Chapter 2

A thirty-eight-year-old man, in an expensive suit and tie, was slaving over the stove trying to make breakfast for his son. In all his life, this was the first time he was failing at a task before him. He was not a good cook and, more importantly, he hated the fact that in the last six months his life was falling apart. He was balancing a career and taking care of his only son. He was cooking, cleaning, and trying to make a house into a home, for his son, but it wasn't working out how he planned it to be. It was amusing in some aspects because he never appreciated his wife before. However, now he understood everything that women went through, especially balancing work with their home life. He would always complain and fail to realize all that was needed to run a household successfully. Even with this realization, their divorce was for the best.

It's not that he didn't love her he just was not in love with her. He loved her as his sister, as a friend, nothing more. How long could they keep lying to one another? Eventually, it would have come to be like this. It was his fault for marrying her in the first place. He had done what society wanted him to do but not what he wanted to do. He didn't really want her but he was a businessman, a high-level executive. He had to have a wife and kids.

"Ki Sub," he yelled. "Breakfast is ready." He placed the burned Pancake on the blue plate.

Ki Sub was dressed for school. He wore nice starched khaki pants, a white collared shirt, with a red pullover cardigan. The crest of the school is stitched on the left side by his heart. Ki Sub wore his new white Nike tennis shoes. His dad bought them for him last week. He was very excited to wear them. He was sure the other kids would compliment him about his new kicks.

Junsu looked at his son with a proud smile. He looked so adorable in his school uniform. Ki Sub had pale skin, large almond-brown eyes, and big round cheeks that made his boyish face so childlike. Ki Sub's hair was in a bowl cut just above his brow bone.

He was growing up. It made Junsu smile. His son was seven-years-old.

Ki Sub played with the food on his plate. It was disgusting but he didn't want to hurt his dad's feelings. So he tried to eat it. A person could only eat so much burnt food before their mouth started to taste like an ashtray. "Stop playing with your food." Junsu scolded his son. He felt annoyed that he burnt breakfast again.

Ki Sub put his fork down. He was finished. "I'm done eating."

"Fine let's go," Junsu said disappointed that his son wasn't eating his cooking. Could he blame him? Maybe it was time that he started looking to acquire a maid sooner than expected. He had put out an ad in the newspapers looking for a maid, but no one had responded yet.

Ki Sub held his father's hand as they walked down the street toward school.

The same walk they had taken for months now. Ki Sub was infatuated with the people he saw in New York City it was a completely new experience. In Korea everyone was Korean, but here they had met Mexicans, Italians, Africans, and more. He also was saddened by the number of poor people without homes.

"Excuse me, sir," A dirty old man said to Junsu. "Please spare some change." He begged.

Ki Sub held his dad's hand tighter. His father paid no attention to the homeless man. It was as if he was invisible.

Ki Sub looked at the man with pity. He felt so bad for him. He lived on the street and had no money. He was dirty and looked sad.

"Come on," his dad pulled him along, snapping him from his thoughts.

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At the busy intersection of 39th and South Street, inside a small coffee shop, sat an ambitious young man, Jonathan. He was a handsome young man in his late twenties. If you saw him you might think he was an aspiring model, he was just that handsome, a face of an angel. He attributed his good looks from his mother. He was biracial, black, and Puerto Rican. His skin was brown like that of an African American, but with the exotic glow of a boricua. His face was clean with a strong jawline and high cheekbones that he hated because he thought they made him look feminine. His lips were full but not big. He had large dark brown eyes, his brows full and dark, making him look exotic and strong. His hair was cut low in a typical fade just enough hair left to show the wave pattern of his dark black hair.

In his hands, he held his cup of White Chocolate Cappuccino with vanilla soy milk. The aroma was so aromatic and comforting. He was all set for his perfect job-hunting day. Multiple newspapers sprawled along the table; the classified section was the key target. He skimmed over all the potential jobs marking ones he was interested in.

He had graduated from college three years before with a degree in hotel management, but in this rough economy, he couldn't land a single job. His finances were getting tight, and he desperately needed to pay his rent.

"Hmm," he said reading an ad for a housekeeper. "Fifteen dollars an hour," he said to himself. He could definitely pay rent with that.

He was qualified to do this type of work and he was certified. Jonathan ripped the ad out of the paper he was going to get a job today, even if that was the last thing he did. He packed up his things refolding the newspaper, leaving it on the table for someone else. He placed his black backpack on his back and left the shop. The air was nice and warm which was a bit unusual as fall was approaching quickly.

He walked down the busy sidewalk thinking about what his best course of action should be. He could take the subway to Manhattan apply for the job there then come back and apply for the others in this area or maybe he should apply for the bartending job near here and then go to Manhattan. Either way, today, he would be employed somewhere. He was confident and ready.

"Excuse me, sir you should be a model," a tall woman in a trench coat spoke to him. She came out of nowhere. It was typical New York behavior, scouts looking for fresh meat. Many of which were scammers looking for their next victim. He would not be a victim.

"Model for us." Come down and audition."

"No thanks," Jonathan said and kept walking.

"But your face is gorgeous," she insisted.

"No thanks," Jonathan said once more.

"Here," the woman placed the business card in his hand.

He took the card putting it in his pocket knowing that he would throw it away later.