A Night at the Pearl Club

'Why, of all places, it had to be here?'

Dr. Kim handed the car key to the valet, inspecting with some interest the nightclub's façade. He looked over the relatively small and discreet neon sign above a equally small vintage-style marquee, displaying Ms. Nam pictures on stage "on Wednesdays and Saturdays".

The club seemed to occupy just partially the ground floor of the shabby 5-story building. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of the dilapidated exterior of the building, save for the Pearl's front door. Anyway, the doorman was solicitous and attentive, watching his entrance with curiosity.

Kim Jun Hyeon could foresee that his grandfather still wanted to play tricks on him. Coming to meet him at the Pearl wasn't much of a trouble, because his grandfather spoke so much about the good time he used to have there with the "ol' gang", so Jun Hyeon was curious about the place.

But from all days, it had to be today, when the apologies roses he had sent to Ms. Nam had been delivered right there? He was already embarrassed in anticipation.

As he crossed the low lit hallway with walls lined with a gaudy, worn-out fabric, he detected the smell of fried food coming from the kitchen, mixed with the powdery scent of cleaning products used in other areas. It wasn't totally unpleasant, though.

The little orchestra could be softly heard through the panelled walls separating the lobby from the main hall. He was a bit confused on what to do next, when an smiling ahjumma, elegant in an old-fashioned way, came to greet him. He soon understood, before she even spoke it, that she was Mrs. Song. She was the owner of the Pearl Club, who used to receive the guests in person, as his grandfather had told him some time ago

She also seemed to know who he was, apparently, for she greeted him by his name and other kind words. Which made him feel disconcerted for no reason, by the way. Kim Jun Hyeon, however, didn't want to make a faux pass near his grandfather's friends. That could cost him another equally awful punishment, so he used his best manners to match Mrs. Song's gentleness.

He followed her across the main hall, decorated in a style that looked more old-fashioned than really vintage. Jun Hyeon caught in the corner of the eye a very old man sitting alone in a velvet armchair near the bar, strategically facing both the entrance and the stage.

The man bore an empty expression that was common on people who can't control their facial muscles anymore. The surgeon suspected that the man could be Mr. Song, the founder of Pearl Club and the father of Mrs. Song. A man who harbored a deep attachment and love to his club, but bore severe complications due a stroke a few years ago. Or something like this, as he recalled.

When the duo reached the table next to the stage where Jun Hyeon's grandfather was, Mrs. Song said something that made Kim Jun Hyeon wish to disappear into a hole in the floor:

"Ye Rim-ssi loved the flowers, Dr. Kim. She was very surprised and happy."

Kim's grandfather grinned at this, as he placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder and led him to a sitting position after being properly greeted by the younger man.

"I imagine she'll be very pleased to hear that you're here, too, my son. Can you tell her, Mrs. Song?"

Kim groaned, rubbing his hands together, and begging mutedly for his grandfather to stop punishing him: "Please, enough!" Mr. Go just shrugged, feigning not to understand him.

Mrs. Song might have noticed, but she didn't show to have acknowledged any of it. She just greeted the two men before leaving, after offering a drink on the house to Mr. Go's grandson. Jun Hyeon sat down again after her departure, wondering how to retreat without further losses from his grandfather's petty guerilla on him.

...

Unlike the gentle words of the owner of Pearl made it to sound, Kim Jun Hyeon's apologies flowers to Nam Ye Rim were not received with great happiness, but undoubtedly, with great surprise.

"Hahh! What a funny man is Mr. Go's grandson!" It was Ye Rim's scornful exclamation as she checked the card attached to the huge bouquet of roses. "This is the worst kind of man, President Song! And what kind of message is this? He's pretty much saying I'm an ajuhmma! Is he wanting to go back to those weird insinuations; is he really thinking that I'm trying to seduce his grandfather?! Aishhh!"

"What are you talking about, silly girl?! What nonsense is this? Let me see it." The ahjumma grabbed the card from the Ye Rim's hands as a hawk. The singer turned her attention to the beautiful flowers in a lushful arrangement, instead, talking to them in a silly voice as if they're little babies,

"I don't hate you, girls, I only despise that Dr. Kim, who should learn to show some respect and manners."

After reading the contents of the card, Mrs. Song crumpled the card with a cold look, keeping it in her closed fist. "Don't mind those ready-made words on the card. It must have been another person who wrote it; it's clear as water to me."

"Worse still: he didn't even write it by himself, he hasn't the slightest sincerity in those words." the singer huffed.

"That's better, isn't it? He probably doesn't even imagine that you are a woman who receives more flowers than a funeral parlor; and that, at this point, flowers do not stir your feelings anymore."

"Aishh, President!" Ye Rim protested, slightly offended. "It's not like that. I love receiving flowers. I love flowers, I love them!"

"So if you aren't willing to thank the gesture for his sincerity, that is zero, thank him because they are beautiful flowers." That was the somewhat harsh advice of Ye Rim's employer.

"Ah, sure, of course. I'm going to thank him." Ye Rim leaned in and stuck her face into the arrangement, deeply inspiring the voluptuous scent of the red roses, her voice muffled by them," But I'd rather wish they were flowers with sincerity included. "

"As I was told by Mr. Go that Dr. Kim will come to see you tonight, I think you should decide whether you like flowers, or sincerity."

The younger woman straightened her body, flustered with the news. She snorted nervously:

"Why do I have to want something from Dr. Kim?"

Mrs. Song was no longer there to hear Ye Rim's musings, however.

...

After retouching her lipgloss, she went for the stage, signaling her arrival for the band. Ye Rim sighed, noticing the worn state of the carpet under her feet. It wasn't exactly like that silly prophecy of the Destiny's stick. It wasn't about the thrill of fame and glamour, or about being pampered or the shit.

But it was, indeed, about the only thing she could do in her life.