８．畑
ネオンがにじみはじめた、新宿歌舞伎町。
雑居ビルの二階――『Club Lapis』。
エレベーターを降りた途端、タバコの甘さと、拭き取っても残るヤニの気配が鼻の奥にひっかかった。
赤紫のソファ、アルミの灰皿。
歌舞伎町三番手と呼ばれる店は、華やぎの裏に気安さを残していた。
畑茂則は、手指消毒の自動噴霧に手をかざしながら店内を見回した。すでに何組かの客がいて、栓の抜けたボトルと溶けかけの氷が、今夜の景気を示していた。
畑はひとり祝杯を上げる気分でいた。
まだ誰にも話せない。
だが家で飲むには、今夜は落ち着かなかった。
案内されたソファに腰を下ろすと、ひとりが隣につき、慣れた手つきで酒を作って差し出す。
『今日はお仕事だったんですか』
『コロナってどうなるんですかね』
無難な話に、適度に相槌を返す。
初回の客だから、指名が決まるまで女性は入れ替わっていったが、追加料金を払ってまで誰かを引き留めるつもりはない。畑はそれが「分別ある飲み方」だと自負していた。
そんな中、次に現れた女性は控えめな足取りで近づいてきた。
小柄な体に胸元の開いたドレス。まだあどけなさが残る顔立ち。
厚底ヒールだけが、ひと世代前の匂いを引きずっていた。だが畑の視線はそこまで落ちなかった。
「お客様！ 今日はなんだか、いつもよりご機嫌ですね？」
唐突な声に、畑は思わず吹き出した。
「おいおい、会うのは今日が初めてだよな？」
彼女はリズミカルに腰を下ろす。膝は揃えたまま、つま先だけを投げ出すみたいに前へ置いた。
「当ててみましょう！ きっと、いいことがあったんでしょう？」
「君は占い師か？」
言いながらも、内心では嬉しさが広がっていく。
「まあ、当たらずとも遠からず……『これから』いいことが起きそうなんだ」
「えー、なになに？」
彼女は知りたがりの目で覗き込む。
「話せないんだよ、職務上ね」
「話せる範囲でいいからぁ」
彼女も仕事――だけど、興味を向けられるのは悪い気がしない。それ以上に、話したい気持ちが口元までせり上がった。
グラスが空になるたび、
「昔、俺にも秘書がいてね」
「今は製薬会社の社長で」
「そのうち騒がしくなりそうなんだ」と語っていた。
時間を告げに来た黒服に、畑は迷わず「このまま彼女で」と伝える。
笑いの余韻を抱えたまま、ようやく思い出したように口を開いた。
「君、名前は？」
彼女は茶目っ気を利かせて、
「カノンです」と名乗った。
※
Neon had begun to bleed at the edges in Kabukichō, Shinjuku.
Second floor of a cramped, multi-tenant building—Club Lapis.
The moment Hata stepped out of the elevator, sweetness from cigarette smoke and the stubborn ghost of tar—something you could wipe and wipe and still not erase—caught at the back of his nose. Red-purple sofas. Aluminum ashtrays. The place people called “third-tier Kabukichō” held onto a casualness behind its glitter, like a loosened tie.
Shigenori Hata lifted his hands into the automatic sanitizer mist and scanned the room. A few groups were already in, and uncorked bottles and half-melted ice told him what kind of night it was.
He felt like drinking a toast by himself.
He still couldn’t tell anyone.
But drinking at home felt impossible tonight—too quiet, too close.
When he sank into the sofa he’d been shown to, a woman slid in beside him and, with practiced hands, mixed a drink and offered it over.
“So you were working today?”
“What do you think is going to happen with COVID?”
He answered with safe little nods at the safe little topics. Because it was his first time here, the women rotated in and out until he settled on someone—but he had no intention of paying extra to keep any one of them at the table. He told himself that was what a sensible way of drinking looked like.
Then the next woman approached with careful, almost timid steps.
A small frame in a low-cut dress. A face that still carried a trace of childishness. Only the platform heels dragged a scent from a generation ago. Hata’s gaze didn’t even make it that far down.
“Sir! You’re in an especially good mood tonight, aren’t you?”
The suddenness of it made him bark out a laugh.
“Hey—this is the first time we’ve met, isn’t it?”
She dropped into the seat with a rhythmic ease. Knees together, toes placed forward as if she were tossing just the tips of her feet at him.
“Let me guess! Something good happened, right?”
“What are you, a fortune-teller?”
He said it lightly, but warmth was already spreading inside him.
“Well… you’re not wrong. Or at least—something good feels like it’s about to happen. Soon.”
“Eeeh—what? What is it?”
She leaned in with a nosy, shining look.
“Can’t say. Occupational hazard.”
“Then just tell me what you can tell meee.”
It was her job, sure—but it didn’t feel bad to be coaxed, to have someone’s interest aimed at him. More than that, the urge to talk rose up until it pressed at his mouth.
Every time his glass ran dry, he found himself offering pieces of it anyway.
“Back then, I even had a secretary.”
“Now I’m the president of a pharmaceutical company.”
“It’s probably going to get noisy, before long.”
When the man in black came to announce the time, Hata didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll keep her,” he said. “Same girl.”
Still carrying the afterglow of laughter, he finally remembered—almost as an afterthought—to ask.
“What’s your name?”
With a little mischief, she answered:
“Kanon.”
