Page 11 of Somewhere Only We Know
A minute later he responded.
YAYERS. In an hour when I can take a “lunch break”
When his uncle retired, Charlie inherited his taxi business and his classic red Toyota. Taxis were a Hong Kong institution and Charlie worked nights. He often took extended breaks to grab a beer with me.
Cool—I got a HUGE scoop for Trevor. DRINKS ON ME.
Charlie replied:GET THAT MONEY.
I shook my head and smiled. Charlie and I were unabashedly hustling for cash all the time. Our complaints about our jobs and lack of money filled our apartment as we played video games and ate ramen. It was our main source of bonding.
I texted back:Always.I’ll pick a spot and text you.
Make sure you pick a place with actual chicks. Not like that last dive bar full of weird old bros who all looked and smelled like retired fishermen
That dive bar was cool, thank you very much. But Charlie was allabout the girls. It would be sleazy, except he managed to have this eager charm when flirting. Plus he looked like the bad boy who’d pick you up on his scooter to whisk you away from your strict parents.
I was texting back when someone knocked into me. It was a girl, staggering her way down the aisle. Okay, Drunko. I went back to texting when I heard a loud moan behind me and then, “Baegopa jughaeso!” I looked up from my phone in recognition. It was Korean for, “I’m so hungry I could die!”
When I glanced behind me, I saw the drunk girl in a seat with her head resting against the window, her eyes fluttering shut.
Why did she look so familiar?
I took in the green cap and long hair, her face in shadow. Oh, she was the girl who was on the elevator at the hotel. When I looked down at her feet, the hotel slippers confirmed it.
The girl on the elevator who seriously didn’t want me to talk to her as she practically absorbed herself into the walls.
So, despite my curiosity, I turned away. Didn’t wanna be a creep when this penthouse snob had clearly wanted to be left alone.
But she kept mumbling things. In both English and Korean. Was she American?
Other people on the bus started looking at her, but no one did anything.
I looked straight ahead. Don’t get involved in this, Jack. She doesn’t need your help.
One by one people left the bus and the girl stayed. When I finally turned around to look at her again, she was passed the eff out, her mouth slightly agape.
Because I couldn’t get a good look at her face, it wasn’t clear how old she was, but she looked around my age or younger.
And she was Korean American. Maybe. It was irrational, but I felt some kind of obligation to take care of my own people in Hong Kong. This wasn’t at all what I had in mind for celebrating tonight. I could almost hear Charlie, a miniature devil on my shoulder, egging me on.She’s cuuuuuute, he said in a squeaky voice.
I got up and walked over to her, the jerky movements of the bus making me sway. “Um… hey.”
She didn’t move a muscle. The brim of her cap hid her face.
“Excuse me.” I paused. “Miss.” Well, that was the first time I’d ever called anyone “Miss.”
Again, no movement or acknowledgment of my presence. I leaned in toward the girl and poked her gently in the shoulder. Nothing. I nudged her slightly harder. Her head shifted on the window.
“Ya,” I said loudly, hoping the informal Korean would jolt her. It was kind of rude, but desperate measures. I saw her lips twitch, registering something. Then she murmured, “Baegopa.” She was still talking about being hungry.
My Korean sucked so I spoke English. “If you get up, you can eat.” My gaze stayed on her mouth, which was undeniably pretty. Her lips were stained pink, as if they had had lipstick on them earlier. The top lip more pillowy than the bottom.
Whoa, stop looking at a drunk girl’s lips.
I slipped into the seat next to her, hoping to find her phone on her and maybe call someone to get her. As I eyed her coat pockets, she fell into me.
The falling was slow. Luxuriant. Her jacket slid against my blazer as her shoulder hit my arm. Her head landed on my shoulder gently and a small sigh escaped her. Her long hair fanned over my arm. Silky black strands touched my bare knuckles.
