by Nadia Lee
I steal a glance at her. She’s listening, tapping her index finger on her knee to the beat. But other than that, she isn’t showing any indication of how she feels about the piece.
Come on, Yuna. This is not the time for stoicism. I need a small hint. Just enough so I can say something intelligent.
When it ends, Melvin looks at me. “So. What do you think?”
I have no freakin’ clue, since I’m not a music critic. But he might not want to work with me if I give him the wrong answer. Like some actual criticism. Nobody likes to be told their kid isn’t a fucking genius, especially in Hollywood, where egos are the size of galaxies.
“Uh… It’s well done. I’m impressed. Your kid’s like…what? Sixteen?” The recording sounds professional enough. I don’t see why she wouldn’t get in, but then, I could be missing something.
“Turned seventeen just last week.” Melvin puffs out his chest.
“It’s incredible for her age. But if you want something a bit more concrete, you should ask Yuna.”
“Who’s that, a model? Do I know her? What movie was she in?”
“No, my assistant.” I gesture. “She went to Curtis. It’s a very famous—”
“Hey, I know that place! Vicky’s applying there, too.” Melvin turns and gives Yuna his attention. “Let’s have your opinion, young lady.”
“You sure you want it?” Yuna asks. “I don’t hold back when it comes to music.”
I mouth, You don’t have to be honest, at her from behind Melvin, although I don’t know if she receives the message.
“Vicky can’t improve if nobody tells her the truth,” Melvin says. “Lemme have it.”
“She plays it at tempo and the notes are correct, but her touch is so even, it feels like MIDI,” Yuna says.
“MIDI?” I ask, hoping it means “amazing performance” in Latin or something.
“Computer-generated music,” Yuna says. “Do you know the piece? It’s ‘Montagues and Capulets’ from Prokofiev’s Ten Pieces from Romeo and Juliet. It’s a piano arrangement for a ballet, actually.”
Melvin is looking like he has no idea about the music he just heard. But the man understands theatrics, and he directed a retelling of Romeo and Juliet that did well early in his career. I watched it along with a few of his movies, to see his style of directing.
“Anyway, the opening’s supposed to be loud and dramatic, but that doesn’t mean she should just bang out the chords. Every note should get its own touch. And the lack of proper interpretation is even more evident during the pas de deux between Juliet and Paris. It’s not just a break from the pounding opening. It’s a lovely, but doomed, courtship for Paris, who her family wants her to marry. And at the end of the dance, she bumps into Romeo, who she immediately falls in love with. When the opening theme returns after that, it should take on a sense of tragic destiny for the young lovers.” Yuna shrugs. “Right now there’s none of that, so the piece doesn’t really elicit any emotion.”
Melvin’s looking at Yuna like she’s a goddess, and I can feel myself staring, too. She ripped apart what I thought was a fine performance. Does she do this every time she listens to a recording? Then I wonder what she really thought about the “Chopsticks” I played with her.
“Why don’t you start as Vicky’s new piano teacher? I’ll pay you ten times whatever he”—Melvin jerks his thumb at me—“is giving you.”
Annoyance surges. Yuna’s my assistant, damn it!
“I can’t do that,” Yuna says before I can open my mouth. “I’ve committed to working for Declan.”
“I’ll give you a part in my new movie,” Melvin says.
Shameless bastard. He knows it’s an offer most people can’t refuse.
But Yuna merely shakes her head.
Good for you, Yuna! A special bonus is waiting! Whatever you want.
Melvin adds, “A speaking part.”
She cocks an eyebrow.
“With at least three lines!” he yells, like a man in an auction frenzy. “We need more diversity in the casting, and you’re perfect! I also promise not to edit you out at the end. And you’ll be listed in the credits.”
She sighs. “Thank you, but no. I’m afraid I’ll stumble over the words. I get nervous when there’s a camera on me.”
Melvin is staring like he doesn’t understand what’s coming out of her mouth. Probably no young woman has ever said no to him before.
“But I’m going to be done working for Declan in eight weeks,” she says with a smile.
I hate the reminder that she could be gone so soon. Not even eight full weeks left now until Benedict returns. I don’t want her gone, but I don’t know what to do precisely to keep her with me. Damn it, why can’t she be working for money, rather than to prove herself to her family?
Hope returns to Melvin’s face. “So after that…?”
“We’ll see. By the way, do you want to see the waltz? We practiced quite a bit for the part.”
Melvin nods. “Of course. Let’s get started.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Declan
The meeting with Melvin goes surprisingly well. He’s gracious after Yuna’s frank feedback, and also likes how I read the lines and the waltz we did.
After the meeting’s over, I take Yuna out for a late lunch at a fairly empty Italian restaurant nearby.
“I can’t believe Melvin hasn’t decided which waltz he wants,” Yuna says after we’ve been seated and ordered our food. “Although I think the Viennese is going to look better.”
“That’s the choreographer’s job,” I say.
“But still… It’s his movie.”
“You sound like a control freak.” It’s a little surprising. She’s seemed pretty laid-back until now, especially with how she reacted to Jessica and Ella.
“Aren’t creative types control freaks anyway?” she says. “How are you going to elicit anything from your audience if you put out half-baked movies?”
Thank God Melvin isn’t around to hear this. He takes his art seriously. “Yeah, but sometimes you have to follow the advice of people who know better. Melvin’s not a dance guy.”
“Wow. I thought all Americans danced.”
I laugh. “Yeah, um… Not really. But regardless, thanks for the help with his kid’s music. I know it was just sprung on you.”
She shrugs. “I could have done that in my sleep. And if he wants, I can look up some decent piano teachers in the area and make recommendations. I made it sound like I might possibly be open to teaching his daughter at some point, but I actually have no intention of doing that. I only said it so he wouldn’t be too upset before talking to you about your next project.”
“Thank you,” I say, sincerely. It’s true that if she had rejected him too strongly, things could’ve become difficult. He can get temperamental and moody when things don’t work out his way.
Our server brings out seafood pasta for Yuna and a gluten- and carb-free pizza for me. I wait until he’s gone, then casually ask, “What are you going to do once Benedict comes back?” I’ve tried my best not to think about it, but… “Are you going back to Korea?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know yet. But I doubt I’ll be going back so soon. Ivy’s going to have twins, and I want to be here for that and spoil them rotten.”
“Ivy?”
“She’s my soul sister.”
“What’s that?” Another Korean thing? Like the steel sheet, but presumably nicer and sweeter?
“It’s like a soul mate, except it’s your sister. I just had a feeling when I first saw her at Curtis. We’re so close that friendship sounds inadequate.” She smiles fondly.
Ivy is a lucky woman. Given Yuna’s background, it’s clear not many people get to be in the special circle of people she cares about. I’d love to be included…to have her eyes warm with affection when she thinks about me. But given her wealth and status, she probably doesn’t trust people easily or let people get too close to her. You see the same thing among Holly
wood people, too.
Which means I’ll have to do better. Make these weeks really count.
“I see. That’s interesting.” But it doesn’t really answer the question of where she’s going to be. She doesn’t live in the U.S., and flying back and forth between Los Angeles and Seoul all the time could be difficult for me. On the other hand, nothing I’ve achieved in my life has come easily. Why should this be any different? Hell, the more I wanted something, the harder I had to work. And Yuna’s definitely worth whatever amount of effort it might take.
You aren’t even dating!
No, we’re not dating yet.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. Maybe she just wanted a kiss from you and nothing more.
How is that even possible? With this face? And the body I’ve honed over the years? I didn’t get this ass by sitting around and watching Netflix all day. Most women would love to date a man with an ass that won the Booty I Most Want to Lick award.
Or was it Bite? I need to look it up to be sure.
I decide to probe a little more. “Don’t you have plans for your life beyond the next eight weeks? Some kind of milestones or something?”
“Nope! I try not to have firm deadlines or be too inflexible about stuff. Things can change at any time.”
“So you live your life aimlessly?”
It stuns me that anybody can do that, but then, she’s an heiress, so maybe it doesn’t matter. I’ve always had a timeline about how my career should progress. And it’s basically been going according to plan. Then it occurs to me that if she doesn’t have a specific goal or timeline, maybe she can choose to stay in L.A. longer…or even live here permanently without any problem. Which would solve the potential trans-Pacific relationship dilemma.
“No, no. I know what I want, and I have goals.”
“So you do have milestones.”
“No, I have goals. Milestones come with some kind of timeline. My goals are things I want to accomplish or have, but there’s no particular rush.”
Doesn’t seem like much of a difference, but whatever. “Okay, like what?”
“Well, marriage. But I want it with a loving husband and kid or two. Spoiling my nephew. Also spoiling all my friends’ kids, because if Auntie Yuna can’t spoil them, who can?” She beams with obvious pleasure at the idea.
So far the list is ordinary. Something anybody can aspire to. And that makes me understand her better, too. How much she must hate her family pushing men at her. None of them would be the loving husband she wants. I’m glad I’m helping her resist this ridiculously old-fashioned attempt to marry her off.
She continues, “Expand the Ivy Foundation so we can support even more students who are interested in studying classical music. And go on a food tour around Europe. I absolutely adore good food and drink.” She sighs happily. “I try to keep my goals simple and fun. Otherwise, there’s no point.”
Everything sounds great, except nothing she’s said so far is about me. I know we’ve only known each other for a week, but it feels longer somehow.
But she said she’s flexible. So I’ll use the rest of our time together to stick myself into her list of goals. After all, simple and fun is easy. And I can do it better than most.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Declan
The next two weeks go by fast. Tim keeps sending me scripts because Melvin hasn’t made up his mind yet, although Tim seems very optimistic. But nothing’s a given in Hollywood. And we aren’t going to stop looking at other options until a contract’s been signed.
The kiss is not repeated. It isn’t because I don’t want to. But Yuna seems to be maintaining some kind of mysterious distance. I even start to walk around the house topless, ostensibly because it’s too damn hot despite the A/C blowing nonstop. And I have Yuna count reps every time I work out, which is also done topless.
I sense her eyes on me like electricity prickling my body. If I were the only one responding to the chemistry between us, I might consider giving up, but I can tell she feels it too. Her cheeks flush, and there’s a spark of interest in her dark eyes. But still a big fat nothing in terms of a second kiss happening, much less anything else.
I try having her translate some old emails from the seeing eye dog retirement center for me. But it fails to re-create the magic from the first time. The catalyst Yuna needs may require something totally different.
Maybe she’s just trying to be professional until Benedict comes back. Should I have a talk with her about how I don’t really care about professionalism? But what if it makes things awkward between us instead?
It’s really exasperating. I’ve never been stumped by a woman before.
No matter how hard I think, nothing comes to me.
So I decide to focus on the present, which at the moment means lunch with Aiden.
I had him select the place, since I picked last time, and I’ll pick up the tab as an apology for missing our run. His secretary made a reservation at a French restaurant called La Chambre. Some celebrity chef opened it recently.
The interior is bright with lots of natural light. The high ceiling and pale color scheme make the place look airy and spacious, and the dark wooden panels on the walls add some much-needed contrast.
Aiden’s already at the table. He’s in a charcoal-gray suit, his perfectly cropped black hair styled slickly. A burgundy tie is around his neck in an impeccable Windsor knot.
“He totally looks like a lawyer,” Yuna whispers, walking next to me.
“What makes you say that?”
“Just the way he glances around. It’s like he’s looking for a reason to sue.”
I do my best not to laugh. But it’s hard, and when Aiden’s blue gaze sharpens as the hostess brings us to the table, I can’t stop myself.
“What’s so funny?” Aiden says as we take our seats.
“Something Yuna said.”
“So this is the famous assistant who isn’t interested in fame or fortune.” He shoots her his least threatening smile, the one he bestows on distressed clients. A hint of surprise flickers in his eyes as he assesses her from top to bottom, probably because most celebrity assistants don’t dress in top-end couture. He extends a hand. “I’m Aiden Hill. Nice to meet you.”
“Yuna Hae. Pleasure.” She shakes his hand.
“Nice grip,” he says, eyebrows raised. He plays tennis and golf when he has the time, and has good forearm strength.
Yuna smiles.
“She plays the piano,” I tell Aiden.
“I heard from Melvin. Curtis, right?”
“Yes,” Yuna says. “I’m impressed Melvin remembered.”
I’m also impressed Aiden remembered that detail after Melvin told him. But then, his superb memory probably helped him get into Harvard Law.
“He was quite taken. He spoke to me about you, which is why I asked Declan to bring you for lunch. It isn’t every day you meet a woman who isn’t interested in a speaking part in one of Melvin’s movies.” He looks mildly bemused by the idea. But he’s used to dealing with clients who want their big break. “So what’s the joke?”
“I said you had to be a lawyer because you’re looking at everything like you want a reason to sue.”
I smirk, amused at how Yuna is so forthcoming.
Aiden laughs. “I’m always looking for potential liabilities. Habit developed from work. But unless I get food poisoning, I’m unlikely to sue this fine establishment.” He gives Yuna a conspiratorial look. “Never say never, though.”
Our server gives us our menus, fills our glasses with icy water and explains the special. Yuna orders lightly baked sea bream with basil sauce, and I ask for the beef special. Aiden gets the same. Then he adds a bottle of wine to split, which our server brings out promptly and serves once Aiden takes a sip and okays it.
After the server leaves, Aiden pulls out a fancy-looking black and gold bag and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“A Bordeaux.”
Yuna looks
at the label with interest. “I’ve never heard of this vineyard. Is it good?”
“It’s new. One of my clients’ friends started it a couple of years ago. The place hasn’t gone belly up, so I presume they know how to produce a decent vintage.”
“You haven’t tasted it?” I ask. Aiden is a wine connoisseur. There’s no way he hasn’t, but he’s acting like he’s never had a chance.
“I just got a case this morning at the office, and I had to go to the court over some motion—which was frankly ridiculous, because the opposing counsel is a donkey who was dropped on his head when he was young.” Aiden sneers, and Yuna laughs. “Anyway, I figured I’d give you”—he points at me—“a bottle, and you’ll tell me how it is by this afternoon.”
“So I’m your guinea pig.” Which I don’t mind too much, because Aiden doesn’t give out bad wine.
“She can be, too.” Aiden gestures at Yuna. “Unless you only drink famous labels.”
“I’ll drink anything that tastes good,” Yuna says. “It’s never about the price or how famous the vineyard is.”
Aiden’s eyebrow quirks. “I thought you might care, given the way you’re dressed.”
“I dress the way I do because I don’t feel like buying new but cheaper clothes just to make some people comfortable,” Yuna says with a polite but pointed smile. “Also, my family expects me to keep up a certain standard of appearance.”
Which is a dick move, considering how they’ve cut her off.
I guess what I’m thinking shows on my face, because she pats my hand. “My existing wardrobe is pretty significant, although I miss shopping.”
Our server interrupts to bring out our lunch. My beef dish is rich, but not bad. Still, I like the stuff at Éternité better. I make a mental note to take Yuna there soon.
“Who are your family?” Aiden asks after he’s swallowed his first bite. “And why do they expect you to look a certain way?”
“They’re the owners of Hae Min Group in Korea. You might not know them,” she says.
He probably doesn’t. I certainly didn’t.
