by Jessica Jung
The director gestures for me to hurry up and say my line. I lift my glass and smile. “Cheers!” I can only bring myself to look him in the eye for a split second as we clink our glasses. As I do, my stomach growls in hunger and I hear Jason snort with laughter. I look away quickly, taking a sip of my drink (I’m not even sure what’s in mine. Pink lemonade? Grapefruit juice?) to cover up the fact that I am about two seconds away from dumping my bowl of soup all over my costar.
“Jalmukesumneda,” Jason says, even though he’s already inhaled half of his waffles.
“You have to say it like the French do,” I say primly, smiling at the camera. “Bon appétit!”
I’ve barely lifted the spoon to my lips when the director yells, “Cut! Perfect. Let’s head to the next spot.”
“But I haven’t even eaten,” I say, blinking.
“We’ll get it packed up to go,” the director says, distracted. “We need to get a move on if we want to finish filming today.” He turns to his assistant. “Can we get another outfit change for the girl?”
I look sadly down at my onion soup. Suddenly, Jason looks at me in concern.
“Here,” he says, nudging his plate toward me. “Eat the rest.”
I’m too hungry to argue, and I grab the plate from him, gulping down a few bites of waffle so quickly I can barely taste it, and before I know it, I’m being shoved into a pair of skintight leather pants and stilettos and deposited into the middle of Times Square. The sun is beating so hard that I can’t even touch the top of my head without my fingers burning. Whoever decided that leather pants and stilettos were a good combo for the most crowded place in New York City should seriously question their fashion choices.
A group of girls stops a few feet away from us, gasping and reaching for their phones to snap a photo. “Oh my god, it’s Jason Lee from NEXT BOYZ!”
“Ugh, but he’s with that Rachel Kim girl.” One of the girls sneers in my direction. “Isn’t South Korea known for their plastic surgery? If I were her, I would get a whole new face.” His fans have been following us around all day. Once one person saw us and posted our location on social media, we’ve had crowds of people popping up out of nowhere to gush over Jason.
I’m having Lotte World flashbacks and sweat is pouring down my legs, but the cameras are rolling and I have no choice but to keep a smile plastered on my face. The director leads us around the middle of Times Square, positioning us on the bottom row of the red TKTS bleachers, gesturing at me to recite my line about how this is my favorite spot in the whole city and it was where I would come and imagine my future as a famous K-pop star. (For the record: it is not and no native New Yorker who values their mental health would ever willingly come to Times Square.)
We walk past a halal cart, and the smell of grilling meats practically makes me swoon. I remember Umma and Appa used to buy shawarma and falafel every Friday night for dinner from the halal guy two blocks over from our old apartment. They would say he came to America to find a better life, just like they had. It was always so good too, the soft chewy pita, the grilled chicken, and the cool, tart tzatziki sauce.…
Suddenly, Jason’s arms are around me and my cheek is pressed into his chest.
I blink. What just happened?
“Are you okay?” he asks, worry etched into his face. “You were swaying, and it looked like you were about to collapse.”
“I was?” I say, my eyes squinting in the sunlight. I press my hand to my head, feeling woozy.
Jason turns angrily to the camera crew. “Stop filming! Can’t you see she needs a break?”
“But, Jason, we’re on a tight schedule,” the director says, looking over his notes for the next scene.
“I don’t care if we’re on a tight schedule,” Jason snaps back. “You would stop in a second if I said I needed a break.”
The director’s head whips up. “Jason, are you okay? Do you need a break? Cut! People, cut for Jason. And let’s get him some water, please?”
Jason shakes his head furiously. “No, what?! This is exactly what I’m talking about. The star of your video just almost collapsed from lack of food and water and you’re more concerned about me.”
“Because you’re Jason Lee. You’re DB’s biggest star—”
“You know what,” Jason says, cutting him off. “You’re right. I am Jason Lee. And I’ve decided that we’re taking the rest of the day off.”
He grabs a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt, and some sneakers off the rack holding all my preapproved outfits for the day and leads me away from the crew. His fans are going wild with their phones, no doubt capturing the whole exchange on Snapchat, but I don’t care. I realize with a sudden jolt that I’ve spent so much time in front of the cameras this past week that I barely even noticed them today.
“Come on.” He grins, holding out his hand, then says the three most beautiful words in the English language. “Let’s get lunch.”
* * *
I breathe a sigh of relief as I dig into my second Shake Shack burger, my feet tucked under my seat as we sit in our Uber by Madison Square Park. Next to me, Jason’s window is open and he’s taking pictures of tourists feeding french fries to a group of particularly fat squirrels.
“So… what’s it really like being back in New York?” Jason asks slowly. Now that I’ve eaten, the fact that Jason and I are alone together for the first time since that night in the pojangmacha seems to be setting in for both of us.
“It’s weird,” I admit after a pause. Not sure what else to say, I swallow a bite of burger, my homesickness still looming large inside me.
Jason nods, his eyes darting around the park, refusing to look in my direction. “In what way?”
I sigh. It makes me think about how different things are for me and my family since we moved to Korea. “I don’t know. In every way.” Almost without thinking, I pull out my phone and show him Appa’s graduation selfie. “My dad just graduated from law school. I’m the only one in our family who knows because he wanted to keep it a secret until he was sure he could succeed.” I look at Appa’s smiling face on the screen. “And I get that. I feel a lot of pressure too. If this whole K-pop thing doesn’t work out, all those years of training will have been for nothing, and I’m terrified of that happening.”
Jason’s eyes widen in slight shock as I fall silent again, but he just nods in understanding. “Yeah. I get that pressure.”
I mean to let out a small laugh, but I can hear the scornful tone in my voice. “I think your adoring fans and our lovely director would beg to differ.”
Jason runs his hand through his hair, thinking. “I know what it must look like from the outside. But think about how hard you’re working right now—the pressure to debut. That pressure is times a million once you actually do.”
My voice catches in my throat. “I’ve been so worried about debuting that I guess I haven’t really given any thought to what would happen once I do—if I do.”
“You will,” Jason says, looking directly into my eyes. “And you’ll have your whole family there to cheer you on at every concert. Leah will insist on it, I’m sure.” His face breaks into a wide smile.
“You’re one to talk! Your eemos could give my sister a run for her money!”
Jason smiles at me again, but it’s more half-hearted this time. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that dinner, by the way—I know those three can be a little intense. Especially when there’s a pretty girl involved.”
I feel the spark of a familiar flutter in my chest, but I ignore it. “What was it like, being back in Toronto?” I ask.
“Weird,” he says. “I love my eemos, but I rarely come home anymore. It’s just… difficult.”
I hesitate, not wanting to pry but also missing the way the two of us just fall so easily into conversation. “Because of your mom?”
Jason looks at me and gives an almost imperceptible shrug. “Yeah. But also”—he pauses—“I’m sure you noticed my dad wasn’t around when we were in Canada.”
I give him a quick nod.
“Growing up, it was always like me and my mom versus my dad. It wasn’t on purpose or anything. My mom and I just both loved music—and especially K-pop. She used to sing me old Chung Yuna songs when she tucked me in at night. It felt like something that was just ours.” He gives me a sad smile. “My dad hated it, though. He didn’t want her speaking Korean to me at home or making Korean food. He was always saying she should just assimilate to Toronto life since she immigrated as a teenager. He didn’t understand why it was so important to her—to us—to stay connected to it.”
He sighs deeply, twirling a french fry over and over between his fingers. “After she died, we both kind of fell apart. I wanted to keep her memory alive, so I’d sing the songs she taught me. But every time he heard me play any Korean music, he’d flip out. It was scary how mad he could get about a song. Just a simple Korean song.”
There’s a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball, and I can feel myself holding my breath as he continues.
“My eemos, they all still lived in Brantwood, where my mom grew up. I would call them crying every time Dad and I got in another fight, and it started happening so much that eventually they sued him for custody. They’ve always told me Dad fought hard to keep me, but I found out the truth right before I moved to Seoul. The three of them sold off some of their family’s holdings and offered my dad this big cash settlement, and he took it. No questions asked. That was that. I moved to Brantwood and took my mom’s last name. Things with my dad have been… complicated ever since. I thought I’d try to see him on this trip, but he said he couldn’t get the time off work.”
My mind flashes back to the heated phone call Jason was having in the hotel lobby a few days ago. It all makes sense now.
I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat won’t move. I want to reach my hand out to touch him, to tell him how sorry I am, how my heart is breaking for him, but instead I just say, “Jason, I had no idea.”
“Not a lot of people do,” he says lightly. “But everyone knows the next part. My eemos encouraged me to keep on playing music, especially K-pop, as a way to grieve my mom and stay connected with her. I started making YouTube covers. And then DB found me. And now,” he says, opening his arms, “here I am, in Madison Square Park. Watching the world’s fattest squirrels eat french fries.”
I laugh, pressing my palms into my eyes. “That’s quite the journey.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He grins, but the smile quickly disappears from his face. “I’m sorry, Rachel,” Jason says suddenly.
“About what? Making me almost cry?”
He smiles a small smile and shakes his head, his face growing serious. “About the double standard. You were right. After what Kang Jina said that night, I was so convinced that you were both being too careful, too paranoid. But… I was wrong. I should have listened to you. I should have paid attention. But I didn’t notice anything because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see how differently people treat you and Mina and Jina.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I was supposed to be your… boyfriend.” His cheeks burn as he stumbles over the word, but he keeps going. “But I wasn’t even a good friend to you. I didn’t see what’s been going on right in front of me for years. And that makes me just as bad as the execs, the fans… everyone. But I want you to know that I see it and I’m here for you. No matter what. And I’m sorry I was such a jerk about everything.”
“You were,” I say, smiling. “But thanks for saying that. Friends.” I stick my hand out to shake his.
“Friends,” he says, grabbing my hand. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something more, but instead, he just closes his fingers over mine for a moment and squeezes tight.
Twenty-Two
I wake up the next morning to a loud knock on my hotel door. Did DB send me breakfast in bed or something? I swing the door open and barely have time to let out a yelp before I’m attacked by a flurry of apple flower perfume and a rainbow blur of hair clips.
“Surprise!”
“Oh my god!” I scream as Juhyun and Hyeri throw their arms around me. “What are you two doing here?”
“Our cousin’s having some big engagement party in Brooklyn to show off her ring,” Juhyun says, plopping down on my bed. “So we thought we’d drop in on our little international K-pop star.”
“I’d say our surprise was a success,” Hyeri says, grinning triumphantly. “Aww, look, you’re even crying!”
I laugh, the remnants of my green tea night mask melting away as tears stream down my face. I’d been feeling so homesick for New York that I forgot how much I missed Seoul.… And the twins are like a little piece of home delivered right to my door.
“You’re not busy, are you?” Juhyun asks.
I glance behind me at the stack of homework on my hotel room table. The homework that was supposed to be done today, my one day off on this whole whirlwind tour. “Well…”
“Because we thought we could go shopping,” Hyeri says.
My eyes light up. “Shopping?”
“We’ve got a private suite at Saks Fifth Avenue with our name on it,” Juhyun says, wiggling her eyebrows.
A private suite? At Saks Fifth Avenue? “Just give me a second,” I say, rushing over to my suitcase.
I disappear into the bathroom and emerge a moment later, properly dressed in a pair of white denim shorts and a silky mint-green top, my hair in a messy fishtail braid and my purse slung over my shoulder. “Lead the way.”
* * *
“What do you think of this one?” Juhyun twirls around in a white silk dress with a ruffled hem and sheer crimped long sleeves.
I lean back on the velvet chaise lounge chair in our private suite, sipping a crystal glass full of sparkling water with lemon. “It’s cute, but guests usually avoid wearing white to wedding-type festivities. It’s kind of the bride’s color.”
“Please, it’s only an engagement party,” Juhyun says, sticking her tongue out at me. “Plus, this one’s not for tonight. It’s for the Molly Folly company gala. Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?”
The gala. I totally forgot about that. The twins’ parents throw one every summer and I always go, but with everything that’s been going on lately, it’s been the furthest thing from my mind. I swirl my water around, staring into the glass.
“I might not… have time to go this year,” I say.
“Nooo, Rachel,” Hyeri says. “You have to go!”
“Yeah,” Juhyun chimes in. “It’s, like, our best friend tradition. I give you guys a makeover, we eat a bunch of sushi while we watch my parents mingle with Seoul’s most annoying rich people, and then we go home and watch Mean Girls in our dresses!”
I smile, guilt creeping its way into my stomach. “I know and I love it. I just don’t know if I have time this summer.”
“No time for free gourmet sushi and Lindsay Lohan?” Juhyun says, her mouth dropping open. “Has K-pop sucked out your soul or something? You’ve been working so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to have fun.”
Even as I laugh, I can’t help but wince on the inside. Juhyun may be teasing, but she doesn’t know how close to home she’s hitting.
“I know what you need,” Hyeri says decisively. She grabs a polka-dotted chiffon minidress from the hanger and holds it out in front of me. “You need a dress for the engagement party.”
“What? I can’t go to your cousin’s engagement party! I don’t even know her!”
“Yes, you can,” Juhyun states matter-of-factly, pulling a few more dresses for me to try.
“There’s no point in arguing, Rachel.” Hyeri smiles. “Consider this a fun-tervention.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, lifting my hands in the air. “I give up.”
“Good,” Juhyun says, tossing a silvery strapless dress over to me. “Let’s start with that one.”
* * *
The last time I checked, Brooklyn Bridge Park didn’t have a rosé-spouting unicorn-shaped fountain or
a hot-pink inflatable ball pit filled to the brim with mini disco balls. I’m also pretty certain that Diplo wasn’t livestreaming himself DJing from the second floor of a Lucite treehouse, completely covered in iridescent flakes of glitter.
My mouth drops open as I take it all in, and I turn to the twins. “How?”
“Our family rented the whole park for the evening and transformed it for the party,” Juhyun says. “All this stuff is only here for one night, so we better enjoy it while we can!”
Laid out next to the grand carousel that I remember from my childhood is a gigantic table filled to the brim with macarons in the shape of wedding rings and an artisanal cotton candy bar, with toppings ranging from edible glitter to strawberry-flavored Pop Rocks. The city skyline sparkles as the backdrop to the whole thing, and every person I see seems to be glowing with what I can only describe as pure, unfiltered, radiating joy. Or maybe it’s the light-up halo crowns they’re all wearing. As we make our way farther into the park, I see Jason standing by the unicorn fountain, searching the crowds of people like he’s waiting for someone. My breath catches.
I wasn’t expecting to see him here.
When his gaze falls on me, his whole face lights up in a smile and I realize he’s been waiting for me.
It takes me a minute to realize he’s not alone. To my surprise, Minjun and Daeho are with him, helping themselves to glasses of rosé from the fountain. Minjun sees me and beams, raising his glass in my direction.
“About time you got here, Rachel,” he says. He nudges Jason in the side. “This guy was about to send a search party looking for you.”
“Hi, Rachel,” Daeho says, sipping his rosé.
“What’s going on?” I say, looking from one person to the next and then back at the twins, who are both grinning at me with knowing smiles.
“We’ll let Jason explain,” Hyeri says.
Jason smiles shyly, his gaze softening as he meets my eyes. “I just wanted you to have some good memories of being back home. When you look back on your first tour, I want you to remember more than long days of filming with no food and a thousand outfit changes. I want you to have memories that you don’t want to forget. So I asked the Cho twins for help, and when they said they were coming for their cousin’s engagement party, well”—he shrugs like it’s nothing, but the look on his face is undeniably pleased—“the surprise just kind of fell into place. Minjun and Daeho flew in with the twins to celebrate with us.”
