I dried off, brushed my teeth, and slipped on a T-shirt and shorts, and then my Nikes. Ready. Damn, it was good to be a man. I couldn’t imagine having to blow-dry my hair for half an hour, and then burn it with whatever handheld metal hot iron I could find, and then spend fifteen to twenty minutes getting my makeup just right before finally getting dressed. Key. Wallet. Phone. Out the door. Dara had said there were shops downstairs, but she hinted strongly that we shouldn’t see each other until the wedding, so I headed for the Strip.

Even when in a hurry, if the Bellagio fountains are dancing to the music, it is un-Korean not to stop and stand in awe. I lit a cigarette and puffed on it, resting my arms on a large, concrete ledge that lined the viewing platform. Watching the water sway and spray to the music reminded me of the last time I was there, standing with Top while Dara efficiently kicked the asses of four or five poker veterans.

Top. Damn, I was so glad he wasn’t at that fight. If I’d have lost him, or if he’d lost Bom, I’m not sure Dara and I would have been here. A loss like that would change the whole dynamic of our friendships. Top couldn’t be around Dara and me without Bom, and Bom couldn’t be around us without Top. Dara couldn’t not be around Bom. If they hadn’t decided to stay with his parents over spring break, I could be suffering the loss of Top instead of preparing for our wedding. Thoughts of calling Uncle Jinyoung with news of their only son’s death made a cold shiver crawl down my spine.

I shook the thought away as I remembered the moment before I called my dad’s phone, standing in front of Keaton, the smoke billowing out of the windows. Some of the firefighters were holding the hose to pour water inside, others were bringing out survivors. I remembered what it felt like: knowing that I was going to have to tell my dad that Jo was missing and probably dead. How my brother had run the wrong way in the confusion, and Dara and I were standing outside without him. Thoughts of what that would have done to my dad, to our entire family, made me feel sick to my stomach. Dad was the strongest man I knew, but he couldn’t take losing anyone else.

My dad and Jinyoung ran our town when they were in high school. They were the first generation of badass Kwon brothers. In college towns, the locals either started fights or were picked on. Hyun Suk and Jinyoung never experienced the latter, and even met and married the only two girls at their college that could handle them: Yoon Jeong and Eunju. Yes, sisters, making Top and me double cousins. It was probably just as well that Jinyoung and Yoon Jeong stopped at one, with Mom having five unruly boys. Statistically, our family was due for a girl, and I’m not sure the world could handle a female Kwon. All the fight and anger, plus estrogen? Everyone would die.

When Top was born, Uncle Jinyoung settled down. Top was a Kwon, but he had his mother’s temperament. Jiro, Youngmin, Kwangmin, Jo, and I all had short fuses like our dad, but Top was calm. We were the best of friends. He was a brother who lived in a different house. He pretty much was, but he looked more like Jiro than the rest of us. We all shared the same DNA.

The fountain died down and I walked away, seeing the sign for Crystals. If I could get in and out of there quick, maybe Dara would still be in the Bellagio shops and wouldn’t see me.

I picked up the pace, dodging the extremely drunk and tired tourists. One short escalator ride and a bridge later, I was inside the stories-tall shopping center. It had glass rectangles displaying colorful water tornados, high-end shops, and the same odd range of people. Families to strippers. Only in Vegas.

I popped in and out of one suit shop without any luck, and then walked until I hit a Tom Ford store. In ten minutes, I’d found and tried on the perfect gray suit but had trouble finding a tie. “ it,” I said, taking the suit and a white button-up to the register. Who said a groom had to wear a tie?

Walking out of the shopping center, I saw a pair of black Converse in the window. I went in, asked for my size, tried them on, and smiled. “I’ll take them,” I said to the woman helping me. She smiled with a look in her eyes that would have just six months ago. A woman looking at me that way usually meant any attempts I made to get in her pants had just been made a thousand times easier. That look meant: take me home.

“Great choice,” she said in a smooth, flirtatious voice. Her dark hair was long, thick, and shiny. Probably half of her five feet. She was a sophisticated, Asian beauty, wrapped in a tight dress and sky-high heels. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. She was exactly the kind of challenge my old self would have happily taken on. “Are you staying in Vegas long?”

“Just a few days.”

“Is this your first time here?”

“Second.”

“Oh. I was going to offer to show you around.”

“I’m getting married in these shoes in a couple of hours.”

My response snuffed out the desire in her eyes, and she smiled pleasantly, but she’d clearly lost interest. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking my receipt and bag with the shoe box inside.

I left, feeling much better about myself than I would have had I been here on a guys’ trip and leading her back to my hotel room. I didn’t know about love back then. It was faningtastic to go home to Dara every