Midnight Snack: Meals Report From the Nightward. By Anna Okkes 👧🏻
Okay, okay, okay. Readers! Unfortunately, this week we didn’t get to eat. But there have been serious developments nonetheless.
Now, listen I know it probably wasn’t smart to go into the Ward as a wanted woman but Veedat had agreed to squire me—again, very reluctantly. The truth is, we needed to get out! Someone on the sub-read-it spotted the Yawning Naan again.🫓
We left my apartment complex at 2 a.m., and walked down the Park Street Bridge and into the long alley that connects the docks of Packer’s Wallow to the Nightward. So, there we were, navigating a sharp turn in the alley when suddenly something emerged from where the dark asphalt met the bare brick wall. A terrifying shadow grew into the menacing silhouette of a wolf!
We clutched each other in fear and watched helpless as it crept closer. Then a single shiny nut rolled into view, and the shadow disappeared. In its place hopped a small red squirrel—but not just any squirrel. This squirrel had one very queer feature: it had many tails.
Veedat exhaled and put his hands on his knees.
“Whew, it’s just a Scarell.”
As we drew closer, the small animal snatched up the nut, and I watched in amazement as its ten finger-sized tails twisted and squeezed into the shape of a wolf’s head.
“Shadow puppets?”
Just as we began to laugh in relief, headlights flooded the alley temporarily blinding us. The creature darted away.
A man stepped out of the driver’s side and pulled at the tails of his sport coat and brushed at his sleeves. From the passenger side slid a young woman. They closed the doors and they approached us with slow, swaggering strides. The man’s suit was sharp; his teeth sharper. The young girl flashed a wicked smile, casually brandishing a pair of nunchucks.
Veedat audibly swallowed. “The Yakuza,” he whispered.
About ten yards from us, the strangers stopped, and the driver called out in a heavily accented voice:
“Get in the car, Ms. Okkes. Our employer would like to chat.”
I looked to V for a sign of what to do. He stood stock-still and silent. I hadn’t thought he could look any paler.
We got in…
Even if I die, I’m still obligated to tell you about this week’s sponsor:
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Now back to the story.
The driver parked outside a tall industrial building—a relic from the old city close to the old ironworks. I was actually too distracted to be afraid. The foyer we were rustled into smelled like an old sponge. An elevator door opened at the far end.
“Up,” said the driver.
The elevator opened into an opulent apartment at the top of the building. Everything was black polished wood, and dark purple velvet, accentuated by warm underlighting.
“Welcome!” said a rich voice. “Please, take a seat.”
“My name is Boss Tsushima. I see you’ve already met Driver and my niece, Kami.”
The young girl circled a gleaming mahogany desk and placed a protective hand on a large, bald man’s shoulder. The gangster’s face was wide, and his eyebrows were abnormally long and wispy. His presence was palpable, sitting there strong and serene, like a boulder at the bottom of a waterfall—a boulder that refused to erode. The young woman, apparently named Kami, flashed her smile again.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Only to clear your name, Ms. Okkes. We know who set fire to the Midnight Market, and we know it wasn’t you.”
My eyebrows shot up. The boss continued.
“We brought you here to offer you absolution. Vindication.”My brows shot down into suspicious v
“Yeah?—at what cost?” I’d watched gangster movies with Granny. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Now it was Boss Tsushima’s turn to raise his eyebrows, and a slow smile spread across his round face.
“I can see I’m dealing with a pro,” he chuckled and stroked his chin. “I own three restaurants in the Ward, and I would like you to review them.”
“That’s it?”
“We will provide you with protection. Driver and Kami will accompany you and keep the officials and other undesirables away.”
Kami leaned back against a credenza by the window and began to chew a hangnail. A look both derisive and bored curled one side of her mouth. Driver ran a hand down his long bovine face and yawned.
“Why me?” I asked.
“That’s complicated…and political. Basically, there are those in the Nightward who don’t want daytimers crossing the border. Then there are others—like yours truly—who have investments in the Ward. These investments don’t pay for themselves. And basically, Ms. Okkes, daytimers have more money… and they spend that money on food…” Boss Tsushima spread his hands over his glossy desk and leaned forward. “I’m a business man and I want my businesses to bear fruit.”
“I assume you want good reviews?” I said, perching my fists on my hips.
“No, no, no. I stand behind my restaurants, and I know you have integrity. What I want from you, Ms. Okkes, is your honesty.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Well, this has been pleasant. Thank you for your time. Driver and Kami will escort you home and collect you next Tuesday night at 8:00PM. Will that suit?”
🌙🍟
Next thing I knew, we were back in my borough. It was 3:15 a.m.
What had I gotten us into? Should we be afraid? Veedat looked scared (then again he kinda always looks that way). What did he know that I didn’t? Wasn’t it dangerous to be involved with the Yakuza?
On the bright side, it’s an amazing opportunity to break into the exclusive fine-dining world of our city’s Nightward…
At the foot of the stairs that led up to my apartment, I turned to my friend and asked:
