came here so I could talk to you before the party.”
“Okay, start from….” I sighed. Who the hell didn’t sleep with Kwon? “Actually, I have no damned clue where you should start from. Just start some place, and I’ll catch up.”
“Please don’t tell nuna ,” Shin-Cho pleaded. The guy looked desperate, and from the puffy redness around his eyes that matched the welt on his face, I’d guessed he’d gotten very little sleep the night before.
“How’d you get here?” I asked.
“I drove.”
That he drove himself was good. It meant there wouldn’t be any sunglass-wearing, straight-faced security drones to rat out his visit to my place. Still, keeping secrets from Scarlet didn’t sit right with me. The truth had a way of seeping out, usually in a frothy pile of crap aimed directly for the closest fan blade.
“Okay, we’re going to talk. Then you’re going to go home and tell Scarlet everything you’ve told me.” I held up my hand when he opened his mouth to object. “Ah! Nope. Not hearing anything other than yes from you, because the next time I see her, I’m going to ask her straight up if you’ve told her. If you haven’t, then it’s your shit to deal with. Not mine. Got it?”
The yes took a long time in coming, but eventually he nodded. “Okay. Yes.”
“Good, ’cause I’m not getting on her bad side,” I said firmly. “She’s the closest thing to real family Jae’s got. I’m sure as hell not going to let you fuck that up. I screw up enough without anyone’s help. How about if you start with how you hooked up with Kwon? And if that pop on your face has anything to do with him.”
His hand flew up to cover up the spot on his cheek, and Shin-Cho’s eyes slid away from my face.
“Yeah, okay,” I hissed between my teeth. “Start talking, Shin-Cho.”
Shin-Cho rolled his unopened Coke can between his hands, leeching the moisture off the aluminum. “Um… I was… nineteen? Twenty? I can’t remember when. It was at Christmastime, near my birthday.”
“Wait, American nineteen or Korean nineteen?” Koreans counted their ages from birth, rather than turning one after a year. It screwed me up when talking to Jae-Min and some of his friends. Some of them counted the Korean way, adding a year to their elapsed age. If I owned a bar in Koreatown, I’d have given up carding drivers’ licenses after about a week.
“Ah, man-nai … full age. Western age, nineteen,” Shin-Cho translated. “He came to our house in Gangnam. My mother was throwing a Christmas party. A lot of our family’s friends were there.”
It was a familiar story, an older man approaching a younger one with a bit of alcohol and a practiced song and dance. When I was younger, I’d bitten at that fish myself, but unlike Shin-Cho, I hadn’t planned on making a meal of it. Their torrid love affair lasted almost two years, exploding in a spectacular confrontation when Shin-Cho discovered his then-lover making out with another man at a Seoul dance club.
“I thought he was here, in Los Angeles.” Shin-Cho bit back his anger, but it fueled his words. “Sang-Min told me it was my fault, because I spent too much time at school so he needed to look elsewhere. Then I find out he’d told that man the same thing. He was doing us both. Maybe even others. I never saw him again. I didn’t answer his calls. Then David tells me he’s marrying Sang-Min’s daughter, and I thought: God, can it get any worse?”
“Shit,” I swore under my breath.
“Yes, shit.” Shin-Cho slurred the word, making it last on his tongue. “Now I find out about my father? How am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to do?”
It was getting harder to understand him as his frustration grew. Korean began to drop into his English, and after a few words, he pressed the cold can to his forehead and closed his eyes. I let him have a moment, then tapped his leg.
“Hey, if I’m going to help out, I need you to focus, okay?” He opened
“Okay, start from….” I sighed. Who the hell didn’t sleep with Kwon? “Actually, I have no damned clue where you should start from. Just start some place, and I’ll catch up.”
“Please don’t tell nuna ,” Shin-Cho pleaded. The guy looked desperate, and from the puffy redness around his eyes that matched the welt on his face, I’d guessed he’d gotten very little sleep the night before.
“How’d you get here?” I asked.
“I drove.”
That he drove himself was good. It meant there wouldn’t be any sunglass-wearing, straight-faced security drones to rat out his visit to my place. Still, keeping secrets from Scarlet didn’t sit right with me. The truth had a way of seeping out, usually in a frothy pile of crap aimed directly for the closest fan blade.
“Okay, we’re going to talk. Then you’re going to go home and tell Scarlet everything you’ve told me.” I held up my hand when he opened his mouth to object. “Ah! Nope. Not hearing anything other than yes from you, because the next time I see her, I’m going to ask her straight up if you’ve told her. If you haven’t, then it’s your shit to deal with. Not mine. Got it?”
The yes took a long time in coming, but eventually he nodded. “Okay. Yes.”
“Good, ’cause I’m not getting on her bad side,” I said firmly. “She’s the closest thing to real family Jae’s got. I’m sure as hell not going to let you fuck that up. I screw up enough without anyone’s help. How about if you start with how you hooked up with Kwon? And if that pop on your face has anything to do with him.”
His hand flew up to cover up the spot on his cheek, and Shin-Cho’s eyes slid away from my face.
“Yeah, okay,” I hissed between my teeth. “Start talking, Shin-Cho.”
Shin-Cho rolled his unopened Coke can between his hands, leeching the moisture off the aluminum. “Um… I was… nineteen? Twenty? I can’t remember when. It was at Christmastime, near my birthday.”
“Wait, American nineteen or Korean nineteen?” Koreans counted their ages from birth, rather than turning one after a year. It screwed me up when talking to Jae-Min and some of his friends. Some of them counted the Korean way, adding a year to their elapsed age. If I owned a bar in Koreatown, I’d have given up carding drivers’ licenses after about a week.
“Ah, man-nai … full age. Western age, nineteen,” Shin-Cho translated. “He came to our house in Gangnam. My mother was throwing a Christmas party. A lot of our family’s friends were there.”
It was a familiar story, an older man approaching a younger one with a bit of alcohol and a practiced song and dance. When I was younger, I’d bitten at that fish myself, but unlike Shin-Cho, I hadn’t planned on making a meal of it. Their torrid love affair lasted almost two years, exploding in a spectacular confrontation when Shin-Cho discovered his then-lover making out with another man at a Seoul dance club.
“I thought he was here, in Los Angeles.” Shin-Cho bit back his anger, but it fueled his words. “Sang-Min told me it was my fault, because I spent too much time at school so he needed to look elsewhere. Then I find out he’d told that man the same thing. He was doing us both. Maybe even others. I never saw him again. I didn’t answer his calls. Then David tells me he’s marrying Sang-Min’s daughter, and I thought: God, can it get any worse?”
“Shit,” I swore under my breath.
“Yes, shit.” Shin-Cho slurred the word, making it last on his tongue. “Now I find out about my father? How am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to do?”
It was getting harder to understand him as his frustration grew. Korean began to drop into his English, and after a few words, he pressed the cold can to his forehead and closed his eyes. I let him have a moment, then tapped his leg.
“Hey, if I’m going to help out, I need you to focus, okay?” He opened
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