Authors: Naomi Hirahara
Blood Hina (28 page)
As the Buckwheat Beauty made her walk toward the gazebo, she saved a special smile for Mas. She was wearing makeup, but not enough to disguise the freckles.
After Dee came the matron of honor, Sonya de Groot, her beehive hairdo more erect than ever. A yellow silk ribbon had been tied around it, and somehow that ridiculous touch suited her. She took her position a couple feet from Mas.
“Funny, I’m a bit nervous,” she confessed softly. Lowering her chin, she almost giggled, and Mas was afraid her hair would take a tumble.
Nervous wasn’t the emotion that Mas would describe for himself. More like
hazukashii
, embarrassed. All eyes focused on the handful of them. If Haruo had chosen three men to match up with Spoon’s girls perhaps Mas wouldn’t feel so self-conscious. But he was the only representative, envoy, and ambassador for the Mukai side, and he felt the full weight of that responsibility.
Of course, he wasn’t the only one in the crowd who could vouch for Haruo. Taxie, who was serving as the de
facto wedding coordinator, was running around, making sure there were enough folding chairs. Occasionally a
bang-bang
resounded from him losing a grip on one of the four chairs that he was attempting to carry at one time.
Clement, dressed in a festive Hawaiian shirt, sat in the front row with an attractive Asian woman with long hair. Next to them sat his sister, Kiyomi, her husband, and their clan of boys, who were poking each other with dead branches they had found on the ground.
On the other side was Geoff de Groot in a suit that was much too tight for him. He made sure that he sat in the far aisle seat so he could make a quick getaway. Formal occasions weren’t the place for flower growers, who much preferred being out in the greenhouse or on the highway making deliveries.
Seated on the Hayakawa side was Itchy, who was tugging at his earlobes as usual. Mas and Itchy had never been close, but the recent revelation of how he’d forged Ike’s and Jorg’s death certificates had irrevocably altered their relationship—both for the good and for the bad.
The Eaton Nursery minions were in attendance at well. Stinky was wearing a fat red tie from the seventies, while Wishbone had chosen to grow fuzzy sideburns that only burdened his pockmarked face. This wedding would be the talk of Eaton Nursery for at least a couple of days, more so if some unexpected disaster befell the nuptials.
Then there was Genessee, smiling in her blue dress. He could imagine how the talk would feed off of their “friendship”—not only because they were old, but because Genessee was black Okinawan and a professor to boot.
It wouldn’t necessarily be a scandal, but an unbelievable occurrence, like a child with six fingers on one hand. For some, the unlikely phenomenon was a curse; to others, a sign that miracles do happen.
Mas checked his inside suit pocket and fingered the smooth curve of Spoon’s ring. This time the ring would not fall out of his hands. And even if it did, the circle of gold would not land in the belly of a fish but on the concrete floor of the flower market, scuffed by decades of flower men and women walking through with their carts and newspaper bouquets and stained by the colors of smashed petals that had fallen loose from the rest of the fold.
Perhaps out of nervousness, Haruo started humming a completely different tune than the Perry Como song that was playing. Mas was going to scold him to stop when he locked eyes on a display just behind the gazebo. Two
hina
dolls—they must have been Ike’s original set, because Mas had heard that Spoon was able to retrieve them from the Hina House. The doll man, Klinger had not been killed, just banged up enough so that both arms were in slings.
The dolls looked, more or less, like the ones that Mas had seen in Spoon’s living room. The same white delicate faces and tiny eyes that seemed to move with the light. And then-
ara!
—did Mas imagine it? He could have sworn that underneath the hollyhocks, he had seen the emperor’s head bow in recognition of a job well done.
My admiration for flower growers in the greater Los Angeles area reached new heights when I did research for a nonfiction book,
A Scent of Flowers: The History of the Southern California Flower Market, 1912-2004
. My memories of conversations with Ken Osaka, Jibo Satow, Art Ito, Larry Nomura, Mas Yoshida, and Frank Kuwahara still remain vivid. Rest in peace, guys.
In terms of
hina
dolls, I send my thanks to my relatives in Japan and my mother for passing down the childhood gifts that served as my visual inspiration. Alan Scott Pate’s beautiful tomes,
Ningyo: The Art of the Japanese Doll
and
Japanese Dolls: The Fascinating World of Ningyo
, are recommended reading for anyone interested in this topic. Other helpful resources are Michael Evans’
Kokeshi: Wooden Treasures of Japan;
Jill Gribbin’s
Japanese Antique Dolls;
and Sanae Tsushida’s
Tsushida Sanae no Shiki no Tezukuri Ningyo
.
In order for me to understand the detail required to make these dolls, a visit to the home of doll-making instructor Soki (Kimoyo) Sakaniwa was invaluable. Thanks also to Emma J. Coleman, office administrator of St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, who allowed me to experience again the church’s extraordinary stained glass windows. A walk with Evelyn Yoshimura in her Mid-City neighborhood made that area alive with detail.
The town of Hanley is fictionalized, but Imperial Valley, steeped in agricultural history, is very much real. The Pioneers
Park gives a comprehensive survey of the area. Tim Asamen, a native of Imperial Valley, kindly shared the story of collecting rocks in Niland, which was incorporated here.
There are myriad books on cocaine and its proliferation in North and South America. They include the video program
The True Story of Killing Pablo
, produced by Wild Eyes Productions for the History Channel;
Cocaine: Global Histories
, edited by Paul Gootenberg;
From Silver to Cocaine: Latin American Commodity Chains and the Building of the World Economy, 1500-2000
, edited by Steven Topik, Carlos Marichal, and Zephyr Frank; Tim Madge’s
White Mischief: A Cultural History of Cocaine;
and Nick Shou’s
Kill the Messenger: How the CIA’s Crack-Cocaine Controversy Destroyed Journalist Gary Webb
. Also of interest are memoirs, Jeff Henderson’s
Cooked: My Journey From the Streets to the Stove
and William Cope Moyers’s
Broken: My Story of Addiction and Redemption
. Don Winslow
(The Power of the Dog)
and Deborah Ellis
(Sacred Leaf)
have also created powerful fictional accounts.
I have been personally inspired by the work of my girlfriend, Diane Ujiiye, and the Asian American Drug Abuse Program in the field of substance abuse prevention.
I feel so fortunate to live in Southern California, where the Little Tokyo branch of the Los Angeles Public Library and Kinokuniya Bookstore always seem to have just the research materials that I need.
The eagle eyes of Sonia Pabley caught plot mishaps—I’ll always be indebted to you, Sonia! Editors Diana Szu and Kat Brzozowski, copy editor Cynthia Merman, and agent Phyllis Wender were incredibly supportive during the production of
the hardcover.
I thank Prospect Park Books for keeping Mas’s stories alive and in print, specifically Colleen Dunn Bates, Patty O’Sullivan, and Jennifer Bastien. A shout-out goes to Jean Utley of Book’em Mysteries in South Pasadena for serving as author-publisher matchmaker! Agent Allison Cohen has beautifully helped to facilitate this transition.
Appreciation goes to Leslie Klinger, the 2007–09 Mystery Writers of America/Southern California chapter president and good friend, who actually paid good money to be immortalized in a Mas Arai mystery. (At least the money went to a good cause, Les!)
And then there are usual suspects: Mom, Dad, Jimmy, Sara, Rowan, and Wes. Thanks for being in my life. It’s not always easy, but it is almost always fun.
Naomi Hirahara is the Edgar-winning author of the Mas Arai mystery series, including
Gasa-Gasa Girl, Summer of the Big Bachi, Snakeskin Shamisen
, and
Strawberry Yellow
, as well as the children’s novel
1001 Cranes
. She lives in Southern California.
