Sunday Night 

I had zero intention of going out tonight. 

Just two hours ago I was stepping off of a 15-hour flight from Japan and I hadn’t even had time to sit down or take a shower. Mason was waiting for me in my high-rise apartment with a bottle of wine and two cigars. 

“There’s Mr. Famous.”

Okay, famous is a bit of an overstatement. I’ve been in Tokyo for the past three months organizing an art exhibition that’s been in the making for the last two years. It took place at one of the largest galleries in the world, and during the 12 hours that it was live, amassed over 25,000 visitors. It was wildly successful and has been trending on every major news outlet for the past two days.

Okay, maybe famous isn’t an overstatement, but I’d cringe if anyone other than my best friend called me that. 

I’m downplaying it, but truthfully it’s been a dream of mine since I started taking photos. 

Sitting on my balcony, I pop open the bottle and indulge in a sip, too impatient for Mason to come back with glasses and a lighter. On the 17th floor, I have a front-row view of the best parts of the city. To the left, is the city’s financial district, and to the right is the ocean littered with yachts and boats. The sun is starting to set, illuminating the water in tints of orange and red.

The sliding door creaks open as Mason slips through and kicks it closed with his foot. Holding two cups, a lighter, and an unlit cigar in his mouth, he motions for me to fill his glass.

“Damn, you already finished half of the bottle. They didn’t let you drink in Japan?” He mumbles through the cigar in between his lips. 

 Once I finish pouring, he sets my empty glass on the floor knowing that I’m going to drink out of the bottle. I comb back my jaw-length hair and raise the bottle to my lips, making a mental note to schedule a haircut soon.

"Nah, I was testing to see if it was poisoned. Just being a good friend." I quip before taking a sip. He places his free hand over his chest and replies sarcastically, "Wow, what would I do without you?"

“Die, probably.” He simultaneously laughs and nods, taking a seat in the chair next to me. It’s not that far from the truth, we’ve both saved each other’s asses more times than I can count. 

After taking a large gulp from his glass he turns to me. “So tell me how it went. I want to know everything.” Swallowing, he continues. “I’m still annoyed that I couldn't be there for the launch.” 

The reason couldn’t be there for the launch? His girlfriend, Amber went into labor. 

Mason kept calling and assuring me that if she didn’t give birth on the day of the launch, he would buy an overnight ticket to be there. I kept telling him it was fine and that he should be there for Amber. Her labor ended up spanning the entire 12 hours my exhibit was live. He later sent me a text with a picture of himself holding his baby. “I’m gonna call her Jordy Jr to make it up to you.” They had a girl and named her Maisie after Amber’s grandmother. 

We begin smoking our cigars as I tell him details of the exhibit, how many artists were there, the turnout, and everything in between. 

I also hesitantly tell him something I’ve been waiting to say to him in person. Because of how successful everything went I’ve been offered a position to oversee all of their future projects. The job would entail managing the largest art museum and gallery in Japan, planning and promoting their projects. I’d be in charge of picking displays, finding talent, and executing launches. From sun up until sun down I’d be busy, which I guess isn’t too different from now. But I’d have to move there for as long as the contract demands, which is three years.

Mason’s  eyes widen as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke. “Holy shit man. That’s huge.” 

I nod, relighting my cigar and inhaling. It’s a job that up until now has only been held by members of the galleries’ family line, one of the most famous in the entire world. I’d be the first person there that’s not a part of their family. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime unheard-of opportunity. 

“But that’s completely different than what you do now.”

I exhale slowly. “Yeah, I know.” 

He watches, waiting for me to say more. I know he wants to ask but he’s scared of the answer so I beat him to it. 

“I don’t know if I’ll take it. I told them I need some time to think about it and they said that’s fine since he isn’t retiring until early next year. I’m like, 60% no, 40% yes right now.” 

He breathes an audible sigh of relief then quickly says, “Not that I wouldn’t want you to take on such a life-changing opportunity but…” He trails off. 

Three years is a long time to be away. It’s not like we wouldn’t see each other, but we’ve been together since kindergarten and lived in the same apartment until last year when he moved in with Amber. And he still only lives five minutes away from me. 

And yeah, if I took the job it would be one of the biggest opportunities of my life. Thankfully I’m at a place with my company where I would be able to delegate projects for the next three years. We have five studios throughout the world so I could pick up where I left off there if I wanted, but I doubt I’ll have the time commitment.

Mason must have noticed how much I’ve been mulling this over in my head because he puts out his cigar, tapping the ashes into the ashtray, and stands up. “Let’s go out.” 

I let out a loud groan, but before I can protest he’s through the sliding door. I turn my head and loudly start to say I’m tired but he puts both of his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you. If you wanna say something to me you have to follow me.” He grins impishly at me. I roll my eyes but get up and put on a jacket, and two seconds later we’re out the door. 

——

We make our way through the noisy streets, the sound of car horns and shouted conversations filling the air. The neon lights of the buildings cast a flickering glow over the pavement and loud EDM music floods out of bars. We pass by groups of people, holding onto each other for balance, laughing loudly. Living in the center of the city near the biggest university in the state means getting used to dodging stumbling drunk college kids and weirdly colored puke on the sidewalk.

We walk for a couple of minutes, debating bars or restaurants to enter. We pass by places I’ve never seen before. I’ve only been gone for three months so I’m awestruck at all of the new restaurants. Continuing down the street on the corner of an intersection, a restaurant catches our attention. 

The Rabbit Hole.

A flashing neon sign of a bunny holding a champagne glass sits above the double-door entrance. Mason's eyes light up as he sees it and he practically drags me inside.

As soon as we walk in, I can tell this isn’t a typical restaurant. The very first thing I see is a petite blonde boy dressed in a tight leather one-piece by the front podium. There’s music playing, but a black curtain conceals the view. Shadows of people walking around and dim lights are visible through the bottom of the curtain.

Another server in the same outfit slips through to grab a menu and quickly disappears back through the curtain.

I reach for Mason’s jacket to tell him we should go but he just looks back at me and grins. "This is the perfect place for you, Jordan.” He says, winking at me.

If I had known it was this kind of place I would’ve walked right past. But before I can say anything, Mason is already two steps away from the podium. 

He raises two fingers. “For two please.” 

The blonde boy smiles and motions for us to follow him. “Right this way.” He pulls the curtain aside and immediately as we walk through, it dawns on me why this place is called The Rabbit Hole. 

We enter the main area which appears to be a lounge with a bar, a few cocktail tables, small booths, and an older man playing the piano. The whole place is lit up only by fluorescent green and purple bulbs that line the walls. I see five more servers carrying trays dressed up in tight leather outfits that I now realize are supposed to be sexy bunny costumes. Some wear masks to conceal their faces, others just bunny ears, and some no mask at all. 

Before I can process anything, we’re led into an adjacent room, this one lit with purple and yellow bulbs. There are several booths with patrons, and three bunny servers are taking orders and carrying food trays. We’re led further through two more rooms, each with their own distinct lighting.

The demographic of this club is exactly what you’re thinking. Men from ages 30 to 70. Gray hair and receding hairlines everywhere. Mason elbows my side and motions toward a table we’re about to walk by. An older man in a suit, who looks to be in his late 60’s, is sitting with his arms around two servers who are giggling and whispering in his ear. His table is filled with empty plates of food, with just one plate of cake remaining in front of him. He lifts the fork to scoop a piece and then airplanes it into one of the bunnies’ mouths. Crumbs fall out of his mouth and he laughs and cleans his face. Another server comes up to clear up the dirty dishes off their table obstructing our view of them. Me and Mason give each other knowing looks. I know what we’re both thinking.

So it’s that kind of restaurant.

We continue through a few more rooms and finally enter a pink-red room. This room is smaller than the purple, red, and orange rooms we passed through.  There are only two occupied tables here, both with guys that look to be around our age. Our server seats us in a booth and places two drink menus in front of us.

“Your server will be right with you.” He chirps before walking off. 

“Damn, If I was a cute boy I would work here. Do you know how much these old lonely rich bastards are probably tipping? Whoever came up with this concept is a fucking genius.” Mason says as soon as our server is out of earshot. I remove my jacket and pick up a folded card sitting on our table that has the words “THE RABBIT HOLE RULES” in all caps across the front. I lean back in my booth and start reading out loud. 

“As a Rabbit Hole patron you must,”

“Must is bold and underlined,” I point out. 

“abide by our club rules. 

1 - Any patron engaging in inappropriate behavior, including harassment, will be immediately asked to leave the premises and may be banned from returning.

2 - No solicitation of sexual acts inside the premises.

3 - The Rabbit Hole may search bags and personal belongings for security purposes.

4 - Patrons must follow all posted signs and instructions from staff.

5 - We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone for any reason.

Thank you for your cooperation and we look forward to serving you. bunny emoji.🐰”  

Mason flicks his head back and bursts into laughter, resting one of his arms over the back of his booth. “We witnessed three out of those five rules broken just walking to this table.” Before I can reply someone arrives at our table. 

I look up to see a slender guy in a leather bunny suit and fishnet leggings. His dark hair and mask obscure the majority of his face. Without saying a word he motions for Mason to move over. Mason obliges and shoots me a curious and amused look, which I return. Our server sits down and looks at me for the first time. 

Damn. 

I can barely see his face but I can tell he’s attractive. His eyes are a vivid emerald green, a striking contrast to the pink-red lights that line the walls of the room. 

 His cheeks rise as if he knows what I’m thinking and without taking his eyes off of mine he speaks. “Are you guys new? I haven’t seen you around. What can I get you two to drink?” He clasps his perfectly manicured hands on the table. Mason tells him that we live here and asks him when this place opened.

Eyes still on me, he replies and then repeats his drink question. I have to rip my gaze off of him to look down at my menu. 

Mason removes his arm from the back of his chair and sits forward. He looks at the menu for one second then turns and nods at our server. “What’s good here, what’s your recommendation?” 

He finally looks away from me to turn to Mason and points at two drinks on the menu. “This one’s the most popular but personally this one is my favorite.” With his attention off of me, I take the opportunity to really take him in. He’s tall, probably about 5’10” or 11 with olive-tanned skin. Full rosy pink lips and high cheekbones which are accentuated by the shadow of his mask. His jet-black wavy hair is parted in the middle and reaches just below his ears.

 Mason looks down at what he’s pointing to and grins. “Hey, that’s one of Jord’s favorites.” I look down at my own menu to the position it looks like he’s pointing to and see that it’s a red wine. “That’s the only type of wine I drink…” I start, shy now for some reason. 

Thankfully saving me from an awkward moment only I probably witnessed, Mason knows what he wants. “I’ll have the popular one the..pee-coun…?” 

“Picon Bière.” Our server and I correct at the same time. He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, amusement dancing all over them. 

“Oh shit, you speak French? Oui Oui! Jordan’s half French.” Mason raises his eyebrows towards me and then to our server. 

“No, I just told you it’s the most popular drink here, of course I know how to pronounce it.” He replies flatly.

I stifle a laugh and Mason looks over to me, shocked but also entertained by his bluntness. Turning his attention back to me, our server asks if I want a recommendation too. Assuming he’ll say the red wine I tell him sure, but he reaches across the table to grab my menu, and with both of our hands on it, he points to something - Raspberry Cider Chardonnay Cocktail. 

A white wine. 

Without hesitation, I answer. “I’ll take it.” He looks at me slightly furrowing his brows, seemingly astonished I ordered so quickly when I said I only drank red wine two seconds ago. I hold his gaze for a moment before he gets up and trades our drink menus for food menus. 

“Cool. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” He turns and walks away, towards the kitchen door at the end of the room. I watch him up until the double doors stop swinging.

“WOW,” Mason exclaims, pointing his thumb behind him. “He’s feisty. That’s your type right?”