Hard Rain

smooth out the
    rough edges of business meetings, as well as for the hope that,
    eventually, something more might develop. If it were simple sex that
    the hostesses' clients were after, they could buy it for much less
    elsewhere.
    "What club?" I asked him.
    "A place called Damask Rose."
    "Haven't heard of it."
    "They don't advertise."
    "Sounds upscale."
    "It is. It's a pretty refined place, in fact. In Nogizaka, on
    Gaienhigashi-dori. They probably wouldn't let you in."
    I laughed. I love when Harry shows some spirit. "Okay, so the boss
    takes you to Damask Rose ..."
    "Yeah, and he had a lot to drink and was telling everyone that I'm a
    computer genius. One of the hostesses asked me some questions about
    how to configure a firewall because she just bought a new computer."
    "Pretty?"
    The blush reappeared. "I guess. Her computer was a Macintosh, so I
    liked her right off the bat."
    I raised my eyebrows. "I didn't know that kind of thing could form the
    basis for love at first sight."
    "So I answered a few of her questions," he said, ignoring me. "At the
    end of the night, she asked if I would give her my phone number, in
    case she had any more questions."
    I laughed. "Thank God she didn't just give you her number. She would
    have died of old age waiting for you to call."
    He smiled, knowing that this was probably true.
    "So she called you ...," I said.
    "And I wound up going over to her apartment and configuring her whole
    system."
    "Harry, you "configured her whole system"?" I asked, my eyes
    mock-wide.
    He looked down, but I saw the smile. "You know what I mean."
    "You're not going to ... penetrate her security, are you?" I asked,
    unable to resist.
    "No, I wouldn't do that to her. She's nice."
    Christ, he was so smitten that he couldn't even spot the sophomoric
    double entendre. "I'll be damned," I said again. "I'm happy for you,
    Harry."
    He looked at me, saw that my expression was genuine. "Thanks," he
    said.
    I raised my glass to my nose, took a deep breath, held it for a moment,
    and let it go. "So she's got you keeping odd hours?" I asked.
    Well, the club is open until three a.m. and she works every day. So,
    by the time she gets home ..."
    "I get the picture," I said. Although in fact, it was a little hard to
    imagine Harry with an attachment that didn't have an Ethernet cable and
    a mouse. He was an introverted, socially stunted guy, with no contacts
    that I knew of outside of his day job, which he kept at arm's length in
    any event, and me. Conditions that had always made him useful.
    I tried to picture him with a high-end hostess, and couldn't see it. It
    didn't feel right.
    Don't be a prick, I thought. because you can't have someone in your
    life, don't begrudge Harry.
    "What's her name?" I asked.
    He smiled. "Yukiko."
    "Yukiko' means 'snow child." "Pretty name," I said.
    He nodded, his expression slightly dopey. "I like it."
    "How much does she know about you?" I asked, taking a sip of the
    Lagavulin. My tone was innocent, but I was concerned that, in the
    delirium of what I assumed was first love, Harry would be unnecessarily
    open with this girl.
    "Well, she knows about the consultant work, of course. But not about
    the ... hobbies."
    About his extreme proclivity for hacking, he meant. A hobby that could
    land him in jail if the authorities caught wind of it. In the ground,
    if someone else did.
    "Hard to keep that sort of thing secret," I opined, testing.
    "I don't see why it would have to come up," he said, looking at me.
    A waitress appeared from behind a curtain and set Harry's order on the
    bar in front of him. He thanked her, showing a deep appreciation for
    this newly wonderful class of being, women who work in restaurants and
    bars, and I smiled.
    I realized at some level that if Harry was going to start living more
    like a civilian, he would be less useful, and possibly even dangerous,
    to me. His increasing transparency to the wider world might offer an
    enemy a window into my otherwise hidden existence. Of course, if
    someone connected Harry to me, they might come after him, too. And
    despite what I'd tried to teach him over the years, I knew that, out in
    the open, Harry wouldn't have the means to protect himself.
    "Is she your first girlfriend?" I asked, my tone gentle.
    "I told you, she's not really my girlfriend," he answered, ducking the
    question.
    "If she's occupying enough of your attention to keep you in bed until
    the sun sets, I feel safe using the word as shorthand."
    He looked