Private Lesson: Tae Kwon Do Me
sounding as
Asian as the Korean food I had last weekend, but with a face that
looks as American as the late model Ford Mustang Convertible I
drive. So handsome, so dreamy. I wonder if he knows what he’s doing
to me.
    I’m curious…does he have a girlfriend?
Is he married? I don’t think so. I’ve never seen a ring on his
finger, nor have I ever seen him with anyone. And he better keep it
that way if he knows what’s good for him. Not that I should be
possessive, not in the least, but it can’t be helped. He shouldn’t
be so goddamn handsome.
    “ Hiiyyaah! ” I yell out, doing my best
not to look stupid as I do a “chop” with my hand at the mirror in
front of me, my attention squarely on the imaginary woman I see
hanging on his arm.
    Damn…too late.
    “ Hurry up, Ms. Slowpoke!
Your session started five minutes ago,” Master Meanie-Poopie-Head
barks out, springing up from his very painful looking
splits.
    “ It’s Ms.
Kinkaid—Scarlett—Master Park.” I smile wide, feeling as silly as I
probably look with me wearing my neatly ironed martial arts getup.
If my friends could see me now…wearing this thing… I’d fucking go hide somewhere
and just die. Who in the hell picked out such a hideous uniform,
huh? What’s wrong with looking good while I do this Taekwondo crap?
Definitely not Calvin Klein, that’s for sure. Ugh.
    “ I know what your name is,
Ms. Kinkaid.”
    “ Really? Aw, that’s so
cool!” I kinda shriek on the last word…can’t help it. He knows my
name. That is so freakin’ awesome!
    “ It says so on your dobok. ”
    “ I thought it was called…”
Damn it! Never mind. I wasn’t even close with the uniform
name. Dobok, dobok, I recite in my head, face feeling a bit warm from
embarrassment, I think.
    The student who had the session before
me laughs as he leaves, shaking his head as he slings his bag over
his shoulder. Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I harrumph at
his retreating back, hoping for his sake that that laugh was not
directed at me. ‘Cause knowing my dedication when I set my mind to
it, I’ll be a twentieth degree black belt before my summer vacation
is over, thank you very much. So, he better check himself before he
wrecks himself.
    The front door clicks shut and I’m
paying attention to that sound when Master Park says, “Which, Ms.
Kinkaid, by the way, is absolutely not allowed.”
    “ Huh?” I fix the white belt
around my waist so that the ends are perfectly even.
    “ The sewing of your name on
your uniform.”
    “ Oh.” I do a little twirl
and turn to face him, bring up my index finger to my lips and give
him my best “oopsy” face. Flirting and playing innocent always
works for me. Especially with my dad. And…pretty much every man
I’ve come in contact with since I’ve learned how to flaunt my
assets. But so far, not a chance on Master Park. Shitake
mushrooms.
    “ Never mind that right now.
Are you done playing around, Ms. Kinkaid? It’s getting late, and
you’ve already eaten into ten minutes of your private session with
whatever it is you’re doing in front of the mirror.”
    Hah! He said, “eaten.” I’ve got
something you can eat, right over hear, hot stuff.
    “ Hai! ” I reply enthusiastically, so proud of myself for answering
him in…oh, I forget what language, but I know it’s one of the big
three Asian ones. I did such a good job!
    But before I have a chance to do my
little happy dance, Master Park flashes his scary face again,
accessorized to the max with beady eyes, shaking head, nostrils
flaring, lips thinning, well, you get the picture. Not a very good
look for him if you ask me.
    “ That’s Japanese, Ms.
Kinkaid. This is a traditional, Korean, martial arts—”
    I totally interrupt him.
“Oops. So sorry,
Master. ” Without thinking, the words spout
from my big mouth, said with a stereotypical Asian accent that has
me immediately thinking I’m the most insensitive twenty-year-old
bitch he’s probably ever run

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