Hana

My favorite bar in Williamsburg was indistinguishable from all the other grungy, industrial-chic joints that cluttered the neighborhood, but the prices were infinitely cheaper and the bartenders could care less about how much you spent, as long as you didn’t bother them. The regulars were mean, even by New York standards, the bathrooms were disgusting, and everything smelled like old grapes.

I loved it.

But tonight, I couldn’t even taste the beer that was growing warm in my hands. Eunji sighed, reached over, and gave me a quick side hug from the seat next to me. I leaned into her comforting warmth, and when she finally pulled away, our matching friendship bracelets got caught on each other.

“Do you remember when I gave you this?” She asked while she reached down to untangle them.

I took another half-hearted sip of my beer. “Of course, I do. Three years ago, this month.”

Eunji looked at me, pride shining from her eyes. “I knew I wanted you in my corner. You’ve never taken crap from anybody, that’s what I love about you. And don’t tell anybody from the fan club, but it honestly sounds like Jiho deserved it.”

I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that I’d thrown water in a K-pop star’s face. Or that I’d yelled at him. Or that I couldn’t get his irritating face out of my mind.

“Seriously?” I asked. “But you love CNTR.”

“But I love you more,” Eunji said, clinking her glass with mine. “Jiho might be the hottest rapper with a jawline that doesn’t quit—” I snorted, “—but a jawline and a voice like butter aren’t everything.”

“Thanks, Jiji.” I smiled at my beautiful best friend, letting her soft words of comfort soothe me for a bit.

“That’s friendship, girl.”

“But what am I going to do about rent? I need a new job, pronto.”

“I’ll think of something. You know I’ve got your back.” She downed the rest of her old-fashioned in one gulp and set the empty glass down with a satisfied smack. “By the way, did anything end up happening after that night with the cute guy? Whatshisname—Miles?”

Miles, a guy from the dance crew I was in, came to mind, but his soft brown eyes and kind smile morphed into devilish black ones and an arrogant sneer. I shook my head, disturbed. Why am I thinking of him?

Eunji was still watching me curiously, so I offered up a weak smile for her sake. “Like I have time to worry about guys right now,” I said. “I’m unemployed, Jiji! Soon to be apartmentless! In New York City!”

“You need to lighten up a little bit. You’re wasting your life working 70 hours a week and barely seeing your friends,” she said. “Miles is…well, not hot, but he’s really cute. And that body!” She blew a chef’s kiss into the air and I giggled in spite of myself.

“Fine. I’ll text him, okay?” I grinned. “Now, buy your poor friend a drink!”

Glowing with pleasure at my surrender, she graciously waved a bartender over to order another old-fashioned and a fresh lager. In between sips, she casually threw out, “Oh, my mom was wondering when you were coming over for brunch next.”

Great. I took a deep pull of my drink, suddenly feeling the need to get very, very drunk.

***

Jiho

The rehearsal passed by in a blur. I faintly remembered going through the motions, as if in a dream, my body automatically twisting and turning through the complicated steps as the harsh lights above me turned from red to yellow to blue. Then the other members were surrounding me, the producer motioning for the next team while giving us high-fives.

The entire time, all I could see was the burning anger in the barista’s eyes as she threw the water, an anger that felt so familiar to me. Her rage had been a twin flame to my own.

The car dropped us off at our hotel, and I made a beeline for my hotel room. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to relax after a day like today, I did the only thing that ever calmed me down sometimes—practice. Luckily, my hotel room was ritzy as hell, complete with a giant whirlpool, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a giant, full-length mirror that covered the entire back wall.

As soon as I pressed play on our newest song, the feel of cold water on my face and the smell of coffee faded away. It was just me and the music and the dance. Uncomplicated. Easy. My breaths turned into pants and sweat dripped into the lush gray carpet as I lunged and stepped and flipped.

By the time I got to my rap solo, my entire body was trembling with exertion, but the words spit out of me like gunfire. It was easy to fuel every word with the acid that had churned in my stomach ever since Junghoon had shown me the video.

A shrill ring interrupted the music. I cursed and gave the screen a cursory glance, ready to end the call when I noticed the caller ID. Mr. Song.

Crap! The CEO of DJ Entertainment was one of the most powerful men in the entertainment world. He was not a man you wanted to get a personal call from at—I checked my watch—approximately 2 a.m. Seoul time. I gulped, then accepted the call.

“Jiho! How are you my boy? Is New York to your liking?” Mr. Song’s voice was warm, almost jovial. The voice of a kind father checking in with a beloved son. I knew better than to fall for his act.

DJ Entertainment was one of the most ruthless corporations that existed in the music world, renowned for using unscrupulous tactics on both their entertainers and competitors alike. And at its head was Mr. Song—its brutal general. Even knowing that, though, it was hard to keep my guard up around him; it just felt wrong to distrust a man that sounded so genuinely curious about how I was doing.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s been fantastic, sir. Thank you for all the amazing accommodations.”

“Of course. It’s the least we could do for our VMA nominees.” Was that a real hint of pride in his voice? “You and the rest of the crew are still rehearsing every day, I hope?”

“Morning, noon, and night.”

“Good, good. We’re planning to drop CNTR’s new music video next week so we can time it with the MTV momentum you’ve got going.”

“That sound good, sir.”

“I expect you boys to give an out-of-this-world performance. No one’s going to want to buy a new album from a band that flops. You fail at the Awards, and you can pretty much say good-bye to seeing the top of the charts for a long, long time.”

I grit my teeth. “We’ll kill it out there, sir. That’s a promise.”

“Good. As the leader, I’m counting on you to really knock that into that group of yours. Ah! That reminds me,” a serious inflection slipped into his voice, “Like it or not, these boys look up to you, both on and off the stage. All the trainees here, hell—the world—looks up to you.”

The air was thick with disapproval. It was amazing how he could make me feel like a little kid again from thousands of meters away. “I understand, Mr. Song. I really do, and I want to thank you for this leadership role—”

“I gave you this opportunity because I knew you could do it. I see the potential in you, son. Always have. And I’d hate to see all that potential go down the drain. If I see any more embarrassing videos of you, well, we might just have to look at other options.”

He said it mildly, as if he was just mulling over what he was going to eat for a midnight snack. But the threat coiled like a snake around my throat, choking me with sudden fear. That damn barista. This is all her fault!

“Of...of course, sir. It was a mistake on my part and it will never happen again.”

The door creaked behind me, and Doyoon suddenly appeared by my side, his eyes wide.

“See to it that it doesn’t.” The CEO’s tone changed again, dripping once more with the warmth of a doting father. “I have high hopes for you, my boy.”

“I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

Beep-beep-beep. The call ended, and Doyoon whistled.

“Whoa. Was that the big boss?”

“Mr. Song? Yeah.”

“What was he calling about?” Doyoon asked in a way that made it perfectly clear he knew exactly what the call had been about.

“Same old, same old. Are we practicing until our feet fall off, are we making progress on the new album, why did I cuss out a barista in the middle of New York…”

Doyoon made a face. “I mean, you can’t tell me you’re surprised. We’re stars now. You can’t go pulling stuff like that and not expect to get noticed. I doubt anything’s going to happen to you. Celebs do this kind of shit all the time and you’re the head of a chart-topping phenomenon. Song can’t touch you.”

Great. Doyoon was right. The leader of CNTR…losing his mind inside a coffee shop? That kind of thing was definitely going to go viral, and now I’d made the whole group look like egotistical assholes.

“Doyoon. What do I do now?” I asked so softly, I could barely hear myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a sweet smile spreading like the sun over his face.

“Hyung, I’d apologize.”

***

I slept fitfully that night, my dreams of a proud woman with fiery eyes drowned out by visions of black adders squeezing my arms and legs, whispering about other options. It was still dark when I gave up on sleep altogether, grabbed a bland gray tracksuit and headed to the gym. It was completely empty at this hour, so I clambered up on the best treadmill they had, and the meters fell away beneath my feet.

Then the phone rang.

Not again, I groaned inwardly, Mr. Song’s threats from yesterday still reverberating in my ears. But I brightened when I saw who it was.

“Jihee!” I answered warmly. I could always count on my older sister to bring a smile to my face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your stupidity,” I winced at the unexpected bitterness in her voice. “What the hell were you thinking, yelling at that poor girl like that? The video is all the netizens are talking about over here.”

So much for starting the day off with a couple of laughs. “I wasn’t thinking anything at all. Doyoon had just told me he wasn’t happy and,” I dropped to a whisper, “Jihee, I think he wants to leave the group! I freaked out.”

“It doesn’t excuse you taking it out on a barista.”

“I know that!” I threw my hands up in the air. Would I never hear the end of this stupid incident?

“Don’t get mad. You know, we’re all so proud of you and seeing you get torn apart over something like this hurts us, too. Did I tell you Mom and Dad even put up a banner of you in their store?”

“No. I didn’t know that.” Hot guilt flushed through me. I hadn’t even considered that my blow-up would affect my family too. “Look, can you tell them I’m sorry? That I know I did something bad and I’m going to fix it.”

“Okay, I’ll let them know. Why were you in a coffee shop anyway? I thought you hated the stuff. Who are you and what have you done with my little bro?”

“Har-har. It’s a long story. Don’t you have to get back to studying for your pharmacy exam or something?”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?”

“It’s not that. I’ve got rehearsal in ten,” I lied.

“Fine. But call more! We miss you, okay? Mom and Dad are always complaining they never hear from you anymore.”

“Yeah, I promise. Love you.” I ended the call and strode out of the gym, almost running back to my hotel room. If I hurried, I had just enough time before practice to fix this mess.

Twenty minutes and a quick shower later, I rushed out of my cab onto the bustling New York street. The gleaming café stood in front of me, its giant awning and windows staring down accusingly, as if to ask how I dared to step into its premises again.

Don’t be melodramatic.

Before I could lose my nerve, I pushed open the door and walked right up to the counter, ignoring the indignant cries and gasps of all the people in line.

“Listen, I was here yesterday and just wanted to say…” I trailed off as I nudged past the person being served and came face-to-face with a very confused barista. A brass name badge with “CHARLIE” emblazoned on the front winked from his chest.

“Uh...I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to wait in line if you want a coffee,” he stuttered.

I peeked over his shoulder but there was no tell-tale, light brown ponytail behind him. “Where’s the girl barista that was here yesterday? Brown hair, wears it in a ponytail, light brown eyes?” Almost gold, I thought. They would have been enchanting in any other situation.

“You mean Hana? I have no idea. I was hired yesterday after she was fired.” He dropped his voice conspiratorially, “I heard she threw water at some really famous guy.”

The girl ended up getting fired, huh? Well, it was a customer service job and she did lose her temper at a paying guest. Not to mention the amount of water she’d thrown on him—what had she been trying to do, drown him? Anyone would say she deserved to lose her job in this situation.

But, a tiny voice whispered, you started it and you were the one who took it that far.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Do you want a coffee or—?”

“No…thanks though.” I turned to leave, then paused. “Actually, do you know where I might be able to find her?”