Jiyeon held tight to the wriggling bundle in her arms. “I don’t think she’ll give away any state secrets, Den.”
“Irrelevant. It’s a historic property, yeah? No pets allowed.”
“But she’s so cute! Don't you think she's the cutest, Captain?”
Their manager would not be swayed. “All contraband pets will be addressed at a later time.”
“Contraband!” Jesse cried out, clapping his hands. “Connie! That’s what her name should be!”
“Hey, now. We agreed on her name. It’s Uyu.”
Jiyeon blinked at Nicky. “Milk? That’s what you guys named her?”
“What? When did we give the dog a name?”
“Worst! Zuzu is the worst!”
Lip curling, Kei said, “That’s notmydog. Leave me out of it.”
Denny went into a spate of thunderous throat-clearing. Spying some production assistants through a window, Eunjae took the puppy from Jiyeon, crossed to the door, and poked his head through. It was easy enough to secure a temporary dog-sitter, and without having to offer Namgyu’s suggested salary of a big hug and one million dollars that he didn’t have. He returned just in time to learn that the day’s agenda had been revised to include actual filming.
“They want footage of all members arriving together, including Ryan, so you're getting back in the car with your suitcases. I’m heading down to the diner with noona. Won’t be back ‘til later tonight. Keep the shenanigans to a minimum,” he warned, with an extra glare for Nicky. “You’re with Eric for the rest of the day.”
“Oooh, Eric!”
“Boss, who’s Eric?”
The doorbell went off again. “That’s Eric,” Denny replied. “Punctual, at least. I’ll give him that. Moriyama, there’s a box on the coffee table. Make yourself useful.”
Kei hopped up, pleased to have been assigned a task. He distributed a stack of training manuals thick enough to be textbooks, each one stamped with a name, the Prism logo, and the company’s motto:EVERY ANGLE IN THE BEST LIGHT. Eunjae caught Jiyeon staring at her copy. She glanced his way and mouthed the word, “Wow.”
But then she was gone, off to the diner with Denny. He heard Eric talking to her at the door just before he came in. Something about a separate meeting to discuss the rebrand. What rebrand?
He’d have to ask her later. If his brothers were a wave crashing to shore, Eric was a meteor reducing the house to a blackened crater. “Apollo,” he exclaimed, as though addressing thousands in an arena instead of eight exhausted idols squashedtogether on a couch. “What an honor. I’m Eric, your dedicated storytelling specialist from Prism Strategic Management. How wonderful to meet in person. So much better than a Zoom call. Don’t you agree?”
Namgyu’s grin went a bit lopsided. “He’s Eric from the computer?” he whispered in Eunjae’s ear. “I thought he looked totally different then.”
Eunjae nodded. He’d been thinking the same. Eric had a friendly face, pleasant and unremarkable, like someone you’d find in a stock photo. Glasses perched on his nose, thick lenses in tortoiseshell frames. But the Prism rep they’d seen on screen had never worn glasses, and although that guy’s name was also Eric, he’d been older. The hair was different. This Eric’s hair was darker, smoothed back with copious amounts of gel. Or was it just Eunjae’s imagination? There had been so many virtual meetings with Prism. It was all blurring together in his memory.
Eric continued gushing about how thrilled he was to work with them. He did this in a seamless mix of English and Korean, passing out business cards and revealing the Apollo concert tee under his blazer. “Huge Apollo fan here! You have no idea! Now, Prism values the production team’s creative integrity, so I won't be on set every day. I’m always here for you guys, though. My whole job is to make sure Apollo gets through this without any issues, media-related or otherwise. Feel free to give me a call, message me on the Prism app, or text my direct number any time you need me.”
Kazu scratched his head. “Yikes. There’s an app, too?”
“Um, but is it just you?” Jesse ventured. “Is there another Eric?”
“Oh, definitely. We’ve got a whole team out here for Apollo!”
“And you’re all… named Eric…?”
“Yes,” came the cheerful response. “That way, we foster an ongoing, unbroken circle of trust, even if it’s not a team member you recognize. Prism policy. The name’s actually an acronym.”
Nicky balanced the training manual on his lap, eyes shining in a way that would’ve had Jaehwan calling for a straitjacket. “So every letter stands for something, then? I need to know, Eric. I’m here to learn.”
“Of course! E-R-I-C: evaluate, reposition, influence, control. Isn’t that awesome?”
“Awesome,” muttered Max.
“Control,” echoed Eunjae.
