Hobby and I had been enjoying Margaritas on the fantail of Lazybuns, his ocean-going abode at Marina del Rey. If for no other reasons, I'd befriend Hobby for his ability to make the M-drink. There are none better-nowhere!
Were it not for their calories, I'd make them a steady diet. I try to limit myself to two, but Ms are like peanuts, the more you have the more you want. I was still salivating when Hobby came from below decks waving a paper.
"Remember Sugi Yamamoto?"
"Sure." How could I forget the adventure in Japan last year? After fighting off local gangsters we finished up with an action packed shipboard poker tournament. "What's he up to."
"He's coming for his daughter's graduation and wants to do some poker bumming around."
"When?"
"In two weeks."
"I'm not planning to go anywhere. How about you, Hobby?"
"I'll tell him to count on us. In the meantime maybe we can figure out what else he has in mind," Hobby said as he handed me the email message.
I could see what had puzzled Hobby. "While I'm there I want to do some research regarding property my grandfather had in California before WW II." I immediately thought about the internment of Japanese- Americans ordered by President Roosevelt in the early 1940's. I wondered if that was somehow involved. It was a despicable event in our history, for which we should rightfully be ashamed, but maybe I was off on the wrong track entirely.
"Hobby, ask him for details. Maybe we can get some information before he arrives. One of my neighbors works for a title company; she can run a trace on a property from an address."
After his daughter's SC commencement Sugi hosted a dinner party at the Golden Crown. A lot of good food and drink were consumed before Hobby and I bade our goodbyes. Sugi walked out with us and said, "Tomorrow family business over, so, we go poker partying?"
"Yes." Hobby answered.
"We'll pick you up for lunch and start at Commerce."
"Hai. Ashita, Hobby-san."
Sugi said as he ducked back inside.
"I guess that means we're on," I said.
Sugi wanted to sit in on a $20/40 hold 'em game with the locals to check out their play. Hobby and I went off to separate tables. I tried Omaha but I guess I'm too oriented to Hold 'Em. I used to think a good poker player had to be good at all games, but what the hell. I only have to play what I like-Seven or Hold 'Em, and mostly the latter.
I spent the next few hours doing just that. I had a hot run and got ahead about two big ones, but when Hobby tapped me on the shoulder I was back to about $500 ahead. "We're ready for dinner if you are," Hobby said.
"Yep. I'm finished. You ready for a juicy steak, Sugi?" I asked.
"Steak sounds good, but maybe teppan yaki style. My cousin opened a Japanese restaurant in Little Tokyo. I promised to come for dinner. You will be my guests." It didn't take any convincing for Hobby and me to agree.
While the chef was flashing knives and preparing shrimp on the large grill surface we made multiple toasts of sake. Sake is a wonderful drink. It is usually served hot and it's not high in alcohol, but it has a way of sneaking up on you-like a ninja warrior in the night. Sugi asked, "Did you find out anything about my grandfather's property?" "Yes, we did," Hobby answered. He was getting a bit giddy from the sake and continued, "It's one of those good news/bad news stories. The good news is that he owned ocean front property in Ventura County. I can imagine him sitting on his patio watching the sun set as he dreamed about Japan. Joe, tell him the bad news."
"Thanks for letting me be the bearer of bad tidings. Sugi, the problem is that this section of coastline is subject to pounding from heavy seas.
The land your grandfather owned is now part of the Pacific Ocean." I wasn't ready for Sugi's reaction-he laughed like it was the funniest thing he ever heard.
Hobby and I joined in like a couple of idiots, not knowing what was so funny. When the laughing subsided Sugi explained, "I can't wait to tell my brother. He's so anti- American; his big beef is that Americans stole our family's land in California. I can't wait to tell him it was Mother Nature!"
Sugi stood up abruptly to greet a Japanese man who approached our table. They spoke a couple of minutes before Sugi introduced him. "This is my friend Tabu. He now lives in Los Angeles.
He owns mah jong clubs and he's converted one to a card room. After dinner, maybe we can visit?"
"Sure," I agreed. Hobby nodded.
The club was only a couple blocks away, upstairs over a Japanese noodle shop.
Were it not for Tabu's warm welcome, the all-Japanese crowd would surely have shunned us. Since the tables were nearly full, Sugi went one way and Hobby and I went the other, then seated ourselves side-by-side. There was no idle chitchat here, only a few furtive glances our way. I nudged Hobby and whispered; "Check the fingers," as I nodded toward a hefty player across the way.
The tip of his right index finger was missing. The man was likely Yakusa, a Japanese gangster.
The players in our pot limit game seemed conservative with the exception of the big Yakusa guy. He tried to bully other players with big bets they were reluctant to call- except for Hobby. My friend was on a hot rush and before long he had cleaned out the gangster. It got ugly as the loser spouted off in Japanese, some of which was translated by a more dapper looking associate. To our relief they left. We played a couple more hours. Hobby retained most of his winnings; it was a breakeven night for me, a winner in my book. Sugi was going to hang with his friend so Hobby and I took our leave.
As we walked down the narrow alley to the street two men-the Yakusa and his companion-stepped out of the shadows. The big guy shouted something in guttural Japanese. The other said, "You cheated my friend and he wants his money back."
This was very scary, but Hobby didn't hesitate. "If you can take it from me, you can have it." When that was translated the hulk let out a war cry and lunged at Hobby who quickly side stepped in matador fashion. As the charging giant passed, Hobby grabbed his arm and accelerated his rush into the side of the brick building. Something slippery on the walkway caused Hobby to stagger from his own momentum while the bull bounced back from the building like a rubber ball and grabbed him in a bear hug.
Ugh. It was crunch time for Hobby, literally. I cringed. Hobby mustered all his strength to resist the crush by arching backward then suddenly he rammed his head forward into the face of his opponent. Crack! It sounded like a yardstick breaking over a knee. I hoped it wasn't Hobby's skull. Apparently not. Hobby repeated the smashing motion several times. Visions of Woody Woodpecker attacking a telephone pole! It worked. Mr. Monster let loose of my friend who wasn't satisfied just to be free. He did a hip toss that ended with the backside of the mug's skull cracking against the pavement. He was out cold and bleeding profusely from his face.
I was standing slightly behind the other guy, doing a "watch my backside." When the man reached inside his jacket I pressed my car door opener hard against his back and said, "Don't make a move or I'll blow a hole in your spine." I reached around and slipped an automatic pistol from his shoulder holster.
"You better look after your friend before he chokes on his own blood."
I took Hobby by the arm. He was reluctant to leave the scene, "Time to exit stage left, buddy."
"Yeah." He straightened his jacket. "You figure he was just a sore loser, Joe?"
"If he wasn't before, he is now. Bigtime sore loser."
That got a chuckle from my pal as we reached his car.
"Take my handkerchief and wipe the blood from your face and give me the keys. I'll drive."
"Yeah, thanks. I've got a bit of a headache," Hobby admitted.
"Don't doubt it. Must be from all that heavy thinking playing poker."
"Yeah," Hobby grinned, "maybe that's it."
