April Loves Black Coffee: First Impressions (35 page)

As I walk in the shadows of the looming buildings with my co-workers, I am hyper aware of Ren. I expect to see him lurking in the shadows, stalking me, but there is no sign of him. Although I look for the distinctive gray car, I know Ren probably has a different vehicle by now. By the time we enter Fox, I am entirely convinced that Ren is gone. 

Fox is a nifty little sports bar westernized in the true sense. The walls are complete with a kaleidoscope of banners and ribbons of sport memorabilia. It is crowded and deafening tonight. A sports game is on and the entire bar is packed with fans wearing their favorite colors. Tailor leads the way through the throng of people. He acknowledges one of the bartenders and skips the line.

“Let Tailor work his magic.” Joolie is
giggling already. She hooks an arm around my neck. “I’m going to miss working with you Maybelline.”

I don’t know where the burst of emotions comes from, but I go along with it. Joolie appears to be in a happy and celebratory mood.

“Please don’t say my full name,” I joke with good humor.

“It’s beautiful. Maybelline.”

“What about me?” Son chimes in. “You’re going to miss me Joolie?”

Joolie extends her arm and brings Son under her hold. “You too control freak!”

“Hey!” Son makes a playful jab at her.

“Drinks first. Hugs later!” Tailor returns with four shot glasses. The pristine
liquid dances under the lighting of the bar. “Patron.” Tailor hands each of us a shot glass, including a slightly larger glass filled with a chaser.

I make a face. I am not much of a drinker, but for the cause of tonight, I hold my shot glass in my right hand and my Sprite chaser in the other.

“Fuck The Trax!” Joolie suggests the toast.

Tailor bursts out laughing while Son and I exchange amused, incredulous looks.

“Fuck The Trax!” I find myself joining my co-workers. We shove our glasses together and toss the liquids to the back of our throats. I swallow the Sprite chaser as soon as the Patron shot goes down.

Suddenly, I am alive. The sharp shooting sensation of the alcohol brings me to life. My blood is hot in a matter of seconds and my head is light in a matter of minutes. I am a lightweight. Son and Joolie laugh at the facial expression I make.

“Come on, May. It was just one.” Joolie points to the colors dancing on my cheeks.

“All it takes is one,” I complain to her.

“Come on.” Tailor leads the way through the crowded bar towards a table. Fortunately, the people there are leaving. Joolie plops down into a chair, laughing loudly. Tailor touches her cheeks while Son swats at his hand. I have never seen my co-workers so relaxed and carefree. I feel a stab of guilt that I never took the time to hang out with them often.

I take the seat next to Joolie. As my co-workers launch into conversation, I scan the bar quickly, feeling watched, but realize quickly the alcohol contributes to my paranoia. I check my phone as Son orders another round of shots. Joolie wants Patron while Son argues Grey Goose will do the trick. I do my best to block out their bickering and see that I have one missed call from Choi Sangwoo and another one from an unknown num
ber. I stow my phone back in my pockets. I don’t want to see Choi Sangwoo tonight; I make up my mind. The mixed thoughts and feelings I have towards him are starting to show their confused and ugly heads–especially under the influence of alcohol. I need time away from him, away from his power and influence.

Son ends up buying us Grey Goose for the second round. Before I know it, we are reminiscing about ex-customers by the fourth round.

“Number Nine girl. I can’t believe after all this time, we never got her name!” Tailor finishes his fourth shot of Grey Goose and wears the Asian Flush on his cheeks with pride. 

Son is a giggling mess as he adds, “I told you she’s a hard egg to crack.” He runs his hand through his messy air.

“Oh boys.” Joolie shakes her head at them. “Who was your most memorable customer?” Joolie urges me when she notices my silence.

Choi Sangwoo’s name flashes in my mind. Of course he’s turning out to be more than just a memorable customer, but I bite down on my tongue. “I don’t think I have one. If anything, it is Number Nine girl too.” I am on my third glass of water in hopes of diluting all the alcohol before I throw up.

“Aww, you’re no fun. I think for me it was that night when that gangster guy was throwing up at our bar.” Joolie makes a face at the memory. “Super-Gorgeous-Sexy is my name for him!”

“You w
eren’t even there.” Tailor unknowingly makes the situation lighter for Son, who freezes at the verbal mentioning of Choi Sangwoo. It’s Tailor’s jealousy talking too.

“I was there when he first came in! Table Twelve, I still remember. What a
good-looking son-of-a-bitch.” Joolie licks her lips as though she is reliving a fond memory.

The last thing I want to do right now is talk about Choi Sangwoo. It is completely uncharacteristic of me, but I am on my feet and shouting, “Who’s ready for round five?!”

“Yes!” Tailor shouts while Joolie and Son groan.

B
Y THE END OF THE
night, Joolie is outside of Fox vomiting stylishly in the bushes. Tailor has her hair in his hands, fighting off the bouncers who are telling us to leave. They are stereotypical in black ensembles complete with leather gloves and trench coats.

“I’m going to take her home,” Tailor is telling the shorter bouncer.

“I’m taking both of them home,” Son corrects him. “Sorry man.”

“We’ll be fine. I can handle my alcohol. Bartender, remember?” Tailor makes his point. “You need a ride home May?”

I scan the street. Alcohol is coursing through my system, but I feel sobriety returning to my head. The cool summer weather, along with Joolie’s vomit, is setting the picture straight for me.

“No. I’m having someone pick me up,” I lie. I want to be by myself for a moment. I need time to think and let things settle. Alcohol makes me antisocial for all the wrong reasons.

Son eyes me warily. His eyes twinkle as though he is about to say otherwise, but decides against it. “Ok. We’ll see you next week at the severance check party,” he jokes instead.

“Ok.” I turn to Joolie who is borderline unconscious. “I’ll see you next week Joolie.”

She lifts up a hand to wave to me. The bouncers are making a face at her. Joolie gives them the middle finger. Son lowers her hand and makes a motion to apologize to the now irate bouncers on her behalf.

Tailor gives me a sheepish smile while he wraps Joolie’s arm around his neck. “You sure you don’t want a ride?”

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine Tailor.”

Son gives me a tentative smile. “Alright. Bye May.”

“Bye.”

“Get home safe.”

“Have a good night.”

I step back to watch my co-workers head down the opposite side of the road. The bouncers eye me with anticipation.
Don’t worry, I’m not going back inside the bar.
My conscience sticks her tongue out at them.

I expect a peaceful bus ride home
, but before I take another step, my name ricochets off the empty street. The shrill echo sends the back of my neck prickling. I stuff my hands inside my sweatshirt and pick up my feet.

“May!” I recognize his voice before I even see him. “May, honey!”

Everyone on the street, including the few who are lingering outside of Fox focus their attention on me. I freeze and turn to see that Bryan is running towards me. A large, permanent grin plasters on his face. Two figures follow closely behind him.

“May, baby.” Bryan wraps an arm around my shoulders, forcing me into a hug. I imagine him with a leash around his neck, eager and loyal like a canine. But if I had a collar for him, I would tie him around the tree and leave him there for the next sucker. Alcohol is really a truth serum.
Leave him alone, he’s adorable
. My conscience and her soft spot for Bryan intervene every time.

“What are you doing here May?” Bryan glances at Fox with an anxious expression. “You don’t go to these places.” Behind him, two of his friends grin at me. I have met them before–Dumb and Dumber.

“I don’t. I went out with my co-workers.” I don’t know why I am entertaining Bryan with the reason. “What are you doing here?” Curiosity strikes my better judgment.

Bryan looks for my co-workers. A smile crosses his lips as though he can see my imaginary colleagues. “Just got some drinks with my friends.” He nods to the two other goons, making a point that they are real. Bryan grins sheepishly at me. His fabricated crush on me gets under my skin in a very strange way.

“Good for you Bryan. Bye. Have a good night.” Of all the people I can run into, it has to be him.
And I don’t even know that many people. It’s bad luck through and through lately.
I turn towards the bus stop.

“Wait. Where are you going?” Bryan follows me eagerly. “Bye guys. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He waves to his friends who gape at his audacity to ditch them.

“Bryan!” Dumb and Dumber shout after him, but Bryan makes a gesture for them to hastily retreat.

“I have to meet my boyfriend.” The alcohol gives me courage. I pick up my pace and continue my fervent gait down the street. Thoughts of regret bombard me. I should have gone home with Son and them.

“Wha-what?” Bryan lips tremble. He stops walking, causing me to slow my pace too. Bryan’s eyes meet at the bridge of his nose.

Choi Sangwoo and I are far from being girlfriend and boyfriend, but the words slip out of my mouth before I can myself. Although I say it to discourage Bryan, I can’t help but feel that the declaration brings with it the same power that makes people cower when I tell them I am associated with Crist.

“I’m going to meet my boyfriend Bryan.” I try the words out again, feeling a sense of empowerment and liberation with it.

“I don’t believe it! You don’t have a boyfriend May!” Bryan counters me. He grabs onto my arm with a hasty motion. The reaction is more intense than I expect.

“Let go of my arm Bryan! What are you doing you freak?” He is crossing the invisible boundaries I draw for him.

Bryan is really starting to tick me off. He is just a little high school boy, flirting with me harmlessly, so why is he getting all worked up?

“Bryan! Stop!”

“I want to meet your boyfriend.”

We are too engrossed in our bickering to realize we have reached the end of the main street. The layout makes way for a labyrinth of alleys. Bryan is still in my ear, yapping away as we round the corner of the side street. This street is infamous as a dead end because major roads, streets, and pedestrian access are restricted. The only way out is in.

Shadowy figures are ahead of us. They tower and loom over one figure in particular. The conversations are varied and incoherent, but there is one command that stands out.

“Get up.”

I grab Bryan’s hand quickly and drag him behind the wall of the last turn. Bryan and I take our places behind the wall to peek out.

There are four men standing in the middle of the deserted alley. To the right of them, leaning listlessly against the gray brick wall, is a woman with blackened eyes, reddened lips, and trodden facial features. Her eyes turn down, staring at the male lying in a crumpled heap next to her towering heels. The male, completely unidentifiable in the darkness, is too unconscious to know that his misery is their triumph.

“Get up.” The more dominant figure of the four steps forward. He extends the heel of his right boot towards his victim’s head. When his victim doesn’t respond, the man looks at the expecting woman. From the depths of his breast jacket, the man extracts an envelope to transfer to the woman.

The dim light from the main street makes his distinctive gait and demeanor all the more recognizable. The chill starts from the back of my neck and spreads down my neck.

Ren. Sangwoo’s Ren. Sangwoo’s gang.
So this is where he’s been! He stopped following me to beat someone up.
My intuition has her I-told-you-Choi-Sangwoo-is-shady hat on.

“Come on Ren. You can do better than that,” says the woman. She gives him a speculative look, but shoves the envelope into her purse.

“Your work here is done,” Ren tells her coolly.

The woman hesitates, but decides it is better for her survival to walk away while she can. She tosses her long hair back and fixes the front of her jacket. Without another word, the woman heads toward our direction.

I grip Bryan’s arm and pull him deeper into the shadows of our shelter. I motion for Bryan to keep quiet as the woman makes her way past us. Her high heels click in a repetitive manner.

“Take care of him.” Meanwhile, Ren turns back to the gang members.

“What’s going on?” Bryan whispers beside me.

I shake my head and hold a finger to my lips. Who is that man on the ground?
Oh no. Just when I think I have Choi Sangwoo figured out.

There is a flurry of activity as two gang members approach the victim on the ground. Together, they grab a handful of his hair and drag him in an upwards motion. Before I can help myself, I gasp loudly when I see who it is.