Page 68 of Free Heart
“He’s great with kids,” Rye interjects. “He teaches Movement at Jeanie’s preschool.”
“Movement?”
“Dance,” I say.
“KPop routines mainly,” Rye clarifies.
Sailor looks a little baffled, but Sejin soldiers on. “I also work as a barista at Papa Bear.”
“Oh, the cute coffee and tea place on the way into the park?”
“Yeah. And, um, sometimes I moonlight as a plumber with my cousin. His boss is always looking for extra help.”
“So, no passion projects or big career aspirations?” Sailor asks, and Sejin’s shoulders fold in a little. “But surely you’ve got something you do on the side—a book, or some kind of art? Everyone has their dream career.”
Sejin shakes his head and smiles with a little shrug.
“He’s going to learn Korean,” I say. “He was born there.”
Sejin shoots me a look that very clearly meansshut up, and I don’t know why. It’s true, isn’t it? But by the expression on his face, I know I’ve messed up somehow.
“You really don’t climb?” she asks, two lines appearing between her brows.
“I really don’t,” he says.
“He goes up on small walls with me at night when he can’t see the exposure.”
“Very small walls,” Sejin adds. “I like my feet on the ground.”
“I see. But Dan likes his in the air.” Sailor nods like she sees something neither of us do, and I bristle a little. I really don’t love the expression on Sejin’s face as she goes on to say, “My last ex couldn’t handle it—the danger of my lifestyle, I mean. What with the extreme alpine climbs and the days-long big wall pushes and the risks—and that’s what ended things for us. So how do you cope?”
Rye flicks Sejin a look of sympathy. I feel myself getting defensive. I don’t need Sailor putting ideas in Sejin’s head about leaving me over what I do.
“I breathe through it,” he says and then lifts his wine glass with a brittle smile.
Sailor tips her beer bottle toward him. We all drink to breathing through the fear.
“So,” Sailor says, turning to me again. She’s clearly comfortable dominating the conversation, and Rye and Sejin seem willing to let her. Lowell and I have never been men of many words, so Sailor’s got our little Thanksgiving in the palm of her hand now. “I’ve been watching what you’re doing on social media, and it’s got some legs. Your techniques are crude, and your edits are shit, but the content…the content is interesting and different from what’s out there already. I’d even say the lack of slick production makes it seem more…what’s the word? Authentic. Which is good because itcouldmake you seem desperate, but somehow you avoid that trap.”
“Cool,” I say. Because she seems like she knows what she’s talking about.
“Have you ever heard of my YouTube channel? A Sailor Climbs?”
I shake my head and so does Sejin, but Rye looks like he’s familiar with it.
“It’s where I’m building my own career. I don’t want to be under my uncle’s thumb for much longer. This will be my last project with him, and then I’ll strike out on my own. I have over two million followers now.”
It’s quite a spray, but, hell,two million?
“I think you can grow a similar fan base.” She grins. “I’d like to help you.”
The energy at the table shifts. Sejin leans forward with a little interest, but also a huge helping of wariness—almost as big as the helping of baked beans he’s piled onto his plate.
“How?” I ask.
Sailor’s smile is sly. I tingle all over at the sight of it.
Sejin sits back, crossing his arms over his chest. The bonfire glows behind him, making it hard for me to read his face.
