When the alarm clock went off that morning, it took Jemma all her strength to not throw it all the way across the room where it would smash into pieces. The sky was gray with clouds and she could smell the oncoming storm. Willing herself to leave the protection of her warm blankets and the security they provided, the paddled barefoot down the small staircase of her officetel, so kindly provided to her by the company. The timer on the coffee machine went off and the liquid started pouring into the glass pot, filling the small space with the smell of fresh brew. That machine was the most expensive piece of equipment she owned, not counting her phone and laptop, both of which were kindly gifted to her by sponsoring companies that the artists she worked for, endorsed.

Turning the shower on, she waited until the steam was rising around her before hopping in. The hot water scalded her skin and she sighed in relief as she felt the tension leave her shoulders. While thoroughly rinsing her hair, she went through today’s schedule, breaking her number one rule – no work before coffee. She knew she had to pick up her girls – she rolled her eyes at the thought of them being “her girls” – in an hour and drive them directly to the company building where they would rehearse until noon; later, she would have to drive them to a photo shoot for Elle Magazine and from there it was two variety shows and a fellow group’s concert. If Jemma were lucky, she would be home by 2 AM, something that hardly ever happened.

Wrapping a towel around herself, she wiped away the steam from the mirror and examined her face. Her high cheekbones stood out, while her cheeks had hollowed. The dark brown hair hung limply around her face, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out; the kind of dark circles that never went away. Lucky for her eye creams with caffeine were now becoming a thing in Korea, as she applied a copious amount of the substance under her eyes.

Speaking of caffeine, the coffee machine beeped, reminding her that she had half an hour to get her brew and leave the house. Hastily drying her hair with the towel, she ran into the kitchen and poured herself a mug of bitter liquid. Her phone was lying on the counter top and she picked it up, going over her emails – mostly information involving the girls, enquiries about appearances on variety shows and an email from an old friend of hers back from New York. She didn’t bother opening that one, knowing the content of it already – wasn’t it always the same? – and set the device away. Twenty minutes.

It is not to say that Jemma didn’t enjoy her job as a manager for the recently popularized girl group f(x). But the excitement was gone, the thrill of…what? She couldn’t even answer that. There was just something missing. It wasn’t a private life – everyone knew that once you enter the world of entertainment, even as a manager, you sell your private life in exchange for taking care of an artist, catering to their every wish, making sure they’re somewhat fed, reasonably rested and considerably happy. When she was younger, Jemma used to scoff at people whom she thought were “All Work and No Play”, but somehow in the whirlwind of events that had brought her to Korea, she ended up being exactly one of them. What she considered “boring” and “lame” back then was now her life. In the process of making the person she was today, she had lost an essential part of herself; one that she didn’t even realize was missing, yet made a world of a difference. And maybe it was exactly this missing piece of her that made her delete the email from her old school friend, or the invisible force that always pressed down on her whenever she picked up the phone to call her mother back in New York. She wasn’t ashamed to face those people – what was there to be ashamed of? – but the mere thought of meeting with her past terrified her on a subconscious level, a level she didn’t even realize existed within her. And that’s why she never picked up the phone again. Never answered emails from old friends. Never looked back.

Her phone rang startling her out of her thoughts as she almost dropped her mug. Setting it down on the counter, she checked the display and confusion swept through her. It was a number that never called unless there was an emergency and the fact that He was calling that early in the morning meant that there was a severe emergency. She picked up, dreading the voice on the other end of the line, waiting for him to start screaming. Instead he sounded calm, almost blissful.

“Jemma?” the man asked

“This is her speaking. Good morning Mr. Lee,” she said in her singsong voice. She had learned through the years that looking innocent on the outside while getting done with fierceness was the only way to survive in this business.

“Good morning. Can you please come to my office in half an hour, I need to discuss something with you,” he spoke and without giving her any time to protest added, “Kwangsoo manager will pick up Luna, Victoria, Amber and Krystal and deliver them to the building,”

She cursed. The was only one possible reason she could imagine why the CEO of the company would like to meet with her in private. She was about to be fired.

“Of course, CEO-nim, I will be there,” she replied and without saying goodbye he hung up. she thought, picking up her coffee in her trembling hands again and walking up the stairs to the small wardrobe that held a variety of business suits. She chose a navy one, and carefully put it on, braiding