“We’re aware of that,” Eunjae answered politely. “Prism gets the job done. That’s what we’ve heard from their past clients.”
“Oh, they do. At any cost.”
Soyeon shot her a quelling look. “We wanted to talk to you about the second season ofSunshine 24/7.As we discussed when you signed the provisional, the episodes were ordered shortly after the first season was released. But then they had all those strikes in Hollywood, and now there’s a new production company attached. You remember all of this, right?”
Eunjae did remember. “I thought plans for that second season were on hold until we’ve finalized the new contracts with Zenith.”
“Not anymore. In addition to a new production company, there’s a new director on board. He’d been following the headlines about Apollo all summer, reading everything he could find about you and the Han family. How they took you in when you missed your flight, and the way they helped you… find the courage to fight your contract.”
Soyeon swiveled the laptop screen so that they could see it clearly. “They’ve decided on some major changes. Since part of the premise involves surprising the members, we really shouldn’t be giving you a preview, but I think it would be best to avoid any more surprises between us.”
Surprises? Eunjae leaned forward, studying the screen. There was a photo on display: an old-fashioned American diner, flanked by palm trees, oddly familiar.
“Because he thought the story was so heartwarming, this new director proposed restructuring the show around all of the members working at a restaurant, just like you did. Originally, they had Apollo trying out a new job every twenty-four hours. Now it will be one job at a twenty-four-hour diner.”
They clicked to the next slide. Now there was a sign lit up in curling blue neon letters:Sunshine Diner.
Denny’s head snapped up. The concept on the screen bore an eerie similarity to Wanna Waffle, from the signage to the lettering, even the palm trees wrapped in string lights. Although the door wasn’t orange, the overall impression was a close match.
In the corner was a prototype title card.Sunshine 24/7, Eunjae read to himself, stomach churning.Apollo At Your Service.
“They’ve scouted a location already. You’ll be filming near Los Angeles for eight weeks. Since you’re signed to the provisional contract until the end of November, we’ve reached an agreement with Zenith to split the costs for PR management during filming.” Haewon crossed one ankle over the other. “It would benefit all parties if this went smoothly. Assuming everything goes well, the transfer and new contracts would be finalized in December.”
Soyeon had noticed the look on Eunjae’s face. She drew a breath, then exhaled slowly. Turning to Denny, she said, “The producers want you to join the main cast. You’d be on the show as both Apollo’s manager and the restaurant manager. They’ll be sending an offer within a day or two. If you don’t have an agent, you might want to get one.”
Denny stared at her, arms crossed, sunglasses slipping down his nose. “Me? Are you serious?”
“Just you,” Haewon emphasized. “The producers pitched a concept that included the whole family, but we had to object. So did Zenith. We have to consider Apollo’s image, especially after what happened this summer.”
Here, she pinned Eunjae with a cool, calculating stare. “Your manager's sister is very pretty, isn’t she? Best to keep her off the project. And just to be safe, no contact until this deal goes through. We’ll be monitoring to make sure all members comply. You know how the fans can be.”
4
“We’reclosingsoon,”Jeanniewhispered, clinging to Jiyeon's arm behind the counter. “Why won't they leave? I played the Closing Countdown and everything. I did it just like the boss wrote in the giant binder with the Standard Operating Procedures. I was on protocol, and for what?”
Jiyeon gave the cash drawer a firm shove, listening for the harsh, metallic click that meant it was properly shut and wouldn't spring open again five minutes later. “Maybe they're almost done,” she replied. “Let's give it until 8:00, okay?”
“Okay.” Jeannie untied her orange apron, flinging it around her neck in a move she’d inherited straight from Denny. Then she scowled at the dining room at large, also very much like Denny. “I’m just annoyed. What's the use of Standard Operating Procedures when people won't operate, like… standardly?”
“Standardly?”
“You know what I mean! That's a real word, and don't play the dunce card with me, only I can play the dunce card, that'smystrategy—”
“I promise I'll go over there and talk to them at 8:00, if they're still here. I won't keep you even one second later, and you can skip groceries if you want. Same for tomorrow night.” Wanna Waffle had been closed on Mondays ever since Denny’s departure. They’d extended weekend hours to help make up for it.
“You're not going anywhere near them,” gasped Jeannie, mortified. “Those are Sunshines, the feral kind. They might try to bite you, and then I'd have to bite them, and that's the last thing I want to do when I've been working for twelve hours. I'm exhausted! I don't have the stamina!”
“Pretty sure your shifts are always six hours long, Jeannie.”
“And it felt like double because we were so busy! Saturdays and Sundays were always busy, but now they’re worse. I’m blaming Apollo.”
Jiyeon zipped the cash envelope and didn’t argue. It was fair to credit Apollo, and the subsequent media coverage, for the surge in customers. All summer, fans had descended upon Wanna Waffle in droves, crowding in to see the place where their idols had broken free of Emerald Entertainment. The restaurant was now an indelible part of Apollo’s history.
While the initial furor had died down, Sunshines still arrived on pilgrimage with surprising regularity. They swarmed over the booths and tables, took photos of every plate and mug and potted plant. They posed in the parking lot outside the shop with photo cards in decorated cases, clutching light sticks, their arms full of Apollo merchandise. Some even arrived in outfits carefully curated to match what their favorite member had worn at one point or another. The more meticulous fans sought to sitin the same spots and order the same waffles, right down to the toppings.
Although Jeannie was quick to label them as feral, Jiyeon thought tonight’s Sunshines were pretty mild. None of them had tried to approach her, for starters. She’d had her share of Apollo devotees desperate to wring Emma Han for information. These girls had attempted a few sly glances in her direction, easy enough to deflect. Small mercies.
In many ways, Wanna Waffle was nowhere near equipped for such an influx of customers. The pace had never been so hectic, the work never so relentless. Still, she didn’t mind. There was a time when Wanna Waffle stood empty most days, and Jiyeon remembered it too well. Even on the most beautiful California mornings, when sunlight drenched the dining room in a wash of mellow gold, there had been something very bleak about it. The view from behind this counter hadn’t always been reassuring.
