"Wow,” Jessica gasped as she entered the office.  It was huge, yet incredibly minimalist.  Floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the north and east side of the room, and off-white walls graced the south and west, completed with square and rectangular prints of city skylines, solid and shiny black units passing for storage.  Not one photograph of an artist graced the walls as she had seen in the offices of other agents, but this wasn’t a big deal to her.  This was an agent willing to sign her.  That was what mattered.

"Jessica, baby,” he called, walking over to her.  He opened his arms to embrace her, something she was almost certain she would regret soon enough.  She pushed past her reticence and hugged him.  Again, he was willing to sign her.  He was able to get her high-profile work.  She wanted this work.  Greeting her with a hug wasn’t the worst move he could have made.

She even overlooked how he brazenly checked her out as she sat on the modern style, slate grey sofa.  She could feel his eyes drinking her in, but she shrugged it off. She was attractive, many guys checked her out in the past.  What made him so different?  Instead, she continued her tour of the office from the comfort of her seat.  She took in the red carpets, the glass tables, the high-back black leather chair that her host used as his personal throne.  There was little here to guess his personality.  It looked incredibly professional.

He, on the other hand, did not.  Sure, he was suited, but the suit looked like it was from a thrift store or something.  His hair was unkempt and bushy, he proudly wore a five-o'clock-from-last-week shadow on his chin, and as well as needing to learn how to tie a tie and polish his shoes, for the love of all things holy he needed to lose some weight.  He wasn’t morbidly obese, not by typical American standards at least, but he carried a lot of extra weight.  Not really the image a major agent should command, not in Jessica’s experience.  This may be America, but Hollywood was far more image conscious than South Korea in some ways.  For Koreans, image was more a way of life.  In Hollywood, it was a symbol of status.  The better you looked, the more powerful you were.  Anyone who didn’t live up to physical expectations usually compensated with an excessively powerful sports car.

“So,” he greeted, “you like what you see?”

She smiled and nodded.  “I hope we will have an excellent working relationship,” she answered, making sure to add that important condition.  “I look forward to working hard on the projects you have lined up for me.”

“Oh, yeah, I got tonnes of work for you, babe,” he waved his hand nonchalantly in the air.

‘Babe’.  That was starting to grate on her, but she ignored it.  His drawl seemed to suggest that every woman he knew was called “Babe”, or “Toots”, or “Sweetheart”.

“In fact,” he boasted, his chest puffed out, “I’ve already landed you the lead role in a huge film production.  Guaranteed starring role, top billing, own dressing room.  Yours if you want it.”

“I’d love it!” she stuttered, trying to sound excited with so little information at her disposal.  ”What’s the movie about?”

“Still getting the details,” he ignored her, walking over to the short black unit in the corner that was being used as a drinks cabinet.  He poured himself a glass of whiskey and turned to his client.  ”Care to join me?”

“No, thank you,” she shook her head politely.

He shrugged and drank his poison.  “Friend of mine at the studio tells me it’s already going to be a big hit.  Biggest release the studio has made.”

“Sounds promising then.”

“I told you I’d look after you,” he reminded her as he sat on the sofa next to her, draping his arm over the back.  “You’re on my team, sweetcheeks, and it’s my job to make sure you have the best.”

‘Sweetcheeks’.  Right up there with ‘Toots’.

“And I’ve already got a new label lined up for you.  Got a meeting with them Friday, 6 pm.  You free then?”

“I ... I guess, yes.”

“Great.  Nice little Italian place,” he explained, over-pronouncing the “I” in Italian.  Or whatever an “Eye”-talian restaurant was, anyway.  “I’ll send a car.”

She shook her head.  “No, I-I-I can drive myself,” she stuttered.

“You sure?”

She nodded and smiled, desperate to keep the peace.  It was clear he was coming on to her, and she wasn’t interested in the slightest, but he was her agent.  He was going to make her a star.  He was going to make her big.  He had the power, and he had to be kept on her side.

“I like to keep a clear head when I’m meeting with people,” she excused.

“Ah, come on,” he laughed.  “This is LA.  Take it easy, have a few drinks, on me.”

She shook her head again.

He shrugged.  “Suit yourself,” he answered, picking up his phone.  He looked at the screen and started to get flustered.  “Ah … I think we’ll have to end our meeting there, Sweetcheeks.  I gotta meet someone.  Urgent.  Out of office.”

“Oh, that’s fine, I’ve got another meeting myself.  Business investors.”

“Oh, yes, yes, uh … sure.”  He didn’t seem to be paying any attention.  “I’ll be back later.  See yourself out?”

“Yeah …” she answered, watching him run from the office quicker than she had ever seen any other agent run.  Something didn’t seem right about any of this, but she shrugged, collected herself and her belongings, and left.

 

“How did it go?”

She looked up from her handbag and looked around.  She couldn’t see anyone.  Just pedestrians, school children, police officer issuing parking tickets …

“What the …”

“Well?” Taeyeon asked again.  Why she was dressed as a police officer, Jessica could not tell.  Well, whatever would pass for a police officer as an adult costume shop, anyway.  It definitely wasn’t a regulation uniform, but it also wasn’t entirely seductive.  The skirt was definitely short but not revealing by any measure, the top was only open by a few buttons, and there were fishnet stockings and knee-high boots with steel plated details across the front and thick heels.  With a single quick glance, she would pass for an officer upholding the law, but that second look would ruin that image.

“Well, what?”

“How did it go?  With your agent?”

“Oh, it went … well, I guess.”

“Just ‘well’?  What happened to him promising the world?”

“It was our first meeting,” she explained, heading to her car.  “He said he had a big movie in the pipeline, but no details.  And I’m meeting my new label CEO Friday evening.”

“Sounds better than just ‘well’ then, don’t you think?”

“Fine, it went amazing.  Thank you so much for giving me the world.  I owe you my life.”

Taeyeon laughed.  “You’re so cute when you try to be sarcastic,” she pinched her cheek.

“Cut it out,” Jessica slapped her hand away and walked to her car.  “Look, I gotta go, I’m meeting Mr DiNozzo’s associate later.  I need to get ready.”

“Wear something y,” she called, turning and walking away.  Presumably to terrorise some other unsuspecting mark, her honey blonde conversationalist presumed.

Jessica opened the door to her car and put the key into the ignition, thankful that the engine hadn’t blown up again.  Part of her still didn’t trust the car’s safety, but so far nothing had happened to it.

So far.

She pulled out of the parking lot and headed along side streets and freeways, heading to her apartment.  Mr DiNozzo seemed like a decent guy, judging from the short conversation she had with him.  And he seemed interested in helping her.  Although that was a given when she thought about it.  She did wish for it, after all.

Agent, investors, life seemed to be back in an order that she approved of.  People said that selling your soul to the Devil was a terrible thing, but things didn’t seem that bad for Jessica.  Maybe once she had died, things would be worse, but this was still Taeyeon.  She had grown up with her, she trusted her.  Mostly.  When you find out your best friend had hidden the fact their father is the Ultimate Lord of the Underworld, it sort of makes you question some things, but she believed things would be reasonably ok.

Well, at least no red hot pokers or whips.  Pain wasn’t something she was a fan of.

 

One could be forgiven for mistaking this for a property on the Riviera, not a ranch on the outskirts of Omaha, Nebraska.  And yet, after a three-hour flight on a private jet, here she was.

“Jessie,” he called to her as she climbed down the steps of her ride, “so glad you could make it.”

She smiled as her feet hit the tarmac - a private runway.  Mr DiNozzo must have had some serious connections to have this on his property.

“Hello, Mr DiNozzo,” she smiled.

“Come, come,” he gestured as the pilot shut off the engines.  “Let’s go inside, we can talk there.  How was your flight?”

“It ... it was good, thank you,” she smiled as she walked with him to the ranch.  It wasn’t too far away, only a few hundred meters from the strip, easy access should her host be ready for a quick jaunt across the country.

“I hope you don’t mind coming out here at such short notice,” he explained, entering the ranch house.  “When I discuss business, I prefer to do it face to face.”

“I quite understand,” she smiled, remaining as professional as possible.  Her agent had given her the creeps, but Mr DiNozzo seemed a lot more intent on business relations and little more.  He hadn’t once checked her out, he hadn’t tried to undress her with his eyes, and whilst his hand had touched her, he was careful enough to keep it on her back and only as he was guiding her to their destination.

She reached a lavish office on the far side of the ranch, the second such office today.  This one looked much less modern and minimalist, and was much more opulent and luxurious.  Probably only the Sistine Chapel rivalled it in extravagance, and this office may have won out by a substantial margin.  It was a home office, not a city-based one, which meant such design would work, but it was still a little overwhelming.

Still, it was where they would discuss the finer details of their arrangement and his investment in her business.  She had the file with her presentation ready to go, and she was anxious to get started.  Her audience, however, wasn’t.  He seemed considerably more relaxed, but not lazy or uncaring.  He had everything under control, she could tell.  Just tell him what he wants to know, she reasoned, and things would go well.

He closed the austere doors behind them as she readied herself.  She removed her slides and her sketchpad of designs from her file and stood before him on the other side of his desk.

To the right-hand side of the desk sat two men, smartly dressed, well groomed, with a rather imposing stature.  As they saw the pair enter, they stood with the respect reverence one might offer an Army General, or maybe the Pope.

“Jessica, this is my right-hand man Johnny,” he gestured to the rightmost man, “and this is my business investment manager, Georgio.”

Both men extended their arms and shook hands with Jessica, smiling at her.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Johnny greeted.

“Likewise,” she smiled.

“Now, let’s get down to business,” Mr DiNozzo announced, heading over to his gaudy chair.  It resembled some sort of imitation throne, she thought, but whatever.  She turned to the printed presentation.

“Well, as you are aware of my plan, Mr DiNozzo ...” she started.

“Yeah, yeah, I read your plan.  Truthfully, it’s very interesting.  Needs a little work, but we can become partners in this.”

“I’m glad to hear that ...”

“So let’s cut to the chase then. What do you need from us?”

“I ... uh ... I mean ...” the abrupt nature of the conversation stunned her.

“Do you have contacts for manufacturing?”

“I ... no, I don’t.”

“Johnny, get hold of Gino.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Johnny nodded.

“What about marketing?” Georgio asked.  “You have anything planned for this?”

She felt a pang of frustration in her gut.  “To be honest,” she admitted, “I … I lack much of the infrastructure to run a business.  I’ve … had a number of issues since I came back to the US …”

“Issues?”

“Yes …”

“You need anything taken care of?”

“Oh, no, thank you.  You’ve been incredibly generous as it is.  I mean, thank you, Mr DiNozzo.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” he waved his hand to dismiss her gratitude.

“No, you have no idea how helpful that advance was.”

“Advance?”

She nodded.  “Yeah, the money you wired to me.  The $3 million?”

He thought for a moment and nodded.  “Of course.  You’re very welcome,” he smiled, clicking his fingers.  A taller man walked forward and leaned into his boss’s ear.  Jessica watched as the newcomer was given some instruction, then watched as he scurried away.

“I … well … these issues have been fixed, but … they have, I have to admit, put paid to any real … you know …”

“You need the capital and collateral to get started, am I right?” Georgio stated.

“Yes, I … I guess you could say that.”

He nodded and turned to his boss.  “I have a few contacts that owe me a favour.”

Mr DiNozzo was a little distracted, she could tell, but what distracted him evaded her.  “Is there something wrong, Sir?” she asked.

He smiled and shook his head.  “Nah, nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he smiled.  “Just a few ‘communication issues’ I need to fix.”  He turned to Georgio.  “How about the two of you finish up here,” he decreed.  “Put whatever Miss Jung needs behind this.  We could really clean up here.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Johnny replied, standing with Georgio as their commander left the room.  Before he left, he walked to Jessica and kissed her cheeks, the left and then the right.

“Did I say something?” she asked the remaining attendees.

“Oh, no,” Johnny answered.  “Boss just had a few things to sort out.”

“Besides,” Georgio added, “if something was wrong, you don’t think he’d let this meeting continue, do you?”

Her anxieties sated for a moment, she continued her presentation, discussing the plans she had for the business.  The three of them spoke candidly about the proposal, seemingly endless resources being ploughed into the venture, numerous favours being called in, multiple friends of friends being roped in.  Two hours later, Jessica was boarding the jet and returning home, exhausted after her day of travelling and meeting.  She reached home, truly satisfied with the outcome of the day.

“I should have done this years ago,” she whispered to herself as she climbed into bed.  Signing that contract gave her everything she could have wanted, and it only cost her a thing that she wasn’t really using anyway, and she was beginning to doubt existed in the first place.  If we had a soul, she reasoned, surely we’d be able to feel it.  But she couldn’t, so trading it in for things that could actually make a difference in her life seemed ike a no-brainer.