“Bye Bryan.” I hang up the phone quickly before he can harass me.
With the location of Spyder’s whereabouts, I quickly change into the jeans and sweatshirt. On my way out of my bedroom, I grab a small blanket for Lina; she is still in a deep sleep. My cousin looks helpless, like a small child who is resting after a run-in with her bully. Don’t worry Lina. I’ll set that no-good-ex-boyfriend of yours straight!
The morning sunlight greets me when I step out of the apartment. The summer chill surprises me, increasing my appreciation for the gray sweatshirt. My ensemble gives me extra protection at the place I am heading to, but the weather is also in favor of it.
I head down the apartment complex to the center square of the neighborhood. The perks of living near downtown Seoul is any destination is always a five-minute walk. A slew of people are out-and-about; some are going to work while others are hurrying to their next forsaken destinations. I am invisible, ducking in and out of the crowd with diligence.
The billiards place Bryan refers to is not the one that is often populated by older gentlemen who prefer another pastime beside chess. The billiards place that Spyder, along with other social degenerates, frequents is at the edge of downtown Seoul tucked in a crowded alley. Miscellaneous stores, along with unmarked businesses, tower together in a horde.
8-Ball Pool is notorious for its underground affiliations and unwarranted social schemes. It is open twenty-four-seven and operates in absolute darkness. It is a place where vampires, ghosts, and phantoms dwell in. Mainly social degenerates, rebels, and troublemakers keep this particular place alive.
I have only been to 8-Ball once and planned to never go back. Today, however, I am breaking one of my many rules for the infamous Spyder.
When I enter 8-Ball, clouds of smoke hanging in the air with varying degrees greet me. Here, the implied dress code is all black. Everyone blends into the shadows and melts with the walls. There exists a dark undertone to the entire place. It is a one-story building; there’s a lonely bar to the far right of the billiards place. A number of pool tables scatter throughout the entire vicinity.
“Can I help you?” Fake Blonde at the front cashier is in my face. Her platinum hair spirals from her face. Her dark eye makeup makes her cheekbones and lips protrude. Fake Blonde is two inches taller than I am with a no-nonsense attitude.
“I’m looking for someone.” I scan the room and it takes me all but five seconds to see Spyder’s wiry body against the back of the room. Obviously, he’s not in enough pain if he can play pool.
“Fifteen dollar cover.” Fake Blonde holds out her hand. The bubble gum she is chewing cycles in her mouth.
“Fifteen dollars?” I can barely contain the horror in my voice. Who are they trying to rip-off? Do I have rich tattooed on my forehead? My intuition sighs, shaking her head fervently.
Before I can refuse, I look behind Fake Blonde to see a beefy security guard approaching. The dark suit he’s wearing gives off the impression of gangster. I wonder briefly if he belongs to a lower gang, as Choi Sangwoo would refer to them. Oh no, even my mindset of thinking about other people is rapidly changing.
“Is there a problem here?” he demands. The security guard is fabulously bald and heavyset. Baldy, my conscience names him.
“Nothing,” I grumble. I reach into my bag and pull out three five-dollar bills. I slap them into Fake Blonde’s hand and she steps back to let me through.
Baldy eyes me as I cross the threshold.
Shit. I have to make this quick. I curse Spyder to hell.
I walk through the dark cloud of smoke and bodies that are moving around me. They remind me of shadows in nightmares, lurking and waiting for the right moment to strike.
“Spyder,” I call out his name when I approach his table.
Spyder’s holding a pool stick and doesn’t notice me. The Band-Aid on the left side of his face is still there. Spyder is currently playing with four other men, one looking like the miniature replica of the other. Don’t these people work?
“Spyder,” I call again.
He finally turns at my voice and surprise coats his eyes. “May, what are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” I tell him sternly.
“Shit, May. We have nothing to talk about. Go home.” Spyder brushes me off quickly, doing his best to remove me from the situation as soon as possible. This is the Spyder I know underneath the fake one.
I am boiling with anger at his blatant disregard. “You think you can just hit my cousin and leave her?”
“Shit May. You’re going to put me on blast like this? Get the hell out of here. Whatever is going on with Lina and me is our problem,” Spyder snaps at me.
All four of his friends freeze at their posts around the pool table. Spyder glances at them and deciphers the curiosity bouncing off each one. Evidently, Spyder hasn’t updated them on what is going on with his relationship.
“Well, you made it my problem when you abandoned her you bastard. It’s bad enough that you’re walking away when she needs you the most, but you’re also forgetting you owe Mayhem a shitload of money, so no you don’t get to get off so easily with me!” I retort with contention.
“Shit Spyder. You owe Mayhem money?” One of his friends looks like he swallowed something foul.
Suddenly, the entire billiards area is quiet. I glance around and can see the fear tripling from one person to the next at the mention of the gang lord’s name. Is he really such an infamous enigma?
“Fuck.” Spyder drops his pool stick and grabs my right arm.
“Let go of me!” I hiss. I struggle in his grip. For a tall, wiry guy he sure is strong.
“Let’s talk outside!” Spyder pulls me to the nearest exit. I am now aware of 8-Ball’s second exit. Only someone who haunts this place frequently would know of its existence.
“Let go of me!” I am normally not a violent person, but I manage to jerk my arm from Spyder’s hold with brisk force.
Spyder lets me go and slams the back door of 8-Ball open. We spill out into the back alley bustling with people taking the shortcut to the main street. Some of them pause to watch the commotion we are causing.
Spyder corners me near the door and leans in close. He lowers his voice in a menacing manner. I had forgotten the cruel features on Spyder’s face; the way his lips turn into a malicious sneer and the malevolent glare in his eyes send my stomach hurling.
“Are you stupid?” Spyder growls at me. “Why the hell are you going around screaming that I owe Mayhem money? Don’t you know anything? You do not speak of Mayhem’s name! His name is a death wish, a death threat, and a death sentence.”
“You coward,” I rebuke him the best way I know how. “You’re only afraid of him because you’re powerless at repaying him back. You have to resort to your girlfriend and me to pay him back. What kind of a man are you anyway? I should have let that Danny beat the shit out of you! You deserve it.”
“Don’t talk to me like that May. Watch what you’re saying to me.” Spyder’s attempt at threatening me doesn’t sit well.
“I knew you were no good from the beginning. We all saw through you. Now you want to abandon my cousin? If you ever touch my cousin again, I will kill you. Then, I’ll let you figure out how to pay Mayhem back thirty thousand dollars!” I threaten him.
“Oh really?” Spyder narrows his eyes at me. “And you think I’m the only one they will come after? Lina had part in that money too. So it won’t just be me that they’re coming after, but Lina and you. Did you forget you’re associated with Crist?”
And the true demon inside Spyder rears its ugly head.
“Wow, Spyder.” I take a step back from him. The shock radiates from me.
A couple strolls past us, glancing at Spyder and then at me. The girl tugs on her boyfriend’s shirt. He shakes his head and they continue walking. They must think we are arguing over mundane problems.
“So you’re going to be like this. You’re really going to do this to Lina. After
an entire year with her, you’re going to do this to her–the one person who put up with your bullshit and even managed to love you?” The revelation is clear in my eyes. “You’re even worse than what I thought. I told my cousin that you were bad news when I first met you, but I supported her when she told me there’s good in you.”
Spyder glares at me. “Stay out of this May. Just get the money to Mayhem like you promised.”
“So you can run away from Lina and the debt as free as a bird?” I ask him in disbelief. “I’m not asking you to be reasonable. I know I can’t. But how is this fair for me to take the brunt of your mistakes? You better make things right with Lina or I won’t pay Mayhem back, and let him do away with you whatever he wants to. Lina and I will be protected by Crist.”
“You will pay Mayhem.” Without warning, Spyder’s hands grip my right arm. He thrusts me back against the wall of the building. “And you will stay out of what is going on between Lina and me. You don’t even know half of the story. Your cousin is not completely innocent in all this.”
“Let go of me!” I hiss. I attempt to escape from his hold, but Spyder has me in a death grip. “Stop it!”
“You listen to me!” Spyder snarls in my ear.
“She said let her go.”
A cool, mild voice interrupts our heated confrontation.
Spyder relaxes his grip on my arm from fear of social judgment. When he sees who it is, Spyder releases me. Fear and anxiety replace the violent look on his face.
I am still reeling from the shock and trepidation. My eyes slowly travel to my savior, and I feel the revelation trickle from the top of my head down to my toes.
It appears as though he is in the middle of exiting the adjacent, unmarked building. The dark aviator sunglasses he is wearing covers more than half of his face, but that distinctive jaw line is hard to miss. His black, tousled hair is styled back from his face, revealing the stunning model-like facial structure. He’s incredible looking in the morning sunlight, despite the fact that his rugged biker ensemble–complete with black pants, black T-shirt, and white bomber jacket–negates the purpose of the summer season.
Mayhem. My intuition is clapping feverishly at his dramatic entrance.
I feel my heart stop and the great precipice of anger I am on with Spyder crumbles beneath my feet. What are the odds of us running into him here? Has he been watching us? How can I forget? I am probably walking on gangster’s paradise right now.
“Mayhem,” Spyder breathes in shock. “What-what are you doing here?” Surprise colors the bastard’s face; this is the last person he wants to see right now. Rational thoughts escape Spyder.
Even behind those dark midnight sunglasses, it is apparent that Mayhem’s narrowing his distinctive eyes at Spyder. Mayhem doesn’t entertain Spyder’s question with an answer. I see his face lift back up towards me. The gesture lets me know Mayhem is scanning me now. A thrill shoots through me. Deadly attraction. My intuition holds her breath.
“Boss.”
From the adjacent building, three Mayhem members emerge. Apparently, they had some business to attend to in there. When Mayhem’s members see their gang lord looking at Spyder and me, they step forward in a protective manner.
“Please escort Junjin back inside the billiards. Check his pockets for extra cash that can be considered payable towards the interest of his loan,” Mayhem’s command comes out smooth and controlled, almost bored and surmised.
Mayhem’s men step forward at his orders. Spyder throws his hands out in protest. “No. Please. I don’t have any extra money. I’m playing pool with my friends so I can rack up some money to pay you back. Please Mayhem! We will pay your loan back soon!”
Like the true coward that he is, Spyder begins to beg. He folds in front of the gang lord. Mayhem stands in complete silence as three of his men escort Spyder back inside 8-Ball. Spyder is kicking and begging, but does not fight the gang members. They drag him back inside the building.
The back door slams shut behind them, leaving Mayhem and me in the deserted alley.
“You seem to have a lot of family problems,” Mayhem states coolly. He towers over me, displaying worldly characteristics of darkness, danger, and magnetism. “What are you doing here, arguing with that arthropod in public?”
Mayhem’s cunning reference to Spyder doesn’t escape me. The dark humor simmers in his voice. Now that I have obtained more information about Mayhem, and gangs in general, I am little more apprehensive about talking to him. But I will not back down to this bully.
“You’re the reason why I’m having family problems,” I tell him with great courage. With Spyder’s help, I am beyond the point of censorship.
“Is that so?” Mayhem asks calmly. Too calmly. “You’re saying that I stuffed thirty thousand dollars down your cousin and her useless boyfriend’s mouth?”
“Pretty much,” I reply stubbornly. His lips press together in that signature style of his. It is quite impressive what an overwhelming and unforgettable presence he is. Suddenly, I remember the fear and menace people feel just hearing his name.
“I was under the impression that Choi Sangwoo trains his associates and members with better mannerisms.” Mayhem saunters towards me slowly.
Oh shit. He’s so freaking tall. I am not as tough as I think now that he is standing in front of me. I can smell his distinctive cologne; an exotic mixture evokes the notions of danger, dark magic, and temptation. Oh my, what am I doing?
“Are you working hard at getting me my money?” Mayhem leans in close.
The gang lord’s nose is almost touching mine. I can see my reflection in his dark glasses. My heart is in my ears and I am straining to hear him speak. Slowly, Mayhem takes off his glasses and those dark eyes that haunt me since our first meeting are staring at me now. Mayhem unleashes the full power of his gaze, and I feel like heavy rocks moving against the current of water. The milky look in his eyes, his light complexion, and chiseled features are unnerving.
I look at Mayhem, attempting to tell him telepathically that I do.
“Do you?” Mayhem asks again.
“I will,” I force the words out of my mouth. “The end of this week.”
“Saturday night, at approximately seven o’clock, you will have the money for me. You will wait outside of your apartment complex and a black vehicle will pick you up to transfer the money to my accountant. Thirty thousand dollars, cash.” Mayhem’s voice is a thick velvet material of threats. “It doesn’t matter to me that you’re an associate with Crist. A debt is a debt, and you must pay in full. Even Choi Sangwoo is reasonable enough to understand that rudimentary rule.”
I gasp slightly as Mayhem withdraws from my space. Breathe May, breathe. My intuition swoons at him.
I stand rooted to my spot as Mayhem retreats. He puts his sunglasses back on, and I can no longer see his face. As if on cue, three of his men exit 8-ball. One-by-one they shuffle out of the back door. The tall one with black ear gauges reports, “It’s all taken care of Boss.”
“Good,” Mayhem states simply. “Let’s go.”
The men head in the opposite direction to some parked motorbikes.
Mayhem turns back to me. His lips curl into a charmed smile. He knows the effect he has on me, bastard. “Stay away from that nuisance,” he says, inclining his head towards 8-ball, clearly referring to Spyder. “He’ll pay for what he did. Karma doesn’t forget.”
Surprise glosses my eyes. This is the last thing I expect out of him. Why does he care what goes on with Spyder and me? I would never peg Mayhem to be so philosophical. He’s even more complicated than Choi Sangwoo.
Without another word, Mayhem heads to his awaiting gang.
I want to tell him to mind his own business, but I am speechless as I watch Mayhem slip onto a sleek black motorcycle. The bike is an exotic style, harnessed for only experienced riders. Mayhem starts up the engine seamlessly and it roars to life. Within a matter of seconds, Mayhem speeds out of the alleyway with three of his men in tow.
Mayhem’s masculine physique leans with the motorcycle as he maneuvers it onto the streets. He’s not wearing a helmet, my conscience whines. He doesn’t have to. My intuition has her hands on her heart.
The motor difference between Crist and Mayhem? While Crist prefers the shelter of hooded and armored cars, Mayhem fully exposes himself on a motorcycle bike thundering down the streets.
The skin on the back of my head prickles. I don’t know how long I stand rooted to my spot, staring at the now vacant space. When I finally convince myself it is time to go, I attempt to get back into 8-Ball. The back door doesn’t open anymore. Cursing underneath my breath, I round the building and enter from the front again.
I’m not done with Spyder yet. Determined to finish the conversation with him, I enter 8-Ball again.
Fake Blonde looks up at me. “You again,” she states.
I peer through the darkness, trying to see Spyder and his group. “I need to get back in.”
“Fifteen dollars,” Fake Blonde states without blinking. Her ridiculously long eyelashes threaten to overpower her eyes.
“I was just here fifteen minutes ago,” I remind Fake Blonde. “I have to pay again for coming back?”
“I don’t make the rules.” She gives me the nonsensical shoulder shrug.
“That’s ridiculous! I just want to talk to someone really quick,” I tell her. The frustration must be transparent in my voice because Fake Blonde softens her eyes.
“Are you looking for that Spyder guy?” she asks with a tone of empathy in her voice.
“Yes.” Her willingness to disclose information without any monetary gains surprises me.
“Didn’t you see Mayhem’s men kick him out? He and his friends are long gone. No one stays at a location if Mayhem doesn’t want them to,” Fake Blonde tells me.
I gape at her. The ripple effect of his power is never going to stop amazing me. “Thanks,” I mumble under my breath and exit 8-ball.
Even though the sun is flying over the blue skies, a dark cloud descends on me. I walk down the street through the people and the noise. A million thoughts run through my mind and I am still reeling from the confrontation with Spyder and Mayhem.
April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions Page 21