Lisa
I'm not a bad fuck.
I'm a lot of things.
A control freak.
Possessive.
Stubborn.
Narcissistic.
But I'm not a bad fuck. So when my Park Hyatt Seoul mystery girl pulls a vanishing act on me, questions ping-pong through my mind the next the day. DidI hurt her? Did I scare her off? Did I come on too strong? I'm a wolf in the woods, I'm aware of that-all long teeth and carnal fantasies, and I should know better than to get close to pretty, sweet butterflies like her. The possibilities brew darkly inside my skull and distract me. Which is irritating because I'm supposed to have hawk-eyed focus on...
... whatever my sister is doing with her hair.
"What do you think?" Mina asks. She has inexplicably bleached the tips of her mane of dark hair, to impress her new fiancé, I imagine and wrapped it all up in a bandana. Ever since she started dating Bambam Bhuwakul last year, she's really gotten into this whole cowgirl act. Never mind that we're currently about as anti-country as you can get, lounging around in her white-walled swanky Gangnam apartment as she makes up her face with top-dollar cosmetics. On the walls are framed photo-spreads of models showing off Mina M.Couture, her line of high-end runway fashion. The whole apartment smells like hair spray and baby powder.
"You look like Honey Boo Boo all grown up." I tell her. "Since when do you wear bandanas?"
Her reflection pouts back at me from her vanity mirror. "Try to be nice, Lisa. Just once. Pretty please with extra sugar on top. What's up your a-hole?"
I could tell her that I'm all worked up and worried about the little bunny rabbit that hopped straight out of my den last night, but I spare her that detail. Instead I retort, "This is me being nice."
Mina rolls her eyes.
"Hell, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
Bambam's booming twang hits my eardrums like pennies rattling around a tin cup.His heavy boots caked in mud and muck clomp around Mina's polished hardwood floors as he bends his giant frame to embrace her from behind.
"You like?" Mina smiles at her fiancé.
"I could eat you up, darling." He snorts against the crook of her neck, and she breaks into a pitchy peel of giggles.
I've never been very receptive to the men who put their hands on my little sister, but she has a long history of picking the worst apples in the barrel, and Bambam is far from any exception. I quietly retract my utmost urge to kill. I turn back to my phone instead and refresh my email. No new messages. Disappointing. I silently pray that a disaster at the vineyard sends a flood of messages my way coupled with a brilliant excuse to leave. I need someone to need me.
The doorbell rings, interrupting Bambam's bizarre bovine-esque mating call. I'm on my feet in seconds flat. I need to remove myself from this situation beforeI remove Bambam's Stetson-adorned head from his neck. "I've got it." I say.
"You're a pal, Lali." Bambam says.
Lali. I wince. I smooth out the wrinkles in my slacks in a desperate attempt to rein in my temper and make it to the intercom in a couple of long-legged steps. I press the button to connect to the speaker downstairs. "Manoban residence."
"Hi!" the thin voice chirps and crackles over the speaker. "It's me... the wedding planner...?"
"Top floor." I buzz her in and ring the elevator. The elevator whirls up and churns as it picks up our guest, and I wait before it comes to a jerky stop in front of the door. She's short and I only see the top of her head in the circle cut-out window. It's brunette, tied up in a bun, and adorned with a black bow.
The elevator door slides open into Mina's apartment, and I come face-to-face with my one-night-stand. Her eyes meet mine and then go wide. Deer in headlights doesn't quite describe the expression on her face. Deer witnessing its first UFO landing, perhaps.
