AAE -- For Better For Worse

Part 3 -- Chapter 26

by LoveCR2

edited by All-About-AAE

 

 

Sun-Mi stares out the window of the Number 55 bus to Soho. She sits upright, tense. Her fingers clutch the canvas costume tote in her lap. But the blur of passing traffic and buildings barely registers. Her thoughts are elsewhere.

 

Hyung-Chul had gone out again -- claiming he needed new clothes for the job. But her stomach had churned as she picked at her lunch. After five years of marriage she knew the subtle tone in his voice, the crease in his left temple, signs he is lying. At the moment, she had brushed it off. But when he didn't return after several hours, unease hardened into suspicion.

 

Was it the closing of the club? She wasn't sure.

 

It made no sense. Human trafficking? She had never seen anything to support those charges. And the idea that Judith was complicit? Absurd! She was strict -- even harsh at times -- but underneath the hard shell, Sun-Mi could sense a mother's concern. How could she treat young women as a commodity, to buy and sell? But she intends to find out -- and tie up a few loose ends while she's at it.

 

Or could it be his supposed new job?

 

He had looked for months, with no results. Now, in just a few hours, a job magically appears? Maybe she had been hoping too much, to accept his vague assurances. Too wanting to have a miracle in their lives -- something she could grasp on to. Tonight, when she goes home, she will give him the third degree. If he is lying, she will know for sure.

 

 

The bus hisses to a stop. Sun-Mi alights and briskly walks the short distance to Manager Chin's building, fanning the perspiration from her brow. In the hot sun and oppressive humidity, her lightweight summer suit and sheer stockings cling uncomfortably to her skin.

 

A notice is posted on the entrance...

 

City of Westminster -- Hygiene Emergency Prohibition Notice

This property has been CLOSED due to severe rodent infestation.

 

"Huh? I never saw a rat," she mutters. "What's going on?"

 

She tries the door -- locked. Peers through the restaurant window. Inside it is empty, dark. Not the bustling place she had spent backbreaking hours bussing tables.

 

Her eyes light up. "Of course. Cielo will know!"

 

She checks her watch -- almost 6:00, running late for her appointment -- and breaks into a trot, her heels clattering on the sidewalk.

 

 

A few blocks away, she pushes through the small cafe's door. The chilled air hits her in the face, a blast of relief. In a back corner, Cielo sits alone at a table for two, idly reading a menu, sipping on a half-finished latte. Dressed in street clothes -- tee shirt, slacks, and loafers -- instead of her short cheongsam, stockings, and high heels, Sun-Mi barely recognizes her.

 

Hearing footsteps approaching, Cielo looks up, her expression cross. "You finally came."

 

Sun-Mi's smile is tight. "Sorry, I'm late."

 

"I wasn't sure if you were coming or not, after what happened..."

 

Sun-Mi slips onto the seat across from Cielo. "What do you mean?"

 

"The club, of course!" Cielo replies. "The raid."

 

 

A waitress walks up. "What'll you have?"

 

Sun-Mi glances up. "Tea, please."

 

She waits until the waitress has gone. "I saw the sign on the way here. A rat infestation? I don't believe it. Do you know what really happened?"

 

"You're asking me?"

 

"You were still there, right?"

 

Cielo leans in. "Then... you're not the mole?"

 

Sun-Mi's brow wrinkles. "Mole?"

 

"The police knew everything. Exactly where to go. Who to detain. In minutes. I heard they found a hidden safe in Manager Chin's office. And a concealed room where they held trafficked girls. One looked like she was twelve," Cielo elaborates.

 

"It had to be an inside job. Someone tipped them off," she says, her eyes narrowing.

 

Sun-Mi scoffs, moving her hand to her chest. "You think it was... me?"

 

"Who else?" Cielo lowers her voice. "So what are you -- just a rat? Or actually a cop?"

 

"I swear, it wasn't me!" Sun-Mi jabs a finger down hard on the table, her voice rising. "It's someone else!"

 

 

"Okay, I believe you," Cielo replies calmly. "But everyone's saying it had to be you."

 

"Why?"

 

"You left early. You've never done that before."

 

"I told you, I wasn't feeling well. That's all."

 

"And you're not like the others. You carry yourself differently. With polish."

 

"I was in a sort of show business, back in Seoul."

 

Cielo's eyes widen. "You were an actress?"

 

"I don't talk about it. That was a long time ago. A past I want to forget."

 

 

The waitress returns. "Your tea, Miss."

 

Sun-Mi nods. "Thanks."

 

 

Cielo stirs her coffee, contemplating. "But if wasn't you, then who?"

 

"Does it matter?" Sun-Mi replies. "The club is closed."

 

"You're right. Now we're both out of a job."

 

"What are you planning to do? Go to another club?"

 

"I had some interviews today," Cielo sighs. "Raymond's, Madame Jojo's. A few dives I won't go back to. But everyone's scrambling, there's a lot of competition."

 

"Did you talk with Ericka?"

 

"Ericka? You don't need to worry about her. She's worked half the clubs in Soho at one time or another. A lot of the other dancers, though, will have a harder time. Chin's was unique, with mostly an Asian clientele."

 

"Why does that matter?"

 

"The other clubs cater more to Brits. Whites. They like women with bigger boobs. That's why I had mine done. Girls like Cherise or you -- no offense intended -- frankly don't have what sells in those places."

 

Sun-Mi shrugs. "I was going to quit soon, anyway."

 

"Why? Did you win the lottery?"

 

Sun-Mi shakes her head. "Hardly. It's just... things are changing."

 

"But won't you miss it? You were on the way to becoming someone. Like Ericka."

 

"Honestly, I'll miss the adrenaline rush," Sun-Mi admits. "The thrill of it all... And you.

 

Cielo's mouth tightens. "So this is goodbye?"

 

"I'm afraid so."

 

She grasps Cielo's hand. "I can't explain, but need to get away from all this for a while. Straighten some things out. And when I do, I'll come back to see you."

 

"Let me give you my mobile number." Cielo takes a pen and note card from her purse and writes it down. "Here." She passes the card to Sun-Mi, holding it with both hands.

 

Sun-Mi takes the card. "I'll call you. I promise."

 

Cielo nods. "I know."

 

Sun-Mi glances at her watch. "Sorry, but I have to go now."

 

They both stand. Cielo steps forward, and they embrace.

 

"Take care," Cielo says, her eyes wet. "Stay out of trouble."

 

"I will," Sun-Mi replies. "Watch out for those punters' hands."

 

They laugh.

 

Then, picking up her tote from the chair, Sun-Mi turns and walks out.

 

 

Outside, the temperature has barely dropped. With an hour to kill, Sun-Mi strolls east along Victoria Embankment, blending into the stream of tourists snapping photos of the Thames. A light breeze off the river tempers the heat. She passes beneath Tower Bridge, in the shadows of its Gothic arches, and heads for the Thistle Tower Hotel.

 

The last time she was here, she wore a white wedding dress and entered on Hyung-Chul's arm like royalty. Their wedding night. Today she is dressed in a light blue, Armani suit -- businesslike, understated -- the sole survivor of an extensive wardrobe she once had cherished.

 

She takes a seat at a table near David Wynne's bronze sculpture -- the Girl with a Dolphin fountain. It shoots water straight up, the fine spray a rainbow in the early evening sun. From her tote, she takes out the pair of shiny black heels she wore as a hostess in Manager Chin's lounge. She slips off her 'practical' low-heel courts and slides into the sleek, pointed-toe, 110mm stilettos.

 

Sun-Mi stands, tall and erect, the enhanced arch to her spine maximizing her S-line. She closes the tote, pulls the strap over her shoulder, and tucks it under her arm. She starts off, gliding gracefully, hips subtly swaying with each step.

 

"You look the part," she murmurs to herself quietly. "Now, you just have to play it."

 

Sun-Mi enters the lobby, heart thudding, heels clicking smartly on the terrazzo floor. The sound echoes -- sharp, deliberate, commanding. The concierge glances up and lifts an eyebrow. She briefly meets his gaze with a poised smile, lifts her chin, and strides past with a confident air, heading straight to the lifts.

 

She rides to the 28th floor and follows the signs to Room 2863. She hesitates, lifts her eyes, and touches the Saint Teresa of Avila hanging around her neck.

 

Then, clutching her tote tighter, she rings the doorbell.