TWENTY-ONE (1/1)

_____________________________________________________________         25 CONTROVERSIAL QUOTES FROM THE STYLE EMPRESS          On gender equality:         There’s no such thing. Women have always been the dominant species.          We just foster the illusion that it isn’t so, scheming bitches that we are.          Sandara Park         ____________________________________________________ THE SHOW IS SET AT DUSK on this cloudless day of September. The juxtaposing architecture of rusty metal scaffoldings cleverly anchored together, forming a tangled web of devastation, and the night skyline as its main backdrop, is simply spectacular. I haven’t seen it got finished yesterday but Joohyuk did great. The lighting is perfect. The set has an aura of dystopia with subtle allusions to the aftermath of the 9/11 tragedy, which anniversary falls on this month.     This is Dara’s idea, perfectly executed by Joohyuk. It’s both magnificent and deeply moving. I’m so proud of my baby.     Our conversation last night didn’t end well. The enormity of the responsibility riding on my shoulders didn’t become more apparent until she’d spoken of it to my face.     I was the one who staggered. For a bit.     Only for a bit. I can only blame my inexperience in living with the rest of the human race for my momentary cowardice.     I have to show her I’m not what she’s been thinking of me all along. I have to be here with her.     Dara doesn’t know I’m here. I went down to her boutique a while back and donned a suit. Baro, who has been mostly idling at my suite around Gangnam the past weeks as I didn’t want him openly tailing me was happy to became useful again. He drove me to Pier 26 in a rented Ferrari.     “I said a discreet-looking car, not this bloody red shit,” I told him.     He just grinned. “No way I’ll drive a fucking junk in this fucking suit, man. There will be models there. Gotta drive the right car.”     Baro is Nam Gil’s nephew and practically family. He came to work on the island five years ago. In this trip to Korea, he’s my all-around guy, but he was especially trained to be my bodyguard.     Thankfully, no paparazzi were in sight to harass me when I left Dara’s building. They’re probably all here for celebrity sighting.     Soo Ae sneaked me into the set through the back entrance. Dara’s guests have started arriving. Her designer friend Juancho is doing the receiving while Dara is busy backstage. Soo Ae has been filling me in on the Who’s Who of the World.     I’m kind of awed by it all, intimidated too if I’d be honest with myself. This is the life that my mother left here in Korea when she met my father and chose a quiet, reclusive life with him on an island. It’s ironic now that I’m exchanging my privacy in Louÿs Island for this fast and fancy lifestyle that Dara leads.     Dusk is slowly blending into the night. I’m making myself as inconspicuous as possible near the tent at the back of the set that serves as a huge dressing room. Dara’s in there busy with the models.     Soo Ae appears beside me.     “Jaejoong.”     I immediately feel the anxiety in her voice. “Hey, everything okay?”     “Sandara’s upset.”     “I’m instantly alarmed. “What? Why?”     “Shin Min Ah is here.”     “Who is she?”     “Her father owns a huge film studio.”     “So?”     “She arrived with her fiancée and Senator Jaesuk’s wife. Her father’s a big supporter of the senator’s party. The senator’s wife is a regular guest at Sandara’s shows, a huge client.”     “And…?”     “Didn’t you know? Shin Min Ah’s current fiancée is Kim WooBin, Sandara’s ex.”     Woobin…     That motherfucker.     If that son of a bitch ever try to hurt my Dara again, I’m gonna drag him to the river and tie him by his fucking balls to a boat and keelhaul him. ————//————      I’m shaking like a leaf as I fit the dress on one of the models. I’ve pricked my fingers with the pins thrice.     I can’t believe he had the gall to show up here! What does he want? Sucking up with the senator’s wife to get a privileged entry into my show, the megalomaniac!     I wonder what the bastard did to get back into the scene. He was shunned for many years by the industry in general for what he did to me.     Dicks get around, you know. Like seducing an alcoholic daughter of a billionaire who’d just divorced from her third husband.     But he got new contracts now and is getting hot again. He recently appeared in a TV ad for that genius Italian designer who’s a rebel through and through as evidenced by his penchant for hiring miscreants and reprobates (famous celebrity alcoholics, drug addicts, womanizers, ex-cons, you name it) in his ad campaigns. Woobin sure belongs perfectly in his roster of notorious talents.     I prick my finger again. I curse loudly, startling the model I’m working on.     "Are you okay, Sandara?” Tiffany asks me with concern.     “I’m okay. Okay, gorgeous, walk. Make mama proud!”     She blows me a kiss and heads for the line of models about to walk out into the runway which Heechul is commandeering like a drill sergeant.     I suck my injured finger.     A hand touches my back. I jump.     “Hey, so tense.”     “Jaejoong!”     He hugs me from behind. “Everything’s going perfectly, baby.”     Oh god. I want to melt into his embrace. I’ve missed him. But that’s la la land momentarily doing a mean short-circuit in my neurons. I’m in the middle of a Fashion Week and tonight, Stardust is on! Get your shit together, bitch!     It was a struggle to avoid thinking about him today just to get in the zone for this show I can’t afford to mess up. I squirm in his arms, panic surging inside me. What’s he doing here?! The place is swarming with paparazzi!     “Jaejoong, let me go. I’m working.”     He kisses my cheek. I caught the look on the models’ faces, their covert smiles. “Next!” I shout so he’d let me go.     Thankfully, his arms fall away from me.     Melania, a Russian supermodel comes closer. She’s wearing one of my couture gowns. I’m giving my audience here a prelude to what they’ll get in the Haute Couture Paris Fashion Week early next year.     I begin to work on Melania.     “Wow,” Jaejoong remarks appreciatively as he looks at the model. I don’t know if he’s appreciating my design or Melania’s tall, sexy body that fits it perfectly. I favor curvy models. I’m known for my designs that real people can wear, not just by skinny models and celebrities.     The bulk of my clientele who subscribe to my exclusive brochures are plus-size matrons— queens, princesses, wives of sheiks, wives of presidents, wives of billionaires, you name it.     Melania smiles sweetly at him. “You’re not bad-looking yourself.”     “Thanks. I scored this from Dara’s boutique. I’m gonna blog about the perfect fit later,” he jokes.     Melania laughs. “Yeah, go over to the front so the street photogs can take a pic of you. Or you can walk with them.” She looks at the male models getting fitted in another part of the huge tent.     “Unfortunately, I have stage fright.”     “Shame. You can easily be on the cover of GQ.”     “Thanks. I’m flattered but not for me.”     “Hey, your SI pics are awesome.”     “You saw them?”     “Yeah. How do you walk on water? I’d like to learn, too.”     I catch him grin at Melania and the little bitch is probably thinking how to wrench him away from her fat, aging employer right now.     Well, she can have him!     She can fucking try.     “First, you gotta learn how to swim.”     Melania makes a duck face. “I swim like a puppy.”     Oh cute. Bleh.     “Puppies are good swimmers,” he replies. So fucking nice I want to elbow his perfect abs. The model is about to jump him in my fucking dress.     They continue to exchange small talk as I work. The way Melania is looking at him is tempting me to turn into one of the Witches of Eastwick and start pricking her sexy body with the needle. But I can’t blame Melania for trying to catch his attention. Jaejoong is rocking one of my suits. I have to admit, he’s perfect for the Paris runway, or in a brand new ad for Stardust for Men. Not that I’d ever put the secret Prince of Monte Franco on my billboard. That would reopen a scandal Europe hasn’t revisited in ages. The royals will surely boycott my label from then on. God forbid! The European royals are huge business!     My crazy thoughts momentarily took me away from my asshole ex presently enjoying my show somewhere in the crowd. He’s now engaged to one of Asia’s prize catches, still gorgeous, and I’m still single at 35.     Did he come here to taunt me? Flaunt his new conquest? His resurging career? I wish he would leave soon. What he said in that old video are making vivid flashbacks in my head and I can’t concentrate. God, I don’t ever want to see him again!     Heechul signals for Melania to line up.     The model winks at Jaejoong and flounces off like a fucking dream in my original creation, which I know now will start a little war among the megastars who’d like to wear it at the next Oscars. I’m one of the rare designers who don’t beg any of those demigods and goddesses to wear my clothes. They come to me demanding I prioritize them in my short list to dress. <