Noraebang

by

Eileen Schuh

 

PART I

The Singing Room

 

PROLOGUE

            “Oh my God!  Is that what I think it is?”  Fran plucked the photo from Allie’s hand and tilted it to catch more of the dim lighting.

            “Ssshh!”  Allie giggled.  Although Fran’s rambunctious nature could be fun, it could also be embarrassing.  Allie glanced at Missy.  The older woman looked as if she was just moments from oblivion.  Allie realized that all three of them were guilty of drinking too many Breezers.  She straightened in her chair and vowed to become sober. 

            “It is!  It’s a penis!”  Fran’s loud voice pierced the din of the late night drinking crowd. 

            Allie grabbed at the photo.  “Fran, act your age!  For Christ’s sake, you’re a grandma.”

            Fran clutched the picture to her chest and reached for Allie’s other South Korean vacations photos.  “There’s more of them!  A whole field of penises!  Look at that one!  There’s . . . stuff . . . spurting out!”

            Allie uncomfortably glanced around the dingy tavern.  There were too many unshaven men with lustful eyes staring out at her from under bushy brows.  She leaned toward Fran.  “They’re carved phallics,” she whispered.

            “Huge carved phallics! Where were they?”

            “Haesindang Penis Park.  If you’d shut up, I’d tell you the story.”

            “Penis Park?”  Missy giggled.

            “Penis Park?”  Fran screeched.

            Allie cringed.  “Shut up, Fran!  I said, ‘Pizza Park.”

            “Drinks,” the waitress interrupted, setting the tray on the table and bending to glimpse the photo.  “From the gentleman in the corner.”

            Fran and Missy quickly grabbed their drinks from the tray.  Allie stole back her photos, tucked them under her purse, and then gave a quick nod to the fellow staring at her from the shadows.  The waitress left and someone jacked up the jukebox.  A lonely cowboy love song drowned out the voices around them.

            “You think the phallics were great,” Allie whispered.  She pulled her pile of photos to her and rummaged through them.  “Take a look at this, Fran.”

            “A vagina!”

            “For Christ’s sake, keep your voice down!”  Allie cursed, slumping into her chair.  “Oh, my God!”  She quickly straightened and gathered in her photos.  “He’s coming over here!”

            “A penis gets free drinks and a vagina gets the man himself!”  Fran said much too loudly.

            “May I join you?” the man asked, his eyes fixed on Allie. 

            “Definitely,” Fran answered quickly, sliding her chair over to make room.

            Allie uneasily ran her eyes up the tattoos wending about the man’s bulging arms and then rested her gaze on his smooth, tanned face.  He had a set of the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen, with a fire in them so intense she believed they’d sparkle even in the dark.

            Carousing with the girls in the worst dive in small-town-Alberta was beginning to feel like a very bad idea.  The trio was past 50, Fran way past sobriety, and taverns like this one nursed the unsavoury.

            “Name’s Carbon,” the guy said, his eyes still on Allie.

            “Allie,” she introduced, reluctantly taking his hand.  The man was trouble; she could feel it in her bones.  He slid in beside her. 

            Allie looked across at Fran who was fiddling coyly with her oversized gold hoop earring.  Allie gave her a quick, warning shake of her head.  Missy, Fran, and she had a pact that the soberest of the trio would keep the others safe from trouble.  Fran’s judgement was obviously severely impaired.

            Fran grinned, ran her manicured nails through her short blonde hair, and looked past Allie to Carbon.  “So, thanks for the drinks, Carbon.”  She cast an obvious glance to her cleavage, crossed her arms on the table, and heaved her ample bosom onto them.

            “My pleasure,” Carbon answered, winking at Allie.

            “Okay then.  Screw you, too,” Fran replied.  Allie glowered and kicked her under the table.  It hadn’t been half-an-hour ago that the woman had launched her tirade about all men being pigs and already she was after this one, who was so clearly was.

            “Live in town?”  Carbon asked.

            “Yes,” Fran cut in.  She plucked her diamond pendant from her cleavage and pressed it to her lips.

            Allie looked back to Carbon and shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze.  Although she’d argued with Fran that she wouldn’t mind another go at romance, if for no other reason than to make her ex jealous, she’d definitely not had a man like Carbon in mind.  She’d been thinking doctor, or lawyer, or wealthy businessman.  Besides, her divorce wasn’t even finalized.

             A silence followed as Carbon kept up his stare.  Fran pushed back her chair.  “I’m out of here,” she said, motioning Missy to join her.  “Have fun, Allie!”

            “Hold it!”  Allie protested, standing up.  “I’m coming, too.”

            “Stay!”  Carbon ordered softly, gently tugging at her arm.  “Please.  For one drink with me.  I’ll take you home.”

            “Like fuck you will!  Fran!  Missy!”  Allie struggled to untangle her purse but the door closed behind her friends, leaving her to face Carbon alone.  He gripped her arm and yanked her into her chair.  Frightened by his forcefulness, she glanced at his face.  The fire in his eyes was subdued and he was smiling beseechingly.  A dimple appeared in his cheek, suggesting that perhaps he was gentler than his tattoos suggested.

            “Just one,” she agreed, slowly settling back.  He beckoned the waitress then casually stretched his arm across the back of Allie’s chair.  Before the waitress had time to walk over, his fingertips were brushing her shoulder.

            Suddenly feeling very sober, Allie glanced nervously to the exit.  “I’ve changed my mind.  I have to go.”  As she reached for her purse, his hand slid over her shoulder and he pulled himself closer.  She stared at the fingertips brushing her nipple.

            “I won’t let you go,” he whispered, his breath tickling at her ear.  He beckoned to the waitress.  “Another Breezer for the lady.”  He pulled away and began toying with the cell phone clipped to Allie’s purse.

            “I have to go,” Allie repeated.  It had been decades since she’d needed to refuse a man’s advances and it wasn’t easy remembering how.

            “You promised a drink with me.”  Allie reached for her purse.  Carbon dropped the phone and quickly grabbed her hands.  He tightly entwined his fingers in hers.  “And you don’t look like the kind of lady that breaks promises.”

            “I’m leaving.”

            “I’m just offering you a drink.”  The waitress arrived and he released Allie’s fingers, tossed a fifty on the woman’s tray, and waved her off.

            Allie slid her hand down the cool bottled drink and watched the condensation pool on the table.  She felt his hand again creep across her back.  “I drank way too much tonight.”  She took a sip and set the bottle down.  “I just went to the can and I have to go again.”

            As she pushed back her chair, he dropped his arm from her shoulder.  Relieved, she grabbed her purse and hurried to the exit.