Chapter 2
Korean, a prison cell is looking real good right now. I can’t believe, that she would do this to me, I thought that we were friends.
“I don’t understand...”
“I’m sorry, I thought that you spoke our language. You’re the new assistant?”
Thank god, that one of them seems to be fluent in English.
“Yeah, Omari.”
The rest of the group heads out, with a lingering glance from two, before they part ways. “I’m RM.” He says, offering his hand, to which I accept.
“Rm?” I question.
“Rap Monster, AKA NamJoon.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, NamJoon.”
“Likewise, and FYI if I were you I’d not let on, that you don’t speak Korean, it’s a requirement for the job.”
“There must have been a mistake, I really didn’t know.”
“No worries, most of the group speaks basic English.”
“That’ll be helpful.”
“Yeah, well... I guess i’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, bye.”
“The job is only for a few days, and you told me once before, that you took a Korean language class.”
“I did, and dropped out after a few hours, it was too hard.”
She’s silent for a few seconds longer, than i’m comfortable with.
“If you brush up on the basics tonight, it should be a breeze.”
“Mia...” I state, knowing that there’s something that she’s not telling me.
“You’re under contract, and if you break it, then you have to pay us for loss of wages, and any additional damages.”
“What damages and losses?” I ask, agitated. This is what I get, for trying to help somebody.
“Loss of any future relationship or business with the client, due to your negligence.”
“This is your problem, you set me up, and so you have to fix this!” I’ve completely lost it, and want out of this circus ASAP.
“Get a grip, you can do this. It’s a few days babysitting a couple of young men. Geez...”
The line going dead, I feel used, hoodwinked, bamboozled...
“I love it, it’s my color.” That comes from the one, that’s always smiling.
“It is, you look real pretty in it.” Says... well the one that’s omg... sexy. Sarcasm at it’s finest.... high pitched scream!
It’s been trial and error with putting names to faces, and so far its been more misses than hits. For some reason, at different times of the day, they start to resemble each other.
They’re out shopping, and my crash course in Korean, failed miserably. I understand ye, for yes, and ani for no. The upside to all this, I purchased a language translator, and it never leaves my wrist. The earpiece is permanently attached to my body.
Understanding them is fine, its just the speaking part.
“What do you think, It looks good right?” Asks Mr. Smiley.
Nodding in agreeance, his smile widens. “See, I told you.”
“She doesn’t say much.” That’s the young one.
“Because she can’t speak Korean.” States, Mr. Sexy.
My go to has been to nod, and disappear into the background.
“Then how did she get the job? Inquires the youngin.
“Well, she is pretty...”
I’m insulted, and flattered at the same time.
“Jin likes old women!”
That comes in extra loud, and extra clear on my earpiece. Namjoon, privy to my deceit, knows about the translator, and glancing over at me, he has an omg expression.
Trying to control the nice nasty retort, that’s itching to be released, I continue my perusal of the clothing, with an audible, and extremely long exhale.
Me and that young one, are going to have a problem in a minute.
“Oh my god...!” That’s followed by ear splitting shrieks, and before I can even process what’s happening, a horde of young girls are stampeding in our direction. The guards appear out of nowhere, roughly stopping the flock of girls in their tracks.
The screaming, and pandemonium is too much, and it only takes a few seconds before the small gathering increases by an additional twenty bodies. The guys are quickly directed away from the girls, when all of a sudden the unimaginable happens.
A few girls break through the guards, and an all out chase ensues. I’m at a full sprint, following them, when it hits me... why am I running?
My sudden epiphany has stopped me in my tracks, and a body slamming into mine, sends me a few paces away from my divine moment of truth.
Going down hard, I’m quickly pulled to my feet, and still reeling from the hit, I let the hand on my wrist, guide me. Clumsily keeping pace with my escort, we come to a stop, and I collapse into the first hospitable amenity, a chair.
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I take in my surroundings and my rescuer. Mr. Sexy... Closing and locking the door, we’re in an office.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, you just ran me completely over, but I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t expect you to just stop in the middle of an... escape.”
“It’s okay.” I state, checking my pocket.
“Shit..”
“What?”
“My phone... wheres yours?” My translator’s missing also.
“I didn’t bring it.”
