Jennie
"Jennie Kim's collapse: Drugs, pregnancy, or both?"
"Female billionaire collapses under weight of scandal"
"Kim threatens Junhoe Koo with defamation suit"
I woke gradually and in decadent stages. There was no alarm startling me to life. That was my first hint that something was very wrong. The second was the light. There was some. Natural and soft playing through the shears that hung framing the terrace doors.
Every morning, I awoke before dawn to a shrill alarm and started my day without complaint.
Yes, something was very, very wrong.
And then I remembered.
My eyes flew open. I slapped a hand to the pillows next to me. Lisa. She was gone. Perhaps she'd never been? Had I hallucinated it all? The fainting—how humiliating—the argument in the car, dinner in bed with her and Chu?
I sat up and scrubbed the sleep from my eyes. A pair of shoes sat by the door. The pillows on the other side of the bed had a distinct head impression.
There were voices, deep voices, coming from the direction of my kitchen.
Before I could decide whether to get out of bed and boot these kitchen dwellers from my house or swing by the bathroom first, Lisa appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in yesterday's clothes and carrying another tray.
I'd spent the night with her.
I'd spent the night with plenty of men before. But had never felt quite this awkward… or unfulfilled.
"Ah, she's awake," she announced cheerfully. I pulled the sheets up to my chest, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.
"Why are you still here?" I croaked.
Whatever it was she had on the tray smelled divine, and I wanted it.
"Oh, we'll get to that," she said, the slightest hint of a warning in her tone. "But first, are you well enough to eat somewhere besides bed?"
Pride chafed, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. "I'm not an invalid," I sniffed haughtily.
"Good. Then we'll dine al fresco," she decided. Juggling tray and door handles, Lisa led the way onto the terrace.
The morning heat was welcome on my skin. The waters, pool and ocean, sparkled under the sun that had already crested the horizon.
"What time is it?" I asked, looking for my watch and finding my wrist bare.
"Six-thirty."
Dammit. I was already an hour behind in my day. Though it was hard to have regrets when my body felt so damn rested. But still. There were schedules to adhere to. Tasks to complete.
Lisa put the tray down on the table with a flourish. "I made friends with Cristoff. He was so delighted that you ate everything he'd cooked for you earlier this week that he made us eggs Benedict and fruit salads."
My stomach let out a shameless whine. But not of its usual bowel distress variety. This was raw, primal hunger. Lisa pushed the handle down on the French press, and the scent of fresh coffee invaded my nostrils.
It was hard to be angry when someone who looked like Lisa was feeding me breakfast outside on a perfect Miami spring morning. But I'd still give it my best shot.
She set a plate in front of me and unfurled a denim blue cloth napkin, tucking it neatly onto my lap.
"I can take care of myself, thank you very much," I complained, reaching for a knife and fork.
"You're welcome," she said, pretending my thanks were sincere. "But I believe you proved yesterday that you are, in fact, incapable of such a task."
"Someone's grumpy in the mornings," I said, shoveling the perfect bite of egg, meat, and English muffin into my face. "Oh my God, Cristoff's hollandaise!"
"To restate my point from last night, which you are probably too exhausted to recall, you need to stop trying to prove to the world that you can do everything. You're going to micromanage yourself into an early grave."
I chewed in silence and stared at her. Obviously, this person had a point. Perhaps even a marginally valid one. But that didn't mean I could just snap my fingers and rid myself of responsibilities.
"Lisa," I sighed, gratefully accepting the delicate glass mug of coffee she handed me. "Even if you have the slimmest point, I don't have the time to start the offloading process. Training. Follow-up."
"I'm hearing problems, not solutions," she said, cutting into her breakfast.
I threw a grape at her. Smugly, she popped it into her mouth.
"Jennie, love. It takes a visionary to run a company like yours. And you can't have visions when you're too busy sweating over the details. If you run yourself into the ground, Flawless will flounder, I'll have an ugly little imperfection in my track record of unblemished successes, and everyone who ever said that you can't will win."
"You forgot to mention that in that particular instance, I'll also own half of your company," I pointed out.
"So you can understand why I'm motivated."
I squinted out at the turquoise waters of the bay and sighed. "You are exceptional at pushing my buttons," I mused.
She preened. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me."
I snickered and sipped my coffee. I could hear Cristoff destroying my kitchen. The man cooked to Metallica and threatened anyone who interrupted him with physical violence. Alison was half in love with him.
Unhurried mornings were nice. I wondered if it was because of the sleep or Lisa.
I felt downright cheerful.
"I say this with all the love, lust, and adoration that I feel for you," my platonic bed buddy began. "You need to pick a lane. This stock offering is going to set you and the next three generations of your family up for life. Maybe it's time to revisit the question: What do you really want?"
"Look," I said, biting into the most perfect strawberry in the history of strawberries. "Nothing's changed. I want to grow Flawless. I want to see this IPO through because, not only is it the next step, but now it's a matter of pride. I also want to show every single naysayer out there that they were so wrong they owe me public apologies."
Lisa took a sip of freshly squeezed orange juice. Cristoff had freakishly strong hands.
She was quiet for a long moment, watching me as if weighing my answer. "If that's what you want, then that is what I'll help you get," she said simply. "Money. Power. A legacy."
It sounded a little empty, a little unimaginative when she said it. "Why am I sensing disapproval?"
"Money, power, and legacies are fine for some people. Most people. I think you're not being honest with yourself. Perhaps you're throwing yourself headfirst into work so you don't have to think about how unfulfilled you feel."
She dabbed her smug mouth with a napkin, and I contemplated tossing her in the lagoon and leaving her for Steve to deal with.
"Perhaps you're wrong about me, and I'm just another power-hungry executive clawing her way to the top."
"Now, let's not get testy," she teased.
I wanted to stab her with my fork, but I didn't want to ruin my eggs with blood splatter. I had priorities, after all.
"Since you've made it abundantly clear that you'll stay the course, that is where we'll focus our efforts," she said.
"So pleased that's settled," I snarked.
"I can tell from your vivacious conversational efforts that you're already feeling better. Let's try not to drop into a dead faint again today."
I flipped her off in an immature yet satisfying gesture of disdain.
She grinned at me, and I found myself beaming right back. Sleeping next to the person had done nothing to lessen her effect on me. I doubted spending fifty years married this person would dilute her sex appeal.
That would be one lucky, perpetually infuriated wife, I predicted.
"So what's the diabolical plan of public manipulation today?" I asked.
A string of expletives exploded from the kitchen behind me.
"Isn't it interesting how Cristoff doesn't feel the need to tone down his badassery," Lisa mused. "Yet he is still wildly successful."
"Enough with the life lessons today, Manoban. Get it through your thick head. I'm going to continue to work very, very hard. We Kims don't half-ass anything. My father and I are workaholics. My mother is a master manipulator. And my brother is fully committed to partying his life away. There is no sailing off into the sunset for a private island with a tiny house and taking up knitting for me. So let's focus on getting me where I need to go."
"As you wish," she said pleasantly.
After breakfast, Lisa helped herself to my shower… leaving the bathroom door wide open should I decide to wander in and catch another eyeful of her nudity.
An internal struggle ensued, and in the end, decorum won out. I ducked into my closet to find something powerful that didn't say "collapsed from exhaustion yesterday."
It needed to be slimming since pregnancy rumors would be spewing forth from the rumor mill. And I'd need to be photographed with alcohol—responsibly, of course—as soon as possible.
I felt a twinge of annoyance.
Why? Why did I have to use up so much of my energy, my time, trying to stay a step ahead of public opinion? I was the head of my own company. I was the one calling the shots. Why did I have to work so hard to make other people more comfortable?
"Dammit," I whispered. The naked person in my shower had gotten to me… again.
I chose a pair of skinny black cropped pants and a fitted black sleeveless top. When in doubt, dress in head-to-toe black. I was working my way through my jewelry drawers looking for just the right bracelets when I heard Lisa yelp from the bathroom.
A slightly British yelp, of course.
I hurried out of the closet and into the bathroom and promptly doubled over.
The shower was polished stone on three sides with a tall glass wall separating it from the rest of the bathroom. Lisa was standing under one of the shower heads, hands clutched in front of her family jewels. At the entrance of the shower was Brutus, the gigantic free-range Saint Bernard.
"I'm so glad you find this amusing," Lisa said, mustering a dry tone.
I couldn't stop laughing.
"What the hell's so funny?" Alison strolled into the bathroom, eating one of Cristoff's special peach tarts and immediately choked.
I slapped her on the back, and we clung to each other in hysterics.
"Does someone want to remove this hulking beast before he makes me a eunuch?" Lisa demanded.
"We've gotta stop meeting like this, Crumpets," Alison quipped. "C'mere, Bruty."
She held out a tiny bite of tart. Brutus shambled out of the shower and shook off, raining shower water in a ten-foot radius. I dabbed at the corners of my eyes with a washcloth.
Lisa turned off the water and reached for a towel but not before Alison and I both got another appreciative eyeful of her full-frontal nudity.
"Don't be scared. Brutus is just looking for someone to snuggle with," Alison crooned.
Brutus delicately put the hand that held the remains of the tart in his mouth.
"Harmless? He just bit your hand off," Lisa said, cinching the towel on her body.
I was still laughing. My face hurt from it.
Alison pulled her tart-less hand free. "He's a baked goods whore. He always knows when Cristoff is here and comes to mooch."
"Hey, buddy," I said, ruffling the fur on Brutus's giant head. "Did you make a new friend?"
"He stuck his very cold nose against my very unprepared ass," Lisa complained.
I smushed the dog's face in my hands. "Did you scare the bossy man, Brutus? Did you? That's such a good boy!"
"How did something this size sneak into your house?" Lisa asked, taking another towel and moving to the wall mounted body dryer.
"If there's a terrace door open in Bluewater, Brutus here will find it and make himself at home," I explained over the soft whoosh of dryer air. "His parents live across the bridge in one of the houses on Tequila Lane. They rescued him when he was two years old and tried everything they could to keep him contained. But he's a Houdini. He's kind of a mascot for the enclave," I said, reaching for another towel and scrubbing the dog down.
"He showed up for bridge at Mai Ling's condo last year. There's security footage of him pushing buttons in the elevator," Alison said.
Reluctantly, Lisa came closer.
"You're not afraid of dogs, are you?" I asked, surprised.
"I'm afraid of gigantic things that trespass in my shower."
"Gee, now you know how I feel," I said, batting my lashes.
"Solid dick joke," Alison snorted. "Come on, Bruty. Let's see if Mean Cristoff has any of those organic doggie quesadillas for you."
With a salute directed at Lisa's groin, Alison ambled out of the bathroom followed by the one-hundred-and-seventy-pound Brutus, leaving me alone with nearly naked Lisa.
"And here we are again," she said, hooking her finger in the drapey neck of my shirt.
"Put some pants on, Manoban. I've got work to do now that I'm done laughing hysterically at you." I mimicked her manly yelp.
"Darling, someday we'll tell this story at our fiftieth wedding anniversary as the exact moment you realized you were head over heels for me," she quipped.
"Did you hit your head in the shower?" I asked sweetly.
--
Nayeon: WTF, Kim? You collapse at work and don't bother letting your posse know?
Chaeyoung: Are you alright? Do you need an appointment with my aromatherapist?
Chu: Relax guys. Ms. Naked Dreamy took good care of her. And if my trusty surveillance skills are accurate, her car is still in her driveway.
Nayeon: Ooooooooooh! Dick pics or it didn't happen!
Chaeyoung: Sending you my aromatherapist's contact and a 30-pack of organic, latex-free condoms.