Dance Dance Dance (13 page)

"One question, though it's none of my business," Gotanda said. "Did you ever sleep with her?"

"Uh-huh."

"So then, well, if I were to say, supposing I slept with her too, would that bother you?"

"Not especially," I said.

"Good," said Gotanda, relieved. "I'm a terrible liar. So I'll come right out with it. We slept together a few times. She was a good kid. A little mixed-up maybe, but really a good person. She should've become an actress. Could've done some good things. Too bad."

"And you really don't know where to contact her? Or what her real name is?"

"Afraid not. I don't know of any way to find her. Nobody knows. 'Kiki' is all there is to go on."

"Weren't there any pay slips in the film company account-ing department?" I asked. "They've got to put your real name and address on those things. For the tax office and all."

"Don't you think I checked? Not a clue. She didn't bother to pick up her pay. No money accepted, so no record, nothing."

"She didn't pick up her pay?"

"Don't ask me why," said Gotanda, well into his third drink. "The girl's a mystery. Maybe she wanted to keep her name and address a secret. Who knows? But whatever, now we have three things in common. Science lab in junior high. Divorce. And Kiki."

Presently our steaks and salads arrived. Beautiful steaks. Magazine-perfect medium rare. Gotanda dug in with gusto. His table manners were less than finishing-school polished, but he did have a casual ease that made him an ideal dining companion. Everything he ate looked appetizing. He was charming. He had a grace you don't encounter every day. A woman would be snowed.

"So tell me, where did you meet Kiki?" I asked, cutting into my steak.

"Let's see, where was it?" he thought out loud. "Oh yeah, I called for a girl and she showed up. You know what I mean, there are these numbers you call. Right?"

"Uh-huh."

"After my divorce, for a while there I would call up and these girls would come and spend the night. No fuss, no muss. I wasn't up for an amateur and if I was sleeping with someone in the industry it'd be splashed all over the maga-zines. So that's the companionship I had. They weren't cheap, but they kept quiet about it. Absolutely confidential. A guy at the agency gave me an introduction to this club, and all the girls were nice and easy. Professional, but with-out the attitude. They enjoy themselves too."

He brought a forkful of steak to his mouth and slowly savored the juiciness.

"Mmm, not bad," he said.

"Not bad at all," I seconded. "This is a great place."

"Great, but you get tired of it six times a month."

"You come here six times a month?"

"Well, I'm used to the place. I can walk right in and no one bats an eye. The employees don't whisper. They're used to famous people, so they don't stare. No one coming to ask for your autograph when you've got your mouth full. It's hard to relax and eat in other places. Really."

"Rough life," I kidded. "Plus you can't slack off on that expense account."

"You said it! So where were we?"

"Up to the part about call girls."

"Oh right," said Gotanda, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "So, one time I call for the usual girl. But she's not available. Instead, they send these two other girls. I get to choose, because I'm such a special customer. Well, one of the girls was Kiki. It was tough to decide, so I slept with both of them."

"Hmm," I said.

"That bother you?"

"If I were still in high school, maybe. But not now, no."

"I never did anything like that in high school, that's for sure," chuckled Gotanda. "But anyway, I slept with both of them. It was a funny combination. I mean, one girl was absolutely gorgeous. I'm talking stunning. Some expensive work on that body, let me tell you. Every square millimeter of her dripping with money. In my business you run into plenty of beautiful women, and this girl was no slouch. She had a nice personality, intelligent too. And then there was Kiki. Not a real beauty. Pretty enough, but no pizzazz, not like the typical club girl. She was more, well,..."

"Ordinary?" I offered.

"Yeah, ordinary. Regular clothes, hardly any makeup, not a super conversationalist either. She didn't seem to care a lot about what people thought of her. No one you'd give a sec-ond look. And the strange thing about her was, somehow she was more attractive, she interested me more. After the three of us got it on, we were sitting on the floor, drinking and listening to music and talking. I hadn't enjoyed myself like that in ages. Not since college. I felt so relaxed with them that the three of us got together a few more times after that."

"When was this?"

"This was about six months after I got divorced, so that makes maybe a year and a half ago," he said. "We had this threesome five or six times. I never slept with Kiki alone. I wonder why. I really should have."

"Yeah, why not?"

He set his knife and fork down on his plate, then pressed at his temple again. Seemed to be a mannerism of his. And a charming one too.

"Maybe I was scared," Gotanda said.

"What do you mean?"

"Scared to be alone with her," he said, picking up his cut-lery. "There was something challenging about her, almost threatening. At least that was the feeling I got. No, not exactly threatening."

"Sort of suggestive? Or leading?"

"Yeah, maybe. I can't really say. But whatever it was, I got only a hint of it. I never got the full frontal effect. So anyway, I never felt like sleeping with just her. Despite the fact that she attracted me more. Does this make any sense to you?"

"I guess."

"Somehow, if I'd slept with Kiki, just the two of us, I wouldn't have been able to relax. I'd have wanted to go a lot deeper with her. Don't ask me why. But that wasn't what I was after. I only wanted to sleep with girls as a kind of release. Even though I really did like Kiki."

We ate in silence for a moment or two.

"When Kiki didn't show for the audition, I rang up her club," Gotanda went on, as if he'd just remembered. "I specifically asked for her, but she wasn't there. They told me they didn't know where she was. True, she could've told them to say that if I called. Who knows? But in any case, she evaporated, just like that."

The waiter cleared the table and asked if we wanted coffee.

"No, but I'd like another drink," said Gotanda. "How about you?"

"I'm in your hands."

And so we were brought our fourth round.

"What do you think I did today?" Gotanda asked out of nowhere.

I told him I had no idea.

"I assisted a dentist, all afternoon. Background study for a role. Right now I'm doing this series where I play a dentist. Ryoko Nakano's an optometrist, and we have clinics in the same neighborhood. We've known each other since child-hood, but something's always conspiring to keep us apart. Pretty harmless stuff. But, well, TV dramas are all the same. You ever seen it?"

"No, can't say I have," I said. "I don't watch TV. Except the news. And I only watch it twice a week."

"Smart," said Gotanda. "It's a stupid program anyway. If I wasn't in it, I wouldn't watch it myself. But it's a popular show. The ratings are pretty high. You know how the public loves this kind of stuff. And you wouldn't believe the mail I get every week. Dentists writing in, complaining about how such-and-such a procedure wasn't rendered right or the treatment for such-and-such a toothache should have been something else. And then there are these jokers who say they never saw such a poor excuse for a show. Well, if you don't like it, don't watch."

"Nobody's forcing them to."

"The funny thing is, I always get stuck playing a doctor or a teacher or somebody wholesome and respectable like that. I've played more doctor roles than I can count. The only thing I haven't been is a proctologist! Imagine how much fun that would be! But I've been a vet and a gynecolo-gist and of course I've been a teacher of every curriculum in the book. I've even taught home economics. What do you make of all this?"

"Well, obviously, you radiate trust," I laughed.

"Yes, a fatal flaw," Gotanda laughed back. "Once, I played this crooked used-car salesman. A bullshit artist with one glass eye. Boy, I had fun with that. The role had some bite to it, and I wasn't bad either. But no way. The letters came pour-ing in. It was too mean a role for the noble likes of me. Some-body even threatened to boycott the sponsor! Toothpaste, if I remember correctly. So my character got scratched in the mid-dle of the season. Written right out. A pretty important part, killed by natural selection. And ever since then, it's been doc-tors and teachers, doctors and teachers."

"Complicated life."

"Or a truly simple one," he laughed again. "Anyway, today I was doing time as a dental assistant, studying tech-nique. I've been doing this for a while now, and I swear, I can probably do a simple procedure myself. The dentist—the real live dentist—even praised the way I handle the tools. I have this gauze mask on, and none of the patients knows it's me. But still, they all relax when I talk to them."

"Can't stop radiating that trust, can you?"

"Yup, that's what I'm beginning to think. Matter of fact, I get to feeling so relaxed I wonder if I wasn't cut out to be a real dentist or a doctor or a teacher or something. I could've done that, you know. Maybe I'd be happier doing something like that."

"You're not happy now?"

"Don't know," said Gotanda, finger in the middle of his forehead this time. "It's this trust business I'm such a pro at. I don't know whether I trust myself. Everybody else trusts me, sure, but, really, I'm nothing but this image. A push of the button and—brrp!—I'm gone. Right?"

"Hmm."

"If I really was a doctor or a teacher, no one could switch me off. I'm always there."

"True, but even with acting, you always have to be there."

"Sometimes I just get tired," said Gotanda. "I get headaches, and I just lose track. I mean, it's like which is me and which the role? Where's the line between me and my shadow?"

"Everybody feels that way, not just you."

"I know that. Everybody loses track of themselves. Only in me, the slant is too strong. It's, well, fatal. I've always been this way, since I don't know when. To be honest, I was always envious of you."

"Of me?" I was incredulous. "Why the hell would you be envious of me?"

"I don't know, you always seemed to get along just fine doing your own thing. Didn't matter what others thought, you didn't really care. You did what you wanted, how you wanted. You were solid." He raised his glass and looked through it. "I, on the other hand, was the eternal golden boy. I never did anything wrong, I got the best grades, I won elections, I was a star athlete. Girls liked me. And teachers and parents believed in me. How do things like this happen? I never really understood what was going on, but you sort of get into a groove, you know. You probably can't even imag-ine what I'm talking about."

No, not really, I told him.

"After junior high, I went to this school that was big in soccer. We almost made it to the nationals. So it was like an extension of junior high. I kept on being good. I had a girl-friend. She was gorgeous. Used to come cheer for me at the soccer matches. That's how we met. But we didn't go all the way, as we used to say. We only fooled around. We'd go to her place when her folks weren't home and we'd fool around. We'd have dates at the library. High school days right out of NHK Teen Playhouse."

Gotanda took a sip of whiskey.

"Things changed a bit in college. There was all this cam-pus unrest, the United Student Front. I got put in a leading role again. And I played the role all right. I did everything. Put up barricades, slept around, smoked dope, listened to Deep Purple. The riot squad broke in and we got dragged off to jail. After that, there wasn't much for us to do.

"That was when the girl I was living with talked me into doing underground theater. So I tried out, partly as a joke but gradually it got interesting. I was this beginner, and I lucked into a couple de cent roles. Pretty soon I realized I had a talent for that kind of thing. I'd have this role and I could actually make it work. After a couple years, people started to know who I was. Even if I was a real mess in those days. I drank a lot, slept around all the time. But that's how every-one was.

"One day a guy from the movies came around and asked if I'd ever considered acting on-screen. Of course I was inter-ested, so I tried out and I landed a bit part. It wasn't a bad part—I was this sensitive young man—and that led to some-thing else. There was even talk of TV. Things got busy, and I had to quit the theater group. I was sorry to leave but, you know how it is, you think, there's a big, wide world out there, gotta move on. And, well, you know the rest. I'm a doctor and a teacher and I hustle antacid lozenges and instant coffee in between. Real big, wide world, eh?"

Gotanda sighed. A charming sigh, but a sigh no less.

"Life straight out of a painting, don't you think?"

"Not such a bad painting, though," I said.

"You got a point. I haven't had it bad. But when I think back on my life, it's like I didn't make one choice. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and it scares me. Where's the first-person 'I'? Where's the beef? My whole life is playing one role after another. Who's been playing the lead in my life?"

I didn't say anything.

"I guess I'm running off at the mouth."

"Doesn't bother me," I told him. "If you want to talk, you ought to talk. I won't spread it around."

"I'm not worried about that," said Gotanda, looking me in the eye. "Not worried in the least. There's something about you—I don't know what it is—somehow I know I can trust you. I trust you from the word go. But it's hard to be open with people. I could talk— well, maybe I could—to my ex-wife. For a while there, until everyone around us screwed up the works, we really understood and loved each other. If it was just the two of us, things might have worked out. But she was too insecure. She needed her family too much, couldn't get out from under them. So that's when I ... No, I'm getting ahead of myself. That's a whole other story. What I want to know is, is all this talk a drag?"