Seoul Spankings (6 page)

Really!
I scanned the room for Indigo’s brilliant green dress.
Carene shouldn’t let Leila tour without her. She’ll have a big-headed diva on her hands, and
….

Where was Indigo? With the light-colored hair and her striking dress, I should have found her at a glance. I motioned for Minhee to come near.

“The bathroom?” she suggested, knowing my question before I asked.

I nodded in relief. “Of course. Cancel our reservation for Namsan Tower and call Miss Cha to pick up some fresh
samgyopsal
and all of the trimmings. Where can we get a portable grill at this time of night?”

Minhee’s silence said what she didn’t dare say aloud.
Have you gone insane?
“Of course,” she said, throwing in extra enthusiasm to make up for the delay. “You want a picnic.”

“In the country,” I added. “We’ll need a net canopy and a floodlight and a covered picnic spot near a stream. With fish, if possible.”

“With fish,” Minhee repeated. She backed away, repeating my requests. To her credit, she kept most of the incredulity out of her voice, if not her face. “Yes, now!” she said into her phone. “I
know
the stores are closed. Find an all-night mart!”

I nodded in satisfaction and slipped to the nearest restroom. Fortunately, there was only one close to our side of the stage. I waited, half-aware of someone sobbing in an occupied stall.
Poor girl. Hope her night gets better
.

As patrons entered and exited the stalls, the middle left door remained closed. The cries quieted, followed by snuffling and nose-blowing. I grimaced. It was not an attractive sound, for sure. Maybe she would compose herself and come out to re-apply her makeup.

When the door opened at last, I found myself staring into the woebegone expression of Indigo in a crumpled, tearstained dress. Her nose shone bright red, and she sniffed. When she saw me, she took a step backward and almost closed the door. I held my hand out and propped the door open.
What’s wrong?
I wanted to say, but I didn’t know whether I should ask. With a sudden pang, I remembered my first night in America as an exchange student. I had sobbed in every airport bathroom from Seoul to New York City. In the last one, in the JFK airport, I met Leila returning home from a tour of Eastern Europe. She could barely understand my terrible English, but she took me home with her and helped me find my way to the dormitory at Columbia. She took me there herself, and I never forgot her kindness.

“Are you sick?” I settled for a safe, physical question. Indigo could blame any emotional duress on her body, the way a good Korean woman would do. Headaches, stomachaches, improperly functioning bowels and bladders all served to excuse tears at inopportune times.

“I…thank you for showing me your country tonight, but I’d like to get some rest before my flight tomorrow.” She refused to look at me, crumpling the edge of her sash.

My heart sank. “You didn’t have any dinner. Let’s get something besides seafood. You’ll like….”

She gave an abrupt shake of her head. “Thank you, but no. Please take me back.”

If I knew her better, I could persuade her to tell me the problem. If she were my employee, I could reassure her with food, alcohol, or plenty of both. I stared at this girl from another land, wondering where we went wrong. At last, I asked with as much gentleness as I knew how. “Are you sure?”

She dried her eyes and stood taller. “Yes. Please. Thank you for taking me to the concert.”

I could force her, if I wished. I could tell my driver to take us anyway. But I looked down at her tearstained face. “All right.”

***

“Fresh
samgyopsal!
The best! The sesame leaves aren’t absolutely perfect, but they are fresh, too. We couldn’t get a net canopy, but we got some netting instead. Minhee-ssi found a big flashlight we can attach to a pole and use for a floodlight. She also brought a change of clothes for each of you.”

Thankfully, Minhee delivered her report in Korean. She kept flicking her gaze toward Indigo and pretending not to.

“That’s all right. We won’t need them, after all.”

“But—”

“Let’s take Indigo-ssi home.”

Indigo looked up at her name, but I gave thanks she couldn’t understand.

“What’s wrong?” Minhee fluttered with anxiety.

Miss Cha could have handled the situation better, but she had stayed at home to prepare for our evening together. I laughed to myself. What evening? Then, inspiration struck. I might not have been able to coax Indigo to talk to me, but underlings had their uses. Giving thanks again for the language barrier, I explained the situation to Minhee. “I don’t know why Indigo-ssi is upset. Please take her to the foyer and try to find out, and I’ll let Miss Cha know we are coming home early.”

“But my English….”

“Just do it.” I walked away before Minhee could stop me. I needed to cool down, and I needed to do it away from this impossible enigma. Faced with someone I could neither understand nor command, I paced the hallway. I’d meant to investigate the new wing of the Arts Center, after all.

“Wait, please!” Minhee’s alarmed voice carried through the echoing halls. “Miss Indi Go would like to accompany you.”

I shrugged and waited for Indigo to follow.

“I told her she would like to see the light fountain,” Minhee explained, and I could have kissed her. Of course. I should have thought of it myself.

“Don’t cancel the picnic yet,” I said in Korean over my shoulder as I took Indigo’s hand. “Come with me. You’ll want to see this.”

Surprised but obedient, Indigo followed me out the door and through the courtyard. Already the long, narrow water fountain danced in time with a Wagner overture. The multi-colored lights sparkled as the gathering crowd oohed and aahed. Little children ran up to the fountain, dancing and shrieking with excitement when the water hit them unexpectedly. Mothers parked their strollers, and young couples leaned arm in arm.

“Oh!” Indigo’s eyes widened as she took in the display.

Bemused, I watched her gasp as the water climbed higher and higher, only to collapse in a glorious crash of chords.
Traditional symphony not your fare? Try a little water and light in the outdoors
. She shivered, and I put an arm around her. She pushed away, nicely but firmly.

“It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to pretend I’m your newest girlfriend or business partner. I won’t embarrass you.”

Her words, echoing mine to Leila and Miss Cha, stung my conscience. “Okay,” I said. “I deserved that. One word of gossip gets out, and—”

“What gossip?” She stared at me. “You bring me over for a job interview, and your people dress me up like Cinderella, and….”

It was my turn to stare. “A job interview?”

She blushed. “Forget it.”

“You thought you were coming here to interview for a
job
?”

She hunched her shoulders. “I’m stupid, okay? I get it. I said forget it.”

Stammering, I tried to find words to correct the misunderstanding. “Indigo,” I murmured. I took her hand in mine. “I’m not looking for an employee; I’m looking for a wife.” Madame Eve-nim promised one night, but my research showed her clients often spoke of receiving so much more. Marriage. A perfect mate.

A wife
. Hyunkyung’s words rang in my ears, and my head spun with conflicting reactions.

She likes me. She really likes me.

What am I, some modern-day picture bride?

Maybe it meant something to her, too, when we talked at dinner. I knew it wasn’t just a business conversation!

Wife? In this a backward country? What kind of barbaric rituals do they have? Will I have to eat dog?

Indi, she’s
rich.
She could be your sugar mama
.

At the crassness of the last thought, I recoiled. I might not know Hyunkyung well yet, but I liked what I did know. Whatever I liked about her, it could not be money. The ice princess had surprising depth and tenderness.

The fountain display shuddered to an end, and the children around us groaned. Parents packed up strollers and backpacks, and whining rose from kids who had been content three seconds earlier. It surprised me, the universal tone of whining. Without understanding a word, I could feel the nagging petulance of children and the weary, long-suffering replies from parents who had already yielded in many ways.

The kids should be in bed by now
. It was easier than facing Hyunkyung’s answer.

“Indigo-ssi? Does that upset you?”

“No,” I lied.
You idiot. She said she was looking for a wife, not you as a wife. She might mean someone different
.

“Indigo,” she said, taking my arm. “I’m not proposing.”

“I know.” My voice came out louder than I’d intended. “I’ll go home tomorrow, and you can find your wife.”

“Tomorrow….” She colored. “Excuse me, I shouldn’t have been so hasty. You don’t have to go back so soon. If you don’t want to.”

“But I do.” I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t get into nebulous territory. Already I’d been yanked around more times than I wanted to admit. I, who had considered myself too civilized for a backward third-world country, found myself wanting to stand on equal ground with this aristocrat. “I’d like to go home.”

The white collar set off her petite collarbones, drawing attention from the sleek, black bodice and regal carriage. In the shadows of the bright lights against the night darkness, her figure slumped. I wanted her to argue with me, but I didn’t know what that would mean.

“At least, you must eat.” Satisfied with her decision, she nodded for Minhee to precede us.

The two exchanged rat-a-tat Korean before Minhee pulled out her phone and seemed to convey Hyunkyung’s instructions. Standing in the darkness, all at once a wave of homesickness washed over me. Maybe it was jet lag or fatigue or the newness catching up with me, but I wished I could crawl into my bed at home. I sighed. I’d broken down my bed and donated it to the local thrift shop.

“Come in,” Hyunkyung said, seating herself in the limousine. Minhee reclined the seats almost horizontal and covered us with pink blankets decorated with rows of flowers and edged with pink piping. They gave me a fluffy soft and exquisitely warm hug, bringing instant drowsiness. “Sleep now, and you will feel better when we arrive.”

I wondered why we should sleep when the trip to the concert had taken half an hour, but I accepted the creature comforts with pleasure. I fell asleep before Hyunkyung’s driver pulled out of the driveway. I dreamed of fields full of pink flowers.

***

“Indigo,” a voice insisted, interrupting my frolic in the fields. I cracked an eye open to see Minhee turning the handle on the car door. Her sleek suit contrasted with the tumble of weeds, dried grass, and gravel road, and Hyunkyung stirred beside me. Her chauffeur turned off the car’s ignition, and Minhee took out a picnic tote bag, a tinfoil-lined seating mat, and a boxed cake. I stared at her, stupid with confusion. Wildly, the worst fear came to mind.

She’s going to abduct, rape, and sell me into sexual slavery under an assumed name. I’ll never be found alive
.

When I got home, I would stop watching far-fetched cop shows.

“What?” I asked, unable to make the adjustment from posh concert hall to dilapidated countryside.

Greg
, I thought, against my will. With a jerk of mental effort, I added,
Go to hell
. Already, her efficient assistants had set up a small grill, netting, and an enormous flashlight to illuminate our efforts. Or, rather, their efforts. The crackle of cooking meat gave a tang to the fresh, unpolluted air. As Minhee set up tiny dishes of various green and red colored vegetables, Hyunkyung used long wooden chopsticks to turn the pieces of meat. As they cooked, she snipped them into perfect rectangles with a red-handled pair of kitchen shears. My stomach rumbled, despite the ominous pile of kimchi sizzling next to the more innocuous meat.
Spicy spoiled cabbage
. Hyunkyung placed some translucent teardrop shaped pieces on the grill. Garlic cut into slices, most likely, but I had never seen it grilled this way before. Most of my garlic came powdered in a plastic spice container.

“Come,” she repeated. She stepped out of her shoes and sat cross-legged on the bamboo mat, a place for me at her side. Minhee and her driver took their cue and melted into the darkness. Perhaps they returned to the car to continue their nap. I, on the other hand, tingled with alertness.

“Okay,” I answered. Before I could sit down, she offered me a bite-size piece of meat from her chopsticks.

“Taste it,” she commanded me. “You’ll like it.”

I opened my mouth like a baby bird, and she deposited the burn-inflicting meat. “Ack! Ooh! Ouch!” I grabbed at a bottle of water and doused my mouth with coolness. “Ow!”

“Really, Indi,” she said with amusement. “Is your tongue that sensitive? Come here.”

Slightly afraid of what she might do, I edged closer to her. She picked up a new cooking chopstick and rapped the end against my buttocks. I stared at her, unable to comprehend her actions.

“Taste,” she ordered.

This time, I accepted the meat between my teeth and blew on it before chewing. Crispy, juicy, flavorful goodness. My stomach rumbled, and she laughed as she picked up the clean chopstick.

“Oh, no.” I backed away. I liked her feeding me, but I didn’t like the weird games.

Ignoring my protest, she set the chopstick down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but too soon. She reached around and pulled my sash to the side, applying a crisp smack to my bottom. I gaped at her, only to be fed another piece of meat. I wanted to protest, but the pork filled my mouth and belly with a new and wonderful sensation. Hyunkyung picked up a string of the nasty cabbage, and at that I drew the line.

“No, thank you.” I turned my face away and squealed when she pulled me next to her. I breathed in her scented hair products, close enough to reach out and caress the velvety neck. I had to clench my hands tight in order not to touch, and she caught me by surprise with another clap across my buttocks.