Los Ricos También Lloran (The Rich Also Cry)

Chapter 1

The old warehouse, turned pop-up café, was drafty. Kyung-soo pulled his wool coat tighter around his body as he sat at a table in a far corner, drinking a mocha latte. He was alone, as he had been on all of his previous trips to the venue. He wasn't sure how to explain to any of his bandmates what the draw of this industrial-looking café was.

He wore a knit cap tugged down over his ears. With the collar of his black wool coat pulled up, covering part of his face, he had never been recognized on any of his previous visits. The woman he had come to see, however, was unlikely to recognize him as a celebrity anyway. She didn't seem like the type to be well-versed in celebrity gossip. In fact, she didn't know him at all, as he had never been brave enough to approach her.

Kyung-soo couldn't quite describe what it was about her that drew him in. Of course, she was objectively beautiful with her black curls that were, in his opinion, all too often wrestled into tight plaits against her head, many times with scarves or ribbons weaved into the braids. Her green eyes were striking, even behind her black-framed glasses. Her skin, or what little he had seen of it, was a golden tan that seemed to speak of some far-away sunny spot. Her style was a sort of effortless bohemian thing that many women wish to achieve, but few do. Tonight, she was sporting a pair of woven pants that looked like they had been dyed with natural dyes made from blueberries and dragon fruits. Her plain, black turtleneck balanced the colorful pants.

At that moment, she was sitting with her legs stretched out in front of herself as she let her neck drop back against the high-backed chair. He imagined that her eyes were closed, although he didn't have a very clear view of her from his vantage point so far removed from the small stage. Despite her relaxed posture, she was listening intently to the performer who was currently onstage.

The poet performing was a young Korean woman with a short pixie haircut. She seemed to be aegyo embodied until she opened her tiny, pink mouth.

You call me a cannibal

When I bite back.

An eye for an eye,

Let me wear your teeth

As a medallion.

Hunger drove me

To eat the rich.

That last line left the entire congregation of new-wave beatniks a bit startled, but slowly they began to snap their fingers in quiet applause. Kyung-soo's goddess stood and wrapped the young woman in a warm hug. She pulled away and took the newbie performer's face in her hands as she kissed her forehead. After speaking a few words to the younger performer that Kyung-soo was unable to hear, the object of his devotion climbed onto the stage herself.

"Let's all show our support again for our newest artist, Leona, because she is certainly a lioness, is she not, folks?" The group began snapping their approval again for the young poet. "We know that there is pain, there is sadness, and sometimes, there is rage," she said as a way of providing context for the stark lines of poetry that Leona had just delivered.

"As most of you know, my stage name is Rebelde, and tonight, I'm going to do a piece called, 'Prophets'," the golden-skinned girl said almost quietly into the mic.

Kyung-soo knew her by her stage name. He had taken the time to look it up and learned that her name meant "Rebel" in Spanish. He wondered what her real name was, but as an artist himself, he knew all about the ways that a performer had a public and a private persona.