“Uh-huh.” Well, after they heard her pitch, and after she’d made them waffles using the batter recipe that Denny kept under lock and key. Worked like a charm. As their dad was fond of saying, waffles made the world go ‘round. He was right, but if Eric hadn’t figured that out yet, was it Jiyeon’s problem? She didn’t think so.
Leila's languid posture didn’t match the glint in her eyes. “Isn’t that a bit risky?”
“It’s very risky. That’s why the agencies pushed back on your involvement, initially. We’d have to meet with them—”
“Both agencies want the group’s reputation to stay positive. Isn’t that why Prism was hired? It also seems to me like Emerald and Zenith would benefit from keeping Sunshines happy. Apollo belongs to their fans, and this is what fans want most right now. They send messages asking how the guys are doing, if they’re okay, if they’re getting enough rest. There’s been so much secrecy around this second season. Sunshines wouldn’t be so desperate for leaked videos if we took them behind the scenes a bit more.”
Jiyeon returned the listings to Eric. “The Emerald founders are executive producers on the show, aren’t they? I have an appointment with one of them tomorrow. You’re welcome to sit in if you’d like.”
The shock on Eric’s face was well worth preserving in an oil painting. “You scheduled directly with Soyeon? That’s very difficult to do.”
“I know a guy,” said Jiyeon.
Specifically, she knew nine guys. Once they’d processed what she said to them in the car, getting an email address for Soyeon was easy. And Prism knew how to tell a story, how to bend the light and alter what was visible, but she could do that just as well. It had been her whole life, once.
Jiyeon had no desire to bring Emma back for good, but she saw that Emma coulddosomething good, one last time. She would tell this story, not just for Apollo and their fans, but also for herself.
28
“Jungwoohasanofferfrom Emerald?”
Jiyeon sat for a moment and considered this news. Hiding with her in the kitchen at Wanna Waffle, Eunjae worked on a stack of waffles, his late dinner after a day of driving brothers around like a taxi. He said, “They want hyung to stay. Nicky found out somehow, so the usual stuff happened.”
“Oh, sure. The usual blackmail. Very normal.”
“Very normal. Very Nicky.”
An hour after closing, the shop felt like an isolated bubble, a vessel set adrift. The shades were drawn, the doors locked. Jiyeon took up some silverware rolled into a napkin, one of many such bundles she’d been assembling when Eunjae and Denny arrived. She unwrapped a fork and had a bite of waffle, too. Pioneered by Jeannie, this was a new addition to the menu, mochi instead of their signature buttermilk. She liked it. Hopefully they’d have customers who felt the same way.
Eunjae sipped from his water glass. He’d need a trim soon, she thought to herself, absently. Apollo had a wedding to attend next weekend. She’d better get to it within the next few days. “He didn’t want to tell me,” she heard him say. “Worried I’d be mad.”
“Are you mad?” she asked. He shook his head, because of course he wasn’t.
“This is what he’s always wanted. Jungwoo picked Emerald because they encourage their groups to self-produce, and because of Haewon-noona. He wanted to learn from her. I know he still does.”
Jiyeon understood that Haewon was the other half of the duo behind Emerald’s founding. A gifted songwriter and producer, she was the genius behind nearly every hit song released by her former girl group, Jewell. Years of going uncredited had spurred Haewon to help establish a company that favored strong lyricists and composers. The industry regarded her as a legend.
Cautiously, Jiyeon voiced the concern weighing heaviest on her mind. “Eunjae, what if he accepts? What would that mean for the rest of you?”
“I don’t think Zenith will like it. The original deal was for nine members.”
“Could Jungwoo work as a producer and just sign a separate contract to perform with Apollo?”
He sat back, pensive. “It’s possible. I guess it would depend on how hyung negotiated the contract. The problem is that our songs are written and produced by Jungwoo, mostly, with some help from other people in-house. If we wanted to keep using his songs, Zenith would have to license them from Emerald. They’d own the rights.”
“And you’d want to use his songs, of course.” Without him, Apollo would have a different sound. “So your new agency would have to pay, or give you songs by someone else.”
“Yeah,” Eunjae replied, sadly. “If Zenith offered him a producer deal, he’d probably take it just to stay with us, but we’re slowing down. This is our tenth year coming up. Apollo won’t be releasing songs very often, not with hyungs enlisting. Jungwoo’s writing for new groups at Emerald. There’s more demand for his work, more creative freedom.”
He lapsed into silence, as he was wont to do after speaking so much. Jiyeon let him be. Painful choices loomed ahead, choices between growth and stagnation, loyalty and independence. There would be sacrifices regardless of the path they chose.
Jeannie strolled in, finished with the last of her closing duties in the dining room. Sensing the somber mood, she fished around in her apron pockets for some soda candy and dropped a few pieces on the table. “This isn’t a breakup, right? You’re okay, Ryan, but if she says it’s over then you’ll need to choke on that candy. House rules.”
“Oh, goodness.”
“Ah, no. It’s not over.” But then Eunjae set his fork down with a clang. He looked up at Jiyeon, suddenly mortified. “Wait. Youshouldbreak up with me. I didn’t even ask how it went today. Sorry, I know I keep doing that.”
“How it went with what?” Jeannie asked. “And by the way, could you quit shoving Arthur into lakes when I’m not there to watch?”
