“Who are you then?” I finally ask the question I have been dwelling over for the past two weeks. I even Googled you and I couldn’t find any information.
Obviously, Choi Sangwoo is a gang leader, but there’s something unnerving about him. What does he want with me? Choi Sangwoo is from an underground world where the shadows scamper from light, from the bleak and mainstream world that I live in. I am not expecting someone of his caliber to spill his entire heart and soul to me, but I want something I can believe in.
“I . . . .” Sangwoo’s lost look is interestingly sorrowful. A tint of hesitation crosses his lips and his tone of voice softens. “I have been searching for someone like you for quite a long time now.”
I gulp on the invisible air bubble traveling in my throat. Brown Eyes has been searching for someone like me? A reminder of Dead Girl billows into my mind. I do my best to pop each bubble of thought to protect my emotions.
“When I first walked into The Trax, two weeks ago, I couldn’t believe it.” His voice is like chocolate melting into my ears. “After all this time, I’ve found you.”
I listen to Sangwoo with undivided attention and speechlessness. His words and emotional expressiveness suck me in. This is definitely difficult to take in. He’s been searching for me, but for what and why? I am silently relishing the thought.
“What do you mean you have been looking for me?” The chills are fresh now that I am repeating his statement. I am beyond curious by his cryptic messages. “Why have you been looking for me?”
Sangwoo is at a standstill in his fluid movements. He is waiting for something, waiting for me to give something up. It is a dance we are doing. “Someone like you,” he corrects my statement.
“Someone like me,” I repeat under the tone of a whisper.
“I believe we can greatly benefit from each other,” Sangwoo states instead of answering my question. It becomes apparent that he is not ready to explain the full extent to me. “Through our contract, of course.”
“Contract.” Right. I squirm in my seat, finally realizing that I am hunched forward, lapping up his every word.
“We can talk about that after dinner.” Sangwoo is back to being enigmatic and disconcerting. Sangwoo bites into his steak to indicate the end of the discussion for now.
I mirror his sentiments and eat my food; I allow the hunger to take over. I continue to eat, savoring the exotic taste and flavor. Just when I think he is going to disregard me, Sangwoo’s looking at me again with those intense brown eyes.
“Do you only live with your mother?” His food is forgotten momentarily as he asks me a question I am not prepared for. It is casual enough, but I am weary of the consequences that will result from confiding in this man.
I swallow the half-chewed shrimp in my mouth. Surprise taints my facial expression. “Yes.” Why does he want to know so much about me?
“Do you have any other relatives besides Lina?” Sangwoo presses on. His interest is piqued and directed at my family composition.
“No. Lina is my only cousin from my dad’s side,” I reply.
Sangwoo stares at me, unleashing the full intensity of his gaze. He steadies his breath for a couple of seconds. “No other relatives?”
“No,” I answer shortly. The soft rhythms in my heart pick up speed. “What about you?”
Sangwoo drops his gaze when the question directs back to him. “I had a brother,” Sangwoo replies curtly. “That’s all.”
I stare at him, waiting for more, but Sangwoo adds, “I’m not going to be a very good friend to you May. I’m far too private and the questions are going to be often one-sided. I prefer it that way.”
That’s not very fair. Shady! my intuition sings. But then again, Choi Sangwoo will probably always have some type of leverage over me. The fact that he had a brother doesn’t escape me. I want to ask Sangwoo what happened to his brother, but his forewarning disarms my curiosity. All I can manage to flagship my thoughts is, “You seem to know a lot about me and I don’t know anything about you, except that . . . you’re some sort of celebrity in the nation.”
Sangwoo’s brown eyes narrow. Suddenly, I feel like a schoolgirl again. “Not many people would think of me as a celebrity, May. I’m more of your ‘most wanted’ guy.”
Flashes of the TV report cross my mind. “Most wanted?”
“You haven’t noticed that I tend to disappear from one box to the next? From one building to the other, from one car to the next, never staying longer than ten minutes?” Sangwoo pitches a question I am not sure how to answer.
Now that he’s bringing it up, I am weary of it. Just the mentioning of his name garners unwanted attention. Here, at this grand hotel, just one flick of his finger and Sangwoo has the management scurrying after him. This type of power is unnerving and difficult to digest. There are probably people who will trade their left arm to be sitting from across from him. He’s probably wanted for a number of reasons.
“Like a recluse,” I state. “Can I ask, by choice or because of circumstances?”
Sangwoo shrugs; the question doesn’t bother him. “Both.”
“Are all gang leaders shrouded in mystery?” Suddenly, Mayhem’s strikingly handsome and enigmatic face invades my mind’s eye. I am momentarily crippled by the unwelcome thought of the more rambunctious and dangerous gang leader.
“Some more than others,” Sangwoo replies. Keeping his brown eyes steady, Sangwoo picks up his glass of wine. “There are some leaders that the world will never see or hear of. Then, there are those that the world will fear well beyond the legacy he chooses to leave behind.”
I am getting a verbal, guided tour of this world. My scalp tingles at the amount of information. “How does one . . . become a gang leader?”
Sangwoo gives me the opportunity to contribute to this theory building. “How do you think?”
I fidget in my seat. My cheeks are on fire from his gaze. Should I give him the Google version? I decide against it for the sake of not wanting to look like a fool. “Well, you mentioned that it is just like any other business. So, I guess you would first become a gang member and then work your way up.”
Sangwoo nods his head with those unwavering eyes. “Yes. That is one way.” He takes another sip of his wine. Then, he proceeds to run an index finger around the side of the crystal glass when he adds, “Or, you could be born into it.”
A chill ripples down the middle of my body. Blessed-in, my intuition hisses. Although Sangwoo said it casually, the impact of his statement creates a ripple effect the same way a rock does when it expertly skips above water. “Were you born into it?” I dare myself to ask.
There’s an edge to Sangwoo voice. “I am an heir. Yes.” Sangwoo gauges my reaction; his undivided attention is on every line of my face.
“Is Mayhem an heir?” I do my best to relax every surprised line on my face.
“No. In our world, royalty is scarce. Mayhem worked his way up. That is why his methods are a bit more unorthodox, brutal, and blatant.” Sangwoo makes a face as though an unwelcome thought crosses his mind.
Wow. This is more complicated than I can imagine. One gang leader was born and groomed to be one while the other, the more ruthless leader, became one of his accord. It is just my luck to owe the scarier one thirty thousand dollars. I make a mental note to draw up my own contract with Lina.
“Why are you asking about him?” Sangwoo’s voice is back to its cold tenor.
Shit. Why is he looking at me like that? I feel like I am in trouble. “Just exactly how over my head am I?” I ask Sangwoo with rendered control. “Be honest.”
Choi Sangwoo dips his head and lets out a low chuckle. He finds humor in my question and is beyond amused. “Becoming friends with one gang leader who comes from a long line of organized crime leadership, and making enemies with another brutal gang leader doesn’t mean you are in way over your head. It just means you are drowning without a life jacket or boat to save you, Maybelline Lee.”
I try to conta
in the small gasp that threatens to leave my throat.
Sangwoo picks up his glass of wine again. He swirls the last remaining drops before finishing it in one take. “That is why I am going to help you. As long as you are associated with me, Mayhem will think twice before he does anything.”
“Think twice?” I ask. There is a glimmer of hope for me.
Sangwoo breaks our eye contact briefly when he answers, “He’ll think twice, but it won’t stop him from doing what he wants done.”
“Which is what?” I press on. Is there nothing that will stop Mayhem?
“Not many people borrow money from Mayhem. At least, not the ones who are smart enough.” Sangwoo pauses as though to remind me of my cousin’s poor decision making. “Yoon Jaewon is probably the second richest gang lord in all of Asia. At face value, his loans’ interest rates are low and his return rates have suitable grace periods. But he will chase his loans to the world’s end. I have seen countless people maimed and massacred because of his money. Your cousin chose the crème de la crème of loan sharks–of unforgiving gangs.” Sangwoo’s voice is steady and calm, as if the story he is telling derives from children’s literacy.
“Do you lend people money?” A mental comparison chart chalks up in my mind.
Sangwoo’s brown eyes flick to pin my gaze to his. “I do. But the difference is I only loan my money to groups, companies, and organizations. I refrain from loaning to small businesses or individuals. We’re not all out for blood, May.”
I remain silent with a mixture of trepidation and awe. I pick up my glass of water and nervously drink it. My throat feels like the desert and rough sand. I am aware that Choi Sangwoo is watching me with that same unreadable facial expression. Maybe he expects me to run for the hills. I think about Lina and the hot shit she is in with Mayhem’s money. I can attempt to escape from all this drama, but I am reminded with a prickling sensation that I have my blood marked somewhere on a piece of paper. That damned Danny guy. Your life just got a little more exciting, my intuition taunts. She’s done with dinner and wants to get out of here as quickly as possible.
“Are you afraid of me?” Suddenly, Sangwoo asks with a passive-aggressive tone. Unexpectedly, I transport back to my kitchen on that Sunday morning when he first asked me the very same question. At the time my answer was a precise, “No” but now I have mixed feelings.
I try not to spit out the water I have in my mouth. “No. Yes. A little bit.” I am all words of contradiction.
“You should be,” Sangwoo says, deadpan. Then, he relaxes his facial muscles and gives me a brief smile. “You really want to know who I am?
Don’t answer, it’s a trick question. Somehow, I find myself nodding my head. I know it is all for the wrong reasons, but I am intrigued by this man and his world.
Sangwoo places both hands on top of the table. For a second, it looks as though he is preparing to clasp his hands into a prayer. “I don’t do this often, but I wish for a more private place to speak with you.” His tone is hushed and inviting, mysterious and soothing.
My appetite disappears as Sangwoo’s spoken words end. “This isn’t private enough?”
There is no one else sitting in this vast restaurant except for us. It is as though Sangwoo had the entire restaurant on reserve. The soft trickling of classical music is spinning above our table, emitting from invisible speakers.
“I am staying in the penthouse here. There is more privacy up there.” Sangwoo removes his hands from the table. His brown eyes lower and his lips appear as though they are waiting for me expectantly.
“Penthouse?” I ask, slightly dumbfounded. Of course he would be staying at the penthouse. The thought of Choi Sangwoo staying at anything less grand just doesn’t go hand-in-hand.
Sangwoo nods his head. There is a burning infusion deep in his brown eyes. “You can choose to come with me,” he pauses and then adds, “or not. It is your choice.”
“I am getting the impression that not many girls, or people, would turn you down.” I am all tongue and cheek. Although I am enamored, I haven’t completely lost my mind.
“I don’t invite many people, or many girls, to where I am staying.” Sangwoo’s eyebrows come together with slight irritation as if I have offended him by implying that he is a manwhore. His brown eyes are telling it all.
Damn. Can his eyes burn a more intensely stare? I need time to think about this. I am all nerves. “I need to use the bathroom,” I tell him softly.
Sangwoo gives me another smoldering look, but holds his tongue. “I will wait for you here.”
I force my legs to stand up.
Mr. Joo appears, as though he has been watching, and promptly directs me to the back of the restaurant. I incline my head to thank him and I am on my way. The bathroom hides behind another set of plush curtains. It turns out to be just as upscale. It smells like a meadow of strawberries and blossoms. There is a red sofa to the right of the interior along with gleaming sky-high mirrors.
I retrieve my cell phone from my bag and hold it up to the light. I have only one bar of signal in here. My eyebrows come together in question when I see five missed calls from Lina. I decide to check my text message inbox. Lina’s text message comes in clear: Call me when you can, please.
Oh no. What’s going on? I redial Lina’s number, but the call goes straight to her voicemail box. I check her call times and they are sporadic with half an hour time scales. I can’t believe I neglected my phone for so long. I quickly send Lina a text message: I tried calling. Is everything okay?
I wait for another minute and my phone remains silent. The hovering shape inside the mirror calls for me. I am pale as a ghost; my eyes too big for my face and cheeks too gaunt for my complexion. I turn on the water to wash my face. When I am done, I dry my hands and return to the restaurant.
Choi Sangwoo is still sitting at the table. His cell phone is next to him on the surface. He looks up when I return. His brown eyes are inquisitive, but hooded.
“I would like to discuss the contract with you,” I tell him. I wonder if he knows all along that I will give in.
“Good.” The anxious look in Sangwoo’s eyes recedes. Apparently, he isn’t able to read me completely. Slowly, he rises from his place. Sangwoo tucks his cell phone into the pocket of his dress pants with great ease. Sangwoo motions for me to follow him out of the restaurant.
WHAT AM I DOING HERE? I mentally kick myself as I follow Sangwoo’s heels out of the extravagant restaurant. Lina’s text message swims in my head. I am all but a sheet of sweat this point. If Mayhem is turning up the heat and threatening Lina’s family, what’s to say that he won’t do the same to my Eunhye? The thought sends my heart racing as I imagine the shock and fear that will grip my stepmother.
What if he turns out to be some sort of serial killer or a rapist? I am putting too much trust in someone I barely know. Why can’t I triumph my curiosity and not follow him? I am too weak for my own good. My intuition is angry at me and refuses to discuss my foolishness.
I do my best to focus on Sangwoo’s back as he leads me to the lobby of the hotel. We arrive in front of the baroque elevators.
When the elevators open, Sangwoo and I step inside. The elevator is quiet and whisks us to the very top. The tension and expectations are palpable within the four walls of the elevator. I hold my breath as though I am waiting for the moment to implode. Just when I think I cannot take it any longer, the golden doors part to reveal a lavish lobby. Sangwoo steps out first; his body language tells me to keep a close distance. Two men are sitting outside of his door. They spring to their feet immediately. Ignoring them, Sangwoo extracts a card from the sleeve of his shirt. After Sangwoo swipes the card through the cardholder, it lights green and the doors open.
I suck in my breath.
“Come in.” Sangwoo leads the way into the beautiful penthouse suite. The décor is white and royal blue. The furnishing is simple and concise, a sofa here and a coffee table there. In the middle of the room, before the grand wi
ndows, is a state-of-the art fireplace.
Sangwoo strides over to the open kitchen area complete with a dark granite island. He opens one of the hanging cabinets and extracts a bottle of wine. “Would you like a drink? This is very light in alcoholic content. You won’t get drunk.”
Well, hell. If I am going to sign another contract with a gang lord, I might as well have something. “Yes, please.”
A look crosses Sangwoo’s face as though he enjoys my agreement very much. He is probably taking delight in the fact that he is slowly corrupting me. But then again, he can’t corrupt you, or seduce you, if you don’t want to be corrupted or seduced. I shoot down my intuition and hold her hostage.
Sangwoo takes out two glasses of wine from the hanging rack. I am still standing awkwardly by his white leather couch when Sangwoo approaches. He holds the bottle of wine and glasses with great ease.
“Have a seat.” Sangwoo hands me a wine glass.
I sit, placing my tote bag on the floor next to my feet.
Sangwoo takes the seat across from me. The skyline view of the city is a kaleidoscope of colors behind him. The beautiful view is distracting, but not enough to take my partial attention away from this man.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk.” Sangwoo holds up his glass of wine as a form of a toast.
We press our glasses together. I take a sip of the wine. Surprisingly, it has a sweet and sour tone to it. I find myself grateful for the liquid courage. I drink a bit more and set my half-full glass on the table. I am feeling warm and lightheaded.
“The contract that I want to offer you will be stated first in verbal. Like with any other contract, there are three steps. The first is the offer. Next, it is an acceptance of that offer. And lastly, the consideration. Consideration is the bargained-for exchange point.” Sangwoo sets his glass of wine down on top of the pristine coffee table. He sits back on the sofa, folding his legs together at the ankles. Completely in his element, Sangwoo is all business and the eagerness that he applies to his business transactions unfold.
April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions Page 18