Page 69 of Somewhere Only We Know
“Eating pig innards?” A smirk.
Despite wanting to lunge across the table and kiss that smirk off her face, I resisted. Stick to the story. “Lucky.”
“Jack.” She moved her arm across the table and stuck her index finger into my cheek. Making a dimple. “Our names both havecksounds in them.”
“Wow, you’rereallyavoiding the question,” I said with a laugh, her finger still poking into my cheek.
She pulled away. “I know. I wasn’t sure why I was doing this at first. But now, I think the simple answer is… because I want to?” The noises around us grew louder and I could barely hear her. So I scooted closer. She smiled and scooted closer, too. “Yeah, I wanted to. Today’s my last day before everything.”
“Everything? Because you’re going to be onThe Later Tonight Show?”
She raised an eyebrow. “So you know about that?”
Heat flooded my face and I could only nod in response.
“Yeah,The Later Tonight Show. Theeverythingof becoming a Western K-pop star. If I succeed, it’s going to be next level crazy. The stuff that I find intense about my current situation is only going to get so much worse,” she said, her words picking up speed. “And if I fail? That’ll stop the Lucky train right in its tracks.Poofgoes the top spots everywhere, endorsements dropped, my managers will move on to the next shiny thing.” It was pouring out of her. Everything. The entire story.
Her stool scraped against the ground, her body moved back. Giving space to all the words.
I clasped my hands under my chin. “So, first. Let’s assume you succeed wildly. What’s so nuts about your current situation? Other than the fact that you’re some huge star. I don’t know much about K-pop.”
A long time passed before she answered. “My life is not my life.” That soundbite, Jesus. Perfect. Her expression grew stony. “My life is scheduled down to the minute. It’s been that way since I was a kid. Because it was what I wanted to do, I was happy to forgo the normal kid things for it. But I thought, at one point, I’d get a break. I keepthinking,When I get this, orthat, or reach some other thing, I’ll have that freedom.But it nevercomes.And I’m freaked out that it never will.” Her voice cracked and her posture tensed.
I reached over the small table and tugged on her sweatshirt sleeve. Reaching for her. She instantly came in closer, pushing her hand out of the sleeve to hold mine. Like a reflex.
We were so into each other it was ridiculous. It never failed to surprise me every time I noticed it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. It was the only thing I could say. And I meant it. About her life, the difficulty of it. And for today. For the lies I told, for the lies I was still going to tell.
She took a deep breath. “And it isn’t only that. It used to be so fun for me. But somehow, even though I’m doing the same thing—recording albums, doing concerts, videos, et cetera—it’s changed. I don’tlikeit that much anymore.” Her hands left mine and picked up a tissue, twisting it into a skinny rope. “I know I’m an ingrate to complain. This was my dream, what’s my problem?”
“It was your dream?” I asked. I realized I had no idea how she got into this. Why she did it. The church choir subtext only told me part of the story.
“Yeah, my parents didn’t make me do it or anything. Every K-pop star you see out there? We’re the same. Incredibly obsessed with becoming a performer since we were young. So, I trained for years as a kid, then auditioned. K-pop labels have satellite offices or auditions in other countries to find talent. They came to LA and I was determined to make it,” she said, smiling at the memory. “Believe it or not, I’m a ham.”
“Super hard to believe.”
She kicked me playfully under the table. “Anyway. I drove my parents crazy with the obsession but they supported me, ultimately. Theypaid for vocal lessons, dance class, drove me around the city, and came to every meeting once I got signed. The day I got signed was… wow. It was a dream and I felt like, well, the luckiest girl in the world.”
It was clear how much passion she had as a kid. Still had. It made her glow as she talked about it. And it confused me—her unhappiness in finally achieving her goals.
“Maybe you need to reevaluate what your dreams are,” I said. The words surprised me—but I realized I had been thinking about this all day. Turning over her unhappiness and her fame in my head. As if they were inextricably connected with each other. I had assumed she was unhappy because she was forced into this. But she had wanted it at one point.
Lucky cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe you lost track of everything once you got on the Lucky train,” I said, my voice higher, energized. “Maybe you can still have a version of this life. On your own terms.”
A faraway look fogged her expression and I stared at her expectantly. Waiting for her excitement. Instead, her eyes grew distant and she pulled back slightly, barely noticeable. “It’s impossible to do anything on your own terms in K-pop,” she said, bitterness sharpening her words.
“That can’t be true!” I was baffled by her defeatist attitude. “You have power!Youare the asset to your label.” I flinched at that word—that’s what Trevor had called her.
“Jack. I’m replaceable. There are, oh, five thousand girls who are waiting to take my place,” she said with a laugh. “Younger, thinner, better dancers.”
“But you’re you. And you’re special,” I gushed. Oh, God, I was really in it now.
Lucky laughed. “I am?”
“Yes,” I said adamantly. I reached for her again. “It wasn’t luck that brought you into this.”
