Seoul Spankings by Anastasia Vitsky Read Free Book Online Page A

“You’re unmanageable without Carene to keep you in check. You need a good—”
    She grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know. So, spill. How did you find her? When’s the wedding, or are you playing ladykiller until your father forces you to settle down?”
    “Leila Feran! Leila Feran! We want your autograph!” Hordes of concertgoers pressed at the doorway. “We’ve been waiting for ages!”
    Leila groaned. “As if my wrist doesn’t hurt already after the concert! No.” She answered my unspoken question with a defensive shrug. “Nothing’s wrong. My wrist’s fine. I just hate signing autographs, that’s all.”
    Grateful for an escape, I looked for Indigo. Before I could move away, Leila gave a knowing wink.
    “Better warn her about your toy box before her first night. You don’t want to make ladykiller a literal truth.”
    I shook my head and sent my love to Carene, giving Leila one last hug. “Good thing Indigo isn’t bratty like you.”
    Leila laughed without taking offense. “Just imagine what I’d be like without Carene’s influence.” As I turned to find Indigo, Leila slapped my backside and feigned innocence when I glared at her.
    Really! I scanned the room for Indigo’s brilliant green dress. Carene shouldn’t let Leila tour without her. She’ll have a big-headed diva on her hands, and ….
    Where was Indigo? With the light-colored hair and her striking dress, I should have found her at a glance. I motioned for Minhee to come near.
    “The bathroom?” she suggested, knowing my question before I asked.
    I nodded in relief. “Of course. Cancel our reservation for Namsan Tower and call Miss Cha to pick up some fresh samgyopsal and all of the trimmings. Where can we get a portable grill at this time of night?”
    Minhee’s silence said what she didn’t dare say aloud. Have you gone insane? “Of course,” she said, throwing in extra enthusiasm to make up for the delay. “You want a picnic.”
    “In the country,” I added. “We’ll need a net canopy and a floodlight and a covered picnic spot near a stream. With fish, if possible.”
    “With fish,” Minhee repeated. She backed away, repeating my requests. To her credit, she kept most of the incredulity out of her voice, if not her face. “Yes, now!” she said into her phone. “I know the stores are closed. Find an all-night mart!”
    I nodded in satisfaction and slipped to the nearest restroom. Fortunately, there was only one close to our side of the stage. I waited, half-aware of someone sobbing in an occupied stall. Poor girl. Hope her night gets better .
    As patrons entered and exited the stalls, the middle left door remained closed. The cries quieted, followed by snuffling and nose-blowing. I grimaced. It was not an attractive sound, for sure. Maybe she would compose herself and come out to re-apply her makeup.
    When the door opened at last, I found myself staring into the woebegone expression of Indigo in a crumpled, tearstained dress. Her nose shone bright red, and she sniffed. When she saw me, she took a step backward and almost closed the door. I held my hand out and propped the door open. What’s wrong? I wanted to say, but I didn’t know whether I should ask. With a sudden pang, I remembered my first night in America as an exchange student. I had sobbed in every airport bathroom from Seoul to New York City. In the last one, in the JFK airport, I met Leila returning home from a tour of Eastern Europe. She could barely understand my terrible English, but she took me home with her and helped me find my way to the dormitory at Columbia. She took me there herself, and I never forgot her kindness.
    “Are you sick?” I settled for a safe, physical question. Indigo could blame any emotional duress on her body, the way a good Korean woman would do. Headaches, stomachaches, improperly functioning bowels and bladders all served to excuse tears at inopportune times.
    “I…thank you for showing me your country tonight, but