Eighteen
Hana stumbles out of her room clutching the protection bat she keeps by her bed. “What? What is it?” she yells. Then she blinks. “Why are you dressed and going out at this time of night?”
A polite knock comes at the door, and I back up as Hana moves forward, bat at the ready. “There are two men outside,” I whisper.
“Who?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t ask. Why would any men be there? Jihoon is in the Mob, isn’t he?”
Hana drops the bat and scrambles to grab it. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course Jihoon isn’t in the Mob.”
I barely listen. “I bet his goon name is Honey Thighs Choi.”
“His name is not Honey Thighs.”
“Hoonie Thighs, then.”
Before she can answer, we hear another door open down the hall and a series of shocked exclamations. Hana drops the bat. “Jihoon’s talking to them,” she reports, hand cupped over her ear. “They’re Korean.”
“What, like that excludes them from being assassins?”
“As if assassins are going to come for you,” she scoffs. “Why bother when they can wait for your job to kill you instead?”
“Not the time, Hana, seriously.”
There’s a mumble of voices from the hall, and she glues her ear to the door, eyes widening. “Jihoon’s friends have come to visit.”
“From the Mob. No wonder he wears a mask everywhere.”
“I swear to God, I don’t understand how you can function as a lawyer sometimes. They are friends, not goons or hoodlums or bosses. I know because I met them in Seoul.” She marches to the door, bat in hand, and opens it. Now that my panic has receded, I see the two men have luggage that do not include gun cases. Hana greets them, and they all look over at me through the open door. The newcomers bow and I wave. At me, Jihoon mouths, I’m sorry.
It’s clear my booty call has been indefinitely postponed.
A neighbor’s door opens down the hall, and Jihoon snaps at his friends as he shoves them inside our apartment. Four seconds later, we’re all standing in my living room surrounded by tumbled luggage and unease.
The two new guys are glaring at Jihoon. Jihoon is looking at the floor, face a dull red. Hana’s eyes flicker between all three, her mouth a thin line.
Then there’s me, feeling like a complete outsider.
Hana finally senses my silent entreaty to please do something. “How about some introductions?” she says pointedly to Jihoon.
“Yes, sorry. Ari, these are friends from home who are here for a very short and unexpected visit.” He shoots them a look, but the taller guy simply folds his arms over his chest and shakes his head.
It turns out the tall guy is Kitae, or Kit, and must be older since Jihoon calls him hyeong. The other guy is Daehyun. They pull off their face masks, and we shake hands, and wow, what do they put in the water in Seoul? Even after a thirteen-hour flight, both of them are beautiful, with the kind of clear eyes and glowing skin I can only dream about.
At Jihoon’s helpless expression, Hana obviously decides it’s up to her to restore order. “I’m sure you three have a lot to catch up on, so why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow?” She ushers them out before any of the men can say a word then comes back in and shuts the door.
“You can meet them better later,” Hana says as she balances the bat against the wall. “Care to tell me where you were going?”
“Out for a walk. Who are they exactly?”
“Friends of Jihoon’s. You were going out for a walk at”—here she gives her wrist an exaggerated look, marred somewhat by the fact that she’s not wearing a watch—“midnight?”
“Yes.” I brazen it out.
“Right.” She takes a deep breath. “Far be it from me to interfere with you getting some, because it’s been a hell of a dry spell, but is Jihoon the best idea?”
I cross my arms. “Who says it’s Jihoon?”
“Saw you guys making out when I came home from my work trip. I was going to be polite and not say anything.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. This is your fault. You didn’t give me warning. You should have known having a man like that around me all the time would be dangerous.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “Please, he’s my cousin.”
“I’m only human.”
“This isn’t like you, Ari. If there were a poster for playing it safe, it would feature you wagging your finger back and forth.”
It’s true enough, and that bothers me in a way it hasn’t before. “I thought about it, and look. Living together for three weeks is the equivalent of a hundred five-hour dates. At two dates a week, that’s like knowing each other for almost a year.”
“That isn’t even close to being correct.”
“All I’m saying is that living together sped up the comfort level in the getting-to-know-you process.” I glance away. “I like him.”
“Be careful, okay?” Her voice gentles. “He’s going through a lot, and I’m not sure if you want to get involved with a man who’s leaving the country.”
“He’s not leaving right away.”
“I think you two should talk about that soon.” She takes her hand off my shoulder. “Kit and Daehyun are here.”
“Why would the mystery men matter? Why are they here anyway?”
“Work trip, they said.”
“What kind of work trip? Don’t they work for the same entertainment agency? Why aren’t they in a hotel?”
The bat falls again, and Hana bends over to grab it. “Not sure,” she says to the floor, her voice muffled. “They’re on a budget?”
I’ll find out more tomorrow. If tonight’s interaction is any indication of what that will be like, it sounds like a dinner at my family’s, filled with silent resentment and loud expectations. I’ll feel right at home.
We go back to our rooms, and a text from Jihoon appears.
Jihoon: This isn’t the night I wanted.
Me: It’s ok and also Hana knows I was going to your place.
Jihoon: Sorry.
Me: I don’t mind.
Jihoon: Me neither. Good night, Ari.
He sends me a selfie of him blowing a kiss, and it makes me smile before I turn off the light. Best not to dwell on what could have been and go to sleep. If I need to be home for dinner tomorrow, I’ll need to get into the office extra early.
Hana greets me when I get in from a day of being busily bored and immediately grabs the bottles she asked me to pick up at the liquor store. “Soju as well as wine. That’s sweet of you, even though I hate it. At least you got peach.”
“I wasn’t ready for the yogurt-flavored one.”
I light one of Hana’s many scented candles—Cabin Sweater Holiday, a mellow blend of smoky wood and pretension—before I get changed and fetch glasses for drinks. A knock comes at the door, and when Hana lets the men in, my eyes go straight to Jihoon. He hasn’t texted me all day, and he looks exhausted. All of them do. They must have been up late talking, plus jet lag.
Jihoon hands me a box of strawberry mochi as he redoes the introductions. I shake hands and try not to stare. Daehyun is dressed in baggy cargo pants and a flannel shirt with a beanie low over his ears. Kit is in black jeans and a black cardigan over a white shirt. Both live up to my previous impression of being impossibly gorgeous.
Hana’s usual social grace means we navigate the first minutes of conversation without too much trouble. It turns out they needed to come for urgent business with a collaborating artist and decided to stay with Jihoon, but he’d given them the old apartment number. They’d wanted to surprise him so hadn’t texted and were very sorry for frightening me. Daehyun nurses his drink, and Kit, Jihoon, and Hana all take turns murmuring translations to him.
It’s when the food arrives that I finally decide the strange atmosphere isn’t me reading into things. I’m not an unintelligent woman. I graduated in the top 5 percent of my law class. I got my driver’s license on my first try, even though the examiner tried to trick me at a right-turn-only intersection. I understood the plot to Inception without resorting to Wikipedia.
So I can see there are unresolved issues swirling around. Is Jihoon pissed they’re here? That they’re staying with him? My ego wants to think he’s mad because their arrival interfered with what might have been a very entertaining night, but I reluctantly let that go. He can probably cope with not getting laid.
Whatever its root, the tension ebbs and flows throughout the evening. Jihoon sits beside me at dinner, and after we go back to the living room, I grab my glass and crack the soju open. “No, no,” Kit admonishes me. “Never pour for yourself. You wait for someone to fill it for you.”
My hand freezes on the bottle, and I glance at Hana and Jihoon for confirmation. She shrugs, while Jihoon nods enthusiastically as he takes the bottle from me. “What if no one notices?” I ask.
Kit looks slightly scandalized. “People should notice because it’s polite and they are aware of what’s happening around them, but if not, you pour someone else a drink, and they will pour you one.”
“Even if they don’t want a drink?” I ask. That seems rude and the whole ritual weirdly roundabout. But they all seem content, and I know that I’m the odd one here.
“Even then.” Jihoon pours us all a drink.
I drink, then sniff the empty glass in nauseous recognition. “This tastes like every drink I made in university,” I say. “Sweet mixer and vodka.”
Jihoon is already pouring the second round. “Is that good or bad?”
“In my experience, it’s usually bad, then better, then great. Then very bad.” I can feel my bun falling apart, so I take it down and shake my hair out.
“You can also say geonbae when you drink. It’s like cheers…” Kit’s voice falters when Jihoon reaches out to play with a lock of my hair that’s tumbled into his lap. Then Kit’s eyes narrow. Jihoon stares serenely back.
There’s a beat of dead silence before Hana checks the time. “Damn, it’s getting late.”
We stand in the hallway at our front door as we conduct the usual farewells and thank-yous. Jihoon ducks back in after the others head toward his door and pulls me close before pressing a hard kiss on my mouth. He’s gone before I can react.
Hana rubs her face. “Dude. In front of me?”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
We go in and start clearing dishes. “Your hair looked good tonight,” Hana says. “Plus your ass is great in those jeans.”
“Thanks.” I grab a few glasses and put them in the dishwasher. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you think I’m oblivious, but if even I could catch how they’re acting, it must be a big deal. Are they mad at Jihoon? Is he mad at them?”
Hana finishes her wine. “All I know is when Hoonie came here, they were left hanging at work. They’re peeved.”
“He seems like a loyal guy, though. That breakup must have been impressive.” He’s never talked about it, and I pull back every time I want to ask. There’s no point. He’s only here for a while longer, after all, and then whatever we have will be nothing but a memory.
Hana rinses the glass under the tap. “People make strange decisions when they’re at their end.” She looks at me without her usual smile, and I’m the one to look away.
That night before bed, a text comes from Jihoon: Can I see you tomorrow?
Me: After work?
Jihoon: Please. I’d like to be alone with you.
How can I say no to that? I go to sleep with a big smile.