Chapter 18: Twinkie’s Delivery Service

Hawthorne Plaza, LA. September 2005.

[I was inside Hulk with two other people. 

Twinkie (Bow Wow) and Reiko (Keiko Kitagawa) introduced me, Sean, to Tokyo's underground drift scene after I hopped out of the chunky green family machine. 

Eyebrows up, jaw down, the camera tracked the three of us as I awed at the exotic car scene.

ABCs, SEAs, and ABGs disguised vaguely as Japanese gyarus - the realities of open casting calls outside of the related countries - dressed in skimpy outfits swam across the frame in front of us. 

I dipped my head, trying to catch a hint of a little something something under those bouncy nano skirts.

“Oi!” Reiko snatched my ear and pulled my head out of the gutter.

A wry smile stole across my face when Twinkie jumped to my defense, threw his arm over Reiko’s shoulder and tugged her away. “It’s his first time. Let the man explore Japan’s oceans, girl.”

“Hentai-yaro!” I rubbed my ear as the two threw me into the deep end. Clean engines rumbled with their hoods up, fat speakers pumped heavy bass, and party-goers bounced in clashing rhythms as they pretended that music played for their enjoyment.

My roving eyes and the rotating camera stopped when I saw her. Dressed in near the same outfit as when I’d caught my dad on a date with her on my arrival in Tokyo. 

She leaned on a pillar as smoke lazily trailed from the cigarette hanging loosely off her lip.

I don’t know if it was plain curiosity or just the comfort of spotting a familiar face, but I was compelled to approach.

“Konnichiwa.” I awkwardly stumbled through the greeting.

She frowned at me for disturbing her peace, but her half-lidded eyes opened fractionally in recognition. “You shouldn’t bother. I can speak English.” 

I smiled at her in thanks, “I was hoping. Either way, it doesn’t hurt to get a little practice in. I need all the help I can get.”

She scoffed, “good luck getting that here.”

“Hey, at least I’m tryin’!”

“I suppose so… Sean, right?” Her voice was soft, raspy, and tired more than anything else.

I perked up. “How’d you know my name?”

“Your father mentioned you.” 

“You guys uh… talked?”

She chuckled quietly, in amusement, at my assumptions about her job. Two fingers pinched the cig’s filter, and she took a drag. “You’d be surprised how much of my time is just spent talking.” She blew the answer at me in a cloud of acrid smoke. “Just like you came to me, too. Old or young, lonely men are lonely men.”

A little embarrassed, I scratched the back of my head. Seeking to change the topic, I pointed at her car. “This your ride?” A Mazda RX8 is powder blue, complementary to Han’s own orange RX7. Funny how that worked out, huh? “Never seen so many flashy cars with such little engines.” I dusted my hands on my jeans and put one out for her to shake. “You know my name, but I never caught yours.”

“It’s Neela.” She ignored my hand and instead reached over and pinched my cheek. “You’re used to straighter roads. Our cars need to journey on much more twisted lanes.” Somehow, I doubt she was talking just about racing.

Before we could get deeper into conversation, we were rudely interrupted. DK rested his head on her shoulder and mean-mugged me with his most insufferable, smug smirk. 

“Takashi!” she reprimanded him when he likely cussed me out in Japanese.

Han, smooth as ever, tossing some snack into his mouth, moseyed on over to the scene. “Never can stop yourself from messing with foreigners, can you, D?”

“I might not speak the language yet, but that sure didn’t sound like Japan’s legendary hospitality.”

DK laid a slimy kiss on Neela’s neck. “Understand now, Gaijin?”

“Not really. We were just talking, is all.”

“If you want to talk to one of my girls, you have to pay. Gaijin price is double.” Shamefaced, Neela averted her eyes and turned her head away. He ran his hands over her stomach. “Want her for tonight?”

“No, he doesn’t!” Reiko teleported in between us.

Twinkie nabbed my shoulder, spun me around, dragged me away, “The hell is you doin’, man? He’s Yakuza!” he hissed.

“Know who I am now, boy?” DK taunted. Well, if he wanted to continue our pleasant conversation, who was I to deny him? 

I turned on my heel, slipped out from Twinkie’s grip, and dodged past Reiko. “The lost Japanese member of the Backstreet Boys.” Twinkie threw his hands up in frustration. “Or maybe one of the Spice Girls?”

In that pin drop moment, only Han had the balls to snort out a laugh. “C’mon, D. We’ve wasted enough time with tourists. Time to race.” He broke the tense standoff and the two sides moved away from each other. 

Reiko and Twinkie pushed me back while reprimanding me, as DK’s crew gestured rudely at us. “Hey good luck, Scary Spice!” The only thing smart about me was my mouth.

With the way DK suddenly pirouetted, he might very well have been a backup dancer. 

He stuck his face close enough to mine that a change in the soundtrack could imply this was a romantic scene.

“You’re the one that’s lucky, because I’m about to race.”

“I could take you.” 

“Easy to sound cocky when you have no ride.” Had Grindr been a thing already, no doubt the screenwriter would’ve been on it.

“Take mine.” The camera smash cut to Han, tossing his keys and quickly panned to me, catching them mid air. 

“Let’s race.”]

Rhys Millen and the wonderful stunt team would be in charge of running the drift scene. As much as I’d like to be the one behind the wheel, I didn’t have the skills yet to be on the same stage as the pros. I’d get my opportunity later.

The final stages of the replica Shibuya set were under way and so was the finalization of the car choreography. The ‘careography’ if you will. 

In the meantime, the car I was being allowed to drive was the totalled red Mitsubishi up the spiral ramp of the mall.

[I jerked the wheel to the side as I heard the twisted metal and plastic of the once pristine car scraping against concrete, leaving a long red gash on the white paint of the wall.

The car shuddered to a halting stop.

I yanked the keys out, shouldered the damaged door, and extricated myself from it.

“Poor Mona Lisa.” Twinkie despondently lamented with a disappointed shake of his head.

“Do you know how long it took me to tune that thing!?” Reiko furiously clenched my collar and shook my head.

Han casually circled the heap. Hand in pocket and his eyes shifting up and down the shattered red body of the Evo. 

With a wince, I offered him the keys.

“Nah, you keep that.” He raised one hand and waved me off. “Ever heard of you break it? You buy it?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can afford any of this.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “So would you prefer I break or buy you, then?” The serious threat sounded so very casual.

Bewilderment spread across my face. I gulped lightly and stuttered out. “...buy?”

“Your choice.” He swirled around and made his way to the party, leaving the three of us in our own little corner of misery. He pointed at my (hopefully still) friends and the two teenage members of his crew. “You both keep an eye on him. I don’t care if he skips class, just make sure he doesn’t skip town.”]

---

Narita International Airport, Tokyo. October 2005.

Hrrngh! I groaned like a middle-aged man getting off a sofa after an extended session of sitting. Knees bent, arms tense, I deposited Anita’s insanely heavy suitcase on to her rattling trolley. The bulbous slab of luggage looked ridiculous next to mine and Cadbury’s more sensible selection.

“God, you must have paid more for excess baggage than the first class upgrade.”

She gripped the release lever and pushed her way to the customs channel from our baggage claim belt. I put Cadbury’s handbag on the upper shelf and followed behind Anita. “Well, some of us have to pack our clothes, and not just turn up at the nearest Uniqlo retail store with our special privilege card that lets us take anything and everything for free.”

Fair enough. 

As we reached the arrival gate, we were greeted by the presence of airport security in full force. “I knew it wasn’t just clothes! C’mon Cadbury, let’s bail. We can’t beat a ninety-nine percent conviction rate. We need to be on the outside so we can get Anita out from the inside.” I made to pull away and distance us from my agent. Anita helped by throwing a surprisingly flexible sidekick on my thigh. Clearly pilates was paying off. 

“They’re here for you, fool!” 

The indignity! “What did I do!?”

“Be famous. Or did tumbling around in crashing cars knock your memories of Harry Potter out of your ears?”

A sharply dressed uniformed man, complete with flat cap and white gloves, beckoned us down a side hallway. “Follow, please.” 

“I guess they don’t want your chaos impeding all the other passengers.” Anita shook her head with a sigh. “What a diva you are.”

As we strode down, the lone sound of footsteps and creaky wheels was slowly joined by the rising hum of activity. The sliding doors opened, and Narita turned into a frenzy of fans and flashing lights. 

I threw my hand up in front of my face to block out the strobing. The neon zoo of Shinjuku was more excited about my arrival than I realised. Cameras flashed, fans screamed, posters and cutouts of my face waved like conquering flags. I couldn’t help but revel in the spectacle. I threw up a peace sign, soaking it all in.

Anita shot me an amused glance. “Remember why we’re here, Bas. This isn’t a concert.”

Airport security cleared a path through the howling throng. “I should say something, shouldn’t I? They came all this way for me.”

Cadbury reached over and pulled out a pocket size Japanese phrase book. My robot had upgraded herself and added a translation function, it seemed.

I flipped through and found an appropriate phrase. I cupped my hands around my mouth, took a deep breath, and bellowed out, “Nihon ga suki!”

The crowd surged forward, and airport security was the only reason I wasn’t trampled into mochi. 

---

Shuujin Academy, Tokyo. October 2005.

You don’t know what getting high was like until you got that first hit of fame. Shad “Bow Wow” Moss reflected. He’d gotten that first sweet taste of it when he won a billboard music award and Nickelodeon kid’s choice award a few years back in ‘01.

But, as he craned his neck up to stare at hundreds of heads peeking out from the building’s windows, he’d never experienced anything like this.

Five floors of whack a mole. He should write that down in his rhyme book later. 

He and the other student actors had arrived at a Japanese academy to film the interior school shots for the movie. The teachers had come out to greet them with a few of those honor roll types, and while there were a few curious looks, no one really cared that they were here.

At least until B showed up. Then the quiet little Asians turned into an Atlanta crowd at an Outkast show. Even a local news crew showed up. 

Like Mike didn’t have shit on Harry Potter.

B and his team go to work pretty quick. He took photos with fans, accepted gifts, gave an interview. All the while he, the Universal crew, and even Keiko - the actual Japanese celebrity, stood on the sidelines.

And it wasn’t like anyone had the authority to complain about the favoritism shit, either. The way he heard it told, the Japanese government had denied Universal a filming permit. So the solution becomes to build an expensive replica set and hire more extras, right? Wrong! 

B makes one phone call to his Japanese brand sponsor and they organise an entire fucking ad campaign for some back to school collection in return for product placement in the movie. He had to call room service twice last night just to get a damn pizza!

And hey, if the school takes an under the table payment to let Universal shoot the school scenes under the guise of B filming Uniqlo ads, no one was gonna snitch. 

It took a while, but with introductions out of the way, Universal could move in and stage the set inside. He saddled up to Keiko and began working his charm. “Kinda makes you hate him a little, huh?”

She looked at him with surprise. “You are jealous?”

“You ain’t? Look around. The only ones paying us any attention right now are each other.” Keep it smooth Bow. A bunch of giggles suddenly poured out as Bas stepped out dressed in a full Gakuran - Japanese school uniform. “Spotlight’s totally on him.”

She tilted her head, pursed her lips, stared B down, and hummed. “I actually find it quite attractive.” 

“Keiko! You’re up!” Justin called her and she walked off without a second look at him.

Shad had to sit there and wait his turn as B and Keiko filmed Sean’s first day at school.

[Uwabaki! Teacher called out.

Uwabaki? Sean stayed confused.

“She means slippers.” Reiko offered.

“Reiko-chan, onegai!” and she was immediately made responsible for the foreigner. 

Sean, with a little relief, sat on the chair next to Reiko’s table. “Books?” she asked.

“Oh! Uh…” Bas fished around in his bag and pulled out a pocketbook. Wait. That wasn’t in the script, Shad thought, he was just meant to say no. 

“No!” Reiko pointed at the textbook in front of her, “like this one.”

“In that case, I was always taught that sharing is caring.” He pulled their tables close to each other and tugged his chair right up to hers till their shoulders were almost touching. He flipped open the pocket phrase book and read out. “Arigato Gozaimasu.”

Shad couldn’t help but notice the blush that spread across Keiko’s face. She tucked her hair behind her ear and whispered, “You are welcome.” ]

This guy just improvised an entire scene out of his ass, and he didn’t think Keiko was acting that much anymore either.

Clearly this dawg was bow wowing up the wrong tree. 

---

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