I gape at him. “And you’re so cruel.”
“You really have no clue, do you?” Jaewon’s voice is steady and taut.
“I’m supposed to?”
“You need a good dose of fear.”
I feel a thrill shoot down my spine. “You really do look down on us little people.” I marvel at the gigantic size of his ego.
The light in his dark and attractive eyes thins. “Once you experience the world the way I have, it’s hard to understand and relate to things like college and a nine-to-five job.”
I shake my head at Jaewon, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe this. Your ego is suffocating. College and a nine-to-five job is how we regular people live. You wouldn’t know what to do if your power was stripped away from you. I bet you don’t even know how to be poor.”
Jaewon’s calm and collected look suits his impressionable features. “I don’t. I inherited my throne.” The alcohol slurs in his tone.
What? I gawk at Jaewon. Our banter comes to standstill. The alarming truth knocks my alcoholic state down another notch. At this point, I have to keep drinking or I will snap back into sobriety–vomit and all.
“You inherited your gang lord position? Your throne?” I ask him meekly. Choi Sangwoo said you worked your way up.
Realization causes Jaewon to look down at the granite bar top with a chuckle. Jaewon’s stunning profile disarms me. “Let me guess, Choi Sangwoo said he was the one blessed-in. He also told you I shot his brother. He said I’m blah blah blah.”
I squirm on the bar stool, slightly uncomfortable as I realize the height of Sangwoo’s lies.
“Everything is the other way, sweetie. I was blessed-in the gang after my father was killed. My uncle, Mr. Im to you, took me in and sent me to America in hopes of keeping me away from my father’s business. Instead of following my uncle’s instructions, I followed my father’s footsteps anyway. Long story short, Choi Sangwoo was ordered by his Boss to kill me as his initiation requirement. Being the idiot that he is, Sangwoo mistook my younger brother for me, and you get the gist of the history.”
I blink uncontrollably, swallowing hard. I am numb and astounded. Without thinking, I wave to the bartender again.
“I THINK YOU SHOULD STOP drinking.” Yoon Jaewon reaches for my glass, officially separating me from my companion. He’s nursing a black cup of coffee now.
“I’m fine. Last one.” I hold a finger to my lips. Breaking into a large smile, I start to giggle. “I’m really drunk.” More like beyond intoxicated. Don’t be so sloppy. My intuition has that motherly nag going on.
“You act like you’ve been locked in a cage and only now do you get to run.” Jaewon’s voice barely registers over the ringing in my ears.
“You have no idea,” I slur as my eyes droop. I can hardly keep them open. “How can you? You’re a dark, tall, handsome, and attractive gang lord with issues. How can you possibly understand someone like me?”
“You think I’m dark, tall, handsome, and attractive?” Deep humor travels in Jaewon’s response. His expression is unsurprising and just as haughty.
“No.” I shake my head. “Nope. No. Never.”
Jaewon laughs. He throws his head back and laughs freely. I never knew he had such a straight, bright white smile.
“WHATEVER, GET OFF MY PLANET,” I mumble. The lights behind the bar are starting to appear as hanging rainbow icicles. I am beyond intoxicated. I don’t know what we are bickering about. In fact, I don’t know how long we’ve been here. Many things were said, including facial features being compared to zoo animals.
“And what planet would that be?” How can Jaewon make this strange banter so interesting?
“This one.” I point to my drink’s murky liquid.
Mayhem leans in. He smells yummy–a dangerous concoction night, charm, and allure. “You’re right. I see planet Mayhem.”
Why is he so full of himself? “You know, I’m half expecting you to introduce yourselves to me.”
“Well, there’s me and then there’s myself, and then there’s I,” Jaewon replies with a snicker.
“Wow. And explain to me how do you live with yourselves?” I ask with a fresh, entertained grin.
“I have people who tend to my every needs.” There goes that King complex again.
“Wow. And where are they?” I point around the bar, showing Mayhem that he is here alone. “If you’re so popular, why are you sitting here on a Wednesday afternoon getting drunk with me?”
“Because I am a businessman and right now, there’s a deal Mayhem wants to close with you.” Oh em gee. Jaewon’s eyes smolder in that hot way as he watches me. By now, my eyes are seeing stars dance around him. His lips are moving, but I cannot hear him. Snap out of it May!
Jaewon’s voice comes back into my ears. “It is better to have people know you than to be nameless until your very last breath,” Jaewon offers his perceptive advice. He points to himself. “I am Mayhem. You are–” he pauses. His eyebrows come together in question. Realization dawns on me that Jaewon has no idea who I am.
I gape at him, pausing in my drunken world. “You don’t know my name?”
“How am I supposed to remember? You don’t matter,” Jaewon answers casually with a fresh boyish smile on his lips.
“You’re kidding.” I’m hurt in a strange way. In my alcoholic state, I feel neglected and rejected.
“Everyone knows my name. I don’t need to know theirs.”
“Guess Yoon Jaewon. I am sure in your drunken state, you can recall something.”
“Don’t say my name.”
“I think I’m allowed to since you don’t know mine.”
“You can leave now.” His jaw clenches together. How does he get the galls to be mad at me when he’s the one who doesn’t know my name? Besides, what’s so special about his birth name that I can’t say? Mercurial gang lord.
“Fine. I’m leaving.” I don’t have to put up with this shit. Why should I talk to someone who doesn’t even remember my name? I deserve better than this. I get up too quickly and end up tripping on my . . . feet? “Shit!”
Mayhem catches me seconds away from eating the floor. I lock eyes with him once again. God, he really is good-looking. I am a mix bag of emotions as I look at him. “Thank you,” I mumble. I break out of Jaewon’s hold and head for the entrance dramatically.
The wind hits my hot skin as I run from the bar. The air smells humid, but the fresh air feels refreshing. There are dark clouds hanging above, a clear indication that summer rain is imminent. I continue my gait down the desolate streets. I make my way back towards The Trax’s direction to the bus stop.
With alcohol in my system, I am fearless. I spin around to see if the infamous Mayhem has followed me, but he is nowhere in sight. All the streetlights blend and I stumble again. Maybe I really am breeching the fine line between drunk and blackout. I cannot hear my intuition anymore. Where’s that crazy girl when I need her? I need to figure out how to get home fast.
“Hey!”
“Shit!”
Just as I turn again, Yoon Jaewon coalesces in front me like a ghost. Where did he come from? He didn’t run after me when I left the club. Or did he? My conscience surfaces with a scarf covering the bottom half of her face.
I look at Jaewon as he looms over me. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” He’s completely sober, I think.
“No, thank you. I can take care of myself.” Why is he trying to be such a gentleman?
“You either let me take you home or I will carry you,” he threatens me quickly. The firmness in Jaewon’s voice is indicative of his persona.
Surprise grips me. Talk about bossiness. Before I can respond, Jaewon’s shoulders hunch over the lower half of my body and he lifts me off the ground.
“What are you doing?!” I squeal as my feet dangle.
Jaewon lets out a rare, genuine laugh. Through blurry eyes, I like the gentle crease his mouth forms just before his perfect white teeth reveal themselve
s; his dark eyes finally light up like gems. Even though I am drunk, my attraction for him spikes tenfold. Regardless of his infamous reputation, there is a truth to Yoon Jaewon. Behind the mystifying exterior and rampant misconceptions, an intriguing man exists at the core.
“I know I’m beautiful, but could you please stop looking at me like that,” he says, bringing me back into reality. Jaewon sets me back down on the ground.
“You’re so full of yourself!” I stick my tongue out at him. Somehow being drunk justifies it. I feel free and silly, caught up in the moment. “You are a terrible flirt.”
“I’m not flirting with you. You are not immune to my charms. You’re blushing even in the dark.” Slowly, Jaewon draws himself to me and wraps an arm over my shoulder. I try to push away his sudden need to be my best friend, but Jaewon has his hand firmly around me. He is forward and pushy, daring and attractive. A thrill shoots through my entire being.
There is something wanton about him. The effect Yoon Jaewon has on me is telling; it all comes naturally with him. With Choi Sangwoo, everything was forced and formal. With Yoon Jaewon, the emotions ringing inside of me are different. Alcohol really is the miracle substance.
“So you’re telling me pickup lines don’t work on you?”
“What lines are you talking about?”
Jaewon leans in close. His voice becomes husky and intoxicating with temptation. “So, you want to go back to my place?”
I smirk, rolling my eyes in the dark. “I don’t know. Can two people fit in a box?”
“Yes. The box I live in is equivalent to twenty thousand square feet, actually.” The gang lord’s ego comes into play. “So you can join me in the dream. I always thought you existed in the dreams for a reason.”
What is he talking about? “And I always thought you existed in my nightmares. I guess we’re both wrong.”
Jaewon’s lips curl into a bemused smile. “You’re right, you’re not much of a flirt.”
“Gang lords aren’t my type,” I snap smartly.
Jaewon cocks his head to the side. “Well, we’ll have to change that.” He continues walking.
Ohhhh. My intuition swoons. I am speechless at his self-confidence and worship. All I can do is follow Jaewon like a lost puppy. The alcohol continues to dance in my head.
We walk down the dark street, eventually crossing the end of the strip back to The Trax. The cool night air caresses my face, propelling the alcohol in my system. I should be afraid of him, but I feel protected instead. His presence sends sparks through my veins.
“If you think you can take advantage of me because I’m drunk, think again.” I find myself making a stand.
Jaewon leans in real close, so close that I can smell that distinctive cologne of his. His voice becomes husky and tantalizing. “I can’t take advantage of you unless you don’t want me to.”
What? Really? Instinctively, I reach out to touch him. I don’t have a plan, but I do it because I want to make sure he is real.
Even in his intoxicated state, Jaewon sees my attempt five seconds faster. He quickly removes his arm from me. Oh, the King doesn’t like to be touched? Jaewon frowns and we lock in another stare.
Suddenly, the air coalesces around us and the rain begins to pour overhead. Massive droplets bombard us, hitting the cold ground at thundering speed. I feel as though we are being attacked.
“Shit!”
“No!”
Jaewon and I throw hands above our heads and run under the overhang of The Trax. The construction site is down for the night; the entire area is isolated. In the darkness and shattering racket of the rain, Jaewon pulls out the keys to the building from his vest. When the doors open, Jaewon leads the way. Once inside, we follow the side wall of the building to the main vacant area.
Jaewon tosses the keys on what’s left of the old bar. He takes off his Executive jacket to reveal a black linen shirt. His hair remains matted against his chiseled facial structure–highlighting his dark, shimmering eyes. His black linen shirt is damp, but Jaewon disregards it for now. The gang lord scans the empty room and spots an assortment of different colored spray bottles in front of an empty wall.
“That’s illegal!” I hiss when Jaewon takes two black and red spray bottle, shakes them up in each hand, and squirts the wall. I forget that I am also wet from the rain. I am too caught up in the moment.
“Don’t worry. I own the building, literally.” Jaewon steps back and begins to work.
I am entertained, amused, and afraid all at the same time. I can only watch him. He’s an artist too? Gang lord, mind reader, and artist. Jaewon continues to spray the wall at arm’s length. With great dexterity, Jaewon is aiming the bottles at an angle intricate loops and spirals. Mesmerized, I watch Jaewon’s blazing concentration. He’s perfect just like this.
Damn May, you are drunk! My conscience’s cheeks are red too.
“Mayhem,” I mumble when Yoon Jaewon steps back from his work. Right in the middle of the wall, in large black and yellow colors is the word MAYHEM. The font is italicized and bold with obscure coils and rings.
“That looks good,” I say breathlessly as my eyes jump excitedly to take in the color and texture. My pupils dilate because of my excessive alcohol intake. This is the most artistic thing I have ever seen in person. What Jaewon created is what abstract artists do–a graphic voice that resonates through the creative font.
Jaewon smirks as he looks over his shoulder at me. He’s not modest at all. Jaewon gestures at one of the spray bottles. “Your turn.”
“I can’t.” I back away, shaking my head.
“Alright, I’ll write your name for you,” Jaewon offers. This gang lord is not the type to beg. Jaewon raises his hand to the wall, but asks shortly, “Uh . . . What is it?”
“You really don’t know my name?” I gape at Jaewon. I thought he was just being a jerk at the bar, but I guess his bluff is really the truth.
Jaewon stares at me, perhaps knowing I am hurt. “It-it has something to do with the month right? Um . . . April.”
He’s got to be kidding me. April? “If you’re known for the fear you strike in people, I am sure you can remember my name.”
“April is more suiting for you.” Like the nuisance that he is, Jaewon proceeds to add to the tagging of his own name.
“What are you writing?” I walk closer to him. “April loves Black Coffee,” I read when Jaewon’s done with the tagging.
That’s some crazy stuff. My intuition is gaping at the majestic art in front of her. This guy’s spontaneous, creative, artistic, dangerous, hot, and everything else under the sun.
“My name isn’t April.”
“It is now.” The silent room rings with his laughter. It is so unlike the Mayhem I am used to seeing that I take it all with humor. His laugh is . . . nice. It is smooth and just deep enough to please the ears. Oh, the miracle of alcohol. I am April and he has paired me with his affinity for black coffee. Well, you do drink a shit ton of coffee too. My intuition parades the tagging with a dramatic walk.
“Hey, you’re the freak who likes black coffee so you should be writing Mayhem love black coffee.” I turn to rebuke Jaewon for his crass humor, but my eyes nearly jump out of their sockets.
He’s taking off his shirt. Mayhem–Yoon Jaewon–is taking off his wet black linen shirt.
The bands of muscles wrap around his incredibly disciplined body. Yoon Jaewon is extremely fit, a direct reflection of a remarkable workout regimen. I don’t have enough seconds to count how many abs his stomach packs, but on his tan body the muscles make their marks. He has incredibly broad sculpted shoulders that lead to chiseled arms and biceps. Jaewon’s stamina for speed, sweat, and pain must know no bounds according to his physique. There are tattoos on his back, but Yoon Jaewon keeps them hidden with his body angle.
“You were saying?” Jaewon holds his wet shirt casually.
“Put your shirt on.” I turn my back towards him.
I can hear the smile in his voice. “
From the look on your face, I take it you’ve never seen the male physique.”
“I’ve seen plenty and better.” I am lying through my teeth.
“I’m sure April.”
“My name is not April.”
I wait for his smart response, but his silence compels me to turn around.
“Hello?” Jaewon has abandoned our conversation. His cell phone is against his ear. “I’m at the new site. When it stops raining. One second.”
Alas, I am reminded that Yoon Jaewon isn’t just a simple man who can spare an excess amount of time. He is, after all, Mayhem and gang lord to the masses. His profession will always be his wife. My intuition reminds me of Grace’s words.
Yoon Jaewon faces me, wary that I am listening to his important conversation. “It’s raining pretty hard. We’ll leave when it stops. Make yourself at home.”
“I want to leave now,” I tell him. “I–”
“Shh.” Jaewon places a finger on my lips. Everything stops for the moment. To Jaewon, it is a simple motion to shut me up, but it does more than shut me up. My heart skips several beats when his finger slides from my bottom lip to my chin and then away.
Without another word to me, Jaewon addresses his phone. “Danny.” Just like that, Jaewon reverts to the cold and distant Mayhem. He leaves the room hastily, eager to finish his conversation. I hear Jaewon’s faint footsteps down the hallway.
Oh em gee. Did he really just put his finger against my mouth? A thrill shoots through me for some reason. A part of me is now comforted–Jaewon is not the murderer Choi Sangwoo made him out to be. He is not as cold as his reputation makes him to be, but Yoon Jaewon is mercurial and unpredictable. He made me laugh tonight; he’s like a pain eraser. The thoughts swim in my head. He’s far from a pain eraser and you know it! More like a pleasure bringer, my intuition snickers.
Drunk and exhausted, I sit against the wall and close my eyes. I am well aware that I am resting under the tagging of APRIL LOVES BLACK COFFEE . . . . I drift off into sleep wondering why Mayhem is so obsessed with black coffee and when will he come back . . . .
April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions Page 44