Kwan summons her one piece of ammunition. "Nana said I didn't have to go with anyone unless I-"
The mama-san says, "Ssssssssss," and shakes her head sharply. "Don't talk to me about Nana. Is Nana your boss? Is Nana in this room?"
"No," Kwan says. She's searching for words, but they're jumbled and meaningless. They seem to flit past her eyes, disappearing before she can read them. She grabs onto four: "But she promised me." She breaks off as Oom comes in, damp with sweat, and looks at the two of them questioningly.
"Who promised who?" Oom says. "And what was the promise?"
The mama-san flicks a hand toward the bar area and says to Oom, "Sit out there. We're talking."
Oom takes a plastic chair, puts it against the wall, and stands beside it, one hand on the back. "I don't sit out there."
The mama-san's head comes forward like a snake's. "No, you don't, and don't think we haven't noticed. Nobody's buying you drinks, you're not getting taken out. No commissions, no bar fines. We're making no money off you. What good are you?"
Oom lifts her hair and fans the back of her neck. "I bring men in."
"So will she," the mama-san says, tilting her face toward Kwan. "And she won't be as picky as you are."
"I'm not picky," Oom says mildly. "I'm in love. And you just hate that, don't you? You've never loved anybody in your life. You don't even have a cat."
"Love," the mama-san says. "Love is a stocking full of drink receipts. Love is money in the bank. Love is having a nice place to live, one that's all yours, that nobody can take away."
"Listen to this," Oom says to Kwan. "Wouldn't it be awful to end up like her?"
Kwan says, "She wants me to go with that fat policeman."
"This is not a three-way conversation," the mama-san says.
To Kwan's surprise, Oom says, "So? Do it. He's okay. Half the time he can't even manage it."
"But-" Kwan says. "I can't, I mean, I've never even… I've never been with a man."
"Ahh," Oom says. She picks up the chair and turns it around and straddles it, her arms folded over the back. "I should have known you were a virgin," she says. "You give it off like perfume. So this is about your hymen, isn't it?"
Kwan says, "I-"
"You get a lot of use out of your hymen?" Oom asks.
"What?"
"I mean, when was the last time you did anything with it? Do you take it for little walks? Talk with it at night? Buy it cute hats? Introduce it to your friends?"
The mama-san leans back in her chair for the first time. Kwan looks from her to Oom, and Oom returns the look with a faint smile.
Oom says, "No? Then you're saving it? Is anyone paying you interest?"
Kwan has to say something, so she says, "I don't think this is funny."
Oom shrugs. "It's not funny, and it's not not funny either. It's just how things are here, and here is where you've wound up. But your hymen. Let's face it. It's pretty much useless, isn't it? Like your appendix." She twists a finger through her hair and pulls a long lock forward to check the ends, apparently giving it all her attention. "But there's a big difference between your hymen and your appendix. Do you know what it is?"
The mama-san makes a chirping sound that might be a laugh.
Kwan says, "No."
"You have to pay someone to remove your appendix," Oom says. "But someone will pay you to remove your hymen." She glances over at the mama-san. "He is going to pay, isn't he?"
"You're joking," the mama-san says. "He's never paid for a girl in his life. We'll have to pay her."
Oom fans the hair to check for split ends. "How much?"
The mama-san says, "Three-fifty."
"Not enough," Oom says. "Should be five at least."
"Five what?" Kwan says.
"Five hundred dollars," Oom says. She lets the hair fall back into place.
"We're paying her," the mama-san says. "That means no commission to us. She'll wind up with the same amount of money. If he paid five, we'd take a hundred fifty."
"I know," Oom says. "It's the principle of it."
"I don't care how much it is," Kwan says, but Oom raises a hand.
"Of course you care how much it is. What do you think this is about, if it's not money? You're only going to be able to sell this once, and then you won't have it anymore. Losing your virginity is not a career. It's a onetime sale, and you should get every penny you can."
"I mean, I mean… I don't think I can-"
"Oh, grow up," Oom says. "You're here. You've left behind everything you know and everybody you know, just to come down here. As though this is the… the ocean, right? You've left your village and come to the ocean. And the only reason to go to the ocean, the only reason anyone goes to the ocean, is to get in the water, but you, you're afraid." She wraps her arms around herself and does a mock shudder. "It's too cold. It's too rough. You want to dip your toe in and give a little scream and pull it out again and have everyone tell you how brave you are, and then next time maybe you'll go in all the way up to your ankles and get splashed a little, and we'll all applaud and probably buy you dinner. Or we would if we really cared, which we don't. But, see, the point is that you've only got two choices. Go back home-" She stops and turns her head a bit to the right with her eyes on Kwan. "Is there some reason you can't go home?"
Kwan hesitates. "Yes."
"Then you're stuck at the ocean, aren't you? And the only thing to do is dive in."
Kwan says, "You're not diving in."
Oom laughs, and the mama-san joins in with that odd chirping sound. "I've been in so long my fingers are wrinkled," Oom says. "I've gone all the way to the bottom and brought back pearls. I'm so wet I'm half fish. It's just now I'm not doing it. Because I've told someone I won't. Because he pays me not to."
"Lots of girls are getting paid," the mama-san says. "They do their jobs."
"They're not in love. I am. And he loves me, and if you say one thing about that, I'll walk out of here right now, and tomorrow I'll be bringing customers into the Kit-Kat."
"All right, all right."
"This is not a stupid girl," Oom says, nodding toward Kwan. "And look at her. She's the most beautiful girl to come in here since I did. She's valuable. You don't want to lose her. You should explain the situation to her instead of pounding her over the head."
"Whose side are you on?" Kwan asks.
"You're thinking about this all wrong," Oom says. "There aren't any sides in here, despite the cliques Fon and those other idiots form. Now you're my friend, now you're not. I liked you yesterday, but I hate you today. There are really only two sides: us and the customers. It's us against the customers. They come in and sit down and pretend they're interesting and different in some way from every other man in the room, and we pretend they are, too, and we take their money. As much of it as we can get. And we should be helping each other, not competing. That's why I come back here between sets, that's why I don't sit with customers or let them buy me drinks. I want them to pick a girl. I'm not going with them, so they should choose somebody else. I just get out of the way."
"That's a new excuse," the mama-san says.
"Explain it to her." Oom stands up. "Or don't, it's up to you. But you," she says to Kwan, "you have to get into the water or go home. And this could be a good deal for you." She moves to the door that leads back to the bar.
The mama-san says to Oom, "Don't tell me you're actually going out there to smile at someone, maybe sell a couple of drinks."
"No," Oom says. "I have to pee." To Kwan she says, "Just stop wringing your hands." And then she's gone.
Kwan tries again. "Nana told me I could decide whether to go with-"
"And you can," the mama-san says. She puts both hands out, palms up. "After this." She shifts impatiently in her chair. "Sit down," she says.