Our Song
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Rachel POV
'So.' Dolores said, and she start drinking her Pina Colada from the straw, overlooking the sea from the bar we are seating at. Hello Los Angeles.
I waited for her, but after five seconds, she said nothing. 'So?'
'Tony Linton. Yummy. That guy is one sexy bastard. Didn't know you had a thing for uniform man.' She continues to stare at the beach.
'Which grapevine have you heard it from?' I turn to face her, mildly surprise at the gossip that spreads this fast.
'I am the grapevine, Rachel, nothing escapes me.'
'You are kidding.' I laugh, if he knows about Tony, she would already know about Derek and I. So, the point is, she must have heard from somebody. 'Seriously, where did that came from, Tony?'
'Corbin overheard your conversations at the kitchen.' She took a bite of the pineapple.
'I knew it.' I snapped my finger right after she confess that. A part of me was relief, she doesn't know about the affair going on between Derek and I.
'Oh look, that is our Mr-girlfriend-stealer on the television.' Dolores turn to the screen and so did I. His hair is still looking great, only his eyes, they look tired. His brilliant blue eyes wasn't as fresh as he used to be. He was speaking to the press from Seattle. I bet Gavinski would be so eager to make sure our flight schedule never clash.
It was a short clip of his meeting with the tech giants, you know, Zuckerberg, Gates and Cook and Brandon. God!
My heart skipped a beat. This can't be real. The man who appears on the news with Derek Hoffer. That's my dad. Derek met my dad. 'Dolores?'
'What?' She muttered, paying absolute concentration on the screen because Derek Hoffer is there.
'That's my dad.' I said in a weak voice.
'I'm sorry? Which one?' She almost choke from her cocktail.
'The older man? Obviously, in white hair?' I continue to stare at the screen. For the first time, I question destiny. What does all this means? Why would Derek meet my dad out of the blue? Is this coincident? Does Derek even know he is my dad, Brandon Woods?
'Your dad? I thought you are an orphan, I'm sorry to use that word.' She gestured defensively at herself, afraid of offending me. She can be mean at time, but she is definitely sensitive about that.
'I'm adopted, Dol, I just didn't mentioned them.' I stare at the screen, Brandon and Derek were shaking hands, making small talks.
'Brandon Woods, so, there's where your last name came from. God, Rachel? Your dad is talking with the President!' Dolores went from being Sherlock Holmes to a screaming teenager who just met Taylor Swift, she is more exited than me. 'Okay, where's my glasses?' She went to dig something out from her bag.
'What are you doing?' I asked.
'Googling your ancestry, Rachel.' She is still digging her stuff.
I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering what is so interesting about my family tree.
---
Thirty-minutes later
'Your foster family produces computer chips? Oh wait, they did mentioned that Brandon Woods has a daughter.' Dolores repeats what she read on the Google, we sit close, our cheeks almost touch each other's. People who pass by might be thinking that our selfie session are never going to end. Vanity strikes us hard.
Did they mentioned that Brandon Woods have a mistress? Well who cares, he is not the President. A commoner's private life doesn't shatter the world, but the President does. And Brandon Woods is a widow by the way, so, it's acceptable for him to have a relationship with another woman.
I don't think I want to share anything about my past with Dolores, it's heavy and I don't want to start all my family drama and daddy issues again. It's never easy to tell other people that your parents were unfaithful, plus all the rueful looks that they gave you after that.
'Have fun tracking my ancestry, I am going back for shower.' I sip the remaining of my bloody Mary and took my bag.
'Wait, you are going now?' Dolores were reluctant to let me go, as if I have to be there to confirm if what the media said about my family is legitimate.
'Yes, I am. I'll see you in two weeks, Dol.' I throw my hand towards her, waving my goodbyes.
---
'Knock, knock, Knock.'
Straight away I knew who was outside, his voice is very easy to recognize. I wore casual, just like I did the other day, t-shirt and jeans.
I paced towards the door after I tied up my hair. 'Hey.' Somehow, when we exchanged glances, the smiles on our face dire as we realized out outfit were a complete opposite, like a mustard milkshakes? Who ever mix mustard with milk?
Tony was suit up. As for me, I was preparing for a meal at a local streets, fast food maybe.
'Opps.' I said, biting my lips in an awkward manner.
'Wow. Never expect miscommunication to end up like this.' He gestured at our outfit.
'I thought about bringing you to one of Gordon Ramsay's fine dining.' He shrugged.
'Well, I thought about bringing you to a Korean restaurant.' I faked a smile to find my way through this awkwardness. 'So, what now?'
'Well, we'll go with your plan, I can just changes to casual.'
'You sure it's okay?' I asked again, it's for casualty anyway.
'I just need five minutes,' he peered at his watch, 'I'll see you at the lobby?' He asked. I nodded and he left my door.
Lately, I've been watching the news again. The television was almost on since I step inside the room. Part of the reason was, I couldn't stand loneliness, ironic statement from a person who has been living alone for eight years. The television is my friend, kept me from the dark, pulls silent off the walls, of course, sometimes it shows horror movie and I felt betrayed by them.
---
'So, I told you before I've work in a Korean Restaurant? Here we are!' I gestures the sign at him.
It was the same, always crowded, filled with Asian students, white collars and of course, caucasians like me. Tony read the name of the restaurant in his native language, he was nodding, like he was agreeing that this would be a better dinner than his previous plan. Of course, I would love to visit Ramsey's fine dining, but maybe, later.
'It's a long queue.' Tony observed the beginning of the line up till the end.
'Employees benefit, Tony, who says we are queuing?' I give him a triumphant smile and walk inside, he followed behind.
'Ahjuma!' I called at the lady in her fifties who is sitting behind the cashier and shouting at the same time. It is a norm to call an aged or married lady "ahjuma" in Korea.
She looked up at me, narrowed her eyes, she has to wear glasses actually, but she hates it. 'Rachel?' She is still unsure. I walked further up to her and she roar my name excitedly. 'Rachel!' She left the counter and give me a big hug. After that, she begin to notice the tall dude behind me. 'You have a boyfriend, Rachel?'
'Uhm-' When I was trying to make a more detailed introduction of how he is not my boyfriend, Tony cuts in, with language I cannot comprehend. But I can see from Ahjuma's face that Tony did not clear the misunderstanding, perhaps he just admitted that he is.
'Ahjuma?' I blocked Tony's face with mine to prevent further conversation between them. 'No.' I wave my hand, 'he is not my boyfriend. He is my colleague from work.' I explained each syllable slowly because Ahjuma's English needed polished.
She looks at me slightly puzzled.
Tony cleared her throat. 'I was telling her that the review for her restaurant is impressive, if you are thinking otherwise.' Tony said softly.
I looked at him with blood shooting up my veins out of embarrassment. I laugh, loudly, the best way to get out of this awkward stuff is to laugh. 'Of course. Of course.'
Ahjuma brought us to a VIP room instead of blending with the crowds. Actually I prefer to be in the crowds than to be alone with Tony.
We were promised to be served the most popular food in the restaurant. Ahjuma took a bottle of Soju and cups for us. She left us alone since she is still busy with the peak hour.
'I haven't drink this in years.' I opened up the bottle and prepare to pour.
'Hang on a second, what do you think you are doing?' Tony took the bottle of Soju away from me.
'Pouring? Why? Do you need to read when is the production year?' I voiced my sarcasm out.
'No. There is no year stated in a Soju by the way. In Korea, nobody pour the soju for themselves.' He place the cup in front on me as he start dripping the liquor in it.
'Really? I have been doing the wrong way? Oh, I wish the walls have hands to pour for me.' I sigh.
'You drink alone all the time?' He asked as he passed me the bottle, intending for me to pour for him.
I took the Soju and fill his cup. 'Not all the time, most.'
He nodded, like it actually make sense. 'Well, tonight you don't have to. I'll drink with you now, and perhaps next time, if you wish.' Tony's voice is filled with sincerity. What's the saddest part is, I actually wish it was Derek who said those words.
I'm not sure what to say next. Luckily, the waiter knock on the door and came the savory dishes, piping hot, served in a traditional black pot that the Koreans use. In the next thirty-minutes, nobody talks because the food is simply awarding, delicious and spicy, of course.
Finally, we finished every drops of food off the plates and pots. I was surging for air, the spiciness shoots up my body temperature and my tongue is crying for help.
'This Kimchi stew is killing me.' Tony are in fact, gulping two glasses of ice water, his forehead are surfaced with perspiration, like stomata oozing out water droplets on the surface of the leaves.
'You bet, that's the best Korean food I have eaten all my life.' I laugh, still surging for air to cool my burning tongue.
'You should try my mother's' He wasn't looking serious or anything when he said that. But meeting the parents is so official. It's like a silent announcement that there is an eighty percent chance that I'll be their daughter in law. 'I wasn't implying anything, I'm just saying that my mother's food is good, I practically gave up hamburger to eat her Kimchi Stew.' He shrugged.
'You must be a fat boy when you are young.'
'Not something I would like to disclose with, unless you are really curious, Rachel Woods.' He smirk playfully, well, it's harmless.
'Wonder how they approved for you to be Captain.'
'I'll say it was hard work and luck the next. I never thought I'll be flying the President of United State under my wing. My mom was so proud that she made a long distance call to my uncles and aunties back at Korea.' He snigger, perhaps flashes of good old memories came to his mind. 'What about you? How does it feel to be in the same flight with the President?'
My tongue went tight as my throat stuck with words I'm unable to share. 'It's something worth talking about when I grow old.' I shrugged, pouring the bottle of Soju only to realized that there's only a little left, I drank in straight from the bottle.
'Whoa, go easy with the Soju, please.' Tony seems a little apprehensive
'I'm fine, my level of tolerance for alcohol is relatively high, you don't have to worry about carrying me home.' I laugh.
'We have enough for tonight, Rachel, we are going back now, alright? We'll get some fresh air outside' Tony stood from his seat, which means I have to as well. 'Are you sure you are fine?'
'Yeah, no worries, I can differentiate the different between octagon and octopus.' I puts a confident face.
'I like your comparison that have nothing in common. But, okay.' We left the room and headed for the cashier.
Ahjuma is still busy, it is unlikely that I'll get to have a nice chat with her anyway. She made me promised that I will visit her house whenever I'm free. The fact is, it should be whenever she is free, not me. We left after a hasty goodbye and Tony has been observing my footsteps.
'I'm sober, Tony. The reason why I gulped the Soju is because it looks cool, and unhygienic of course.' I point that out.
'Is that some sort of your recovery to your break up? Not that it helps if I don't mention it.'
'Maybe. Which is why I told you I'm not ready. See, I am partially damaged, and the alcohol is doing a little talking for me.'
'Hmmm.' He mumbled.
'What's hmmm suppose to mean?' We stop a the street and wait for the Uber cab he hired few minutes ago.
'Hmmm means I don't know what I should say because right now I can't express my concerns like I would if we are dating.' He look down at his shoe, which is kicking some stones to the streets.
'Well.' I blushed. 'It's overwhelming.' I nodded, looking at him, but I'm struggling to find any words that I need to say. But none came out. Tony seems to be waiting, but seems like he understood that I can't promised him anything more.
'Right. Come on, our car is here.' He let me get inside the Uber cab first. A pitched of dimness draped among us, we stay silent like this, while the cab played the song from the radio. Every cells in my body makes my body react with shiver. This wasn't just a song, a random song on the radio. This is Amy Winehouse singing "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow". This is my song with Derek. Our song.