Killer Style

           The show ended at about two in the morning. This was my first time in the United States, for an exclusive fashion show at the Haus of Fashion, in Las Vegas. The hotel opened last summer and is now hosting the world’s first international pet-and-owner fashion show. I brought my co-star, Jong-Soo. He and I are in the K-Drama, Queer Idol. The story focuses on a K-pop group; with me as the queer of the group and a relationship with one of the members. Our show has many restrictions on its content. We finished season three a couple weeks ago and the ratings are some of the highest on TV right now. They invited me to represent k-dramas at the show, because of my impeccable style. My white Pomeranian, Minha also stars of the show. Jong-Soo didn’t bring his dog.

We checked into the Haus of Fashion the day before the show. People bustled around the hotel lobby; music came from speakers. While gazing around at the art on the walls, Jong-Soo checked us in.  I followed him up to the room. The Las Vegas strip visible from the window.   No wonder you could see it from space. Jong-Soo played with Minha on the bed. I turned to him.

“Maybe we could film the show here,” I suggested. “What do you think?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think the producers would want to.”

“Well, our show is about a band. There’s a lot of stadiums and places to perform.”

He chuckled, “Not a world-famous band.”

“Not yet . . .”

I sat next to him. Minha yipped at Jong-Soo.

“I think you could win this show.”

“Not against the other actors. Did you see the lineup?”

“No… I slept on the plane.”

I’d been researching the competition. Since the show announcement, they’d been preparing.  None revealed their ultimate design, saving it for the show. 20 countries were competing, including America. The winner was going to get a lot of exposure and a nice check of one-hundred thousand. If I won—I had ideas. We had to share a king-sized bed, because of Queer Idol’s budget.

I took out my outfit for the competition. It was inspired by Korea’s traditional fashion—the hanbok. Minha’s outfit complemented mine. Every country’s traditional outfit was the theme for the show. I couldn’t guess America’s since there isn’t a traditional fashion. I hadn’t been the first choice either. The original actor dropped out due to scheduling issues. It made me a wild card. Queer Idol gained popularity recently. With the K-wave happening in the United States, it made sense.

“Who’s doing the voting?” Jong-Soo asked, while I put my costume on a mannequin.

“It’s worldwide,” I started, “voting closes at midnight,” I paused, readjusting the gat on the mannequin, The blue fabric glistened in the sunlight. “We’ll know the winner a couple of hours later.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “does that mean I can vote?”

“I think so. There’s going to be a vote for the audience picks.” I laid out Minha’s costume on the bed. Getting him into it was the bigger problem. Jong-Soo ran his hands over the silky fabric of the hanbok. He didn’t say a word.

At the show the following day, contestants were required be there early for hair and makeup. The dogs also needed to be groomed and ready. It was going to go on all night, starting at seven. In-between, they were going to be doing interviews with the dogs, showing off tricks they can do. Not every contestant, fortunately. Minha didn’t have any so-called “talents.”

Jong-Soo patted my shoulder, “You’ll do good. I’ll cheer you on, Hyung.”

A stylist escorted me backstage to prepare for the show. It was called Dog’s World—with the dog being the focus. Backstage, I struggled to get Minha into his hanbok. Mine kept getting in the way. Minha snapped at me when I accidentally tightened his hanbok. Sitting down, I glanced at the order of the countries. It started with Germany, then Scotland, England, France, China, and finally Korea. I wouldn’t be on for at least forty-five minutes. America was second-to-last.

Cheers erupted outside. Minha’s barking caught the attention of one of men-in-suits backstage.

“Do you need help?” He asked, looking at his watch.

“No . . .”

He chuckled, “I can keep him still while you get him ready.” He paused, “Trust me, I have three chihuahuas at home.”

 Sighing, I let him help me. By the time he was ready, England had already gone. France exited with a fluffy poodle, wearing a fashionable beret. China was getting ready. In less than ten minutes, it was my turn. The man who helped me answered a call on his walkie-talkie, leaving the backstage area. Petting Minha’s fluffy fur. In response, he yawned. I dug into my pocket and fed him one of his favorite treats. France came back from the stage, going out the back door.

“It’s almost time,” I whispered to Minha, setting him on the floor. Holding the leash in my hand, I took a deep breath. A different man approached me.

“Korea. Come to standby,” he instructed. Following him, I tightened on Minha’s leash. His leash also matched the traditional Korean theme. China returned, my cue to go out came when my name and Minha’s were announced.

Clenching my fists, I headed to the catwalk and the flashing lights. This was much worse than my audition for Queer Idol. Walking up and down, my grip loosened. I did a finger heart to the crowd. Cheers erupted. I spotted Jong-Soo in the crowd, he pointed behind me. I spun around, seeing the original actor, who dropped out. He came next to me, holding a microphone.

“Hello, America. I’m Ye-Jun Ryuk,” he said, bringing the attention to himself. He cleared his throat, turning to me. “I don’t think you need to be here anymore,” he glanced over, “Maybe you should leave the stage?”

Crossing my arms, I couldn’t stay quiet, “Why?”

He laughed, “You see, the world loves me. You don’t belong here.” He waved his hand, attempting to shoo me off the catwalk, “Did you hear me? Go.”

My face heating up, I left the stage. Ye-Jun continued talking, I watched him on the screen’s backstage. Ryuk Ye-Jun. I hated that guy. His fame surpassed mine, and he made sure I didn’t forget. He didn’t match the theme, showing up in a black suit. “At least I’m here to save the day, right?” He said to the crowd, “I’m not a queer idol, you know?” This resulted in laughs from the crowd. “I don’t know why they chose him over me, honestly.”

He kept adding insults. Jong-Soo came backstage, while he continued with homophobic jokes.

“I saw—Why did they let him on stage?”

This was more cutthroat than being in a pretend K-pop group on Queer Idol.

“We’re going to lose because of him.”

“He can’t win. He isn’t listed as a competitor,” Jong-Soo reminded me.

Ye-Jun came backstage. He came over.

“Surprised to see me, Kim-Hyun?”

I scoffed, standing up, “My name is Tae-sung.”

He chuckled, “Thanks to me—we could win. Your queerness means nothing here.”

Jong-Soo stood up ready to use his taekwondo skills. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Ah,” Ye-Jun cooed, “they welcomed me here. I’ll be here when we win too.” He headed out to sit in the audience.

I followed Jong-Soo back to our seats, where Ye-Jun had a spot across from us. I tried to pay attention to the rest of the show. I wanted it to be over. He killed my style. Jong-Soo put his hand over mine on the table, in full-view of Ye-Jun.

He tried to talk to me twice, but I ignored him.

 I put my head on Jong-Soo’s shoulder. The results took longer to calculate than anticipated. Finally, it came time to find out who won the Dog’s World Fashion Show. They started at fifth place. Australia took it. South Africa went on to win fourth place.

“Now, for third place,” the emcee continued, “well, this is unexpected—” he paused, “South Korea wins third place.”

Ye-Jun clapped and cheered. The cameras turned to focus on him. America came in second and first place went to India. At least it wasn’t a complete fall out.

Back at the hotel, I placed the trophy and five-thousand dollar check on the dresser. Minha jumped around on the bed. Jong-Soo turned on the TV, where there was a report from the show. Ye-Jun and I were the first to appear. He stole my fire and sabotaged me with his derogatory jokes.  

I sat on the bed. Jong-Soo laid next to me, grabbing the phone and menu for room service. The plane home wasn’t for another day, giving us time to explore Las Vegas. Messages popped up from people asking about the show. The only call I did answer was from a reporter. I needed to tell my side of the story before things get even more out-of-hand.

Was Queer Idol going to make it to another season? I wasn’t so sure anymore . . .

TO BE CONTINUED. . .