Debut, p.24
Debut, page 24
Following a walk along the promenade, they found a broad patch of grass near the Tempe Fine Arts Center and sat facing each other in a wide circle. Discussions turned to all topics: school, family, and, of course, the band. Excited by the prospects of the impending video shoot, Heather felt particularly exuberant and chatty that evening. The warm breeze tickled her skin, charging her with energy. Perhaps sensing that the timing was right, Mindy inquired into a topic Heather had long avoided. “Do you feel like talking about 37-G?”
Heather knew the day would come when she’d have to face the truth of her situation. Made in Heaven had proven resilient enough to make it this far. They were on the eve of their biggest-ever undertaking. If all went well, the video could win a festival prize and maybe even earn some money. Perhaps the increased exposure would spark something big. Would it be anything like the fame Glimmer Blue was enjoying? No. Not even close. But the seven of them were building something all on their own. Nobody could take that away from them.
Heather felt she owed the members an explanation as collaborators and now friends. The incident in Korea had scarred her deeply. The pain of that memory continued to hold her back. By refusing to acknowledge it, she’d never heal properly. And to heal, she had to talk about it. At that moment, surrounded by friends in a pleasant setting far removed from the trauma scene, would she ever find a better time? After Mindy asked the question, silence prevailed. The girls waited patiently, perhaps sensing that the mystery surrounding their main singer would soon be lifted.
Heather took a deep breath and recalled the events that led to her downfall.
“This is the day we’ve been waiting for!” shouted Da-som as she barged into the lunchroom at 37-G Entertainment. “Rehearsals are canceled. Get dressed. We’re going to Amethyst tonight.”
Jaws dropped. The news was followed by an explosion of delight as the message hit home. “Is this it?” asked dancer Minjung.
“We’re meeting a group of company investors,” answered Da-som. “That means final selections are coming soon. Be sure to show off your best self. Your future depends on it.”
Grace smiled broadly. “Maybe this is the day,” she said, hugging Heather.
All 12 remaining trainees were invited to the dinner. These were the A-listers. The ones who had survived culling after culling to make it this far. Many tears had been shed in previous weeks, but 37-G had plans for only one girl group. Those who failed to debut would be forced to start again elsewhere or abandon their idol dreams altogether.
That afternoon, the dorms were chaotic. Given the time crunch, there weren’t enough showers and mirrors for privacy. Preparations became a group effort as trainees coordinated bathing schedules, provided advice on dress selections, and did each other’s hair and makeup.
Heather selected a long-sleeved, straight-necked, form-fitting, red dress that extended to mid-thigh, with sheer black hose and red pumps. She chose the material because it shimmered in the moody lighting anticipated at the restaurant. Grace wore a backless, gray tartan plaid dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck. Her outfit was the same length as Heather’s but flared at the hem. The look was completed by black knee-length boots.
At the dorm entrance, the girls found a small bus waiting. Any nerves they experienced were dwarfed by the overwhelming sense of excitement.
“Be sure to show these VIPs your appreciation,” said Manager Chi-won during the ride. “They’re financing your debut.”
“How big will the debut group be?” asked Da-som.
Chi-won looked sheepish. “Don’t put me on the spot.”
“Come on, we won’t tell anyone,” Grace said. Her entreaty was joined by a chorus of others who piled on the pressure.
“I believe they’re considering five,” he said, relenting.
Minjung whistled. “Those odds are worse than I thought.”
“You didn’t hear any of this from me, by the way.”
Amethyst was one of Seoul’s most exclusive restaurants. None of the trainees had ever been there before, as it was far beyond their financial means. The restaurant catered to a crowd more familiar with signing multi-billion-dollar business deals than paying monthly mortgages (or living in dorms). Rumors also abounded that arrangements of a more clandestine nature occasionally transpired there. As a result, the parade of elegantly dressed young women was met with disapproving stares as they passed through the crowded dining room. Heather felt embarrassed, both for herself and her colleagues. She thought these people wouldn’t be so judgmental if they knew the actual reason for their visit.
Tucked away at the end of a long corridor, a heavy wooden door opened onto a richly decorated chamber. Water cascaded over an imposing granite face comprising one entire wall. At its base was a pool stretching around the floor edges. The effect of this unique arrangement was akin to dining on a floating platform. Around an impressive oak table sat seven men. They wore finely tailored suits, though some had removed their coats. Ages ranged from the early 40s to the late 60s. Heavy cigar smoke filled the air. The smell of alcohol was pungent. Dinner service had concluded, though banchan of watercress namul and oi muchim were being served as the trainees entered.
It soon became evident the girls were expected to tend to the VIPs’ needs. This consisted of pouring drinks, laughing at terrible jokes, and making these men, two or three times their own age, feel desirable. Pulling off this feat required the trainees to draw considerably on their still-developing acting skills. For the most part, they handled themselves with aplomb. None complained if a joke was made at their expense or if they were touched inappropriately. They understood what was at stake and knew their idol dreams could crash and burn with one adverse reaction.
Before long, Heather was invited to sit by Mr. Lee’s side. She could tell he was respected by the way others deferred to him. He acted cordially towards her, inquired after her interests, and avoided improper behavior. Considering what some of her peers endured, she had it easy.
The night was long, and the bus didn’t return home until 2:30 a.m. The trainees felt disillusioned and confused. No further news had emerged regarding the debut date or the selection process. Despite a late bedtime, they were expected to observe their regular class schedule, starting bright and early the following day.
Heather’s mind raced with worried speculation throughout the night. Sleep avoided her. The next morning was spent in a daze. She intended to skip lunch to nap, but Chi-won intercepted her. He had other plans. “Heather, you’re excused from afternoon practice.”
“Did I mess up?”
“Mr. Lee requested you meet at his office regarding the debut. Get dressed. A car is being sent.”
“Right now?” Heather was unable to contain herself. Grace, standing nearby, overheard the news and insisted on accompanying her. Chi-won granted the request after much joint needling. Heather had but two dresses refined enough for such a momentous occasion. Since the red one had been used the previous night, she was left with one option: a black, off-the-shoulder pullover. It was more risqué than she preferred, but a matching overcoat allowed some modesty.
“What time is the car coming?” asked Grace an hour later.
“Should be soon,” responded Heather, rechecking the clock on the marquee of the bank building across the street.
“Look.” Grace pointed at an approaching raven-black town car with inky windows. It stopped directly in front of them. An impeccably dressed driver emerged and stiffly walked around the vehicle. Without offering a greeting, the towering hulk opened the rear passenger door. Heather, amused by his aloofness, grinned and entered the car. Grace attempted to follow but was impeded by the driver’s massive outstretched arm.
“Chi-won said she could join me,” protested Heather.
“I was sent to bring you only,” the driver said gruffly.
Heather looked perturbed but relented. “It’s okay, Grace. I’m sorry you had to get dressed for no reason.”
“That’s not the issue.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll talk later.” The car door shut unceremoniously. Heather waved and smiled to reassure her friend, but the tinted windows ensured the gesture was wasted.
The town car left Gangnam-gu and pushed into the hills overlooking the district. A serpentine road coiled through the mountains, arriving at a secluded, stony-walled compound. Without slowing, the car slipped through iron-jawed gates that opened as if by magic. The driver stopped in a stately courtyard bricked in the hue of ash and surrounded by a hulking mansion. Heather peered at the splayed staircase designed to deposit guests at ornately girded double doors. Thorny vines enveloped a glass canopy like pythons. “What is this place?” she asked the driver when he opened her door.
“Mr. Lee will see you at his residence,” he answered blankly.
A woman with soot-colored hair stood in the doorway, waving her arm. Confused over this change in plan, Heather climbed the stairs and approached the woman, stating, “I was supposed to be at Mr. Lee’s office.”
“It’s here,” she said brusquely. The woman took her coat and handed it off to a lanky, square-jawed male, where it disappeared down a labyrinthine hall. Heather was escorted past a grand staircase, through a short corridor, and into an expansive great room with a stunning view of Seoul stretching toward the horizon below. “Oh, wow,” she gasped as the full extent of the panorama became apparent. The lights of the magnificent city were shimmering in the gloaming.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” said a dignified voice from behind.
Heather faced Mr. Lee, who approached magisterially. He looked a bit younger than she remembered from the night before. His clothes were of the finest quality, evident even from where she stood several feet away. The furnishings and décor of the great room looked freshly sprung from an architecture magazine. Not one item was even remotely misplaced or unkempt.
“I’ve never seen a house like this before. It’s beautiful.”
“I prefer to handle my business dealings in domestic environments. More gets done this way.”
“That’s understandable,” said Heather.
“Please, shall we sit outside? Seoul is preparing a spectacle for us, and we’d be foolish to miss it.” A resplendent table had been set under a fairy-laced gazebo near the edge of the terrace with every manner of china plate, silver utensil, and crystal glassware Heather could imagine. The dining area was surrounded by sublimely scented flower and candle arrangements that must have cost a minor fortune to procure. “Dinner will be served soon. I understand you’re from the States. Perhaps you’ll find some of our offerings to your pleasure?”
“Um, sure,” said Heather, unimpressed with her inartful response.
Mr. Lee whispered instructions to the staff before inviting Heather to sit at the table. Unexpectedly, he chose the seat next to hers rather than sit across the way. Over the next half hour, various piquant appetizers, salads, and beverages were served. Heather enjoyed Korean steak tartare, taro root tacos with shrimp, and Moroccan spiced Wagyu short ribs. The main course was a delicious, wild-caught, cedar-plank-grilled sockeye from Copper River, Alaska, spiced with the perfect amount of pepper and lemon. As a trainee, Heather would avoid eating some days to keep her weight below the maximum allowed. On this occasion, her usual caution was tossed to the wind. Tomorrow, she’d squeeze in an extra workout, she decided. Today was a rare opportunity for guilt-free indulgence. She deserved it.
During the meal, Mr. Lee peppered Heather with questions regarding her family background, interests, and goals. Whenever she inquired about Mr. Lee, though, he would expertly deflect her questions away as though hardly worth a moment’s thought.
Heather’s inhibitions were melting by the time the meal and desserts had been consumed and more drinks poured. She shared unfiltered thoughts concerning the struggles of life as a trainee. At one point of carelessness, she touched Mr. Lee’s arm in response to a humorous comment. In return, her host smiled and explained that while he rarely involved himself in the daily running of entertainment ventures, little happened in the industry without his knowledge.
“You’re obviously doing well for yourself,” said Heather.
“I have the connections to open doors and the finances to keep them open. But enough of me.” He took a long sip from his champagne glass. “I see tremendous potential in you, Ms. Moon.” His lips parted invitingly as he stared at her.
She didn’t know how to respond except with a simple “Thank you.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard about our new group. We’re aiming for an international release, including heavy promotion in America. Your background and talent are assets. You’re a candidate, possibly even for the center.”
Considering the deluge of recent stimuli, she took a moment to collect her thoughts. Heather found concentrating difficult. Two words stood out. The center. An idol’s dream position. Practically handed to her on a silver platter. Or was it? He specifically described her as ‘a candidate’. She wondered whether that tiny bit of news, unhindered by a firm commitment, warranted such an elaborate presentation. “Mr. Lee, excuse me if I sound lightheaded. The drinks may be affecting me. But I must ask, why did you invite me here?”
He smiled, tenting his fingers under his chin as he spent long minutes assessing her. She caught his prurient gaze roaming down her body, coming to rest on relatively bare legs. She shifted them under the tablecloth. “Are you a baseball fan, by any chance?” Mr. Lee asked unexpectedly.
She had no idea what his question had to do with anything but decided to humor him. “I don’t follow it, but watched my brother play some.”
“But you understand the basics, correct?”
“More or less.”
“I’m a romantic when it comes to the sacrifice bunt. Are you familiar with the term?”
Heather thought carefully. “That’s when you hit the ball a short way on purpose?”
“A bunt allows baserunners to advance.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“I can’t recall another sport that employs such a concept. Can you?
“I’ve never considered it.”
“Of course not.” He offered a bemused grin. “I find the practice of bunting intriguing, perhaps because of its meaning, being symbolic of the greater good. Do you see what I mean?”
Heather shook her head.
“Sacrifices are not valued like they once were, I’m afraid. The game has become overly analytical. ‘Why drop an out?’ critics argue ad nauseam. Yet, it persists. With the sacrifice, you can earn a base hit or a well-timed squeeze play, beat over-shifted defenses, or even move runners into scoring positions. By paying these small prices, you win games, and series, and championships.”
Heather wrestled with the metaphor, but its meaning continued to elude her. “Excuse me, Mr. Lee, but why are you telling me all this?”
“Have you noticed what separates you from the rest, Ms. Moon? Truly thought about it?”
Heather pinched her bottom lip as she struggled to find an answer that didn’t sound arrogant. “I’m good at singing?”
“In my field, one has to excel at reading people. Perhaps it’s bold of me to say, but I understand you better than you know. Do you believe that?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“You’re not like your classmates, I suspect.” She sat listening. “They trained because they wanted to become idols. You, on the other hand, did it because you need to become an idol. For you, there is no alternative. For you, all other endeavors pale in comparison.”
Heather clenched her jaw and awaited his following words.
“Sure, you might attempt to fake your way through a normal life for a while, but eventually, it would consume you. The ongoing dissatisfaction with your mundane existence would ultimately lead to your demise. Am I right?”
Heather’s knee bounced beneath the table. She wondered how someone she’d met less than 24 hours earlier could see right into her. His ultimate point remained a mystery, however. The effects of the alcohol and the hard-hitting nature of Mr. Lee’s commentary left her head spinning. Her confusion must have been evident.
“Like bunting in baseball,” he continued, leaning uncomfortably close. “A batter makes a minor sacrifice to gain a more favorable outcome. A nominal price to be paid for the team.” He sat back in his chair, much to her relief. “You care for your group members, right?”
“I do.”
“Like any good teammate, you want their success to complement yours?”
She nodded.
“And if you were called upon to make a small sacrifice for their benefit, you’d do it?”
“I sacrificed my youth to be a trainee.”
“The price of admission only, I’m afraid.” He tsked knowingly. “If you want to be in the big leagues, Ms. Moon, you have to play big-league ball. I’m offering you the chance to put your old life behind you. An opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime. Consider your position carefully. I had options, but I chose you.”
“What are you saying, Mr. Lee?”
“We each possess something of value the other wants. I have plenty of ways to make your life more comfortable than you ever imagined. Look around. You know of what I speak. Let’s say we both make minor sacrifices for the greater good?”
Heather’s mouth fell agape as the true nature of his request became apparent. The pause was awkward.
“Your hesitancy vexes. Perhaps you’re not as driven to succeed as I suspected.”
“Not this way,” Heather responded.
“Don’t exaggerate your naivete,” he said. “Blushing violets don’t dally the way you do. And for what purpose? To preserve your childhood fantasies regarding the pristine life of a pop idol?”
