18
Paul and Mia were yanked out of bed by the ringing of the telephone.
“Fuck!” he yelled as he saw the clock on the TV, flashing10:00 a.m.
Ms. Bak was on the line, apologizing profusely but reminding him that the first interview of the day was supposed to start thirty minutes ago . . .
Paul located his boxer shorts underneath the curtains.
. . . the journalist fromChosunIlbowas waiting for him . . .
He grabbed his pants from the armchair and pulled them on, hopping over to the dresser.
. . . in one of the rooms . . . and he was getting quite antsy . . .
Paul’s shirt was torn. Mia rushed over to the wardrobe and threw him a clean one.
. . . an interviewer fromElleKoreahad just arrived as well . . .
“It’s blue!”Paul whispered.
. . . and soon enough there’d be no way to get to the KBS radio studios on time . . .
“That’s fine for the press!”Mia whispered back.
. . . Ms. Bak had managed to postpone the one-on-one discussion with a columnist fromMovie Weekuntil after the interview withHankyoreh. . .
Paul buttoned his shirt.
. . . the one that was known for supporting the government’s policy of political dialogue with North Korea . . .
Mia unbuttoned the shirt and redid the buttons, this time in the right buttonholes.
. . . and then there would be a public event . . .
“Where the hell are my shoes?”
“One’s under the dresser, the other’s in the doorway!”
. . . with students, on the main stage of the Book Fair.
Ms. Bak had managed to recite the whole schedule for the day in one single breath.
“Don’t worry, I’m already on my way down!”
“Liar! Go on, I’ll catch up with you later.”
“When?”
“Just before you leave for the radio station.”
The door of the suite closed. There was a crash in the corridor outside and the sound of Paul yelling obscenities.
Mia looked out and saw a room-service cart knocked onto its side in the corridor, its contents scattered in all directions across the carpet.
“Seriously?” she asked, watching Paul get to his feet.
“I’m fine. No stains, and I barely got hurt.”
