by R. P. Rioux
After a half hour had passed, a female approached from behind to offer assistance. She spoke with a slight accent. Mindy was instantly recognizable, even though her hairstyle had changed since the YouTube videos. She had matured and was taller than Heather expected. Of mixed race, she retained the sophisticated appearance of her idol years. Lofting over Heather by a few inches, her hourglass figure was evident, despite wearing simple jeans, a black vest, and a white blouse. Mindy was simultaneously sexy and cute.
Heather turned on the charm. "You don't know me, but my name is Heather Moon. I've been messaging you."
Mindy abruptly cut her off, switched to Korean, and responded tersely. "How did you get my name?" She pointed over her shoulder at the guy working the retail counter. "If you're the one who left those messages on Instagram, I'm not interested in your project. Stop bothering me. I have work to do." She walked away without saying another word.
Unfazed by rejection, Heather decided to stick around until the store closed. The wait was excruciating. As exciting as the Sunset Boulevard area could be at times, three hours on a weeknight was a long time to kill. Heather returned to the store in time to watch the neon lights flicker off as the staff closed shop for the night.
Five minutes later, Mindy exited and made her way to the parking lot. Her eyes rolled when she spotted Heather waiting there. "You again."
"I'm motivated."
"Delusional too." Mindy faced Heather directly. "Look, I'm not sure what you want from me, but my K-Pop days are over. Got it?"
Heather remained undeterred. "Then why are you doing dance covers?"
Mindy's face flushed with color. She smiled guiltily. "Because it's fun and I don't have to follow anyone's rules. That's why."
"We're not an entertainment company. I don't want to deal with their crap either. Listen to what I have to say. Okay?"
Mindy looked away and fidgeted like she was having a tantrum. Suddenly, she composed herself. "Okay, here's the deal. I haven't eaten yet. There's a place nearby I go sometimes. You have until they close to change my mind, then I'm going home."
Heather smiled.
"And you're buying."
* * *
"How did you end up here?" asked Heather as she sipped her blood-orange aqua fresca. Empty plates once containing shared orders of grilled fish mini tacos, tempura asparagus, and herb salad littered the table between them.
"I wanted to get as far away as possible to clear my head, and L.A. was the most viable option," said Mindy. "I sometimes get recognized here, but rarely bothered. Actually, I made it two months this time until you came along."
Heather let the last comment slide. "Is that why you go by Mindy?"
"People here tend to react better to English names, I've concluded." She averted her gaze as she said this. "Why? What's your Korean name?"
"Heather is my only name. I used it even in Korea. Your last name is Japanese, though. Ito?"
"My father is half Japanese, half Korean. He met my Ukrainian-American mother when she was teaching English in Seoul. How's that for a mix? Where am I supposed to fit in? I don't feel Japanese enough for Japan, Korean enough for Korea, and here I'm considered too whitewashed to be truly Asian, and too Asian to be truly American."
"Sounds familiar," said Heather. Not wishing to change the subject, but growing anxious at the approaching deadline, she pushed the issue at hand. "I watched WeR5 videos. Your group was talented. It's a shame it didn't work out."
"It's a crappy business. You were lucky to leave when you did."
"I wouldn't go that far."
"It was only a matter of time. You'd have gotten screwed too."
"You'd be surprised."
Mindy analyzed Heather's face as if reading her thoughts. "Oh, so you do know what I'm talking about," she said with a smirk. "What's your sputter, lemon butter? Why so anxious to get back in?"
"Let's say unfinished business."
"Ah," Mindy said slyly, waving a finger at Heather. "See, I can tell. You're hiding something, like everyone else in this town."
Heather admired the girl's keen awareness. "I know there's a dark side to this business, Mindy. We both saw things we'd rather not dwell on, but it wasn't all bad. You remember what performing in front of your fans felt like, don't you?"
"I avoid reflection. It's easier."
"You could make a difference, you know? I want to build a group that's bigger than the sum of its parts, whose members trust each other and are willing to pull in the same direction. If I didn't think it was possible, I wouldn't ask."
"I find your naïve optimism endearing."
"That wasn't at all condescending," Heather said, finishing her beverage. She was beginning to lose patience. "What is your plan, anyway? All I see in your future is dance cover videos and retail. Most people don't have the dedication to push like you did. Where did your ambition and work ethic go?"
"Explain to me what ambition and work ethic got me. A headache. That's all."
"Our group will be young. You'd be our unnie. We'd listen to your advice."
Mindy didn't retort right away. She pondered the possibility for a moment. "Sounds rather hopeless."
"It's not. Besides, what do you have to lose at this point? Meet with us and see how it goes. If you don't like it, walk away. No hard feelings."
A taciturn server came to drop off the check and collect empty plates. "We'll be closing in 10 minutes," she reminded before stepping away.
"Time's up. What do you say?"
Mindy reclined in her chair and let her arms drop to her side, swinging them gently as the long minutes passed. "When this idea fails, I want to be there to say I told you so."
Heather hid her disappointment but chose to accept the statement for what it was. "Maybe it'll prove different this time."
* * *
The next afternoon, after first stopping by the university's bookstore to buy a lesson guide, Heather returned to her apartment. The smell of fresh-baked cookies greeted her nose the moment she stepped inside. Kylie, her roommate, was baking again. Heather shouted encouragement towards the kitchen. "Smells good."
"I have to bring snacks to Mock Trial tonight, so I used the cookie mix I found in the cupboard. Hope you don't mind." Kylie poked her head around the corner. "Oh, a package came for you. It's in your room."
A toaster-oven-sized box sat on her bed thoroughly covered in packing tape and Korea Post stickers. Her mother usually overdid the tape. It took a few minutes to cut through the protective layers. Heather's newly adopted snowshoe and tabby mix batted around a dropped tape ball on the floor.
Once opened, the box revealed a bounty of goodies, including her favorite brand of low-carb konjac snacks. She hadn't been able to find them in the States despite much searching. The gift, in total, made her heart leap. Sweet potato balls, diet jellies, and her favorite brand of instant tteok-bokki, the box was packed. A few personal items from her old bedroom were also included. The brief note read:
Heather,
I sent some of your favorite things in case you were feeling homesick. How's school going? Your brother did well in the Suneung. Your father is so proud and thinks his scores will be able to get him into Seoul National University. He's also applying to Stanford. Wouldn't that be wonderful? You'd both be in the same state. Keep working hard. We miss you.
Mom.
Among the items her mother had sent was a photograph of Heather holding the acceptance letter from St. Ignatius with her parents standing behind her. Ji-woo smiled, while Dae-hee stood stiffly, not frowning, but not precisely happy either. Actually, that's pretty good from him. The family took the photo right before leaving for a celebratory meal. She remembered the ride to the restaurant being plagued by a torrential downfall. Rain flooded a street in the Sincheon-dong neighborhood, choking traffic and stretching what should have been a 15-minute ride into a half hour or more. Heather's brother was glued to his phone as usual. He spoke not a word.
"We'll miss our reservation,"
said Dae-hee, after honking the horn at a driver who rudely forced his way into the lane ahead at the last second.
"It'll be okay if we have to wait," said Ji-woo.
"I should have avoided this route. This street is worthless when it rains this hard."
"I bet you won't miss this weather in California," her mother said as she glanced at Heather in the rear seat.
"I'll miss much for sure, but I'm excited to see L.A again."
"Don't forget why you're there," said her father.
"Yes. School. Got it."
"No. You're there to excel. It should be easy where you're going."
Heather was confounded by his comment. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, unable to contain the emotion in her voice.
"Heather," scolded her mother. "Mind your formalities."
"Yes, Umma." She tried to remain calm, but her father had a habit of getting under her skin. "What are you implying?"
"Your brother took school seriously. Now he's choosing from among the top universities in the world." Hearing his name, Andrew looked up for a split second before returning to his phone.
"I applied to one school because that's where I wanted to go."
"That's because you don't push yourself."
"Do you have any idea how hard I worked these past few years?"
"Is that what you call it? Work?"
"You have no idea what it takes."
"It's not a career, Heather. I was willing to humor your mother for a while, but it's time to grow up. Take college seriously and get a proper job when you graduate."
"Oh, boy. I can't wait to sell ball bearings."
"Precision metal components has afforded us a comfortable lifestyle. It's paying for your college, don't forget."
"I'm sure you won't let me." She wished she could abort the evening. Dinner was ruined before it even started.
Traffic cleared as they left the flooded area. The family was uncomfortably silent. When they reached their destination, Dae-hee spoke again. "I want what's best for you, Heather. Working hard is not what matters; working smart is. You have to understand that."
She felt no need to respond.
"You put in three years with the agency. For what? You must do better in Los Angeles." Her mother glanced at him with concern in her eyes but remained silent.
Heather used to more readily share her viewpoints, but they were always ignored. She wanted to mention the fickleness of the industry and how success depended on luck as much as hard work, but her father knew that. She wanted to explain how close she'd come to achieving her dream, but the truth would aggravate the situation. Heather had much to say but dared say little.
Dinner itself was forgettable. Ji-woo sought to keep the conversation light by focusing on news from the extended family, and gossiping about her gardening club. Despite these efforts, the mood remained downcast.
"Did you hear me? I asked a question." Heather noticed Kylie standing at her bedroom door, holding a plastic container full of cookies. "Should I leave some for you?"
Heather displayed her konjac snack bag. "No, thanks. I'm fine."
* * *
"Quick, turn around," Heather said as she reversed course abruptly.
"What's wrong with you today?" asked Grace.
Their Marketing Analytics class was over, and the pair were walking to the northeastern lot where they had parked their cars. While the location was convenient, reaching it meant having to pass the Rosecrans dorm. Steve lived there. Heather kept a watchful eye whenever she traversed the area.
"He's standing there. I don't want him to see us."
"Who?"
"Steve. That video guy. I think he's stalking me."
Grace laughed in surprise. "Oh, come on, Heather, don't be ridiculous."
"Well, I want to avoid him. Okay?"
As Grace pondered the notion of walking until they reached the ocean, a shout came from behind. "Hey, Heather. Grace. Wait up." Heather pretended not to notice and kept walking. Grace, however, grew tired of the charade, stopped, and glanced over her shoulder. She spoke in a much louder voice than necessary. "Oh, look, Heather, it's Steve. Say hello to Steve."
Accepting defeat, Heather begrudgingly halted a few feet away. A death stare conveyed the disappointment she felt in her friend right then.
Steve approached. "I'm so glad to see you two. I was going to call."
"What's up?" Grace asked.
"I changed my mind. I'd love for you to be in my music video."
Heather and Grace looked at each other, surprise evident on their faces. "What gives?" Heather asked. "I'm not buying this sudden change of heart."
Steve looked embarrassed. "Okay, I admit. I blew it. Please accept my apology. I'm in a jam and need your help."
Heather squeezed her notebook to her chest. "That's it? We're only acceptable to you when you're in trouble?"
"I deserve that," said Steve.
Grace attempted to de-escalate the situation. "Heather, calm down."
"I'm not ready to calm down yet. We're not a consolation prize, you know?"
Steve looked pained. "My friend talked me into choosing another group. Terrible idea."
Heather watched him as he spoke. Steve wasn't her type, exactly, but he was respectful, at least. He lacked the braggadocio so common in most other guys, a quality she found wearying. His plea sounded heartfelt. She agreed to listen, but wasn't about to take it easy on him.
Grace was more forgiving. "We've been working on some new songs."
We have? Heather remained silent, trusting in Grace's strategy.
"Oh, that's great," said Steve. "Can you be ready soon?"
"Sure, no problem."
Is she crazy?
"Oh, you two are lifesavers. I would've lost my studio time. Is two weeks okay?"
"Of course," Grace promised.
"Now who's being ridiculous?" asked Heather in Korean. Steve gave them a puzzled look. Heather smiled back, insincerely.
"We need to discuss song choice," said Grace.
"We can go to the Lair and talk over dinner," Steve suggested.
"Sure. My class project can wait."
The two of them proceeded towards the on-campus cafe, but Heather stayed put.
"Aren't you coming?" asked Grace.
"I have homework."
"This is important."
"I trust your judgment."
Grace shook her head. "Okay, but don't blame me."
11
Grace
Grace had salvaged the rehearsal. That feat seemed impossible hours earlier when the practice space they'd reserved fell through unexpectedly. Improvising, she suggested a move to her family's garage. Technically, her father had forbidden it. He worried their neighbor would file another noise complaint with the HOA. That wouldn't be an issue this evening. With a work party to attend, Ha-joon wasn't due home for a while. They'd be done by then.
Made in Heaven was holding their third rehearsal in four days. Crunch time had arrived. Heather's ballad "Have No Fear" was starting to sound splendid. As a more straightforward song, it was easier to learn. The full-on rock song, "Celestial," had issues.
"Stop. Enough." Heather shouted into the mic, waving her arm to get their attention. "Stop!" The cacophony died a merciful death.
"That was hard," complained Erin.
"It sounded like five different songs at once." Heather turned her attention to Grace. "I don’t understand why you picked this. We need time to get it right."
"We asked for your input," responded Grace. "You were too busy pouting."
"I'm not happy with the way it's sounding."
"Can't they fix it in post?" suggested Mindy.
Heather shook her head. "We'll have access to a real studio with natural acoustics. I want the band to sound the same live as it does in the studio. No over-processing."
"What are we supposed to do then?" asked Grace. "Steve is expecting 'Celestial.'"
"Funny you should ask." Heather extr
acted several music sheets from a manila folder. "I've been working on another song that'll be easier."
"Great." Grace loved Heather but sometimes found her exasperating.