This time, he’s the one waiting me out, staring with increasing exasperation and impatience until I get the hint, and explain. “One large part of my operation is smuggling people out of North Korea. Sit, Tommy.”
“Wait, really?” My answer must be acceptable to him, because he hustles to the chair, obeying so well.Good boy.
“Why? Because of your mom?”
“In part,” I agree, sitting beside him. “She was a defector, so it meant something to her. She asked me to keep doing it before she passed. But mostly I do it because I know it would piss off my father for any part of the business to not be making money. I break even in North Korea, at best. It pleases me to imagine his ghost, if there are such things, infuriated beyond measure but powerless to stop me.”
Tommy stares again, but this time I get the feeling that he isn’t waiting me out; he’s just trying to figure out how to say something. Finally, he shakes out a little laugh. “And I thought I had daddy issues.”
“You do.” I lean on the arm of his chair, crowding his space. He freezes solid, but not like a deer in headlights, unable to flee. More like a cautious predator that’s decided, against its better judgement based on a lifetime of disappointment, to allowsomeone to pet it. He wants me in his space, he just isn’t sure if he wants to want it. My voice is almost a purr as I continue.
“But that’s alright, Tommy. I don’t mind a boy with Daddy issues.”
“Oh shit,” he whispers, shivering hard, gripping the arms of his chair until the leather creaks. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it– because we– Because I-” he stutters, then shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s… whatever.”
I hear some voices echo from the other side of the glass as my attendees start to trickle in through the secret hallway. The meeting will start soon.
“Yosef,” I call, and my bodyguard appears at my elbow. “Did you bring what I asked for?”
“Yes, sir,” he murmurs.
He holds out a blue folder, bulky with its contents, and I slip it straight from his hands to Tommy’s. “Here.”
He stares at it like there’s a snake in it, and I watch with bemusement as he peeks inside it suspiciously. Then, once he gets a glimpse of what lays within, he flips it open with wide eyes, and a dropped jaw. A slim sketchpad, a few pens, and some charcoal pencils lay tucked in the pockets of the folder, and I mentally approve of the choices. That should work.
Will he draw me again?Even if he doesn’t, I wonder what he’ll choose to illustrate.
“Young-gi…” he croaks, then sniffles, then coughs and clears his throat, a pouty scowl in place. Without another word, he unpacks the items and opens the sketchpad to the first blank page. With a reverence I don’t expect, he runs the tips of his fingers delicately along the surface of the paper, along the creased binding, and along the pencils and pens.
“Do you like it?” I ask, not meaning to, not planning to.
He nods, silent, refusing to look at me but he picks out a pencil to use and that’s good enough for me.
“Bring them in,” I tell Yosef. “Let’s get this started.”
I’m hoping to get this all done quickly, to be decisive, but I can already tell that I’m going to be distracted and of two minds for the duration of the meeting. How could I not be? Tommy bends over his paper, earnest and focused, and makes his first pen stroke.
And as my men file in, taking their seats, my eyes don’t leave his page. Anticipation? Yes, that’s the feeling. Pride? Perhaps. Something similar.
It takes a throat clearing awkwardly for me to finally snap out of it, and start the meeting.
************
Tommy
Young-gi was right, this meeting is boring as fuck. Granted, it doesn’t help that everyone is speaking Russian. Needless to say, I don’t know any Russian, so I’m completely lost.
Although, something about Young-gi speaking it is kinda scary-hot.
Then again, when is he not scary-hot?
I mentally roll my eyes, but keep myself bent over my new sketchpad. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here, but the page is full of half-finished doodles: bits of larger illustrations all smashed together, none of them completed but somehow looking good together.
I’ve never splurged on a real sketchpad before. Usually, it’s napkins, the backs of bills, whatever scrap I can find. So something about having this entire book all fresh and new? It’s giving me an excited, greedy feeling. I’ve got an army of doodles on this page, like I want to draw everything but save the otherpages for later at the same time. I’m working on a tiny Young-gi in the corner when suddenly everyone is speaking English.
