Chapter Eleven

"No, I'm not going to do it."

"Chen, this isn't a choice. It's good for publicity," Kris reasoned back through the phone. 

Raising his voice, Chen reiterated, "I refuse to do it. It's a waste of time." 

The other male sighed heavily, and Chen could almost imagine the tired, resigned look on his pale, angular face. After all, Chen had been the cause of that expression one too many times. "You are always difficult," Kris muttered. 

Chen didn't deny it. He knew. 

"Think about it a few more times, and I'll call you back," Kris said.

"No, I won't do it. And that's all there is to it. Goodbye, Manager Kris." And with that, Chen hung up the phone. 

His recalcitrant behavior was uncalled for, but it wasn't like Kris didn't already make him do these interviews in the past. Chen had sat through press conferences and one-to-one interviews and hated them all. He hated cameras, watching eyes, judgemental faces. They disgusted him. If it weren't for the fans, which Chen owed his fortune to, he would not have bothered with any publicity. 

He twisted uneasily on his recliner, his annoyance gradually building. Chen had been staring at his manuscript for the last several hours, yet he still couldn't figure out why the text bothered him. The piece that he had written was going to be edited a few more times before he would be sending it off for the jacket copy, but Chen wasn't happy with the writing. It didn't feel as...complete as usual. Not that Chen was unconfident in his writing abilities, as he was sure the novel was going to be another hit. 

Chen checked his watch anxiously. Why in the world was his new bodyguard still not here? Chen had asked his manager (finally) to send him the bodyguard that he had dismissed so many times, and he had figured that with the upcoming release and book signings and meetups, he was going to need some protection by his side. But he wasn't exactly sure tardiness was something he was looking for as well. 

Grabbing his remote, Chen the TV and flipped through the channels halfmindedly, before pausing on a screen with some cook show. He watched the chef crack eggs and blend it with asparagus and garlic, then gagged. "I can do so much better than that. What is that gross-looking thing? Yuck," he mumbled to himself. His fingers thumbed the buttons on his shirt, counting them up then down, before ing them all one by one. As soon as the cold, air-conditioned breeze passed his chest, Chen buttoned his shirt again. 

"So frustrating! When is he coming?" Chen said aloud. Climbing off his recliner, he paced around in his blue slippers one, three, seven steps before making his way to the door to look outside. Then he heard knocking. 

Chen wasted no time in flinging the door open and glaring at the male that was facing him. However, he was immediately thrown off of the guy's happy-go-lucky smile and his extended hand. 

Chen stared at the hand, then frowned. He looked up. "Are you the bodyguard that the manager sent?" 

The guy lowered his hand, then cocked his head to the side. "Manager?" he questioned, seemingly to himself. "Ah, yes, Kris-ge." 

Chen's frown deepened upon realizing that the tall man-child in front of him was Chinese, and appeared to know very little Korean judging by his heavy accent. His eyes bore a fierce, yet benign quality to them, accentuated by a sharp outcurve and heavy eyebags. His skin was beige tan, almost similar in color to the cream milk tea that Chen would make on occasion, and his frame towered over Chen's meager 5'8. He didn't give off any dangerous aura that would be associated with bodyguards, and Chen knew at that moment that Kris had sent this guy on purpose. Perhaps he was meant to be for company (which Chen hated having most of the time). After all, Chen hadn't wanted a bodyguard for the longest time because he thought they would be overbearing. Maybe that wasn't so in this case. 

The tan boy extended his hand once more. "I am Tao! Your bodyguard!" 

Chen shook his hand tentatively, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Yes, I know." He opened the door wider for Tao to come in. 

Before Chen could open his mouth to warn the young man of where not to sit, Tao had plopped down on the Italian top grain leather sofa that Chen cherished. His eyes bulged. 

"No no! Get off! That's precious!" Chen exclaimed, tugging Tao down from his comfy seat. He then waved off any marks or dirt from the leather before stepping back to double check. 

From his sprawled out position on the floor, Tao stared at his client with wide eyes. Chen didn't notice the attention until he was done brushing off the sofa a second time. He blinked at Tao. "What?" 

Tao shook his head rapidly, waving his hands in a negative gesture. "Nothing!"

Chen didn't understand what was up with that, but he trudged into the kitchen to grab a wooden chair and placed it in front of the recliner. Then he motioned for Tao to sit. The guy moved slowly over, as if he was afraid of stepping on a land mine. When he finally sat down, his still hovered an inch over the chair as if he was afraid Chen would push him off a second time. 

But unlike his assumption, Chen only spared him a look before sitting down across from him on the recliner. 

An awkward silence passed between them. 

"Hello Tao," Chen began formally after a long minute. "As you probably already know, I am Chen. Age 23. Real name Kim Jongdae. I am single. I am a book writer. I like cooking, writing, singing, and anything that doesn't involve too much sweat. I don't like dogs and I don't like cats." 

Tao looked at him like he was a strange creature from outer space. Is this guy writing a portfolio?! From the looks of him, Tao deduced that Chen probably had very little contact with other people. Normal people just didn't introduce themselves in such a way. 

"Now it's your turn Tao," Chen said, pointing a finger at the other male's chest. When Tao's lips didn't budge, Chen leaned over and nudged him.

With his excitement gone, Tao felt uncomfortable introducing himself, since he had not expected his client to be so strange upon the first impression. However, he told himself to be open-minded and not judgemental, just like his mother always taught him back home. He told Chen he was 22, Chinese, and ready to assist with any matters that