Mr. Lombardi grew more talkative after Rob asked about his background. Makiko remained absorbed, bashful, resentful or downtrodden, whatever it was. Sophia's manner impressed Rob. She contradicted her father, interrupted him, teased him, even told him with a laugh that he was an old windbag who knew nothing about modern Tokyo. Though heavy-handed, she knew how to entertain a group of adults. For her age, Sophia was funny, interesting, and knowledgeable.

Rob wanted Makiko to shine too.

The waitress cleared away the dinner plates.

"I'm looking forward to dessert." Yukiko smiled. She probably meant she looked forward to the end of the meal, not to dessert. Rob deflected her bad karma, if that was what it was, with pleasantries. He felt sorry for her. She had a lovely family, a stable life. Hopefully, she was only this way in his presence.

Sophia requested a dessert menu. The waitress returned with several.

Yukiko examined one. "Rob, what are you having? It all looks good."

"I'm partial to the tarte choco poire."

With Rob's encouragement, Mr. Lombardi's family, business, interests, and experiences had dominated dinner. Makiko, however, had asked about Margot earlier, so he risked a little self-aggrandizement now. "Makiko?"

She turned. Her intelligent eyes resembled Gene's, no kidding. Her sharp chin and thin nose reminded him of his grandmother. "You asked about my assistant earlier. Any particular reason?"

She smiled.

Fantastic.

And replied. But Yukiko spoke loudly over Makiko's voice. "I'm no longer in the mood for dessert." She shoved the menu at the waitress. "Let's skip it."

Apparently, he had stumbled onto something. "I'll have the raspberry mousse," Makiko said. She interpreted the situation the same way he did, he was sure. She waited out her mother, just like him.

The waitress departed with the dessert orders.

Makiko's smile and Yukiko's outburst had distracted him. "I'm sorry," Rob said, "I didn't hear what you said a moment ago, about Margot?"

"Does Margot work for Cluster Management?"

The question's specificity threw him. Unable to recall, he pulled Margot's business card from his wallet. "Yes." He handed her the card.

Mr. Lombardi laughed. "There you go, Makiko. An in."

"You're interested in them?"

"She's always loved celebrities," Mr. Lombardi said, "especially ones I've never heard of."

Sophia laughed. "Like Harry Styles and Brian Keating."

Mr. Lombardi shook his head. "I've heard of them. I meant... you were talking about who the other night, the Brazilian actor in New York?"

"Joel Susugi," Makiko said.

Rob knew of him. He was not an actor. He was a personality, a socialite, with no accomplishments really. "Is Brian Keating represented by Cluster Management?"

"Sometimes. To supplement his staff." Makiko leaned toward him and smiled again. "You didn't know that?"

Mr. Lombardi and Sophia laughed. "According to Makiko, Cluster Management is the market leader," Mr. Lombardi said.

"Do you know him?" Makiko said.

"Who?" Rob awaited for the name Brian Keating like it was a snakebite.

"Joel Susugi."

"Oh, he's with Cluster too?"

"Yes."


Rob vowed to himself to meet Joel Susugi the next time he was in New York. Maybe he would bring Makiko along. "After the Gears leave Tokyo, I have a job in New York for a few days. If you want to come, I may be able to track down Joel Susugi. There are always parties."

"I wish I could go," Sophia whined. "What about Brian Keating? He's coming to Tokyo during the Gears shows. I read it online."

Rob had to change the topic away from Brian Keating. Luckily, Makiko still held Margot's business card. "Keep that," he said. "Do you want to talk to Margot? You can use your French. She's French."

"I'd love to."

"I'll call you tomorrow." He input Makiko's number into his phone while the others ate their desserts. Yukiko would mistake his joy for gloating. Since he did not want to rub it in, he avoided looking at her. He grinned only after slipping his fork out of his mouth, pretending the savory tart brought it on. "Mmmm." He smiled with each bite.

Mr. Lombardi and Makiko also ate in quiet contentment. Rob assumed Yukiko smoldered. He wanted to part company before anything went wrong. Hopefully he could see Makiko in private tomorrow or soon. When Mr. Lombardi finished his coffee and pushed back his chair, Rob welcomed it.

"Let's celebrate," Sophia said. "I want to hear Rob sing 'Vintage Rob' at karaoke. Please."

Mr. Lombardi gazed at Sophia indulgently and pityingly. "Actually, you don't want to hear that," Rob said. "I'm not Vincent. Why don't we go to my apartment instead? It's just down the street. We could have tea."

Mr. Lombardi agreed, Sophia squealed and jumped out of her seat, and Makiko lifted her bag off the empty chair.

Yukiko heaved herself up. "I don't see why not, but I'd rather have a glass of red wine if it's available."

"It is," Rob said.

Yukiko marched away from the table. Everyone else followed.

***

Rob and Makiko led the procession out of the hotel. Sophia trailed, surrounded by her parents holding her hands. Rob did not dare take Makiko's hand, but the gentle downward slope of the sidewalk suited strolling. His building, less than a block away, rose out of illuminated shrubbery and groves of manicured trees. Earlier, he had tidied his apartment, just in case. He planned to make a joke about the apartment's bland walls and invite Makiko to shop for artwork with him.

He and Makiko stopped at a crosswalk in front of his building. The view through glass walls of security guards in the floodlit lobby looked like an architectural drawing, and he said so. Makiko nodded. Sophia, Mr. Lombardi, and Yukiko still needed to catch up. No vehicles passed on the road, but they waited for the light to change.

Two girls in short skirts, holding hands, raced up the sidewalk. One shouted, "We want to stay again." They were from the other night, the ones with Cynthia.

Rob grabbed Makiko's hand. "Let's cross. Gears fans are crazy."

He stepped into the crosswalk, but Makiko stayed. "The light," she said.

One of the girls hugged Rob's chest and yelled into his face, "I love Vintage Rob." The other shouted something at Makiko in Japanese and pushed her. Makiko stepped away. Rob lost his grip on her hand.

He tried to break free from the girls, but he did not want to use too much force. "These girls are crazy." As he tried to gently rip the girl's hands off his chest, he made scattered eye contact with the Lombardis.

The girl who pushed Makiko threw her arms around his neck. She tried to kiss him. "Do me again."

Rob threw a look of exasperation at the Lombardis. The weight of the girls was pulling him down. He could not duck away. They swung with his movements. It was too much. It was out of hand. He was going to have to get rough. "Girls, stop."

They spoke in Japanese.

"They know you," Yukiko said.

"No." Finally losing his balance, Rob fell. The girls landed on top.

One rubbed his crotch and shouted in Japanese. "Big."

Rob was unable to see Makiko, any of them. "It's not what you think." He pushed harder. One of the girls slipped her hands under his shirt. Pulling did not dislodge her arm. One pinned his arms and laughed. He did not want to have to throw them off. "Girls, stop." He lifted his head but could not see Makiko and the others. Shoving, he managed to get onto his hands and knees. The girls giggled and clung to him. He fought his way onto his feet and tried to sidestep them but they held tightly to his legs. "Makiko." High stepping, he freed his legs and ran a few steps before stopping to orientate himself.

The vacant sidewalk stretched toward the hotel and restaurant. Stairs led down the side of a building to a wide plaza between the hotel and a park. No one moved except for silhouettes far away. "Makiko!" he called, heading down the stairs before freezing. He pulled out his phone but was afraid to use her number. This needed an explanation in person.

Besides, only strangers haunted the far reaches of the plaza.

He double-backed to the hotel's main entrance and prowled the shopping area connected to the building. The underground platform of the nearby subway station too, but they probably drove.

No Lombardis. No Makiko.

It's a long chapter. If it held your interest, why?

What is up with Cynthia's friends? Any thoughts? Are they bad people after all?

FYI: This dinner takes place from Makiko's perspective in Ch. 10 of QUIET.