My Almost Flawless Tokyo Dream Life by Rachel Cohn

Author:Rachel Cohn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2018-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

“Do you like cats?” Imogen asked me after we’d finished eating.

Seriously? Was my day that started off with an earthquake really this great?

“I only love cats like I love ramen and snow days and watching Gilmore Girls on endless repeat. While eating cake.”

“I knew I liked you. Want to go to a cat café? None of the Ex-Brats ever want to go to the cat cafés with me.”

“I’m so your girl. Let’s do it!”

Imogen led us back to the subway in the basement level. I was giddy with excitement. I was having what felt like my first awesome day since before the Beast.

“How do you like your dad so far?” Imogen asked me.

“He works all the time.”

“Typical. Did you find out if he’s yakuza?”

What a strange question. “Why would you say that?”

She shrugged. “If he’s in the hotel business, he’s probably yakked. Or the businesspeople he associates with are.”

I was offended. I hardly knew Kenji Takahara, and maybe he was a deadbeat dad who’d only shown up in my life a few days ago . . . but he wasn’t a mobster. He wore beautiful suits, and he went to Andover and then to Georgetown. “He’s not yakked,” I declared.

“If you say so,” she said.

When we got out of the subway, we walked in circles through throngs of shoppers and hipsters, trying to find the cat café, with no luck. “This new place just opened up, so I’m not sure exactly where it is,” Imogen explained. Finally, she flagged down a policeman on the street and showed him her phone with an address on it. His face lit up. “Nya, nya!” To my confused face, Imogen translated. “Meow, meow!” He then escorted us to a building where the elevator was located in an alley. We never would have found the entrance on our own. He pointed up and then displayed seven fingers.

Imogen said, “Seventh floor, I guess.” She bowed to the Japanese policeman as we got into the elevator. He bowed at us and returned to the street. When the door closed, she added, “God, I love Japanese law and order. I can’t imagine a cop in London helping us find a cat café like that.”

The elevator doors opened directly onto the cat café. There was a machine that dispensed slippers, and shoe cubbies where street shoes should be placed, along with a long list of rules in mangled English: Please not loud voice. No feed cats, pay extra to feed treat to cats. Have super funs time!

“Purr-fection,” Imogen cooed as soon as we entered the cat room. A swarm of kittens played and napped on the benches and cat trees located throughout the room.

I hesitated at the door. I loved the sight of the furballs and their sweet whisker faces, but the vibe was weird and off. The cats all had short legs disproportionate to their size, like they’d been manufactured that way to look cuter, and they had little interest in playing. The room had upholstered benches lining

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