April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions (25 page)

I am still reeling from the shock and trepidation. My eyes slowly travel to my savior, and I feel the revelation trickle from the top of my head down to my toes.

It appears as though he is in the middle of exiting the adjacent, unmarked building. The dark aviator sunglasses he is wearing covers more than half of his face, but that distinctive jaw line is hard to miss. His black, tousled hair is styled back from his face, revealing the stunning model-like facial structure. He’s incredible looking in the morning sunlight, despite the fact that his rugged biker ensemble–complete with black pants, black T-shirt, and white bomber jacket–negates the purpose of the summer season.

Mayhem.
My intuition is clapping feverishly at his dramatic entrance.

I feel my heart stop and the great precipice of anger I am on with Spyder crumbles beneath my feet. What are the odds of us running into him here? Has he been watching us? How can I forget? I am probably walking on gangster’s paradise right now.

“Mayhem,” Spyder breathes in shock. “What-what are you doing here?” Surprise colors the bastard’s face; this is the last person he wants to see right now. Rational thoughts escape Spyder.

Even behind those dark midnight
sunglasses, it is apparent that Mayhem’s narrowing his distinctive eyes at Spyder. Mayhem doesn’t entertain Spyder’s question with an answer. I see his face lift back up towards me. The gesture lets me know Mayhem is scanning me now. A thrill shoots through me.
Deadly attraction
. My intuition holds her breath.

“Boss.”

From the adjacent building, three Mayhem members emerge. Apparently, they had some business to attend to in there. When Mayhem’s members see their gang lord looking at Spyder and me, they step forward in a protective manner.

“Please escort Junjin back inside the billiards. Check his pockets for extra cash that can be considered payable towards the interest of his loan,” Mayhem’s command comes out smooth and controlled, almost bored and surmised.

Mayhem’s men step forward at his orders. Spyder throws his hands out in protest. “No. Please. I don’t have any extra money. I’m playing pool with my friends so I can rack up some money to pay you back. Please Mayhem! We will pay your loan back soon!”

Like the true coward that he is, Spyder begins to beg. He folds in front of the gang lord. Mayhem stands in complete silence as three of his men escort Spyder back inside 8-Ball. Spyder is kicking and begging, but does not fight the gang members. They drag him back inside the building.

The back door slams shut behind them, leaving Mayhem and me in the deserted alley.

“You seem to have a lot of family problems,” Mayhem states coolly. He towers over me, displaying worldly characteristics of darkness, danger, and magnetism. “What are you doing here, arguing with that arthropod in public?”

Mayhem’s cunning reference to Spyder doesn’t escape me. The dark humor simmers in his voice. Now that I have obtained more information about Mayhem, and gangs in general, I am little more apprehensive about talking to him. But I will not back down to this bully.

“You’re the reason why I’m having family problems,” I tell him with great courage. With Spyder’s help, I am beyond the point of censorship.

“Is that so?” Mayhem asks calmly. Too calmly. “You’re saying that I stuffed thirty thousand dollars down your cousin and her useless boyfriend’s mouth?”

“Pretty much,” I reply stubbornly. His lips press together in that signature style of his. It is quite impressive what an overwhelming and unforgettable presence he is. Suddenly, I remember the fear and menace people feel just hearing his name.

“I was under the impression that Choi Sangwoo trains his associates and members with better mannerisms.” Mayhem saunters towards me slowly.

Oh shit. He’s so freaking tall.
I am not as tough as I think now that he is standing in front of me. I can smell his distinctive cologne; an exotic mixture evokes the notions of danger, dark magic, and temptation.
Oh my, what am I doing?

“Are you working hard at getting me my money?” Mayhem leans in close.

The gang lord’s nose is almost touching mine. I can see my reflection in his dark glasses. My heart is in my ears and I am straining to hear him speak. Slowly, Mayhem takes off his glasses and those dark eyes that haunt me since our first meeting are staring at me now. Mayhem unleashes the full power of his gaze, and I feel like heavy rocks moving against the current of water. The milky look in his eyes, his light complexion, and chiseled features are unnerving.

I look at Mayhem, attempting to tell him telepathically that I do.

“Do you?” Mayhem asks again.

“I will,” I force the words out of my mouth. “The end of this week.”

“Saturday night, at approximately seven o’clock, you will have the money for me. You will wait outside of your apartment complex and a black vehicle will pick you up to transfer the money to my accountant. Thirty thousand dollars, cash.” Mayhem’s voice is a thick velvet material of threats. “It doesn’t matter to me that you’re an associate with Crist. A debt is a debt, and you must pay in full. Even Choi Sangwoo is reasonable enough to understand that rudimentary rule.”

I gasp slightly as Mayhem withdraws from my space.
Breathe May, breathe.
My intuition swoons at him.

I stand rooted to my spot as Mayhem retreats. He puts his sunglasses back on, and I can no longer see his face. As if on cue, three of his men exit 8-ball. One-by-one they shuffle out of the back door. The tall one with black ear gauges reports, “It’s all taken care of Boss.”

“Good,” Mayhem states simply. “Let’s go.”

The men head in the opposite direction to some parked motorbikes.

Mayhem turns back to me. His lips curl into a charmed smile.
He knows the effect he has on me, bastard
. “Stay away from that nuisance,” he says, inclining his head towards 8-ball, clearly referring to Spyder. “He’ll pay for what he did. Karma doesn’t forget.”

Surprise glosses my eyes. This is the last thing I expect out of him. Why does he care what goes on with Spyder and me? I would never peg Mayhem to be so philosophical. He’s even more complicated than Choi Sangwoo.

Without another word, Mayhem heads to his awaiting gang.

I want to tell him to mind his own business, but I am speechless as I watch Mayhem slip onto a sleek black motorcycle. The bike is an exotic style, harnessed for only experienced riders. Mayhem starts up the engine seamlessly and it roars to life. Within a matter of seconds, Mayhem speeds out of the alleyway with three of his men in tow. Mayhem’s masculine physique leans with the motorcycle as he maneuvers it onto the streets.
He’s not wearing a helmet,
my conscience whines.
He doesn’t have to.
My intuition has her hands on her heart.

The motor difference between Crist and Mayhem? While Crist prefers the shelter of hooded and armored cars, Mayhem fully exposes himself on a motorcycle bike thundering down the streets.

The skin on the back of my head prickles. I don’t know how long I stand rooted to my spot, staring at the now vacant space. When I finally convince myself it is time to go, I attempt to get back into 8-Ball. The back door doesn’t open anymore. Cursing underneath my breath, I round the building and enter from the front again.

I’m not done with Spyder yet. Determined to finish the conversation with him, I enter 8-Ball again.

Fake Blonde looks up at me. “You again,” she states.

I peer through the darkness, trying to see Spyder and his group. “I need to get back in.”

“Fifteen dollars,” Fake Blonde states without blinking. Her ridiculously long eyelashes threaten to overpower her eyes.

“I was just here fifteen minutes ago,” I remind Fake Blonde. “I have to pay again for coming back?”

“I don’t make the rules.” She gives me the nonsensical shoulder shrug.

“That’s ridiculous! I just want to talk to someone really quick,” I tell her. The frustration must be transparent in my voice because Fake Blonde softens her eyes.

“Are you looking for that Spyder guy?” she asks with a tone of empathy in her voice.

“Yes.” Her willingness to disclose information without any monetary gains surprises me.

“Didn’t you see Mayhem’s men kick him out? He and his friends are long gone. No one stays at a location if Mayhem doesn’t want them to,” Fake Blonde tells me.

I gape at her. The ripple effect of his power is never going to stop amazing me. “Thanks,” I mumble under my breath and exit 8-ball.

Even though the sun is flying over the blue skies, a dark cloud descends on me. I walk down the street through the people and the noise. A million thoughts run through my mind and I am still reeling from the confrontation with Spyder and Mayhem.

From the pockets of my gray sweatshirt, I extract my cell phone and scroll through the recent calls list. Taking a deep breath, I press the call button.

“May,” he answers on the second ring. His voice is a cool, breezy air that floats from the other line to my ear.

I bite my lip, closing my eyes. “Hi Sangwoo.”

“I have been waiting for your phone call.”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I’m in.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

H
e takes my acceptance with ease and minimal surprise. Perhaps the gang leader is used to having every offer of his taken. Whatever the case may be, I feel an incredible mixture of anxiousness, fear, and dare I say it–excitement when I hang up the phone with Choi Sangwoo. His instructions echo in my mind long after our phone conversation ends. Sangwoo wants me to meet him first thing tomorrow morning at his work. He promises to text message me the address of the building, and requests that I dress in an all-black ensemble.

I walk home in a state of limbo and jumbled thoughts. My heart races a mile a minute as I contemplate the magnitude of what I have done. I will be joining a gang, and not just a simple street gang that the media often depicts to be senseless troublemakers and territorial minions. I will be joining a prestigious gang that belongs to a hierarchy beyond average comprehension. I may not know what the next six months of my life will be like, but I am sure I will be at the epicenter of it all–if I am going to work with Choi Sangwoo.

Deep down, I know it’s childish to believe that this will work out in a favorable manner. I have no special skills to offer someone of Choi Sangwoo’s caliber. I entertain the thought so there will be reasonable cause for the money I am asking of him. My thoughts are weary and dreadful, strife with apprehension. Questions about what I will be doing with him, along with other possible complications such as hiding it from Eunhye and explaining it to Lina, bombard my mind.

But at the present moment, thoughts jostle out of the way as soon as I enter my apartment.

The sound of Lina vomiting in the bathroom permeates the dead silence.

“Lina?” I call for her.

When I reach the bathroom, my cousin has her arms around the pristine toilet. Lina’s lengthy hair hangs in a halo around her neck and back.
Hair tie,
my conscience grumbles.

“Where have you been?” Lina manages to ask me in the middle of gagging. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying too much.

“I went for a jog,” I lie. I sit down behind her and grab a fistful of Lina’s hair. I watch my cousin lurch forward to dry heave. The contents inside the toilet are clear. “Are you sick?” I ask in a subdued tone.

“I don’t know,” Lina groans. “If I keep feeling like this, I need to go to the doctor Saturday.”

“Saturday,” I mumble as Mayhem’s words float back to me. I remember the way his eyes lingered on me. My stomach feels the fresh batch of butterflies setting in. I do not see the malice and violent Mayhem everyone talks about. Perhaps I can only see the charisma and dangerous allure. But then again, the violent spark that he’s infamous for resonates in his entire being. I shouldn’t forget what he’s capable of. Maybe he finds my stupidity about his world adorable. He’s only entertaining me until he devours me for not paying him back.

Stop thinking May. Just stop.
My conscience shakes her head.

I rub Lina’s back. “We have to pay Mayhem back on Saturday,” I remind her gently.

“Shit,” Lina groans at the uncomfortable thought. “There’s no way I can get even half of thirty thousand dollars at this point.”

“That’s why I’m going to help you,” I tell Lina. “I’m going to meet with Choi Sangwoo at his office tomorrow and hopefully work something out.”

Lina is shaking and trembling. “What do you mean?”

Before I can help myself, I disclose the details of the impending contract to my cousin. After explaining to her what happened last night, I am breathless at the end. 

“Join his gang?” Lina asks me with disbelief shining in her eyes. “What are you going to do for him? You don’t have a mean bone in your body May. How are you going to be a gangster?” When Lina says it aloud, it sounds even more ridiculous.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. He’s adamant about making me part of the team. I don’t have any skills that are even remotely gangster.”

That brings a smile to Lina’s face. “He likes you.”

The thought strikes me as foreign. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Why else would he forge a new job position and want to be near you for the next six months?” Lina questions.

“I don’t know,” I tell her quietly. I do my best to hide my true emotions. I don’t want Lina to know that I am thinking about Sangwoo’s Dead Girl. It’ll bring everything too close to home and full circle.

Suddenly, the front door to the apartment opens. I can hear Eunhye’s voice calling for me. “May? I’m home. Where are you?”

Crap.
I look at the clock above the bathroom mirror. It is already five o’clock.

Horror flashes across Lina’s face. She spits into the toilet and flushes the clear contents down.

I jump and motion for Lina to close the bathroom door behind me. I am out of the bathroom and into the living room in a matter of seconds.

Eunhye is still in her scrubs, but she’s holding a handful of groceries. True to her word of having a family dinner tonight, my mother looks like she bought the whole grocery store. Eunhye smiles at the sight of me, but then a questionable look crosses her face. “Everything okay?”

“Lina’s not feeling well,” I tell her the partial truth.

“Oh? Lina’s here?” Eunhye makes her way over to the kitchen counter and drops off the grocery bags. She washes her hands at the sink and then proceeds to the bathroom.

“Don’t worry mom, it’s ok. She’ll come out when she’s ready.” I walk around the counter to become a human obstacle. “How are you? How was work?”

Eunhye glances at the bathroom with a worried expression, but addresses my question before mentioning Lina again. “Stressful. If it’s not the patients, it’s the paperwork. What is she sick with?”

I start taking the ingredients out of the grocery bags, wary that if I make myself busy Eunhye will join me. She bought mostly vegetables and fruits along with the main dish. “Oh, I love salmon. Are we grilling or frying it tonight?” I pick at the first slab of salmon in its package.

“Frying.” Momentarily, Eunhye forgets about Lina and heads over to the cupboard for a pan. She rinses the pan under the sink first. “I was thinking something healthy and less heavy on the stomach tonight. Besides, Yuna loves salmon.”

“I guess I’ll start chopping the carrots and the bell peppers,” I offer. I wander over to the kitchen’s hanging rack for the chopping board. Then, I retrieve a knife from our kitchen tool cabinet. I’m hopefully that cooking will be busy enough to distract my thoughts.

“So what is Lina sick with?” Eunhye steers the conversation back. She props the cooking pan onto the stove. Next, Eunhye expertly tosses in some cooking oil to prepare the pan for the salmon.

Just as I am preparing to dish out another lie, Lina enters the kitchen with a guarded look on her face.

“Hi aunt Eunhye. I think I have the flu,” Lina sniffles deliberately. Lina has her hands on her stomach, and the pale colors of her cheeks do the rest of the convincing. 

“Hi honey.” Eunhye approaches Lina with her arms out. She grabs Lina into a big bear hug. “I was just talking to your mother today. She didn’t mention you were sick.”

“It just hit me this morning. May and I were going for a jog and I doubled over.” Lina has always been the better liar. She gives me a look over my mother’s shoulders.

I focus on cutting the carrots. I place the small orange pieces in a line and bring the knife down in a simultaneous manner. For some reason, I am on a mission of cutting the carrots in a precise manner.

“Can I help with anything?” Lina offers. She looks around the kitchen with an uninterested facial expression. It is a matter of social and familial respect for her to ask, but we both know it is not in Lina’s heart right now to help with dinner.

“No, no. You just sit down. Tell me what’s going on.” Eunhye motions for Lina to take the nearest bar stool. Eunhye returns to her place by the stove and places the first slab of salmon into the sizzling pan.

Lina looks at me and I shake my head slightly. It’s an indication that I have not disclosed any information to Eunhye. It is better to go with the flow and avoid any signs of suspicion.

“Are you planning to attend college in the fall?” Eunhye launches into the usual topic with Lina.

A balloon of relief expels from Lina’s concerned face. She produces the same, unchanged answer about college not being for her. Not much has changed since high school graduation when it comes to Lina’s answers about her college decision.

Eunhye listens with sympathy, but offers advice on vocational schools. As per usual, Lina shoots them down one-by-one; she would rather invest her early years in gaining experience than flipping through textbooks. Her stubborn justifications run for the duration of my vegetable prepping and Eunhye’s salmon frying.

Eventually, Eunhye ends the aunt-niece banter with, “I wish I could go back to your age when life was what you made of it. No one is pushing you to be a doctor or lawyer Lina. But a college education can go a long way when you’re older.”

Lina shrugs and apologizes to Eunhye for being the black sheep in the family. Eunhye laughs and the two of them exchange an inside joke that even I am not aware of. Soon, the conversation shifts onto lighter topics. Eunhye is both interested and entertained when we start talking about Sansachun and Mr. Chun. When she finally asks about The Trax, I tell my mother it is closing in a week.

Eunhye is ecstatic at the news and nearly burns the fourth slab of salmon. “I’m sorry May, but I am glad that place is closing up. It’s definitely going to lessen my worries and anxieties about you going to work every night.”

Lina lets out a small chuckle. She starts setting up our small kitchen table with plates, napkins, and utensils.

“It’s not that bad mom,” is my half-hearted reply. I start to feel the different shades of defense coloring my voice. “Nothing’s ever happened to me.”

“Thank goodness!” Eunhye lets out a disbelieving comment. “Maybe I can get you a position at the hospital. I think we need a candy striper in the geriatrics department. You’d be working with the older generation, and it’s nothing but humbling.” Eunhye gives me a look that tells me she thinks I need some grounding.

If only I can tell her I already have another job lined up.
Yeah mom, I’m going to be a gangster soon!
My intuition is rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach as she laughs with hiccups.

I look up to see Lina flash me a secretive look. My partner-in-crime finds my mother as humorous as I do.

Fortunately, the doorbell saves me from having to continue this conversation.

“I’ll get it.” Lina bounds towards the front door.

“Hello!”

Aunt Yuna is the first one through the door with uncle Dom shuffling behind her. Yuna is holding a bottle of wine in one hand and fruit tart platter in the other. In many ways, my only aunt from my father’s side is a lot like him. Yuna has the same brown eyes and soft nose on a delicate fac
e structure. She stands three inches taller than the rest of the other female family members. Yuna is a blunt personality with specific habits and believes that the world should operate accordingly.

My uncle Dom, on the other hand, looks like a typical retired wrestler. He sports a short haircut and signature black belt. Since his retirement from the wrestling world, Dom’s passionate about business since he owns a small hardware store at the center of town.

At the sight of a pale Lina, Yuna scolds her only daughter. “Where have you been? I called you ten times today. Why are you so pale?”

“I’ve been here all day mom.” Lina reaches up to take Yuna’s hand off her forehead. Lina makes a face at her anxious mother.

“You know the rules Lina. One phone call is all it takes,” Dom chimes in.

“It’s my fault uncle Dom. I kept her busy today with errands.” I offer a small
smile to diffuse the attention.

Lina mutters a, “thank you” behind me as Yuna and Dom direct their attention to them.

“Hi May. How are you?” Dom gathers me up into a hug, wrestler style.

“I’m good. It’s nice to see you.” I return Dom’s hug just as Yuna joins the latter half of our lackluster group hug.

“Oh, you lost weight.” Yuna always makes it a point to comment on my current physique. She kisses the right side of my cheek. “It’s good to see you honey.”

“It’s good to see you too.” I return her hug before she abandons me for Eunhye.

“I smell salmon!” Yuna and Dom make their way over to the stove where Eunhye is waiting with open arms.

More hugs exchange between the adults. We are a big hugging family. Dom and Yuna have always been particularly fond of Eunhye, my father’s first and only wife. Despite the bad decisions that my father made Yuna was there when everything in the immediate family crumbled, and even voted in favor of Eunhye over her own brother. Aunt Yuna usually bases her judgment on the events that happen rather than familial ties.

I am very blessed to have such forgiving family members.

“Alright, let’s have some dinner.” Eunhye shuts off the stove and begins dishing pieces of the salmon onto plates.

“Let me help you.” Dom is already by my mother’s side.