TXT ONESHOTS

yeonbin

At 6:30, Soobin brings the car out of the garage and drives with the window down. By 6:50, Soobin has parked it neatly where it’s supposed to be.

Soobin gets out of the car, seeing that he has some minutes to spare. He stands with hands in his pockets and watches the landscapers work on a patch of the garden. It seems like they’re rearranging the rocks in the pond today. Soobin knows one of them, having chatted with the man, friendly middle-aged built like a tank, a few times during his first week. Then he brings his gaze down to his shoes – job issued – and looks at the polished pristine black toes.

A pair like this will cost a little more than average at a shoe cleaning service. A polishing care package will often be sold with it, even though it’s not necessarily needed, and the person behind the counter will argue for the price point that once the wax polish is opened, it will need to be used up within a week’s time. It’s not a lie, but not the truth either. It won’t be a problem for people like his boss, though.  Soobin knows because he used to that person behind the counter back in third year of college, for six months straight, and had met people like him more often than he’d like to. None of them ever argued about the price. Half of them didn’t even bother to check before handing him their cards. Soobin didn’t complain. They tipped him nicely and usually asked him to round up the bills.

Soobin quitted because the pay was not enough to support him in grad school anymore. There was this period of two months following that during which he didn’t do anything except boiling water for his instant noodles and used up all his personal savings on rent.

“Do you know how to drive?” Kai asked, one day, a year ago.

Soobin ran the question in his head for a quick second to see if there was implication he missed before answering his roommate. He wanted to say “You came with me when I got my driving license” but didn’t.

“Anything except for a bus and a truck, why?” Was what he said instead.

“A crane?”

“Not that one also,” Soobin said, “and other things in that category.”

“Good. It’s not important, anyways. Because I-” Kai said, voice raising, “got a job for you.”

Although it was not the kind of implication he had thought about, it was the exact kind of news he had been wanting to hear.

Kai continued before he could ask what it was, “Personal driver, three days a week. Four, tops. Flexible hours.”

As it turned out, Kai’s sister had a boss who was looking for a driver because his last one retired. Soobin did the math in his head. Chauffeuring some rich old folk around three days a week, grad school the other three. That left him with one day off. It sounded good. More than good, even.

His boss walks out in his foreign suit and fine Italian leather briefcase, carrying with him a look half disdainful half contented. Though he’s acting nonchalant when Soobin opens the trunk on which he loads the luggage that was already laid in the foyer of his unnecessary big mid-century modern home the night before, Soobin can catch glimpse of his fleeting upturned mouth corners and squinting eyes. He stands much shorter than Soobin and has far too less hair than him also.

“You know what, kiddo,” he says when Soobin is buckling his seatbelt. He doesn’t even wait for him to settle in before drooling out words.

“Yes, boss?” Soobin says, hands gripping on Alcantara tight enough to turn his knuckles pale.

He chuckles, amused with himself, before saying, “I’ll double your tip today, if you can guess correctly.” He pauses. What is he waiting for? Drum roll? Soobin steps on the clutch.