The next couple of days were equally productive.  Messages went back and forth between Jessica and her agent, and between Jessica and her new business development team, headed up by Georgio.  Georgio.  Even his name oozed “fashion house potential”.  Designs for new products were sent to production managers, studio recording dates were put into schedules, the first draft of the script was due to arrive by special delivery.

And there had been no sight of Taeyeon throughout all of this.

Maybe this is it, she thought as she made herself breakfast.  Once she had made her wishes, it was “hands off” for any interference. 

“Special delivery,” the increasingly all-too-familiar voice called from outside the apartment as her knuckles rapped on the door.

So much for that idea.

Jessica sighed and opened the door.  A slight groan escaped her lips at the sight of Taeyeon standing before her dressed as a delivery woman.  Of course, this being Taeyeon, it had to be a highly ualised version.  Her blue-grey shirt was ed to below her bust, which also showed she was without a bra.  Her navy skirt was slit almost to her waistband, showing off her thighs which were covered in black net stockings.  Her feet were adorned with ankle boots with a patchwork-style fabric in four shades of blue.  The only things that vaguely resembled a real uniform were the cap - which she still wore backwards over her blonde, curled, tousled locks – and her steel blue shoulder bag.

“What?” she asked, a look of mild concern on her face.  “What is it?”

“Can’t you dress normally?” she asked.  “Like, just once?”

“You don’t like it?”

“You look like you’re the entertainment for a bachelor party.”

She looked down at her outfit and assessed her attire.  “Yeah,” she relented, a little reluctantly.  “I guess it is a little too formal.”  She looked up and smiled.  “Can I come in?  I have gifts.”  She held up the thick envelope she was holding.

“What is it?” Jessica took the envelope and opened the door for her visitor.

“Open it.”  Taeyeon waltzed inside and headed to the kitchen.

She complied and opened the envelope.  It was thick, thicker than any other letter she had received.  “It’s the script for the movie!” she called out.

“Oooooh, sounds like fun,” her guest replied, her attention more focused on the contents of her host’s fridge.

“There’s two copies,” she carried on, placing one copy on the kitchen unit.  “Guess that helps if I run lines with someone.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, opening the freezer.  “You got any ice cream?”

“Uh ... no, I ... no.”

She sighed and groaned petulantly, her hunt now meaningless.

“Couldn’t you just magic some up, like you normally do?” she asked sarcastically.

“I guess,” she sighed, waving her hand nonchalantly towards the counter.  A bowl of chocolate, strawberry, mango, and vanilla ice cream materialised out of nothing.  “It’s not the same, though.”

“Ice cream that you can make appear out of nothing and get for free isn’t the same as ice cream that you get for free from my freezer?”

She looked at her friend and shook her head.  There was no sense of irony, no sense of sarcasm, only grave seriousness and sincerity.

“Whatever,” Jessica dismissed her and opened the script.  She started reading the highlighted sections, clearly intended for her.  Seconds later, Taeyeon joined her in reading.

A few pages in and Jessica was enchanted.  This was already an incredible script.  She didn’t have all that much experience with scripts, but this had the workings of an Oscar winner in her mind.  She flicked through pages, reading not just the lines assigned to her, but those of other characters.  It almost became a novel for her, the way she was reading through it.  She wasn’t even going through her lines.  She turned through the pages, standing up only to make herself a coffee.  A polite offer of a drink was half-heartedly accepted, and the pair read further.

A sudden look of confusion crossed Jessica’s face as she continued her literary journey.  She turned back to previous pages and re-read lines, before throwing the script onto the work surface.

“I don’t believe this.  I don’t believe this!  Why the hell did he think of me for this?” she shouted to nobody in particular.  “What the hell was he thinking?  I’m not doing this.  I’m not!  It’s just too ...” she shook her head.  “I’m not doing it, no way!”

“Wow …” Taeyeon mused, continuing her reading of the script.

“I know!” Jessica opened the fridge and removed the milk.

“This is filthy.”

“Yeah!”

“This is depraved.”

“Uh huh!”

“This is just … wow.”

“Exactly!”

“Mind if I borrow this?”

“I … what?” Jessica spun around just as the kettle finished boiling.  Taeyeon was still reading, her jaw open slightly, looking a little uncomfortable.

No, not uncomfortable.  Uncomfortable was the wrong word.

She looked up for a moment.  “Girl needs some reading material, and this stuff is good,” she cooed.  “No wonder you wanted this role so bad.”

Jessica watched, speechless.

“And I didn’t even know that kind of thing was legal in California,” she continued, casually turning the page.  “Texas, maybe.  Alabama, definitely.  But California?  Kudos.”

“I don’t want to be in , Taeyeon!”

“Wait, you don’t?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

She waved her arms around in frustration.  “Because I don’t want people watching me … you know …”

“Joining giblets?”

“What?”

“Playing hide the pickle?  Bumping fuzzies?  Doing the dance with no pants?  Riding a dragon upon St. George?”

“Is there something wrong with you?”

“That’s still between me and my therapist,” she answered, returning to her reading.

“Taeyeon, I didn’t wish to be in …” she pointed to the script, “… that.”

“Have you even read this, Jessie?  This is amazing!  It’s like 50 Shades of Grey, but actually really good instead of a steaming pile of …”

“I don’t care!  I don’t want to be in it.”

“But this could make you the next Satine Phoenix.”

“What?”

“She’s an actress, used to be in po…”

“I don’t want to know who she is, ok?” Jessica held her hands up to defend herself.  “I don’t want to be in this movie.  I don’t want to be in .  I wished to be a star.”

“And you will be.”

“I wished to be a normal star!”

Taeyeon looked confused and shook her head.  “No, you wanted an agent that could get you good movie deals.  This is a good deal.  You wanted to get noticed, and trust me, this’ll get you noticed.  You wanted exposure.”  She held up the script.  “Trust me,” she smirked, “you get a lot of exposure in this.  And you wanted to be pushed out of your comfort zone.  Ding, ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

“Who, me?” she gasped innocently.  “How could you say such a thing?”

“You are.”

“Ok, maybe a little.  But mostly, I want to see this get made.”  She threw the papers onto the counter.  “Send me a signed copy?” she smiled expectantly.

“I’m not doing it!”

“But you signed a contract.”

“It said nothing about getting my hoo-hah out on camera!”

“It also said nothing about not getting your cute little hoo-hah out on camera,” she grinned and wiggled her eyebrows in that naughty way she had.

“Will you stop and help me find a way out of this?”

Taeyeon feigned thought for a few seconds and smiled at her.  “You still have one wish left.”

“I …” the flash of realisation came.  “Get out,” she growled, pointing to the door.

“What?”

“You screwed this up on purpose.  You stuck me in so I would never be bigger than you.  You screwed everything up, and now you’re trying to screw up what little you have left.  Get out.”

“Then use your wish to get out of it.”

“No.  That’s what you want, and I won’t let you mess things up any more.  I am not making that wish.”

“Come again?”

“Get out.”

She examined her gaze and quietened her voice.  “You’re serious.”

She glared at her confidant.  If looks could kill, and if Taeyeon wasn’t the child of the Lord of the Underworld. Jessica would be facing charges of first-degree murder.

“Fine,” Taeyeon sat upright, pushing her chest out.  “But you still have a wish to use, and only a few days to use it.  You don’t use it …”

“I said get out.”

She sneered at her mark and stood up.  “I collect on my debts, Miss Jung,” she warned.  “Don’t you forget that.  Use the wish, or I use you.”  With that, Taeyeon her heel and walked out of the apartment.

Seeing any other person dressed as a ualised federal employee storm out of the apartment in anger would bring about a few laughs from observers.  There was no such mirth from Jessica.  She knew Taeyeon would follow through with her threats.  But there was no way in hell she would use that wish.  She knew she couldn’t.  For as long as she had that wish in her grasp, Taeyeon could do nothing to her.  This was the only piece of power she had over her captor.

No.  She wouldn’t give up the wish.  Not for anything.  Not only would she not resort to using this wish, she would find a way out of this predicament herself.  There was no way she was going to be and engaging in illicit and intimate acts on camera.  She would find a way out of this if it was the last thing she did.

What else would she need to get out of?  Were the business investments sound?  How could they not be?  She had received the money, she had spoken to the investors, she was clear she wasn’t being sold into the trade.  There was no ambiguity.  How could that not be a sound relationship founded solely in business interests?  How could this possibly go wrong?

No sooner had she accepted that rationale than her phone rang.  She looked at the display.

“Oh god no,” she whispered, picking up the handset.  She tapped the screen and held the handset to her ear.

“H-hello?”

“Hey, Jessie, how you doing?” the exaggerated New York accent answered.

“Hi, hi, Mr DiNozzo,” she stuttered.  “How are things?”

“Well, we’ve got a little problem with the, uh, the supply chain,” he explained.  “You think you can meet?”

“I ... uh ... yes, I ...”

“Good.  Meet me at the warehouse.  Downtown.  780 Gladys Avenue, just off East 8^th Street.  See you there.”  He didn’t say anything more before he hung up.

Whatever “the worst” was, it had clearly happened.  Whatever acts of sabotage Taeyeon had carried out with her agent, she had carried out with her business endeavours.  How she could get away with it was anybody’s guess, but Jessica was certainly going to try to put things right.  She picked up her keys and headed to the car.

 

The Los Angeles Warehouse looked like any other warehouse in downtown Los Angeles.  It was a fashion and fabrics warehouse, and apparently a part by Mr DiNozzo's empire.  Jessica pulled up outside, parking the car in the staff car park.  She took a deep breath and turned off the engine, opened the car door and left her transport waiting for her.

No sooner had she reached the shutters than she was greeted by one of Mr DiNozzo’s right-hand men.  He looked more like a goon than any of the others that were employed by him, but she followed him over the empty shop floor, walking past silent machines and production lines.  She followed him along passageways, between towering shelves of fabrics and boxes of merchandise, into what looked like the storage room at the rear of the warehouse.  The whole building echoed with its concrete floors and plaster walls, but the storeroom echoed more without the added padding from the furniture and boxes to soften the noise.

About two dozen or so suited men stood in the room, standing around something, all with their backs to her.  She couldn’t see what was happening, but none of this filled her with hope.

“Boss,” her guide called as they neared the group, “she’s here.”

From the throng of the group emerged Mr DiNozzo, looking as smart and resplendent as he had at their last meeting.  Each of the crowd was suited, black and white.  Mr DiNozzo was dressed in a stone grey suit with a pale blue shirt and black tie.  He looked angry, and Jessica knew she was about to find out.

“Miss Jung, so glad you could make it,” he greeted her.

“Could someone tell me what in the name of God is happening?” she asked.  “Because I have had it with everything going wrong today.”

“It has?” he asked, feigning concern.  “Well, maybe we can straighten some things out here.  You remember Donny, don’t you?”  He stepped away, as did the group, revealing the target of their attention.

Donald, Me DiNozzo’s personal accountant, was sitting on the chair before her, tied around the waist, arms behind his back, bruised and bloodied.  Either side of him stood two burly men, fists covered in crimson.

Jessica almost screamed at the sight.  “What the hell happened?” she cried.

“Hey, come on now, Toots, don’t insult me like that.”

“Insult you?  You’ve beaten a guy to death!”

“He ain’t dead,” her host escorted her a few yards away from the crowd.  “Not yet.”

She tried to pull away from him, only to bump into another suit.

“That advance you received,” he explained.  “Donny sent it over to you.  Only, he didn’t take it from our accounts.”

“Wh ... what do you mean?” the confusion flooded the woman.  Things made less and less sense, but the image of the man covered in his own blood was ingrained in her mind.

Mr DiNozzo held out his hand.  “Antonio Scalia, meet Jessica Jung.  The recipient of your funds.”

“What?!?!”

“This?” Antonio questioned.  He was much older and much gruffer than Louis, but no less scary.  “This is the mastermind behind my family being wiped out of $10 million?”

“Wait, wait, wait, I didn’t take anything, I swear!”

“My accountant says otherwise, Miss,” Antonio sneered.

“Look, I only got an advance of $3 million, from Mr DiNozzo.”

“Nuh uh,” he shook his head.  “Donny told us everything.  He says you two were pretty close.”

“Huh?”

“You both planned to take my friend here to the cleaners.  Some kind of vendetta against him.”

“I’ve never met him before!” she protested.  “I’ve never met any of you before this week, I swear!”

“Then how did my money end up in your account?” Antonio demanded, squaring up to the much shorter woman.

“I don’t know!” she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.  “I really don’t know, but I swear I only received $3 million, and I swear I thought it was from Mr DiNozzo.”

“You’re lying,” Antonio shook his head and cracked his knuckles.  “Don’t think that I’m gonna go easy on you ‘cause you’re just a broad.  That don’t matter to me.”

“Hey, leave the lady alone, ok?” Louis stepped in.  “Maybe she really didn’t know about the money.”

“What?  You know these dames are good actors.  They’re all liars.”

“Maybe, but this is too good to be acting.”  He patted his friend’s shoulder.  “Let’s give her a chance to explain herself.”

Jessica fell to her knees, head in her hands, and sobbed.  She didn’t know what had happened.  She had no clue what was happening at all.  She wasn’t sure what had gone on.

“Hey, boss,” one of the larger men called, entering the room.  “I got something for you.”

Louis walked over to him and took the iPad from him.  He watched something on the display and then gestured over to Antonio.  Jessica didn’t care.  She was losing everything, her business, her career, her life even.  All because she decided to take those wishes.  Taeyeon had screwed everything up for her.

“See?  Told you Jessica wasn’t that kind of dame,” Louis replied as the pair walked over to the distressed damsel.

“Ok, ok, ok, you were right,” Antonio conceded.  “But we still need to find the broad who ripped me off.”  He looked at the woman in a heap on the floor before him.  “You think she’ll know?”

Louis looked at her and shrugged.  “Maybe,” he answered.  “Can’t be too many Asian women here.”  He knelt down and lifted her chin to look at him.  “Don’t cry, babe,” he comforted, although it seemed too cold to be comforting.  “You’re too pretty to be crying.  Listen … we know it ain’t you, ok?  We believe you.  But we got a picture of the dame that did set it up with him.  You think you would know her?”

How in the name of all that was holy would she know who some random person was?  Surely they couldn’t be serious.  She didn’t answer, trying to find a way of arguing that there were far too many people in Los Angeles that she had never met to discern any credible identity.  Then he put the iPad in front of her, with the photo of the woman who had helped defraud Antonio of millions.

Her heart steeled.  Her tears stopped.  She took the iPad and stared at the image.

“She told Donny her name was yours.  You know her?”

Her face filled with anger and rage at the sight.  She shook her head.  This couldn’t be happening.  This could not be happening.  This was not possible.  And yet, it was happening right at this moment.

“Well?” Antonio asked impatiently.

She never got to answer.

“POLICE!  FEDERAL AGENTS!  FBI!  GET ON THE GROUND NOW!  HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!  GET ON THE GROUND!”

Officers flooded the space.  Guns fired.  Bodies ran.  Left.  Right.  Hiding behind boxes.  Shouting.  Shooting.  More shouting.  More running.  Antonio and Louis ran.  Jessica stood in fright.

She looked around.  No exit.  No way out.  She hid.  Ducking the firefight.  Boxes provided cover.

Not enough.

“Get on the ground!” a very loud voice shouted at her.  “On the ground, now!”

She obeyed.  She cried, she wailed, she begged for safety.

“Hands behind your head!”

“Don’t shoot, please don’t shoot,” she sobbed, placing her hands on her head and locking her fingers together.

She felt a heavy hand grabbing her wrist and the cold metal snap around her wrist.

Still shouting.  Still shooting.

Jessica felt herself being hauled up onto her feet and shoved out of the building.  She had to be guided into one of the vans, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Whatever else would happen today, surely it couldn’t be worse than this.

Multiple flashes of light from outside gave her the impending feeling that it just might.