Hyeonverse: Kissed By Darkness

"You'd get to leave the house for a change." She winked, standing at her tippy toes to pull me in for a soft kiss. Christ, she was so precious and tiny I could put her in my pocket. "Give it a try, pleeeease?"

Sighing, I opened the bloody dojo.

It got off to a good start, but soon I grew weary of my wife's interference. In hindsight, she was trying to save my business, but I was too prideful to take her managerial advice.

It imploded spectacularly in a street brawl shortly after, when a few of my students' husbands walked in on their wives ogling my flawless white hair. Plagued by my brother in my dreams, insomnia, and boozing hard during the day, by 1990 I was done with the civilian life.

Concerned with my downward spiral, Amber proposed a trip and we retraced our torrid sexual tour from Istanbul to Seoul.

Strolling down the Macau waterfront, one day she fell in love with Desejos de Nata, a tiny pastry shop at Ponte e Horta plaza.

Rosario, the Chinese-Portuguese owner had read into the future and predicted his business would go to shit once China took over in 1999. He saw through Amber's fascination and made us a generous offer.

My wife lit up at the prospect of growing old and fat eating those delicacies.

Red tape handled, Rosario and his family moved to Rio, leaving us as the owners of a Macanese pastry shop. Neither of us spoke a word of Cantonese.

The first month went as expected, people were suspicious at first of those two crazy Americans starting a business at the edge of the Middle Kingdom, so far away from home. Slowly, Amber's bubbly personality won them over.

By month two, her Bachelor of Science degree in Business paid off and we made a nifty profit. My wife had always been great with money, but she really shined through at the head of her own business. Watching Amber in her element was humbling and inspiring, how effortlessly she dodged the pitfalls that had ruined my dojo. Galvanized for the first time in years, I gobbled down her every word, eagerly learning the rules of entrepreneurship at age forty.

Month three arrived and I finally understood why Rosario had sold us the place so cheap.

INTO THE DARKNESS

I was sweeping the floor when the five of them walked in.

"You Cas?" The Chinese-Portuguese guy in a tuxedo clearly hadn't gotten the memo, it was 1990; the New Wave hair was over. I tried hard not to notice his unfortunate Puma Sky sneakers. "The owner?"

"Yes, we're Cassiel and Amber Clair." My wife waved, welcoming the five potential customers with her award winning Nebraska smile. "We're the owners."

My hands gripped the broom, could I take down five? Shit.

"We're a group of concerned citizens, there's been problems in the area, shops are being attacked."

"Oh, my God, that's terrible!" Amber's pale face went white.

"Fellas! Amber, why don't you go lend Lei a hand, I'll take care of this."

Lei was the Chinese pastry chef we had inherited from Rosario. Delicious cinnamon tigeladas.

"Are you sure, angel?" Amber asked.

"Sure, babe," I kissed her forehead. The tuxedo guy smiled at her goodbye wave and something twinkled in his eyes as he tracked her inside. Something familiar that made me see red. I buried the urge to shove my broom down his throat. Fuck.

"How much?" I grabbed my wallet.

"Two thousand."

"Two thousand patacas? Are you kidding me? Did Rosario pay that much?"

"You're our American guests, you get the deluxe protection package."

I could probably take out three of these dirtbags with my broomstick. Cormac was a beast and Leo had atomic fists, but nobody in Team One had quicker hands than mine. Put a knife in them and I was a nightmare. The problem was the other two, I couldn't assess what hardware they were packing. There was a small fortune collecting interest in my Swiss bank account, no way in fuck was I going to bite the dust over 2,000 patacas. I handed them the money.

"Thank you for your contribution to our neighborhood watch." He said, pocketing the notes, and then sneaking one last peek into the kitchen for a glimpse of my wife. "I look forward to doing business with you."

Oh, this wasn't over, motherfucker, ask me how I knew.

Joining Amber at the back, I walked into a delectable chunk of paradise filled with delighted clapping and the enticing scent of powdered sugar.

My ginger Tinker Bell was laughing as Lei showed off his whipped topping technique.

A tray filled with delicious pastéis and succulent bolas de Berlin awaited to be brought to the front of the store.

This was the dream world my wife had built. I paused to commit it to memory.

"Everything okay?" Amber caught my expression.

"Yeah, I'm heading out for cigs."

"Y... you want me to come with?"

"Nah, it's all good," I winked at her as I left.

"Angel?"

Worried steps carried me to the front of Chen's Electronic Store on Rua da Caldeira. The underworld would never let me go, would it?

As usual, I paid the guy for a long distance phone call and sighing, I dove back into its darkness.

Hercule picked up at the third ring.

"Oui?"

"Guess who."

"Cassiel, I don't have any news, man je suis désolé. I've shown her portrait sketch to hundreds of people. I've interviewed a dozen redhead women named Vicky, nobody has even heard of your kiosk girl, she's a ghost."

My mind resurrected her smile as she tucked herself in Cormac's massive chest, giggling away toward a rented hostel room for a weekend of wild sex. No, I didn't hallucinate her.

"Keep on it, she's real."

"Okay, man. It's your money."

"Hey, listen... there's a local crew getting in my hair and I'm black on manpower, who do you know in the Southeast?"

"Macau? It's a bit, comment te dire... thin. I know this mec who retired and moved to Thailand. Give him a try."

I traveled to Pattaya the next day and its charm captured my heart.

The guy Hercule had referenced was a dead end. We talked in the kitchen while his teenage kids and their friends sat in the living room, watching a Muay Thai movie.

Wedged in the crowded couch, a stocky Thai teen was staring at me through the opened door. His Nike Vandal sneakers were old as balls, but still impeccable. This kid respected his steeds.

His arm wrapped around a sharp eyed kathoey in a fashionable red cocktail dress. My immaculate white hair had her in a trance.

The two followed me outside.

"You're looking for muscle?" he asked. "I can help you, I'm Chai. She's Baby Lee."

"Outta my way, kids."

"I'm serious! I know a few tough guys in Macau, we go there all the time to gamble."

Never look a gifted horse in the mouth. I stopped and glanced at them, the kid was built like a brawler, but did he have anything between his ears?

"In both Mecca and the Vatican, you can't take pictures of women with pants." I said. "Why is that?"

" I... I dunno... Religion?"

"Thank you for wasting my time." I resumed my march, disappointed.

Behind me, Baby Lee giggled and whispered to her lover.

"Wait, it's a camera!" Chai shouted. "You can't use pants to take a picture, you need a camera for that."

"Are you sure?" I checked his hooves again, they really were in mint condition.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

We flew back to Macau and he introduced me to a couple guys. They made phone calls. By the end of the day, I was standing in front of an old Chinese guy in shorts and loathsome green slippers, crouched on the back of a discotheque in Beco da Felicidade working on his old bike. Yep, slippers. Green.

"I'm Song. You need someone to break some teeth?"

"Yeah."

"If you've got the money, I've got the crew. That's my nephew. Junior, get your butt over here!"

Down the alley, Tuxedo guy and his crew closed in and Carmina Burana's bombastic overture blared in my brain:

"O Fortuna, velut luna

Statu variabilis"

"Why, It's Cas! What's up, angel? How's the wife?"

The old man raised his eyebrow, choosing to ignore his nephew's comments: "Who's the mark?"

"There is no mark," Junior sneered. "Cas here took over Rosario's little pastry shop down at the plaza and wants to get out of paying his monthly dues."

"Is that so?" Song looked at me.

Pig on a fucking stick, life really is chaos, a zero sum game where you leave empty handed.

Dirty Reebok Pumps to my right was the biggest threat. He was sly, with calculated steps, and good spatial awareness, but superiority in numbers had made him cocky. That was my in.

"Cassiel. Or Mr. Clair," I said. "You can call me either. Not Cas."

I waited for him to grab a cigarette and, once his hands were busy flicking the lighter, I kicked him in the balls. Pain bent him and my knee to his jaw deep sixed the fucker straight into the arms of Sandman.

Three of them froze. Not Junior, the guy charged in. Jab, jab, kick, all near misses. Wanker was a decent fighter, but I had the speed and the training. I kicked him in the shin. The pain broke his focus and my uppercut made him question his lifestyle choices. A spinning kick to the abdomen lifted him off his feet. He landed on nearby trash cans, ventilating his dinner.

Adidas Campus moved in, but Chai read the room and made a career decision. Chambering a Taekwondo side kick, he exploded it on his knee, bringing Adidas down screaming. A reverse side kick to his overbite finished the guy off.

Clever lad, under my wing this kid could go far.

The two guys I had feared reached for their weapons. Saucony Jazz sneakers drew a Spanish Llama M82 pistol. Adidas Centennials twirled a baton.

Song whistled at Saucony Jazz, saying something about jingchat, the Cantonese word for cops.

He stood staring at Song and I. Chai made up his mind for him, flooring the guy with a powerful left hook before trapping him in a half Nelson.

That left the baton guy. He was tall, strong, and quick, but young and uncoordinated. I didn't need my knife to fold this loser down to his shabby Centennials.

"Hun dan!" He swung the baton and I sacrificed my left arm to block the attack. Piercing pain crept up my limb, but I had endured far worse at Camp Peary. Grabbing his lapel, I pulled him to me. Strike to the throat, solar plexus, ribs, and groin. He writhed in pain, collapsing to my feet.

My heart raced and my lungs wanted to swallow the world, I was alive. Eager and giddy like a little boy for the first time in years.

"Ask me what I'll do to you if I ever see you anywhere near my pastry shop or my wife again. Go ahead." I whispered to Junior while treating myself to five thousand patacas from his wallet, much to Chai's amusement.

The ominous feeling that something was horribly wrong killed my moment of triumph.

Song's sharp eyes were dissecting me. A cunning mind sneered from behind them, turning this old geezard into an enemy would be courting death.

I could read it in his joyless smirk.

"The mark is twice my size," I said. "If these idiots can't even handle me, how are they gonna handle him? Show me someone who actually knows how to fight and you can name your price."

The old man called me first thing next morning.

I paid him generously and three days later, Leo was jumped coming out of a dance club in Yongsan. Four street strays kicked him straight into a stretcher. They fucked up his right eye so badly his days as Team One's designated sniper were over.

Uncle Sam shipped that massive chunk of cornbread and his atomic right hook back to Iowa.

I visited Song the next day with a pastry box, hoping to find a way to keep Amber's little shop away from his protection racket and my wife far from his nephew's reach.

The old man was overjoyed with our tasty delights and ended up teaching me how to play Big Two, cheating me out of two hundred patacas. Asshole.

I told him about my smuggling days and he introduced me to his old friends. They wanted to ship some merchandise to the US. This was it, the price to protect Amber and her shop: my soul.

Grabbing my little black book, I rekindled my contacts back home and soon, we were in business.

Our relationship grew over time and with the fall of the Soviet Union and its retreat from Afghanistan, we soon gained access to the poppy fields in the Balkh province, opening a new opium route. By 1994 I was swimming in money and could focus on the long game.

Working from under Song's umbrella was extremely profitable, but the man was old. How long until his nephew Junior took over? Everyone knew there was no love lost between us and his interest in Amber only made bad things worse.

I had learned from my dojo mistakes. All these years closely watching my wife at work had taught me how to run a business, I hoped. From leadership and decision-making to supply chain management, strategic planning, targeting, and research, I had all the tools I would ever need to spread my wings and fly.

Leaning on Chai and Baby Lee, I adjusted what Amber had taught me to my field of work, extending my interests across the pond and into Thailand. Under a veneer of legitimacy, I bought through them laundromats, pizzerias, gaming and massage parlors, building myself an impressive Pattaya portfolio.

Under the table, my tentacles branched from trafficking to counterfeiting and prostitution with Chai as my lead enforcer. His people skills made him the ideal recruiter while Baby Lee excelled at paperwork. Sharp and nosy, it was only a matter of time before she stumbled upon my side activities.

<<<<<>>>>>

"Sawatdee-kha, boss!" Baby Lee greeted me from her usual park bench where she gave me her weekly updates on the status of my Thai business ventures. She loved flying, and these short trips to Macau were her chance to taste the cosmopolitan life and debut her increasingly sophisticated dresses.

We caught up on the latest news while I read her reports and signed papers.

An orange butterfly got too close and I crushed it.

"Aw, boss!" Baby Lee lamented. "That was a Monarch butterfly."

"I hate them things, lately they're always in my dreams."

"That's a good sign, you know? Someone from beyond is trying to reach you, to tell you something."

"Yeah, and I know who the backstabbing fucker is."

"The Blue Snakes still giving you trouble?" I changed the subject.

"No, the whole gang pulled out of our turf. Their new boss was horrified, you sure messed him up good."

"Textbook psychological warfare; what do I always say?"

"'Terror is good, horror is better'."

"Good. If you need me again, I can be in Pattaya in half a day."

"N-no need." She winced. "The head on a spike sent just the right message."

"Swell!"

"Hey, boss... what's an AN/PVS-7?"

"Where did you see that?"

"It's in the monthly expenses spreadsheet for the Shimmering Starlight Massage Parlor. A guy named..."

"I know his name! Shit..."

We watched a pair of old Grandmas doing their Tai Chi morning exercises.

"Boss..." she insisted. "Why am I paying for a set of third generation night vision goggles?"

"It was my mistake, I'm sorry; I mixed the payment accounts. You have nothing to worry about."

"I do when he starts mailing photo and video surveillance packages to K̄okKokKok Movie Productions, which you only own 21% of." Baby Lee removed a manila envelope from her bag. I peeled it off her hands. Fuck.

"I was afraid this would happen, Boss, you can't keep leading a secret life under your wife's nose, it's too many lies to keep track of, especially with your insomnia."

"I don't want her mixed up in this."

"I'm amazed she hasn't figured it out yet, women are sharp, you know?"

I nodded.

"So, that's your brother Cormac, uh?" She craned her neck at the envelope.

"You saw the pictures."

"I paid for them, didn't I?"

Fuck.

"He's bigger than you described, how does he even fit in a helicopter?"

I smiled: "One leg at a time."

"When he boards an aircraft carrier, do they have to move all the planes to the other side of the deck?"

I laughed and my throat hurt: "Usually..."

We opened the envelope to look at his photos. I had hired a LRSU (Long-range Surveillance Unit) PTSD burnout to keep tabs on my brother, Cormac was a father now. Telephotos taken at Roosevelt Park showed him trying to teach his two year old daughter the moonwalk, it was hilarious.

Baby Lee held a close up shot of him smiling at his wife. ""He doesn't love her. You can tell by his eyes, they don't smile when his lips do."

"I know. I tried to tell him that; Vicky is the one he should have married!"

"Vicky?"

I stared at her. Could I trust baby Lee with my secrets? She was an incurable romantic.

I told her about Paris and her eyes grew as she learned about their meteoric passion. We toyed with ideas to bust Cormac's sham marriage wide open. And then, his wife's photo caught my attention.

"I've been doing this all wrong, I should have gone after her."

"Y... you're not gonna put her head on a spike, are you?"She smiled nervously. "Boss?"

"No." I focused on the radiant smile, Cormac's wife was overjoyed to have her husband home. His absence was taking a toll on her. Marriages and military deployments don't mix: "No, she is going to do that herself."

I waited for Cormac to return to Korea. Nine weeks later, I traveled to the US under the guise of a possible family inheritance. Chai was with me.

<<<<<>>>>>

Of all the seamen crowding the place, the bored sailor sitting all by himself at the bar was the last guy I'd pick as a potential Lothario. Ugly as James Cagney, his lackluster shoes had been polished just enough to clear uniform inspection. I glanced at Chai from across the room and he nodded back at me, insisting.

This was his choice? Mmkay, then...

"Eenie, meenie, minie mo," I whispered. The sailor turned to the sound of my voice.

"Three hoes on the prowl for a beau to blow." I smiled. "Have you locked your target yet?"

We ogled the three attractive women drinking and laughing in one of the booths. They had already shot down two sailors I had sicced on them.

"No joy, man those are tier one wives. Delta Force and Seal Team husbands, they'll rip your head off."

"Nah," I said. "They'll be too embarrassed to admit a Navy guy banged their wives, ask me how I know."

He checked them out again, but there was not enough liquid courage in his glass to seal the deal. I ordered him another.

Chai approached from the other side and threw a Franklin on the counter.

"A hundred bucks says your friend's going home alone tonight."

I put two hundred down:

"Well, these twins are telling me my man here is gonna bang one in the parking lot."

"Nope, he doesn't have it in him." Chai stabbed at his pride.

"By Poseidon, sailor!" I egged him on. "You're gonna let this punk take my money?"