Forty-Two
The next hour or so is a blur. I spend a good deal of time in the bathroom staring at my reflection and wondering what to do in between checking to see if there’s a reply from Jihoon.
There’s nothing. That’s fine. He’s busy with a crisis.
But my stomach feels tight.
A familiar number comes up when my phone rings—Richard’s assistant. He must have heard about what’s going on, although I have no idea how since he’s not one to follow gossip sites. I debate answering, but the need to make sure things are good at work is too strong to resist. I need to mitigate whatever Richard’s heard.
“Please hold for Mr. Havings,” she says. She doesn’t wait for me to agree before she puts me on hold. It’s about seven in the morning back in Toronto. She’s never liked me, so I’m spitefully glad Richard hauled her out of bed to make the call because doing his own is beneath him. A minute later, Richard’s smooth, cultured voice comes through.
“Ariadne, hello.”
“Richard, good morning.” My voice shakes, so I leave it at that.
“I had a call from Karina,” he says.
It takes me a second to compute this. “The communications manager?”
“Yes. She received a message about you from a television channel, ZedTV or some such thing.”
He waits for me to pick up the story.
“ZZTV.” No. Oh no.
“That’s it. Is there something we should know?”
It’s the oldest trick in the book, to let someone hang themself with their own rope, but I’m a lawyer, too. “Something you should know?” I repeat. He can say it himself.
“Karina tells me you are involved with a celebrity, a member of some Asian singing group. South Korean, I believe.”
Something about how he says it makes my hackles rise, as if where Jihoon is from makes this whole thing somewhat ludicrous.
“Exactly so.” A desire to be contrary rears up. “He’s a Korean performer. A K-pop idol.”
The long pause says exactly what Richard thinks of this. “Idol.” He rolls the word around in his mouth. “Yes, Karina mentioned that.”
Sounds like good old Karina gave him a thorough briefing. “What did ZZTV want?” I ask.
“To confirm you were one of our lawyers. Karina says you’re listed on our website, which is no doubt how they discovered your connection to us. She’s updated the site so you no longer appear.”
He downgraded me to being merely a connection and then erased me, as if working at Yesterly and Havings around the clock for years meant nothing. Before I can answer, he continues, “Karina assures me she’s equipped to deal with the issue.”
“She is?” The last I checked, her biggest task was doing the staff newsletter. In which, I also remember, she insisted on featuring me in Yesterly and Havings’s first and only Face of Diversity! column. Hana had it on the fridge for a month, laughing every time she looked at it.
“Karina is very well qualified. Her mother is on the hospital board with me. I’ve decided it will be best for you to take some time away until this gossip dies down.”
I nearly drop the phone and have a moment of inelegant clutching to get it back up to my ear. “I beg your pardon?”
“Karina has pointed out that your relationship with this man does not match the image we’d like to maintain with our clients.”
I drum my fingers on my chest, feeling the soothing thumping against my sternum. I should tell Richard that we’re only friends and the whole thing was blown out of proportion. That might change his mind. Then I see the tiger statue on Jihoon’s desk.
No. I’m not going to do that. Jihoon is important, and I’m not going to hide him away. “My relationships are private, as are anyone else’s in the firm.”
“We are a serious group, Ariadne. This absurd pop culture media talk isn’t the type of thing we’d like to be associated with.”
“Are you firing me?”
“Of course not. You’re an excellent lawyer,” he chides. “I’d like you to take a month off until this calms down. We’ll redistribute your clients. You’ll agree with me there’s a risk to their privacy.”
“I don’t agree,” I say, fist clenching at my side. “I’m unsure how anyone would find out which are my clients unless someone at Yesterly and Havings tells them.” If the leak comes from the client side, they can’t complain about the publicity.
“I understand you think that.” Richard’s voice doesn’t change because he’s been at this for decades longer than I have. “However, I look at the bigger picture, and we need to prioritize the firm.”
I give it one last attempt. “Richard, clients like Hyphen and Luxe won’t care—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “My decision is made, Ariadne.” I can tell he’s pissed I spoke up. “We can assess your role when you return. It would be unfortunate to lose you permanently, but this is best for now.”
After giving me instructions on how to pass over my clients, he hangs up, and I do my best to not hurl the phone against Jihoon’s lovely stone floors. The only thing calming me down is my faith that Jihoon will get this under control soon. He has to, because I’m about to lose it.
I go back to social media, unable to stay away, and refresh to see a statement from Newlight posted thirty seconds ago. My heart thumps hard enough to bruise my rib cage as I inch past the Korean to the English translation posted underneath.
Hello. This is Newlight Entertainment.
We would like to address an issue concerning one of our artists, Min of StarLune. Recently, a photo was published of Min with a woman. There is no personal connection between the two. The woman is a fan who approached Min when he was visiting family in Toronto and at a private party after she pursued him to Seoul. She interfered with Min during a walk on Bukhansan mountain where he went to reflect after last night’s successful VIP concert.
Min would like to assure all his fans that he is safe and apologizes for any concerns Starrys may have. Starrys and StarLune are his only priorities. The safety of our artists is paramount and actions by individuals that intrude on their privacy will not be tolerated.
Thank you.
At the bottom is a shot of me staring at Jihoon at the Newlight party. I know my expression reflects my shock at seeing him, but I can also see how it can be read as wide-eyed adoration.
I read it twice, then once more.
I have a few issues, to put it mildly. The first is a general WTF bafflement that a company would put out a statement like this at all. That’s going up there with the variety shows in the cultural relativism category.
The second is a much stronger and more specific WTF. This was how he fixed it? He disassociated us so my name is out of it, which is good, but he might as well have punched me in the gut. He basically told the entire world I was a delusional fan he had nothing to do with. I won’t be viewed as Jihoon’s seducer in the collective Starry fandom mythology but this is so much worse. I bring up the party photo again. What was he thinking to let this happen?
I dial Alex’s number almost on autopilot. He must have known, and I need to get the background before I confront Jihoon.
Alex picks up. “Good God, finally. Do you deliberately plan your day around ruining mine?”
“No.”
“Sorry.” He sounds exhausted. “It’s been a hell of a year, and it’s not even nine in the morning. How are you coping?”
I ignore his question. “Did you know about the statement from Newlight?”
“I haven’t seen a statement.” He sounds puzzled. “Give me a second.”
Muttering comes through the phone as he reads through. “Photos…interfered…what the…Ari, I had no idea. That photo is from the party. That’s not what happened. They didn’t tell me. Newlight only asked us to monitor North American media.”
“Jihoon said he’d fix it.” I do my best to not break down. If Yesterly and Havings taught me anything besides how to write a concise memo, it’s that crying during a business call is akin to having a neon sign around your neck that says WEAK, GO FOR THE JUGULAR. I like Alex, but this is hard training to fight against.
Alex’s laugh is cynical. “Yeah, he fixed it alright. It’s the only thing Newlight could have done, I suppose.”
“You’re joking. Branding me as a sasaeng fan was their best solution?”
“No, that’s total bull and I’m sorry. I meant from their perspective. They must have panicked and overreacted to stop the scandal for StarLune.”
“I’m not a scandal!” The volume of my voice shocks me as much as it does Alex, who pauses for a moment.
“I apologize,” he says. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
I don’t even care about his apology. “They could have said I was a friend. They could have said almost anything else. Now this is what I am to people, and I can’t control any of it. I’m not even a who anymore. I’m a what. I’m not Ari but a desperate StarLune fan with no sense of reality. This is so…” I can’t even find the words but sink into a chair, head in my hand as I work to get my breath normal.
“I’m sorry, Ari.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. This mess isn’t Alex’s fault, but I have the ignoble desire to take it out on someone, and Jihoon, the real cause of the problem, isn’t here. “Forget Newlight and StarLune. I need a plan for me.”
“Ari, we should talk about how you feel—”
“Can you help me or not?”
“I’ll call your family. If you come home, you can stay at the same condo as before, both you and Hana.” He hesitates. “There may be some fans around your apartment again.”
“May be?”
“Will definitely be.”
I shut my eyes. “Thank you. Can you call my family in twenty minutes? I want to talk to them first.”
“Done. Tell me if you need help with flights.”
“I will.”
I can be upset later. Now I need to talk to Dad before Alex does. I don’t dither before I call because this can’t be over fast enough. “Hi, Dad.”
“Ariadne. Back from Korea? I hope you got some good work done so you can get back to your real clients.”
“Soon.” I sit down because I feel shaky. “Alex Williams from Hyphen Records will be calling you in a few minutes.”
He chuckles. “Have you quit law to get a record deal?”
I manage a weak noise that impersonates a laugh. “Ha, yeah. Very funny, Dad. Do you remember Jihoon?”
“He came for dinner. Nice kid.”
“He’s a performer, here in Korea. He’s pretty big.”
“Like that Justin Bibber?”
“Bieber and kind of.” I cough. “The media found out we’re friends, and Alex is worried reporters might come talk to you.” No need to go into the details of what Newlight did.
“Us?” He sounds confused. “Why?”
“To find out more about me.”
“I see.” He clicks his tongue in his habitual thinking sound. “Make sure you keep Richard Havings in the loop.”
“I already spoke to him.”
“Good.”
“He put me on a month’s leave to protect the firm’s reputation.”
“He did?” There’s a long pause. “It makes sense from his perspective. You know this will affect your chances of being made partner. This is serious.”
Being made partner. He isn’t even concerned my name has been announced for the world, or enough of it, to drag through the mud. Partner is all he cares about. “I guess it might.”
“You were doing so well. We were so proud of you.”
Were, not are. “I know,” I say.
“What’s going on with you? I’d expect this from—” He stops suddenly to prevent the next words, which I know are Phoebe, not you.
“I didn’t plan this.” My answer is sharp, and Dad receives it with a disapproving silence that soars across a continent and an ocean. I know from the articles he sends that he expects me to be cool under pressure, but this is far beyond handling an unruly meeting.
“We’ll wait for the call,” he says. “I appreciate the update.”
When he hangs up before I can reply, I know he’s more upset than I thought. Part of me, that little girl who will never grow up, wants to call back and beg forgiveness and tell him that I’ll fix it with Richard.
A text comes in from Phoebe: Do you know you’re a hashtag?
Me: Yes
Phoebe: You ok?
Me: No
Phoebe: I promise I won’t tell them how you cried when mom washed your teddy bear.
Me: Thanks.
Phoebe:
I see a few missed calls from Hana, but I don’t want to talk to anyone.
Instead, I go to my room and pack.