by Leigh Ban
Gusun chuckled. “You’re making me ravenous with those descriptions. Did you get the chance to eat before class today?”
I was reminded of the leftover chips I’d found in my room this morning and scoffed down before preparing to head out. Although the chips were kind of stale, there wasn’t much else to eat in my suite. Besides, I didn’t want the food to go to waste.
“Kind of, I had a simple meal,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t respond by questioning what constituted a simple meal.
He nodded. “Me too. I would’ve suggested that we have lunch together before the interview, but JP told me he wants to give us a taste of what the food and drinks at Carrot are like. Apparently, there are only three or four items on the food menu, but they’re all tasty.”
“How nice of him. I can’t wait.”
Gusun peered at his navigation system. “We’ll be there in around ten minutes.”
“How do you know him?”
“Oh, the record producer I worked with for my group’s last album is a regular at Carrot. He’s known JP, the owner, for over a decade. If I recall correctly, the two of them met when they were both starting out as record producers.”
Once Gusun and I arrived at the entrance, we were greeted by JP.
“How nice to finally meet you, Gusun,” said JP, taking Gusun’s hand.
Gusun replied, “Thank you for letting us come here today. This is Dana Day, my partner for summer sessions.”
“Welcome, Dana. Wow, you’re very pretty. You look just like a foreign actress. I forgot the name, but she’s a Hollywood actress.”
As JP and I shook hands, I gave him a courtesy laugh. “Thank you. I’m excited to be here. I’ve never been to a nineties-themed live music bar before.”
Although JP had somewhat of a youthful face shape with full cheeks, his salt-and-pepper stubble aged him. He was tall, albeit a little shorter than Gusun, and wore a black button-up shirt with black trousers. As soon as Gusun and I followed him inside, we were in front of the bartender station.
“Take a seat. Get comfortable.” JP pointed to the plush red barstools.
“Thank you,” Gusun and I said in unison.
Although I had presumed Carrot was an upscale place after Gusun told me it was in Cheongdam, I’d pictured an outdated-looking bar stuck in a time warp. Frankly, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Once I sat down and scanned my surroundings, I was pleasantly surprised by the classy interior. The antique wooden chandelier in the middle of the bar instantly caught my eye. Although it was mid-afternoon, Carrot was dimly lit. The swanky chandelier, which was wider than the span of my arms, was the main source of light. At the other end of the bar, there was a stage with a drum kit and a keyboard.
“I’ve got baked potatoes in the oven. They’re still cooking,” JP called out. “You guys haven’t had lunch yet, have you? I’ll fix you some pork chops and a cobb salad.”
Once JP disappeared into the kitchen, I chucked my bag on the floor. “You told him we need photos for our website, right? Should we take them now?”
Gusun nodded. “Yeah, I did. Good idea.”
We went over to the seats and the stage to take photos with our phone cameras. When JP came out of the kitchen with the food, he watched us with a satisfied grin.
“Is the lighting alright?” JP shouted out.
“Yes! Don’t worry,” I yelled back.
A few minutes later, Gusun and I returned to the barstools.
“These aren’t the best pork chops and cobb salad in the world, but they’re the best pork chops and cobb salad you can get at a Korean live music bar,” JP proclaimed.
Gusun and I looked at each other, unsure of whether this was our cue to laugh.
“Dig in,” JP said.
The portions for the pork chops and cobb salad were incredibly generous. I quickly snapped a picture of the food before picking up my knife and fork. The pork chops were so tender and juicy. JP was watching me expectantly, so I gave him a thumbs-up. After a couple of more bites, I put my cutlery down to take out my notebook and pen.
“Could you tell us a bit about your background? What inspired you to start a live music bar specifically dedicated to songs from the nineties?” I inquired.
JP explained, “Well, Dana, I’m a former music producer. I had my heyday ten years ago. A few years after that, I realized I wasn’t going to be producing any bigger hits, and I decided I wanted to use the royalties I had left over to set up a unique hangout spot. You see, I have fond memories of discovering new music during my teenage years in the nineties. But when I worked as a producer, I was told to branch out from anything reminiscent of nineties popular music because it would sound outdated, which is why I was determined to cherish nostalgic songs in a sophisticated, upscale environment. Here at Carrot, there are live performances every Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Occasionally, we also invite nineties pop stars to perform.”
As I listened, I wrote in my notebook. “What’s the meaning behind the name Carrot?”
JP snickered. “There’s a long story behind the name. I’d rather not get into it. Long story short, it was suggested by my ex-girlfriend.”
“I see,” I mumbled, forcing an awkward smile.
JP pointed up his index finger as if he’d struck upon a brilliant idea. “We have an extensive drink menu. Let me fix you guys a cocktail. How about a whiskey sour?”
I wondered if I should tell him I hated whiskey. I had the feeling he’d encourage me to try a glass anyway.
“Don’t worry about me. I can’t drink today,” Gusun said.
“Nonsense,” JP said blithely as he took out two large eggs from the fridge.
A few minutes later, Gusun was handed a whiskey sour.
“I’m sorry. I can’t drink this,” Gusun reiterated.
JP leered at Gusun. “Relax, Gusun. This is a bar. You need to review the drinks too.”
Gusun explained, “JP, I brought my car. I have to drive.”
“I’ll call a designated driver service for you,” JP insisted.
Although I expected Gusun to continue to refuse, he raised the glass in front of him. After the three of us clinked our glasses together, I snapped a photo of my whiskey sour.
“How do you like your drink?” JP asked me as I took my first sip.
“It’s… got a silky texture,” I commented.
JP simpered. “The egg is the special ingredient.”
When Gusun finished his whiskey sour, he excused himself to the bathroom. While I took another bite of the pork chops, JP poured three glasses of whiskey, adding in a few drops of water. Once he put the drinks on the table in front of me, he came over and sat beside me on Gusun’s empty barstool. JP put his arm on the table and leaned toward me.
Though I was taken aback by how close he was, I attempted to ease the tension by asking him another question. “How would you describe your bar’s typical customer? Who are your regulars?”
“Dana,” JP whispered, putting his finger on my lips. “You’re the hottest woman who has ever set foot inside Carrot.”
“Excuse me?” I squeaked.
Lucky for me, JP was interrupted by the sound of Gusun’s footsteps. JP dropped his hands and jerked up.
Just before Gusun appeared, JP said under his breath, “We’ll talk later.”
“Is everything alright?” Gusun asked, looking into my eyes.
“I almost forgot about the baked potatoes in the oven,” JP blurted out.
Once he disappeared into the kitchen with a jolly laugh, I flipped to a blank page in my notebook and wrote down, JP made me feel kind of uncomfortable.
When I handed my notebook to Gusun, his eyes grew round.
“What happened?” he mouthed.
I took the notebook back from him and wrote, Nothing… I got a weird vibe though. He suddenly came close to me and told me I was hot.
Gusun groaned and slammed his fist on the table.
“Mind you, he didn’t ask for my number or anything,�
�� I said.
“Yet,” Gusun muttered, then threw back the glass of whiskey in front of him.
Then I realized why Gusun was so frustrated. JP was evidently the stereotypical music industry creep. From his perspective, Gusun and I were just classmates; I was merely a college student who’d lucked into being partnered with a boy band member for a class project.
I pushed my glass toward Gusun. “You can have my drink too. I don’t drink whiskey.”
“Thanks.” He took a swig. “I wanted to drive you back to your dorm.”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s no need for you to take me back all the way to the other side of the city.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, beaming. Although I was barely tipsy, I didn’t hold back from putting my hand on Gusun’s knee. He was so close to me I could see the cute freckle on the tip of his nose.
“How pretty,” he said, peering down at my fingers.
“My hand or my rings?”
“Both,” he whispered before planting his lips on mine.
Chapter Eight
Although Gusun hadn’t explicitly mentioned the words “girlfriend” or “boyfriend,” to me, our first kiss at Carrot was enough to solidify our relationship. We weren’t simply interested in each other anymore; he’d taken the risk of getting caught and kissed me. On Saturday, I was full of zest for the entire day. My body was so light I felt like I could bounce up to the sky with every step. Since Stella was still at her grandparents’ house and I wasn’t meeting Yumi until Sunday, I had the entire day to myself, but the vivid memory of what happened with Gusun made me feel warm inside, like I wasn’t completely alone.
In the late afternoon, I decided to go to Crazy Cozy Café. I brought my laptop so I could type up my notes from the interview with JP. When I took a sip of my cappuccino and looked through the pictures I’d taken at Carrot, I grinned like a kid with candy. My favorite photos, of course, were the ones Gusun and I had taken of each other. Before we left Carrot, I’d asked him to stand outside the entrance for a picture. I zoomed in on Gusun’s ridiculously photogenic face and squealed.
On my way back to International House, I bought a BLT sandwich from a gourmet sandwich shop nearby. Upon entering my suite, I heard music blasting from Christy’s room. She and I hadn’t talked since we had spaghetti Bolognese at the dorm cafeteria on Tuesday. Although she’d asked me if I wanted to have dinner with her on Thursday, I declined, claiming I’d eaten earlier.
Once I finished eating my sandwich at my desk, using my notebook as a makeshift plate, I stretched my legs out, comfortably full and satisfied. Gusun called me right then.
“Are you busy? Can you talk? How was your day?” he asked.
“Sure, I can,” I said. “I had a good day, although it would’ve been a better day if you’d been around. Can you tell that I miss you? I’m so used to seeing you every day now.”
Gusun chuckled. “I miss you too.”
“I miss you more though. I’ve been looking at the pictures from yesterday.”
“You need to send them to me. I remember taking a cute photo of you.”
“Alright, I’ll share the photos with you later,” I replied.
“Have you started working on our interview from yesterday?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“You seem to be enjoying our project.”
I laughed. “I’m so glad our project is going well. We haven’t had any unpleasant surprises, other than the day we got caught in the rain.”
“And other than JP being a creep,” he muttered.
“Ugh. He was so… slimy. I don’t know what he was thinking. At least I’m never seeing him again.”
“I just wish I could’ve told him to back off.”
“Trust me, you don’t want him to spin a story and call the tabloids.”
Gusun sighed. “You’re right.”
“What were you doing today?” I asked.
“I made a visit to my agency. The other members and I had a meeting with some of the people we’ll be working with for our next album.”
“How was the meeting?”
“We discussed the overall concept and artistic direction. I can’t reveal the specific details, but everyone seems to be into the R&B style.”
“Are you telling me you’ll be singing R&B? Gusun, the music videos for Undone’s next songs are going to break the Internet.”
He chuckled. “You think so?”
“Of course. I may become a fan too. Are you home now? Didn’t you have dinner with them?”
“Yeah, I’m back at my apartment. Oh, Dana, I was invited to a special VVIP dinner event, but I declined and told everyone I needed to hurry home to make an important phone call.”
I giggled. “Did you really? How bad of you.”
“No, nobody invited me to dinner. Everyone seemed busy. They already had plans. So I’m all alone at the moment. For some reason, when I walked into my apartment, I felt kind of lonely.”
“Aw, poor you,” I teased.
“I know. Woe is me. I’m the person who has to spend Saturday night alone in a nice big river-view apartment.”
“I’m sorry. You’re allowed to feel lonely.”
“I’ve got to admit, I feel better just talking to you.”
“You should call me whenever you feel low then,” I suggested.
“I will. Hey, I have an idea for the name of our project.”
“The name of our project? Didn’t we decide on Wait a Few Years: Revisiting Hits?”
He paused, then said, “GDP.”
“GDP?” I repeated. “GDP as in gross domestic product? Why?”
“No, GDP as in Gusun and Dana Project,” he said, chortling.
I tittered at the sound of his laugh. “Wow, that was a terrible dad joke. You should know that I’m laughing at you, not with you.”
“When Undone disbands in the distant future, I’m going to step away from the spotlight and dedicate myself to my ultimate life goal: embarrassing my kids full-time.”
“Your dream is to be a full-time embarrassing dad?”
“Yup. I’d like to be a full-time embarrassing dad and a part-time carpenter. I want to live in the country and buy a house with a massive backyard, so that I can build my kids a kick-ass treehouse. They’re going to love me for the awesome treehouse and hate me for the incessant jokes.”
“Oh, you should move to Texas. Not Houston, but rural Texas,” I suggested.
“Take me there.”
“Now? Should I grab my passport?”
“No, in ten years. Or maybe five.”
Since I had the tendency to get ahead of myself, I pictured us living on a Texan ranch together. I would wear low-cut prairie dresses, and he would come into the kitchen straight from the backyard, sweaty and shirtless. He’d be holding his toolbox in one hand and clutching a bunch of flowers from our garden with his other hand. The mere thought made my heart race. While I played the fantasy out in my head, I grabbed a pen from my desk and drew a love heart on a blank page in my notebook.
Then I closed my notebook and said, “GDP… Gusun and Dana Project. Your joke was so awful I’m going to write it on the cover of my notebook and taunt you on Monday.”
After we hummed our secret code to one another and ended our phone call, I skipped out of my room as if I was walking on clouds. I couldn’t stop myself from feeling buoyant. I kept humming as I walked over to the fridge and took out an ice block from the freezer. It wasn’t until I tore the packaging and went over to the trash can that I saw Christy sitting on the sofa. She was scowling at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dana, who were you on the phone with?”
“Oh, could you hear me?” I said with a contrived laugh. “I was talking to my friend from Creative Music Projects.”
When I joined her on the sofa, she got up.
“Christy?”
“I had the worst dream last night,” she grumbled.
“That su
cks,” I replied.
She put her palm on her forehead and went into her room. “My dream was totally ludicrous, but the image in my head is making me paranoid.”
On Sunday, I was scheduled to meet Yumi at noon. Since she was exhausted from her internship, she had insisted on catching up over a meal as opposed to going on a night out. We agreed to meet at Three Pancakes, a brunch restaurant in Sinchon. As I planned to stuff myself with blueberry pancakes doused in maple syrup, I put on an oversized T-shirt dress that would effectively hide my full belly later. While I was putting my sneakers on, Christy came out of her room.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah, I’m having brunch with Yumi.”
As Christy watched me slip my foot into my left shoe, she said, “Bye, Dana. I hope you enjoy yourself.”
“See you later!” I called out to her as I opened the front door.
Christy continued to stand there until I shut the door. Although I wasn’t used to having her take the time to say goodbye to me in such a way, I presumed she was bored.
When I entered Three Pancakes, Yumi was already sitting inside at a table. As she tended to look like a coven member all year round, she wore a black slip dress with a black lace cardigan and burgundy lipstick. Although it had only been a little over a week since we last met, she waved vigorously, as if I was a hero returning from a mission.
“Look who’s excited to see me,” I exclaimed with my arms out.
Yumi got up and greeted me with a quick hug. “No, I’m just excited to finally be able to order some food.”
I chortled. “I’m relieved to see working at the Bank of Korea hasn’t mellowed you, because I was worried that the senior employees might’ve turned you into a docile intern.”
“Oh please, I’ve been working there for two weeks.”
Once we sat down, I studied the menu in front of me. “How was your second week of being a career woman?”
“It was torturous. My neck feels stiff from sitting at my desk all day. Everyone’s smarter than me, so I’m constantly questioning myself. I never know if I’m doing the right thing. The work environment is ultra-conservative. In short, I hate the place so much I’m going to apply for a permanent position when I’m in my last semester of college.” Yumi rolled her eyes dramatically.