TWO

Minseok tried to keep a smile on his face, but he found it a little harder to do so when he barely slept three hours the previous night. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t get her out of his head and he could feel his heart pounding harder than ever before the second his fingers touched the handle of the door to the coffee shop.  It was almost as if it sent a bolt of electricity through his body. There was something off today, he could feel it. A wave of uneasiness washed over him after he opened the door, stepping foot inside the small building. 

He looked around—there was a difference ambience about this place now and it was very discomforting. His usual girl wasn’t behind the counter and he wouldn’t even have noticed that she was sitting at a table until she caught his wrist as he began to pass her. “Hi,” she whispered almost inaudibly.

The look on her face was horrific; the parts he could see, anyway. She looked like she’d just been beaten down by a group of thugs without the aftermath of bruises.  He looked down at her weak grip around his wrist, her fingers barely holding on.  He glanced back at the girl at the counter who had half the same expression as his barista.

He sat on the edge of the booth with her, waiting for her to scoot over so he could sit with her and face away from the register. That was when her nametag caught the sun, reflecting on his face to get his attention. Minseok looked down at it. “Jihae,” he whispered causing her to look over at him.

They looked at each other for a moment before she pushed his drink towards him. He looked down at it only for a moment and then dodged the cup to take her hand. “What’s going on here? You look like a kicked puppy,” he said.

“I don’t work here anymore,” she replied after a few moments of silence to take in his words, knowing that she looked exactly the way he had described.  

“What do you mean you don’t work here anymore?” he asked and gripped her hand a little tighter.

She sighed almost exasperatedly. “We’re under new management as of today and I didn’t make the cut,” she responded.

“But you’re the only one I’ve ever seen work—”

“Because I was the only one who worked.”

“Then what do you mean you didn’t make the cut?”

“The new owner cut me to give his daughter the job,” she finished, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb towards the register. “This is the last drink I’ll make you,” she added with another sigh.

“That’s not fair,” he said.

“Life isn’t fair, Minseok.”

He gritted his teeth behind his closed lips before finally asking the question he wanted to avoid. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.

“Who knows; I’ll have to find a new job, that’s for sure. I think I have enough saved for next month’s rent and if I don’t find a job by then I’ll have to move out,” she told him. With that, she tore the nametag, pin and all, through the company shirt and slammed it on the table. Minseok took that as his cue to move and let her up from the booth, but she didn’t leave without grabbing his drink and his hand to drag him out of the coffee shop—the only reason she was there was to greet him the same she did every morning. 

The cool autumn air slightly nipped her skin, but she liked it. The fresh air was exactly what she needed to begin her recovery. She knew right now exactly what she needed, but first she needed to deal with Minseok. 

“Will I ever see you again?” Minseok asked after a few moments of standing there with his fingers still wrapped in hers.

“Of course you will,” she replied, searching in her bag for something. “I’ll see you Saturday night.” She shoved two tickets into Minseok’s hand after being dropped from her hand. “Bring a friend,” she added with a smile. He looked at them for a moment; they were tickets to the amphitheater downtown a ways. With a confused expression, he looked back at her only before a blush covered his face, eyes wide as she pulled away from him after planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for being so worried about me today, I really appreciate it,” she said before turning away from him and headed down the street. He didn’t have the voice to reply, he was too shocked by what had just happened in the past couple of minutes.  He knew it was just a friendly kiss, but he was still taken aback by it. He reached up to touch his cheek with slender fingers, feeling the slick lip gloss that now adorned it.  

“Saturday night?” he repeated. It was only Tuesday. He knew these four days would go by agonizingly slowly without seeing her smiling face in the morning along with a cup of caffeine. Would he even go back to the coffee shop knowing she wouldn’t be working there? Was it worth the coffee?

Speaking of coffee, when did the cup he was holding now even get into his hand? He pulled his keys out of his pocket, feeling a little dazed as he got into his car to drive off.

“Sora, come over,” Jihae demanded into the phone.

“Yo, girl, don’t gotta be so demanding, I’ll be on my way shortly. What’s going on with you?”

“I just got fired from the coffee shop,” she replied.

“Ouch, harsh; so you want me to come over so we can jam, get some of your aggression out? You know we have a show on Saturday, right? Need to be practicing!”

“I know, I know! My voice is a little rusty; I haven’t been doing my exercises like I should have been.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to perform? You know where doing that pretty gnarly song. We need your vocals!” Sora replied, throwing her full guitar case atop her bed along with extra amplifier cords.

“I’ll work on it, I have four days and plenty of extra time now that I don’t have a job,” she replied.

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, do you know that?” Sora asked.

“Just get your stuff and get to my apartment. I’ve been slacking and I’m waiting for you to come over and tell me how terrible I sound,” Jihae commented sarcastically, Sora practically able to hear the girl’s eyes roll. 

“I’m on it! I’m heading out the door now!” Sora called, pinning her phone between her shoulder and ear as she hauled her heavy guitar case out the door; and with that, Sora hung up the phone. She slipped it into her pocket, lugging the heavy case in her right hand as it knocked gently on her hip. As she headed towards Jihae’s apartment, she could see a number of people eyeing her and her case; but it was a little more prominent in one person’s eyes for sure.

Sora shook her head feeling an unavoidable trouble loom over her. This was a brand new guitar! A limited edition Gibson Les Paul in ivory white with gold hardware; it was the most beautiful piece of musical craftsmanship she had ever owned and she wasn’t about to let anyone steal it right out of her hands.

But just as she thought she was in the clear, she felt a tug on the case and turned around, coming face to face with the guy from before, the one she knew for sure was going to cause problems. “Yo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she yelled at him, trying to draw as much attention as possible.

“Just give me the case, lady!” the man yelled.

“Oh, hell no!” she called back, pulling her leg up to press her foot against the perpetrator’s chest to get some leverage to pull on the case.  “Get your grimy hands off my guitar!” Sora’s eyes went wide a few seconds later, as did the man’s as a blunt force was applied heavily to the crook of his neck and shoulder.  The man’s grip was released as he fell to the floor; behind his tall body was a familiar girl.

“Jihae!” Sora called, “Thank God you showed up when you did!”

“Punctual as usual,” she replied, sassily flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Is this new? Is it beautiful? Show me!” she added and handled the case gently as Sora let it go in the hands of someone she trusted. Jihae took the case and laid it on the ground, kneeling down with it to pop the buckles open.

“Oooh!” she squealed as she opened the case. The inside of the black case was fine red velvet which securely encased the real trophy. “Look at this thing! It’s gorgeous!” Jihae exclaimed, pretty sure she looked like a wolf salivating over a piece of meat.  

“Can I play it? Please, Sora!” she begged, her fingers sliding over the fine DR nickel strings.

“Well of course! If I wasn’t going to let you play it, I wouldn’t have brought it! Let’s get it home, though; don’t want another mishap like that!” she replied with a wink. Jihae packed the guitar back up with excitement, hauling it up to place it back into Sora’s hands. A huge grin covered Jihae’s face—she was so excited she had already forgotten about the fact that she lost her day job.

The two of them laughed together as they walked towards Jihae’s place—it wasn’t often that Sora and Jihae could talk without having an instrument out and connected to the amps, often resulting with disagreements and yelling.  The two of them were great friends, always had been; that’s why they’d joined this band together to begin with—they were just lucky that the group happened to be looking for main and rhythm simultaneously and they scored lucky with Jihae as the backup vocalist. 

Sora had to gather herself, she was laughing so hard. She’d do anything to distract Jihae right now for she knew the girl’s heart was heavy. “So, you said you haven’t been practicing the vocals, right? How you will manage, I mean, are we sure this tiny body of yours can manage such a rough part?” Sora joked, motioning towards Jihae’s small form. Sure, she was a petite girl, but she packed a punch.

“It shouldn’t be too hard; we’re opening with mostly tame vocals. I mean, our first song has that one opening part, but that’s it?” Jihae tried to reassure Sora.

“Damned is not that easy of a song, Jihae. You’ll be doing the dirty vocals and the backup harmony; and let us not forget we end with Before I Decay, of which you will be singing all of,” Sora responded, looking at Jihae a little skeptically. She had a lot of parts this upcoming show and to learn that she hadn’t even been practicing was a little nerve-racking.

“I know we’re a cover band for now, but why is it that we only cover Japanese songs?” Jihae questioned and laughed. It was kind of a rhetorical question.

“Do I really have to answer that?” Sora asked.

“Humor me,” Jihae replied with a fake grin.

Sora slapped a hand over her own face.  “We aren’t called Hapajin for nothing. It’s not a coincidence that our entire band is half Japanese, Jihae. We all just happened to be born to Korean fathers, kind of interesting if I do say so myself.”

Hapajin was their band name. It was pseudo-Hawaiian/Japanese vernacular. Hapa concerning their mixed ethnic heritage, Jin being the word for person in Japanese; they were “mixed-people” technically.  They often debated whether the name should have been changed to Hafu, or Hapanese, since both were common, but the name stuck.  

“I know, I just like it when I know I get to you sometimes,” Jihae laughed, pulling out the key to her door after the elevator had opened on Jihae’s floor.

“Also, I don’t know if Mikaru told you, but you’ll also be singing the new cover that I’m supposed to work on with you today. We’re doing Rouge.”

“Rouge? Like, Exist Trace Rouge?”

“Yep. Mikaru wanted to give you some spotlight, so he’ll be taking over your guitar for that song—you’re going to be our front-woman and I’m going to be your backup vocals!”

“Damn him!” Jihae replied, throwing her front door closed. Mikaru was their vocalist and Jihae knew he was going to pull something like this sooner or later. She wasn’t sure she was too enthralled with that idea. While she liked the attention, she liked diverted attention. She wanted to be the center of attention without being the center of attention.

“You should see our costumes for the show, too! They’re positively adorable! Well, mine is. Yours? Quite y, I must say! You can thank Jin for that one.”

“Of course I can,” Jihae replied, gritting her teeth. She knew she was about to see what it was all about.

“Hey, don’t be disappointed! We’re doing your favorite song, too!”

“No. No, no, no, no.”

“Oh come on, it’s your favorite!”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you remember just exactly how into that song I get. I may as well just make love on stage!”

“They want a show, Jihae. You’re the perfect y woman for it,” Sora winked and threw her other bag onto Sora’s countertop. She dug through it to pull out Jihae’s costume. “Go put this on, Jin wants to know if it fits!”

“Oh, God, why,” she replied, taking the bundle of clothing into her hands to disappear into her bedroom. Sora whistled the time away as she pulled out her new toy, plucking expertly on the strings to create lovely sounds, even if it wasn’t plugged in. “Of course!” Sora heard Jihae complain from her room. The elder girl just laughed and continued to bob her head to her own rhythm.

“Just put the damn clothes on and let me see your bad self!”

Jihae pulled on the faux-leather pants—they were totally Jin’s style. “These aren’t too bad,” she said. She had the perfect lace up knee height heels to wear with it; her stage shoes, she called them. She wore them to every event. They fit the theme.  The attire was all fine for now, but what came with it—not too okay. “What! This thing is not even a piece of clothing!”

In her slender fingers Jihae held a snake skin crop top—only the crop was a little overboard. “This thing will barely cover my lady parts!”

“I think that was Jin’s whole plan,” Sora replied.

“I just love how you’re going along with this!”

“Just put it on!”

With gritted teeth, Jihae stripped of her current shirt and replaced it with the skimpy piece in her hands. Not only was it a tiny itty bitty crop top, it was a v-neck, a low v-neck and a halter at that. “Is Jin just trying to ruin my life?”  It may as well have just been a piece of lingerie.

The next piece thankfully wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t particularly helpful either; a leather jacket with all of the zippers and pockets typical to the biker scene, but a little lighter weight. “Sweet, I can just zip this thing right up!”

Much to Jihae’s absolutely dismay, Jin had already removed the zipper piece.

“JIN!” Jihae yelled so loudly from her room, she was sure the male would be able to hear it, wherever he was.

“You must let me see this!” Sora demanded, pounding furiously on Jihae’s door. “Open the door or I will break it down!”  The door opened and Sora couldn’t contain her excitement.

“Oh, hot mama! Yes, the tattoos, the body, Jin, you are a genius!” Sora exclaimed, looking Jihae over. A couple of new tattoos had been added since the last time Sora had inquired. There was a big piece up her right hip which Sora had assumed continued over the leg.  It was a large absolutely gorgeous cherry blossom tree—a symbol of a piece of Jihae’s heritage. Japan was known for their cherry blossoms. On the other leg a feather and a line of birds, complete with a soft light design. “This workmanship is beautiful, I’ve never seen such professional shading!” she squealed. There were plenty more tattoos adorning her upper thighs, but what was showing at this point in time was positively enough.

“I hope Jin is happy,” Jihae growled, pulling her hair up into a messy pony tail.

“You’re really not helping your case. That bad look with your messy hair, icing on the cake,” Sora replied. “Let’s get to jamming,” she added, dragging the younger female out of her room before she could change back and into another room they went. Soundproof—it was the reason they practiced at Jihae’s place.

Jihae picked up her Stratocaster, plugged it into the amp and made proper adjustments. She closed her eyes, plucked some strings, and fell into her haven. The dueling guitars went back and forth for what seemed like hours, and Jihae’s abs were getting tired from all of the screaming.  Sora grinned, they were going to rock this concert on Saturday. She sat next to Jihae who was downing a bottle of water and continued to pluck strings.

“I know you want to whine and complain about the attire, but the more we show you off, the more money we earn and the way I see it, you could use it,” Sora reasoned. “Besides, I don’t know why you’re all that shy, these babies are washboard status,” she joked, rubbing her hand over Jihae’s abdomen.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jihae retorted with a smirk.  “I just hope I’ll be ready for Saturday when it comes around.” Jihae was nervous about Saturday, not because she was being showcased, but because a certain somebody would be there; a certain Kim Minseok and she wasn’t sure she was ready to be judged by him. She knew she would be judged just by what she did, but how she looked? Minseok looked like the type of guy to like the pretty girls—the ones who didn’t ink up their bodies, the ones who were innocent and never did anything wrong, the ones who were pure. She wanted to feed Minseok a little bit about her at a time, not throw it all at him at once.

This concert was definitely making her stomach do flips by now.