3
Work
Two months ago, Taehun Shin had phoned John in Sydney and said it was time to come home.
Shin was his superior, a director of Han River Industrials however, Helen understood that the start of the Korean school year would be more important even if it required the children to repeat a grade.
She knew better than to ask for another year in Australia.
Shin was not a man to change his mind, and the abrupt nature of the request had already stunned both of them.
The children spoke English fluently, and if they had enough supplemental tutoring for their Korean subjects, Helen thought they could attend university in Korea, though it might prove difficult for them to catch up with their counterparts.
If it were up to Helen, she would have remained in Sydney or returned to America, but John said that there was nothing they could do about it.
From the beginning of their relationship, Shin had appreciated John’s integrity and his even temperament.
Shin was clear in his professional goals and muddy in his private life; he was aware that a responsible person like John shored him up.
John was dependable, easy to work with, and precise.
Superiors and subordinates liked him. Above all, he was neither too ambitious nor threatening, which pleased Shin and his superiors.
It was not in John’s nature to belittle or betray his boss or team.
Han River Industrials & Trading—HRI—the most profitable division of the Han River Group, teemed with sharks, killer whales, and piranhas, and in such dark waters, a dolphin who could do reliable tricks was valuable.
Above all, loyalty was essential to Shin, a man of great ambition, and he demanded it from his subordinates.
In return, Shin offered anyone on his team the necessary protection from other predators.
Shin had his reasons for calling John back to Seoul.
True, he needed an effective manager for his fast-growing team.
Also, one of the new hires, a young woman, had gotten big ideas, and Shin needed her to understand how things worked.
He hoped that John’s steady and sober presence would help contain her unrealistic expectations.
In the first week of John’s return, Shin invited John’s new team members to dinner: They’d just successfully completed the training program for the metals division and would now report to John.
It was Thursday evening, and after a pork barbecue meal, the large group walked to an upscale noraebang to sing. No one had begged off, because they were all curious about John Koh, who was held in such high esteem by Shin, the big boss.
It didn’t take many drinks to make anyone sing.
Three of the younger men grabbed the microphones to sing “I Know,” a recently released hip-hop song.
Two of the female trainees picked up the tambourines and tapped them against their hips.
Strobe lights came on and the stage vibrated.
More than a dozen Han River employees removed their jackets and transformed into vivacious performers.
Goaded into a song, the guest of honor had to get up onstage.
John had anticipated this and sang the first of his standards: “Can’t Buy Me Love.
” If that went over well and the crowds demanded, he had “Yesterday” and “Let It Be” at the ready.
No one ever complained about a Beatles song, especially since John’s pronunciation and vocal range were impressive.
He had a decent singing voice and didn’t mind going to noraebangs in general, but his wife disliked the drinking that happened before and after.
John turned red when he drank and had never enjoyed the feeling.
Mostly he felt like sleeping after one beer, so he had developed a set of tricks to avoid drinking without being noticed.
Depending on the lighting and location, he could spill, spit out, or hide the numerous shots offered.
Invariably he was the senior person who helped the others get home and ended up returning home late himself, when he was the one who needed regular sleep the most. Late nights with coworkers were another reason Helen preferred family life overseas.
Here, drinking, entertaining, and spending late evenings for work were too often expected.
John sat next to Shin at his table, filled with the most senior men and the loveliest of the female trainees. Miss Danbi Jung sat beside the director, and John observed as she slyly stroked Shin’s upper thigh, her thin white fingers grazing the pleat of his suit trouser pocket. John looked away.
He knew Shin’s wife, Mary, well. Shin and Mary had three sons.
Two of them now attended Lawrenceville, and the youngest went to a public middle school in Bergen County.
Mary and the boys returned home to Seoul only during summer breaks.
Mary had been scouted for the Miss Korea pageant and was a graduate of Ewha, where she’d been called Beautiful Angel for being both pretty and saintly.
At Ewha, Helen was two years her junior, and in Paramus, the two women had been expat wives and young mothers together, helping to raise each other’s children.
The waiter came by to refresh their drink orders, and Shin ordered a costly platter of fruit for each of the three tables. Whiskey flowed, and the ladies laughed louder with each additional pour and song.
Shin turned to John.
“Don’t you think Miss Jung has the loveliest mouth?”
John reached for his water glass and smiled politely.
“Ppo-ppo,” Shin said to Miss Jung, the way a grandfather might speak to a toddler, and the young woman pouted and kissed the director’s cheek. She inched her right hand toward the director’s left pocket and kept her hand there.
Noticing John wince, Danbi rose from her seat.
“Let me sing you a song, Director Shin.”
Shin clapped like a child.
Danbi Jung wore an ivory-colored silk blouse tucked into a dark midi skirt.
The clothes were modest, almost plain, but her body was so extraordinary that there was something obscene in her sensual appeal.
The outline of her old-fashioned brassiere was visible through the scrim of pale silk.
The men were transfixed by the way Danbi held the microphone between her hands as if she were praying to it. She opened her rosy mouth to sing.
She had selected an old Nam Jin song, “Love Me Once Again,” which was curious.
She would have been maybe two years old when the song came out.
Danbi had just turned twenty-four, and it was a love song that her mother used to hum whenever she was happy.
Could she have known that the director and anyone in his generation might be vulnerable to such a nostalgic choice?
The gorgeous young woman had picked a song that reminded a middle-aged man that in his youth he had been vital, leaving him defenseless in his reverie.
From the adoring way she looked at Shin, John understood that she was infatuated, and that Shin was besotted.
She might be the reason Shin had brought him and his family back to Seoul.
He needed John to rescue him from the siren, tie him to a mast, but John wasn’t sure if such a thing was possible now.
The next morning, Shin pulled John away from his desk to get a coffee.
Taehun Shin had a distinctive profile: a sharp nose with a high bridge, a clear brow, and a full head of dark, wavy hair.
Each day without fail, he did his calisthenics, and unlike John, no matter how much he’d drunk the night before, his work performance was never visibly affected.
At forty-six, Shin felt stronger and more mentally fit than when he’d done his military service.
He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, but he felt that he could do anything, and could always work more effectively than his peers.
Once they were in the lobby, they walked briskly toward the front of the building.