Chapter 19: The Poolside Grill
The afternoon sun poured over the Kim mansion’s patio like liquid gold, turning the infinity pool into a sheet of shimmering glass. Leonid leaned against the mosaic-tiled bar, watching Minho Kim stab at sizzling ribs on the stone grill. The air was thick with the scent of charring meat, jasmine, and the faint, acrid trace of Minho’s expensive cigar.
“You want yours well-done, Leonid?” Minho asked, not looking up. His voice was all business, even here.
“Medium is fine,” Leonid said, taking a slow drag from his own cigarette. The smoke mixed with the haze from the grill.
Across the patio, Min-Ji arranged porcelain bowls of namul and kimchi with surgical precision. Every spoon was aligned. Every lettuce leaf looked curated. Mina stood beside her, slicing tomatoes, her movements efficient but quiet. She hadn’t met Leonid’s eyes since he arrived.
Then there was Jennie.
She emerged from the house not with an entrance, but with a quiet drift, like smoke. Her sheer white cover-up, gauzy and practically transparent, floated around her. Beneath it, a black bikini showcased the tiny waist, the straight shoulders. Her long black hair was damp at the ends, clinging to her neck. She didn’t greet anyone. She walked directly to Leonid and positioned herself so her arm was pressed against his, skin to skin.
Min-Ji’s knife paused on the cutting board for a half-second before resuming its rhythm.
“You smell like the garden,” Jennie said, her voice low, for him alone. Her fingers touched the back of his hand where it rested on the bar.
“We were just there yesterday,” he murmured.
“I know. It’s still on you.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes fixed on her father at the grill. “The fire is too high. He’ll burn the sugars.”
Minho glanced over, his sharp gaze taking in the way Jennie clung to Leonid. A muscle in his jaw tightened. “Jennie, sweetheart, why don’t you help your mother with the table?”
“I’m observing combustion,” she replied, her tone flat and academic. “The Maillard reaction is fascinating when it’s uncontrolled.”
Mina let out a soft, strained laugh. “Unnie, you’re making it sound like a lab experiment.” She brought the tomato bowl over, offering Leonid a tentative smile. “How’s your week been?”
“Quiet.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “Studying for the finance prelim.”
“You don’t study,” Jennie stated, her hand now sliding possessively around his waist under the cover-up. “You just know things. It’s like your brain is a magpie. It steals shiny facts and keeps them.”
The reference to the magpie was deliberate. Leonid felt Mina’s smile fade. She’d seen the mural, seen the black smear. She knew.
“Well, I’ve been cramming,” Mina said, returning to her mother’s side.
Min-Ji spoke, her voice cool and clear as the ice in the drinks pitcher. “Leonid, I trust you’re being mindful of your commitments. The semester is intense for everyone.” It was a lawyer’s sentence, layered with meaning: Remember your friendship with my daughter. Remember your place.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, because there was nothing else to say.
Jennie’s fingers dug into his hip. She understood the subtext, too. Her understanding was a raw, elemental thing, devoid of social lubricant.
Minho lifted a massive, marbled ribeye with tongs. “Jennie, come take this to the platter for me. Carefully.”
She detached herself from Leonid with obvious reluctance. She took the platter—a heavy slate slab—and held it out. Minho maneuvered the steak onto it. The meat hissed, juices pooling.
Jennie stared at the raw, red center. “It’s like a heart,” she whispered.
“Just take it to the table, please,” Minho said, patience thinning at the edges.
She turned. Her bare foot caught on the uneven join between two patio tiles. She stumbled. The slate platter tipped.
The ribeye slid off, hit the marble floor with a wet slap, and skidded under the edge of a lounge chair.
Silence, except for the sizzle of the grill.
Jennie stood frozen, holding the empty platter. Then she set it down on a nearby table with unsettling calm. She got onto her hands and knees, the sheer cover-up pooling around her, and peered under the chair.
“Jennie, leave it,” Min-Ji said, her voice tight. “It’s contaminated. We’ll cook another.”
“No,” Jennie said simply. She reached under, grabbed the steak, and stood up. It was dusty in places, with a tiny leaf stuck to the fat cap. She held it in both hands, looking at it with intense focus.
Minho put the tongs down. “Put that in the trash, right now.”
“It’s fine,” Jennie said. “The heat will kill the bacteria. It’s just dirt. Dirt is natural.” She started walking toward the grill, as if to put it back on the heat.
“Jennie, for God’s sake!” Minho’s voice cracked through the air like the snap of his cigar. “It’s on the ground! We don’t eat food from the floor!”
“Why not?” She stopped, tilting her head. “Dogs do. And they’re happier than we are.” Her eyes found Leonid’s. “You understand. It’s just protein. The shame is artificial.”
Leonid pushed off from the bar. “Jen, maybe just… let’s get a different one.”
“But this is the one he cooked for me,” she said, her voice softening into something childlike and pleading. “It was meant for me. The fall was part of it. Like the smear on the window.” She looked at Mina, then back to the steak. “If I wash it, it’ll be clean.”
Minho strode around the grill, his face flushed. “It is not clean! It is dirty! This is not one of your asylum experiments! This is my home! We have standards!” He was in front of her now, his hand outstretched. “Give it to me.”
Jennie clutched the steak to her chest. The raw meat pressed against the sheer white fabric, leaving a damp, red imprint. “No.”
Minho’s control shattered. He didn’t yell again. His voice dropped into something low and venomous. “You are embarrassing yourself. You are embarrassing this family. Again. Look at you! Half-naked, covered in… in filth, clinging to a boy with a reputation like a cheap—”
“Dad.” Mina’s voice cut in, sharp with warning.
Leonid moved. He stepped between Jennie and her father, not aggressively, but firmly. “Sir. It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”
Minho’s furious gaze locked onto him. “You. You are the variable in this equation. Ever since you entered this house, the chaos has multiplied. Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing? Do you think I don’t know what you are?”
“Minho,” Min-Ji said, a command.
But Minho was beyond listening. He pointed a finger at Leonid’s chest. “You are a distraction. A complication. She needs stability, not some fuck-boy philosopher who whispers in her ear and lets her behave like an animal!”
The word ‘animal’ hung in the air.
Jennie made a small, wounded sound. Not a cry. More like the air leaving a deflating balloon. She looked down at the steak in her hands, then at the red stain on her cover-up. Her face emptied of all expression.
Then, slowly, she brought the steak to her mouth and took a large, deliberate bite.
The crunch of peppercorns and the tear of raw flesh were obscenely loud.
Mina gasped. Min-Ji’s hand flew to her mouth.
Jennie chewed, methodically, her eyes on her father. Juice tinged with dirt ran down her chin. She swallowed. “See?” she said, her voice eerily calm. “No shame. It’s just meat. It’s just a floor.”
Minho looked ill. He took a step back, all his anger collapsing into a kind of horrified defeat.
Leonid felt something turn over in his gut. He didn’t look at Minho or Min-Ji or Mina. He looked only at Jennie. He reached out and gently pried the remaining steak from her rigid fingers. It was cold and gritty. He walked to the trash bin near the grill and dropped it in.
He returned to her. He took the edge of her cover-up and wiped the juice from her chin. “Come on,” he said, his voice quiet. “Let’s go wash up.”
She let him lead her, a docile shell. As they passed the grill, Leonid looked at Minho. The older man’s eyes were filled with a volatile mix of rage, guilt, and utter exhaustion.
“The equation is solved,” Leonid said, too low for the women to hear. “The variable is here to stay.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He guided Jennie toward the house, away from the perfect table setting, away from the stunned silence, leaving the scent of burnt sugar and failure heavy in the golden air.