April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions

by Solangel, T. B.

  Son’s confession colors me with astonishment. “Really?” This is the last thing I expect Son to communicate to me. He was one sentence away from accusing me with fraternizing with the enemy. Now, he says I’m the only person he can vent to here.

  I give Son a weary smile. “I understand Son.”

  He gives me a subtle acknowledgment in return.

  “Do you have a job lined up after?” I change the subject, hoping for an ounce of subtlety.

  Son shrugs, grateful for the change of subject as well. “My family owns a store in Busan. They would like me to help, so I might be packing my bags and heading there by the end of the week.

  This is news to me. Son has been morbidly private about his family, especially their affluence. In fact, I don’t know much about Son in the first place. But maybe a change of pace and environment is good for him. “What about you? Anything lined up?” Son turns the table on me.

  I pause shortly from the laptop. “I’m still working my first job,” I lie to Son, feeling my face changing different shades of embarrassment. “I’ll find something else hopefully.” Choi Sangwoo’s face parades across my thoughts.

  “I’m sure you will May. It’s weird seeing this place crumble within a week,” Son mumbles in response. “There’s some powerful money behind all this.”

  “You think?” I ask him with renewed interest.

  Son shrugs again. This time his tone is guarded and he glances at the door to make sure Naili’s not standing there. “The new owner must have black money on his hands. An obscene of black money. He’s making Naili pack everything up in a week and giving him all the data about this place. We all know The Trax was doing well. We were gaining momentum. I talk to Naili at least once a day when she calls, but I never saw this coming.”

  “You didn’t know The Trax was going to close?” I join Son in his whispering.

  “I found out the same day as everyone else,” Son hisses back. “Now, who would have the kind of money that sends people packing in a week?”

  The answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I refuse to admit to it. Son has a point. Who has the kind of money to buy this place and reinvent it all within a matter of weeks? Son and I both understand that there is a powerful gang involved. I don’t know why it never crossed my mind before. Mayhem and Crist are not the only two gangs in this country. Perhaps there are more, and I have only met the tips of the iceberg. Choi Sangwoo did mention he has a Boss above him. I shudder to think just how deep this underground world is.

  “I just hope the severance check will be worth it.” Son grounds me back to reality from my reverie. “If I’m coming back to pick up a check, it better be worth it.”

  “How much do you think it is?” I am curious about this new owner’s affordability.

  “Rumor has it the checks will be five digit numbers.” Son’s eyes twinkle with dollar signs. He’s clearly holding out on the rest of us.

  “What?” Hope blooms in my heart. Suddenly, my thoughts race off to the finish lines. More college money! My conscience claps.

  No. Use it to pay Sangwoo back and be free of his damn initiation contract, my intuition snarls. That’s right. Maybe with the severance check, I can put it towards paying Choi Sangwoo back. Maybe he will take it and I don’t have to sign any initiation contract. Why haven’t I thought about it before? Sangwoo’s more reasonable than Mayhem and will be lenient with the money deadline. The only reason why I agree to the initiation contract is to pay Sangwoo back thirty thousand dollars through labor. But what if I can bypass the contract and the labor by simply paying Sangwoo back thirty thousand on a payment plan? I am sure I can work something out with him.

  Bingo! My intuition carries out an early victory dance.

  “You find the severance check funny?” Son leans closer to grapple with the ridiculous expression on my face.

  Little does Son know, I am having an epiphany. “You’re a genius Son. You know that?”

  Son gives me a look that lets me know I am foolish, but joins me with a smile. Absentmindedly, Son passes me the next piece of paper and we bury ourselves in work. The tried tension between us slowly recedes into the air.

  “WE SHOULD GO TO FOX.”

  Six hours, thirty minutes, and ten seconds later Son, Tailor, Joolie, and I stand five feet away from the closed doors of The Trax in a quandary. We are deciding where to go to celebrate our last night as co-workers. Tailor and Joolie vote for Fox, a relatively unknown bar just a block from The Trax. Son and I are too exhausted from our data compiling to veto the decision.

  “I’ll buy everyone the first round,” Tailor offers first. His eyes are excited and brimming with the thought of drinking tonight. For once, he will not be the bartender responsible for everyone’s intoxicated state-of-mind.

  “You should buy every round,” Joolie jokes with Tailor. “Bet you’re excited to be on the other side of the bar instead of always serving people.” She slips her arms around Tailor and motions for us to follow them. Joolie has grown not only closer, but also fonder of Tailor this past week. Perhaps all that time working together has solidified Tailor and Joolie’s otherwise murky relationship.

  Son gives me a small nudge to tell me he thinks the same. I return his look with a grin. Together, we set off after Joolie and Tailor who are holding onto one another tightly. We leave the comforts and the confines of The Trax. We do not want to linger around it any longer. Everyone else has already left for the night. Some of the other co-workers opted to leave for the comforts of their homes while others are too upset to celebrate. Our immediate group is left to tend to ourselves. Tailor and Joolie are not particularly upset at the way it’s working out. Son and I, on the other hand, have too many heavy thoughts on our minds to work at it.

  As I walk in the shadows of the looming buildings with my co-workers, I am hyper aware of Ren. I expect to see him lurking in the shadows, stalking me, but there is no sign of him. Although I look for the distinctive gray car, I know Ren probably has a different vehicle by now. By the time we enter Fox, I am entirely convinced that Ren is gone.

  Fox is a nifty little sports bar westernized in the true sense. The walls are complete with a kaleidoscope of banners and ribbons of sport memorabilia. It is crowded and deafening tonight. A sports game is on and the entire bar is packed with fans wearing their favorite colors. Tailor leads the way through the throng of people. He acknowledges one of the bartenders and skips the line.

  “Let Tailor work his magic.” Joolie is giggling already. She hooks an arm around my neck. “I’m going to miss working with you Maybelline.”

  I don’t know where the burst of emotions comes from, but I go along with it. Joolie appears to be in a happy and celebratory mood.

  “Please don’t say my full name,” I joke with good humor.

  “It’s beautiful. Maybelline.”

  “What about me?” Son chimes in. “You’re going to miss me Joolie?”

  Joolie extends her arm and brings Son under her hold. “You too control freak!”

  “Hey!” Son makes a playful jab at her.

  “Drinks first. Hugs later!” Tailor returns with four shot glasses. The pristine liquid dances under the lighting of the bar. “Patron.” Tailor hands each of us a shot glass, including a slightly larger glass filled with a chaser.

  I make a face. I am not much of a drinker, but for the cause of tonight, I hold my shot glass in my right hand and my Sprite chaser in the other.

  “Fuck The Trax!” Joolie suggests the toast.

  Tailor bursts out laughing while Son and I exchange amused, incredulous looks.

  “Fuck The Trax!” I find myself joining my co-workers. We shove our glasses together and toss the liquids to the back of our throats. I swallow the Sprite chaser as soon as the Patron shot goes down.

  Suddenly, I am alive. The sharp shooting sensation of the alcohol brings me to life. My blood is hot in a matter of seconds and my head is light in a matter of minutes. I am a lightweight. Son and Joolie laugh at t
he facial expression I make.

  “Come on, May. It was just one.” Joolie points to the colors dancing on my cheeks.

  “All it takes is one,” I complain to her.

  “Come on.” Tailor leads the way through the crowded bar towards a table. Fortunately, the people there are leaving. Joolie plops down into a chair, laughing loudly. Tailor touches her cheeks while Son swats at his hand. I have never seen my co-workers so relaxed and carefree. I feel a stab of guilt that I never took the time to hang out with them often.

  I take the seat next to Joolie. As my co-workers launch into conversation, I scan the bar quickly, feeling watched, but realize quickly the alcohol contributes to my paranoia. I check my phone as Son orders another round of shots. Joolie wants Patron while Son argues Grey Goose will do the trick. I do my best to block out their bickering and see that I have one missed call from Choi Sangwoo and another one from an unknown number. I stow my phone back in my pockets. I don’t want to see Choi Sangwoo tonight; I make up my mind. The mixed thoughts and feelings I have towards him are starting to show their confused and ugly heads–especially under the influence of alcohol. I need time away from him, away from his power and influence.

  Son ends up buying us Grey Goose for the second round. Before I know it, we are reminiscing about ex-customers by the fourth round.

  “Number Nine girl. I can’t believe after all this time, we never got her name!” Tailor finishes his fourth shot of Grey Goose and wears the Asian Flush on his cheeks with pride.

  Son is a giggling mess as he adds, “I told you she’s a hard egg to crack.” He runs his hand through his messy air.

  “Oh boys.” Joolie shakes her head at them. “Who was your most memorable customer?” Joolie urges me when she notices my silence.

  Choi Sangwoo’s name flashes in my mind. Of course he’s turning out to be more than just a memorable customer, but I bite down on my tongue. “I don’t think I have one. If anything, it is Number Nine girl too.” I am on my third glass of water in hopes of diluting all the alcohol before I throw up.

  “Aww, you’re no fun. I think for me it was that night when that gangster guy was throwing up at our bar.” Joolie makes a face at the memory. “Super-Gorgeous-Sexy is my name for him!”

  “You weren’t even there.” Tailor unknowingly makes the situation lighter for Son, who freezes at the verbal mentioning of Choi Sangwoo. It’s Tailor’s jealousy talking too.

  “I was there when he first came in! Table Twelve, I still remember. What a good-looking son-of-a-bitch.” Joolie licks her lips as though she is reliving a fond memory.

  The last thing I want to do right now is talk about Choi Sangwoo. It is completely uncharacteristic of me, but I am on my feet and shouting, “Who’s ready for round five?!”

  “Yes!” Tailor shouts while Joolie and Son groan.

  BY THE END OF THE night, Joolie is outside of Fox vomiting stylishly in the bushes. Tailor has her hair in his hands, fighting off the bouncers who are telling us to leave. They are stereotypical in black ensembles complete with leather gloves and trench coats.

  “I’m going to take her home,” Tailor is telling the shorter bouncer.

  “I’m taking both of them home,” Son corrects him. “Sorry man.”

  “We’ll be fine. I can handle my alcohol. Bartender, remember?” Tailor makes his point. “You need a ride home May?”

  I scan the street. Alcohol is coursing through my system, but I feel sobriety returning to my head. The cool summer weather, along with Joolie’s vomit, is setting the picture straight for me.

  “No. I’m having someone pick me up,” I lie. I want to be by myself for a moment. I need time to think and let things settle. Alcohol makes me antisocial for all the wrong reasons.

  Son eyes me warily. His eyes twinkle as though he is about to say otherwise, but decides against it. “Ok. We’ll see you next week at the severance check party,” he jokes instead.

  “Ok.” I turn to Joolie who is borderline unconscious. “I’ll see you next week Joolie.”

  She lifts up a hand to wave to me. The bouncers are making a face at her. Joolie gives them the middle finger. Son lowers her hand and makes a motion to apologize to the now irate bouncers on her behalf.

  Tailor gives me a sheepish smile while he wraps Joolie’s arm around his neck. “You sure you don’t want a ride?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll be fine Tailor.”

  Son gives me a tentative smile. “Alright. Bye May.”

  “Bye.”

  “Get home safe.”

  “Have a good night.”

  I step back to watch my co-workers head down the opposite side of the road. The bouncers eye me with anticipation. Don’t worry, I’m not going back inside the bar. My conscience sticks her tongue out at them.

  I expect a peaceful bus ride home, but before I take another step, my name ricochets off the empty street. The shrill echo sends the back of my neck prickling. I stuff my hands inside my sweatshirt and pick up my feet.

  “May!” I recognize his voice before I even see him. “May, honey!”

  Everyone on the street, including the few who are lingering outside of Fox focus their attention on me. I freeze and turn to see that Bryan is running towards me. A large, permanent grin plasters on his face. Two figures follow closely behind him.

  “May, baby.” Bryan wraps an arm around my shoulders, forcing me into a hug. I imagine him with a leash around his neck, eager and loyal like a canine. But if I had a collar for him, I would tie him around the tree and leave him there for the next sucker. Alcohol is really a truth serum. Leave him alone, he’s adorable. My conscience and her soft spot for Bryan intervene every time.

  “What are you doing here May?” Bryan glances at Fox with an anxious expression. “You don’t go to these places.” Behind him, two of his friends grin at me. I have met them before–Dumb and Dumber.

  “I don’t. I went out with my co-workers.” I don’t know why I am entertaining Bryan with the reason. “What are you doing here?” Curiosity strikes my better judgment.

  Bryan looks for my co-workers. A smile crosses his lips as though he can see my imaginary colleagues. “Just got some drinks with my friends.” He nods to the two other goons, making a point that they are real. Bryan grins sheepishly at me. His fabricated crush on me gets under my skin in a very strange way.

  “Good for you Bryan. Bye. Have a good night.” Of all the people I can run into, it has to be him. And I don’t even know that many people. It’s bad luck through and through lately. I turn towards the bus stop.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” Bryan follows me eagerly. “Bye guys. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He waves to his friends who gape at his audacity to ditch them.

  “Bryan!” Dumb and Dumber shout after him, but Bryan makes a gesture for them to hastily retreat.

  “I have to meet my boyfriend.” The alcohol gives me courage. I pick up my pace and continue my fervent gait down the street. Thoughts of regret bombard me. I should have gone home with Son and them.

  “Wha-what?” Bryan lips tremble. He stops walking, causing me to slow my pace too. Bryan’s eyes meet at the bridge of his nose.

  Choi Sangwoo and I are far from being girlfriend and boyfriend, but the words slip out of my mouth before I can myself. Although I say it to discourage Bryan, I can’t help but feel that the declaration brings with it the same power that makes people cower when I tell them I am associated with Crist.

  “I’m going to meet my boyfriend Bryan.” I try the words out again, feeling a sense of empowerment and liberation with it.

  “I don’t believe it! You don’t have a boyfriend May!” Bryan counters me. He grabs onto my arm with a hasty motion. The reaction is more intense than I expect.

  “Let go of my arm Bryan! What are you doing you freak?” He is crossing the invisible boundaries I draw for him.

  Bryan is really starting to tick me off. He is just a little high school boy, flirting with me harmlessly, so why is he getting al
l worked up?

  “Bryan! Stop!”

  “I want to meet your boyfriend.”

  We are too engrossed in our bickering to realize we have reached the end of the main street. The layout makes way for a labyrinth of alleys. Bryan is still in my ear, yapping away as we round the corner of the side street. This street is infamous as a dead end because major roads, streets, and pedestrian access are restricted. The only way out is in.

  Shadowy figures are ahead of us. They tower and loom over one figure in particular. The conversations are varied and incoherent, but there is one command that stands out.

  “Get up.”

  I grab Bryan’s hand quickly and drag him behind the wall of the last turn. Bryan and I take our places behind the wall to peek out.

  There are four men standing in the middle of the deserted alley. To the right of them, leaning listlessly against the gray brick wall, is a woman with blackened eyes, reddened lips, and trodden facial features. Her eyes turn down, staring at the male lying in a crumpled heap next to her towering heels. The male, completely unidentifiable in the darkness, is too unconscious to know that his misery is their triumph.

  “Get up.” The more dominant figure of the four steps forward. He extends the heel of his right boot towards his victim’s head. When his victim doesn’t respond, the man looks at the expecting woman. From the depths of his breast jacket, the man extracts an envelope to transfer to the woman.

  The dim light from the main street makes his distinctive gait and demeanor all the more recognizable. The chill starts from the back of my neck and spreads down my neck.

  Ren. Sangwoo’s Ren. Sangwoo’s gang. So this is where he’s been! He stopped following me to beat someone up. My intuition has her I-told-you-Choi-Sangwoo-is-shady hat on.

  “Come on Ren. You can do better than that,” says the woman. She gives him a speculative look, but shoves the envelope into her purse.