Matt was always convinced that nothing could be worse than a paranoid Matsumoto. When that would happen, guards would swarm all over and security would triple. The man would rarely leave his office, and when he did, not even Matt could penetrate the barrier (or throng, he would mock) of guards that accompanied Matsumoto wherever he would go.
On that day, it had somehow
gotten worse.
Meetings were piling and papers
had to be signed. The Englishman had gone to two meetings that day in his
superior’s place, easily representing the KM Corporation with an easy smile and
charisma radiating from all over him. It was easy after the two meetings, but
the smiling started to hurt and the bickering with idiots made his blood boil.
Matsumoto was supposed to do
it.
The itch to smoke out of
irritation was there. The need to drink something to avoid the coming headache
was there. Matt’s hand twitched for his box of cigarettes but he refused,
keeping his hand at his side as he walked back inside the building with a less-than-pleased
look on his face. The others must have realized how he felt, for he was being
talked to less than usual.
That was good, he
thought. At least they knew their shit.
The last thing he wanted was
yelling a poor guy to trembles and squeaks when they clearly had no fault at
all. He grit his teeth and pushed the button, waiting impatiently for the
elevator to come down and pick him up.
Once it did, a harassed-looking
fellow stumbled out with a clearly ticked off look on his face. He recognized
the man as Yamanaka from Sales and instead of asking what had happened, went
inside the elevator and pressed the button to a certain floor, watching as the
doors swept to a close and began to rise.
Matsumoto had been working
himself into oblivion, that wasn’t to be avoided. Matt swore the prick ran on
coffee and deli before passing out, waking up and drinking coffee then
repeating the cycle. He wondered when the day would come that Matsumoto
twitched himself out of his office in a caffeine-induced high.
The thought, at least, was
slightly amusing.
The doors opened and he stepped
out, cigarette in his mouth for he had given up and desperately needed to smoke
out his problems. Hell. Maybe Matsumoto would join him, he almost never refused
to do so unless he had a visitor coming and wanted to smell fresh, minty.
Somewhat clean and crisp like what was expected.
The guards didn’t notice him.
They almost never did unless Matt would ask something and they would answer in
a monotonous kind of voice.
“Is he inside?”
The guard by the door nodded.
“He does not want any visitor.”
“What, not even me?”
“My apologies, Mr. Jeevas, but
that was strictly his orders.”
“Bollocks to that,” the ginger
muttered darkly before knocking on the door. The guard’s eyes flashed in a
spike of anger, but in Matt’s own, he simply didn’t notice (or care) and merely
waited for some kind of reply, an answer, anything.
“I am a very busy man!”
“Matsumoto, we have to talk.”
“I’m busy, Matt. Now leave the floor before I have you
escorted out.”
“Escorted?” the word was
undeniably foreign. “What, am I some kind of fucking intruder or someone who
wants your autograph?” he turned to the guard by the door, “Tell him to let me
in. He’s being ridiculous.”
“Matt. I told you, out.”
“Mr. Jeevas, I’ll have to make
you leave if you go on,” the guard said, obviously uncomfortable with doing
such a thing. “It’s on Mr. Matsumoto’s orders to not let anyone in, even myself
or you.”
He looked the man in the eye
before shaking his head angrily and turning away, taking out his lighter as
well.
Smoking was prohibited on the
hallways.
As the guard watched Matt board
the escalator going down, he decided to let it pass.
His irritation continued for
the rest of the day until he got home, throwing his jacket off and smelling strongly
of nicotine. He merely ignored her pained stare and climbed up the stairs to go
to their bedroom, most likely wanting to change.
“And they call me stressed,”
she muttered quietly, pouring herself a cold glass of water and gulping it
down.
He eventually came back and sat
on the couch, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly, A cautiously bringing him a
steaming cup of tea to check how irritated he was.
“I’m fine without the tea,” he
grumbled upon smelling the oddly entrancing scent. A frowned this time.
“Too bad, I’m not drinking it.”
“What do you want me to do with
a steaming cup?” he asked her exasperatedly.
“Wash your knickers with it.
Drink the damn thing, obviously.” Matt opened his eyes with a scowl and took a
sip, grimacing at the lack of sweetness.
“It isn’t even that sweet! And…why
in the bloody seven hells does it taste like nothing?”
Her temper spiked. “If you want
your own sweetened tea, make your own and stop complaining.” A walked off
afterwards, fuming even more under her calm face and cool façade that she put
on.
Matt merely sighed and didn’t reply any
longer, drinking his tea despite the lack of taste. He didn’t want to admit it
– but the tea somehow raised his spirits despite his temper.
In the kitchen, A rubbed her
temples and poured herself a glass, drinking deeply from it and not noticing Matt
as he entered the room with an empty club and sobered down expression, turning
from mildly upset to disappointed when he caught her.
With the wine glass.
“You told me you’d stop,” he
said with a slightly more irritated tone, making her jump. “A, you told me–”
“I told you I’d restrict
myself, but can you blame me?” she snapped. “God, damn it all. Someone can die
because of incompetence in the next few days, the squad is working their asses
off and Thomas hasn’t gotten anything new.” Wanting to spite him, she took
another drink and ranted on, “I make you a cup because you weren’t talking and
I wanted you to talk but now you’re here going on about my drinking when I
clearly don’t want to drink.”
She lifted the wine bottle,
walked to the trash can, and threw it in.
“Now my wine’s all finished and
I have to get a new bottle. And I have to sleep.” She set her empty glass in
the sink and started to walk out, but Matt grabbed her wrist silently, making
her stop.
“Can you listen to me? Please,”
he added, sensing her want to go away, “I’m sorry. If Touta wasn’t his usual,
jolly self, you’d be worrying as well.”
“What did he do this time?”
“He didn’t want to let me into
his office. Guards were swarming. I think he’s really getting paranoid, and it’s
going to affect the company if he continues any sooner.” She went into deep
thought and he watched as she glanced back at him, expression neutral.
“We might have to investigate
into Kenichi if something happens.”
“I know,” he exhaled and ran a
few fingers through his hair, “And I want to avoid that.”
“So do I. Look,” she took her
phone out of her pocket and handed it to him, “Why don’t you call and ask him
what’s going on?”
“What?” he shook his head, “I
can’t. He won’t say anything, A, you know that. He won’t even answer.”
“That’s why you’re going to use
my phone. If he sees it’s me, he might think I’ll be asking where you went
again and is more likely to answer.” She typed in her passcode and swiped,
finding his name and contact number. “I’ll talk first, bring you up, and
hopefully that’s going to help us in this investigation.”
Matt looked at her phone and
sighed, nodding.
“Trust me on this.”
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