A light drizzle had begun to fall by the time Seung-Bae pulled into the Intercontinental’s parking lot.  The snarl of his motorcycle’s engine gained him a few disdainful side-glances from the doormen.  Seung-Bae edged into a spot near the back in an attempt to be less conspicuous. But one particularly disgruntled grandmother, slightly stooped under the starched linen of her pastel, summer dress-suit, actually paused on her way through the parking lot to shake her umbrella in his direction, glaring with all the authority her long life had earned her and shouting, “get a haircut!”  

            Seung-Bae sighed, suddenly lamenting that he’d not taken a taxi instead, and perched his helmet over the bike’s handle bars.  A fine dusting of moisture clung to him.  As he made his way to the hotel’s shiny, glass and brass entrance, he nervously wiped at the slick film covering his face.   

He hadn’t had a chance to replace his cell phone yet, but he was determined to get through to Hawk and give his best friend a well-deserved chewing out.  He still couldn’t believe that Hawk had actually taken off with her.  It was a betrayal, and it hurt more than Hawk could probably understand.  Seung-Bae had an idea of where they might have gone, and he wanted to go after them, but ignoring his father’s command wasn’t really an option.

Still, if Hawk did anything to hurt her, he’d never forgive him.

Seung-Bae glanced at his watch as he strode across the lobby’s marble floor.  There was still about five minutes left before he was due to meet his father.  He detoured, making his way toward a bank of pay phones, and dialed Hawk’s cell again.

A mother and daughter couple passed behind him. Their arms were linked, and their chatter echoed through the lobby’s wide, open space. The younger woman’s profile caught Seung-Bae’s attention. Something about it seemed familiar.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached.  Please leave … “

Seung-Bae cursed to himself and hung up the receiver.  Hawk had switched his phone off, which meant he knew he was in trouble.

Seung-Bae’s chest felt like a knot being pulled tighter and tighter. The hotel was the last place he wanted to be, but he pushed the anger and anxiety away and smoothed his hair back. It was time.

He made his way to the elevator and punched the button for the second floor.

“Can I help you?” a pretty hostess inquired as he approached the restaurant’s entrance.

“I’m meeting another party here, Attorney Kim Myung-Jung?” 

The hostess froze for a moment, then reached up to smooth her French twist. Her lips pressed into a coy smile. “Ah, yes.  Right this way please,” she beamed at him, then led him across the burgundy carpet of the main dining floor to a semi-private alcove near the back. 

Seung-Bae tucked in the tails of his white button-down and straightened his stance.

His father lounged, one leg crossed over the other, at the head of a gleaming, mahogany table. His chin rose, and he watched Seung-Bae’s approach through squinted eyes while he barked out commands over his cell phone; he wore the scent of authority and power the way most men wore aftershave.  It was more than intimidating. Inevitably, Seung-Bae felt like he was a child again.

“Hello, Abeoji,” Seung-Bae greeted with a quick, respectful bow.

            “Sit down.” His father’s deep voice rumbled through the air like a storm cloud threatening to break. Seung-Bae noted with surprise the silvery strands peppered through his charcoal hair.  It had been a long time; they had both grown older. 

His father placed the cell phone on the tabletop, arranging it perfectly with the line of the table’s edge.

“Other than that ridiculously long hair, you are looking well.”

Seung-Bae swallowed hard. He looked down at his hands and nodded.

“You didn’t call me.  I had to hear it from Pastor Park that you hadn’t washed up dead on the beach.”

Seung-Bae was taken aback.  “I’m sorry, Abeoji.  It was nothing really, just a small accident.  I didn’t know you’d been called.  I’m sorry to have troubled you.” He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “I hope you didn’t return to Seoul for that reason.”

“Why wouldn’t they have called?” his father replied icily.  “Am I not your father?  Should I not be notified if something happens to you?”

Seung-Bae’s chin dropped to his chest.  His eyes focused on the intricate folds of the pristine, white napkin settled on the table in front of him.

“Fortunately, I was already scheduled to be here on business,” his father added.

Seung-Bae’s rueful smile was hidden by the long locks that fell around his lowered face.

“How are your studies going?”

“Well,” Seung-Bae replied before giving in to a small, nervous cough.  “I’m doing well.”

“I hear you’ve been performing with your friends.”

He flinched.  “It’s summer break.  It won’t interfere with school.”

“Why do you waste your time with this?  I thought we had an understanding …”

“I enjoy music, Abeoji.  Is it wrong to have a hobby?”

“Is that all it is?”

Seung-Bae didn’t answer.

“Your mother thought you had a talent for music.” His father arranged his arms over the chair’s armrests.  The movement seemed deceptive, like a predator stretching its limbs before lashing out to swallow its dinner whole.

“She never considered of the reality of such of life, though.  Most musicians never make a lucrative career with it, Seung-Bae.  It is a life of constant struggle and sacrifice.  It is a poor choice for someone like you; someone who has a stable future waiting for him.”

He paused to let his words sink in.

            “I spoke with Chairman Choi last night.  He asked me about you.” His father brought one hand up to cradle his chin.  He rested his index finger against his lips, and his eyes sharpened.

“He is eager to bring you into the company as soon as you graduate. He’s invited us to his home for dinner tomorrow evening.  You know,” he added, “his daughter just returned to Seoul for the summer.  She studies abroad.  I hear she’s quite lovely.”

Seung-Bae looked up at his father. The insinuation was clear, and Seung-Bae couldn’t hide the horror he felt.  “You aren’t scheming with him …”

“Why not?  It would be an advantageous match on both sides.  He needs an intelligent and loyal son-in-law; one of adequate standing who isn’t entangled with other corporate obligations. And you – you need a purpose and realistic goals.”

Seung-Bae groaned.

“I’ve given a lot of thought to your situation, Seung-Bae.  I think it’s time you had a change.  You’re too alone here in Seoul.  I’ve talked to your aunt in Los Angeles, and she’s agreed.”

Seung-Bae’s eyes grew wide as he stared into his father’s hardened face.  The eerie whistle of an impending tempest rang in his ears.

“You will move to Los Angeles and stay with her until you finish your studies.  I’ve already made inquiries for you at several schools in the area.”

Seung-Bae’s mouth fell open. “What?” he stammered in disbelief.  “No ... no, I’m not leaving.   How could you ask that?  Everything I care about is here.” Beneath the table, his fists clenched.  “I’ve done everything you’ve wanted.”

Seung-Bae paused, and the silence grew thick and oppressive. 

“I’m not leaving her,” he finally declared.

His father scoffed.  “Leave her?  Do you think this is what she wanted for you? Holding on like this? Your mother is gone, Seung-Bae. You must accept that and continue on with your life.”

“The way you did?” Seung-Bae spat.  “How long did it take for you to bring your mistress to live with you?  Was it before or after the funeral?”

“Kim Seung-Bae!” His father slammed his fist down onto the table.

Seung-Bae drew a ragged breath into his chest in an attempt to quench the fire that raged through him.  He knew that disrespecting his father would not help matters; it could only make things worse.

“Forgive me, Abeoji,” he conceded.  “I should not have said that.”

He watched as the color began to die down from his father’s face. “You will do this, Seung-Bae.”  The man’s voice dripped with rage. He leaned forward and stabbed his index finger onto the table top.  “I will not let you throw your future away.  Your life here, even your friends, they are holding you back from fulfilling all you can become.  It must stop.  This foolishness must stop.  You will go.  And,” he settled back into his chair and glowered, “you will cut your hair.”

They sat, glaring at each other across the table until a quiet figure stepped forward. “Have you gentlemen decided?” their waitress asked as she leaned over the table to fill their water glasses. “If I may make a recommendation, the pasta pazza di te is an excellent choice.”

.  .  .  .  .  .

Hyun-Woo couldn’t believe his luck. Truthfully, he’d been a bit depressed that morning over the blue-jeaned beauty’s early departure from the club the night before. The rest of the girls had stayed until the end, many even coming up afterward to cling to him and whine their dismay that the show had ended so early. But the one girl he’d actually wanted to approach him had seemed uninterested, an unprecedented event that left him wondering if he was losing his touch.

But then it happened. The address label for his next delivery of flowers, a large decorative arrangement obviously ordered for a chic lobby display, indicated it was bound for CHS Entertainment.

He was certain it was a sign.

CHS Entertainment was one of South Korea’s less prestigious agencies, but they represented a healthy assortment of the country’s actors and singers as well as a popular idol group.  They also had a reputation for taking on promising indie artists whose music didn’t fall in line with the main-stream synthesized pop that dominated the industry.

Hyun-Woo gripped the van’s steering wheel and stared through the windshield with eager eyes at the building’s entrance.  Quickly, he threw together a strategy.  This opportunity was too precious to ruin, and after last night’s disappointment at the club, he saw this second chance as a deliberate of divine intervention.  The golden ticket was gifted, and now it was up to him to follow through with the fight. More specifically, he had to get the band an audition, no matter who he had to beg, flatter or lie to.

            Balancing the floral monstrosity against his chest, he maneuvered up to the thick glass doorway and gave the stoic security guard on the other side an apologetic smile.  The guard buzzed him through, then jabbed his finger in the direction of a large reception desk across the lobby.

“Hey there,” Hyun-Woo unleashed his most charming wink on the pretty secretary and then rested the base of the huge vase on the desk’s countertop. 

“Oh!” The woman blinked in surprise as she reached out to sign for the delivery. “I recognize you.  Weren’t you in the band that played at the Ruby Rabbit Club last night?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Hyun-Woo grinned.  “You were there?”

“We had a company celebration there.  You guys were fantastic!  We were so disappointed that you stopped playing early.”

“Yeah,” Hyun-Woo blushed.  “Sorry about that. Something came up.”

“It was such a shame,” she pouted.  “You guys were so good. Your lead singer’s voice was just gorgeous – he completely just gave me chills. We all wanted the Director to hear too, but he didn’t arrive until after you stopped playing. Are you looking to sign with an agency?”

“As a matter of fact, I was actually going to ask …”

She leaned forward conspiratorially and cupped her hand around her lips. “Director Kim is holding invitation only auditions on Friday morning,” she whispered, “but the manager of one of the groups just called to say their lead singer ran off with the drummer’s wife, and they won’t be able to make it. If you want, I can pencil you in for that spot?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. 

Hyun-Woo’s jaw fell open. He stared at her for a few moments before finally stuttering, “Seriously?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

Hyun-Woo could hardly contain his excitement. Heaven had just dropped the grand prize right into his lap. All they had to do was show up.

 A giddy giggle escaped from his throat.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” he gushed as he inspected the slip of paper she slid across the counter top. “What is this?”

The receptionist batted her eyes and leaned in closer. 

“That’s my number.  You,” she whispered huskily, “should definitely call me.”

.  .  .  .  .  .

They ran the length of six city blocks before Hawk finally slowed down. 

Overhead, the sky had darkened, and a misty drizzle made the warm, humid air feel even thicker.   Other walkers hurried, clutching umbrellas and glancing upward with worried looks, expecting at any moment for a torrent typical of monsoon season to drop on them.

Hawk kept his hand firmly encircled around the girl’s wrist.  He pulled her along the crowded sidewalk and cast anxious glances over his shoulder.  His thoughts were racing, and none of them made any sense. 

What had just happened back there?  He’d never seen anything like it; he’d never felt such a surreal sense of danger.  Even at this remote distance, the memory sickened him.

The girl tugged at his hand.  He stopped and turned towards her, really looking at her for the first time since they’d fled the police station.  Her eyes were red and wet, and she clutched at her midsection as though she felt ill.

“Are you okay?”

The look she gave him was pleading.  She rubbed her hand over her stomach.

“You’re hungry?”

She nodded. 

“Aishh,” Hawk scowled at her.  “You don’t have to cry about being hungry.  Come on then.”

He pulled her forward at a slower pace, down a side street and then into a small café.  The place was a little shabby, but the owner, a round-faced woman in a black apron, greeted them with a warm and curious smile.  He led the girl to a table at the rear of the room, and then he sat with his back to the wall for a clear view of the doorway.  She fumbled awkwardly with the chair across from him.

Behind her, a couple dressed in crisp business suits chatted over their lunch.  Glasses clinked against filmy, wooden tabletops, and a fan droned in the corner behind him. The cool air blew across Hawk’s neck, calming him, and the feeling of normalcy gradually returned.  Leaning comfortably against the back of his chair, he finally began to relax.

The girl looked pale; faint circles had darkened under her eyes, and there was a slight tremble to her fingers. 

“Ahjumma! Two orders of mae-un-tang!” He called out. The owner waved at him in acknowledgement.

Hawk drummed his fingers on the tabletop and watched the girl. Her hands were tucked under her chin, and she wrung them together while her eyes followed the movements of the woman preparing their meal.

“What happened back there?” he finally asked. 

Turning to face him, she shrugged unhappily.

“Did you say something to those guys?  Why were they crowded around you like that?”

She shook her head.  The man seated behind her turned and glanced at them. 

Hawk pulled off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the table. His hair lay flattened against his head, and he ran his fingers through it self-consciously. 

In front of them, the café owner set down two, large bowls of steaming soup along with an assortment of side dishes and two, smaller bowls of rice.  Hawk thanked her and reached for a spoon. 

The girl sniffed her bowl before looking up at him questioningly.

“It’s fish soup.  Try it, it’s really good.”

She held the spoon clumsily, as if she knew its purpose but wasn’t yet skilled with the execution.

“Don’t make a mess with it.”

But broth dribbled down her chin with each awkward bite. Hawk let out his breath in disgust and reached over the table with a clean napkin to swipe at her face.  When he’d finished, he stirred his soup thoughtfully before speaking.

“So,” he began. “How did you get to Sokcho?

She sat her spoon down and, with equal solemnity, used both hands to demonstrate for him the fine art of doggy-paddling.

Hawk glared back at her skeptically. “Pssshhh.  Hey …” he dipped his head in an effort to keep eye contact while her spoon dived back into the soup bowl.  “Seriously.  I know who you are, haenyeo girl.  The police had a missing person’s report already on file.  So … how did you get all the way from Jeju to Sokcho?  And what happened to all your cloths and other stuff? Where’s your passport?”

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You’re a student right?  From America?  You were in Jeju with the haenyeo, right?”

She shook her head and attacked her bowl with renewed zeal.

“Well, if not, then who are you?  You can tell me.  I’m trying to help you ... you know that right?”

She lifted the small plate of spicy radish kimchi to her nose and sniffed it. 

A thought suddenly occurred to Hawk. “Why are you doing this?” he accused.

The girl looked up at him in surprise.

“What do you want with Seung-Bae?  Is it money?  Did you find out he inherited money from his mother? Are you trying to pull some kind of scam on him?”

The bite of kimchi she’d been about to stuff into in hovered in mid-air.  A trace of guilt flashed across her face.

“That’s it, isn’t it!” Hawk exclaimed, startled at the thought that he might actually have discovered some bizarre extortion plot.  

But she shook her head as if to say “no, that’s not it.” She looked deflated and miserable.

He leaned across the table, searching her eyes.  “Why should I believe you?”

They sat, holding each other’s gaze, for a full minute before Hawk finally pulled away.

The girl continued with her meal.

“Did he tell you we’ve known each other since we were born?”  Hawk stared down into the steamy broth sitting in front of him, stirring it absently as he spoke. “Our mothers were best friends.” He chuckled to himself.  “I guess it was inevitable that we would be too.”

He paused to take a bite. After a moment, he set the spoon down and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“My mom even has a picture of us as babies chewing on each other’s toes. Don’t repeat that by the way. Seung-Bae and I, we played in the sandbox together. We played team soccer together. We even started kindergarten together. We were seventeen when his mother passed away. His father was always overseas, so my mom raised him like her own son.”

He looked up at her.

“So you see, he’s like my brother.  Do you understand?”

She nodded, her eyes full of empathy and something else.  He wasn’t certain, but it looked like relief. 

“I won’t let him get hurt.” He said the words, but the bite behind them had disappeared.  Instead, the statement was more of a plea.

Again, she nodded.

Hawk shook off the worry that had settled over him and grabbed his spoon.  “Eat up,” he ordered.

Behind her, the man in the business suit turned again to glance at them.  The woman seated across from him leaned sideways, straining her neck in an attempt to see what exactly her lunch companion found so interesting.  Catching Hawk’s eye, she twisted her lips in confusion and annoyance.

Hawk shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

The girl had finally gotten the hang of the spoon; she shoveled bites into faster than she could possibly swallow.

“Ya!  Slow down. You’re going to choke yourself,” he scolded her.

She simply smiled and reached up to toss her long curls over one shoulder.  Hawk froze as the cascade of falling hair filled the air with her clean, sweet scent.  It mingled with the smells of warm food and the damp from the street – yet it remained distinctive in its unique allure.

Behind her, the businessman pivoted in his seat.  He stared at the back of the girl’s head, his nostrils flared, and his eyes slightly out of focus.  Behind him, the woman he was with spat out his name. She smacked her hand down on the tabletop, and the lunch dishes clattered in protest.

Hawk’s spine went rigid with shock.  It was happening all over again. 

Leaping up from his seat, he pulled a handful of crumpled bills out of his pocket and threw them onto the cluttered table.

“That’s enough,” he hissed. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed the girl’s arm and hauled her up from her chair. 

She pouted and snatched a handful of rice out of her bowl.  As he dragged her out to the street, she shoved it into .