Chapter 29
Coming back from the weekend was painful, and the days that followed were strange ones.
Monday’s shifts were rearranged to accommodate celebrity guests flown in from Seoul.
Then the weather forecast prompted Emerald to move a photo shoot.
They shuttered the diner, announced an obscenely early start time, and threw the whole production into chaos.
This was how Eunjae ended up in full kit on a Tuesday morning, sprawled on the wing of a vintage plane.
The concepts for Apollo’s annual Season’s Greetings calendar were always… interesting.
This year-end gift set for fans was a time-honored tradition among K-pop groups.
Jiyeon's special edition Ari calendar had been part of the previous holiday season’s merchandise, which included a planner and stickers as well.
Eunjae had heard from their other manager, Nami, that this year’s box came with a miniature sundial.
Zipped into a pastel blue jumpsuit, he was told to pose with a citrus crate and got a splinter as a souvenir.
That wasn’t fun. Neither was the part where they wanted him tossing an orange and catching it, alluringly.
He knew what they were asking for, and Eunjae could do it, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to melt into the concrete floor.
Ten years in the business and he remained so easily embarrassed.
Whenever the photographer didn’t need him, he wandered around taking pictures himself.
The staff had scouted a derelict hangar for part of the shoot.
There was beauty to be found in its steel bones, in the panes of cracked and clouded glass.
A ruined roof left the interior open to the sky.
At the right hour, the place glowed from within, shot through with cold October sunlight.
On the drive back, Eunjae swiped through his pictures and sent some to Jiyeon. Her schedule had also flipped upside down since that meeting with Prism. She’d be around a little bit longer and he wanted to see her.
He got out as soon as the van came to a stop.
Staff directed them to the main house, promising a breakfast buffet.
Eunjae witnessed the tail end of a quarrel on the way in.
“You’re not supposed to be leaking videos anymore,” Kei said, exasperated as usual.
“Quit coming up with insane ideas for them. I’m sure noona doesn’t need help. ”
“We’re collaborating. And I’m the one who said telling the truth might be worth trying sometimes. I was the inspiration.”
“It might be worth trying sometimes? Are you listening to yourself? Psycho!”
“Call me names all you want, but if you don’t get your post done before we leave, we’ll have to get you at the wedding.”
“Do you have to sound like you’re planning a murder?”
“Do you have to be a fake snob? If you were a real snob, you’d appreciate my vision.”
Kei accused Nicky of conflating insanity with artistry.
Nicky declared that His Royal Highness the Dark Prince Adrianos was an enemy of the arts.
If you wanted to escalate a conflict, all you had to do was mention the time Keiichi voiced the lead in a popular anime franchise.
Eunjae knew he’d have to step in before it got any worse.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Jiyeon heard their bickering and came to mediate.
She popped up between them, held up her phone, and flipped the camera around.
Nicky broke into a grin mid-sentence. Kei’s grumpy expression became a look of practiced indifference, transforming him into the cool and unsmiling crush who neither knew nor cared that you existed.
All nine members of Apollo were conditioned to drop everything for a selfie.
Jiyeon glanced at Eunjae. “Huh. That really does work.”
“It’s pretty reliable.”
“Well, well,” Nicky said, loading a plate with food. “Ajumma, nice to see you. Keiichi here would like to volunteer for your next post—”
“Don’t listen to him, I’m not volunteering for anything!”
“You can wait if you want,” said Jiyeon, pouring Kei a glass of orange juice out of sympathy. “I’ve been reading what your fans have to say and most of their requests are really simple. Nothing crazy.”
Kei was visibly relieved to hear this, but Nicky filed an objection.
“Define crazy, though. For example, it wouldn’t be crazy if I knocked into him right now and he spilled that juice on your dress.
That’s such a plausible scenario. Accidents happen, you know?
Then we film him while he panics.” A beatific grin.
“You want authenticity? That’s authentically Keiichi. ”
“You’re not spilling anything on her dress,” said Eunjae.
“You used to have a sense of humor, Ari.”
This got Kei started on why there was nothing humorous about what hyung just said.
Being funny wasn’t the same as being a complete lunatic.
The bickering resumed as Eunjae and Jiyeon left the dining room, seeking sanctuary.
“There’s a crane in the driveway,” she told him.
“Please tell me you guys are going up on cables next.”
“Hope not.” Finishing his breakfast as they walked, he said, “Ezra had a letter to send back. Still won’t talk to me, but Dad brought it last night.”
“It's cute that he wrote back again.” Jiyeon paused to fix the patch on his chest, embroidered with his stage name and slightly crooked. “Hey, about Ezra… I think I found something. I’ll show you later.”
Outside, they found her brother and a terrified stylist. “The beret is for what purpose?” Denny inquired, scowling down at a tablet screen. “And for god’s sake, don't say sun protection.”
“I guess… well, I guess there isn't a purpose, Manager Han. It's not really there for, um, utility?”
“Correct.”
“So we should use something else…? Would you like us to pull a different hat, maybe…?”
Denny regarded the stylist through sunglasses tinted darker than the void itself. “If you know what's good for you, Yee."
“Y-yes, of course! New hat! Different hat, more sun protection!”
“Great. Moving on, who approved platform soles on these boots? Ahn can barely survive Earth's standard gravity. That's sabotage, plain and simple.” Swipe, swipe. Denny's sunglasses slipped down the bridge of his nose. “Justify the decision to wrap Ryan in random fabrics. I'll wait.”
Jiyeon chose to interrupt before the stylist dissolved into a quaking pile of bones.
“What’s going on out here?” she asked her brother, squinting at the Langley House lawn.
People scurried about with their arms full of daisies and sunflowers, mums and marigolds, yellow petals everywhere.
Configurations of white vases were laid out on the grass.
“Poor logistics, that’s what’s going on. These people invent rigmarole but can't execute it.”
Those were words on the grass, Eunjae realized. The display would be photographed from above. “What do the flowers spell out? Do you know, Boss?”
A snort. “The sun is always shining. Dumbest slogan I've ever heard.
Yeah, pal. That's how the sun works.” He stalked away, bellowing that anyone dressed like air crew for Candy Land Airlines was due for a wardrobe change in thirty minutes.
“And quit carrying that dog everywhere, Ueda. Muscles atrophy with disuse.”
Complaints rang out. The puppy was tired. The puppy deserved a hammock, a stroller, a palanquin carried by uniformed security officers. Their little Haneul was a precious angel, why should she have to walk? And so on.
They spent the next twenty minutes watching interns arranging yellow blossoms. Sometimes a voice would shout instructions from the crane, directing staff to move this vase or that one until the photographer was satisfied.
Brothers came out of the woodwork and Jiyeon stepped back to get them on video.
She’d taken to collecting random scraps of B-roll, banking the short clips for later use.
“You look more like mechanics,” she mused, “ but these are supposed to be flight suits, right? So you’re pilots. ”
“It's whatever you want,” Nicky answered. “You like pilots? We can be pilots. You like hot mechanics? We’ll fix you up, three easy payments of $3,999. Oooh, or we could be hot janitors—”
Kei pushed him away, nauseated. “Please shut up. It's bad enough that I have to wear this.” His flight suit was a very pretty shade of lilac. Jiyeon liked it and made a point of saying so, but he only heaved a sigh. It was just some cheap polyester blend. Noona didn't have to be so nice about it.
“Ya, ajumma. You still filming? Remember my appearance fee runs by the minute during peak season.”
Max demanded to know what the hell he meant by ‘peak season.’ Jiyeon promised that she was aware of the pricing. “You guys mind if I knock out some of my posts? Thought I’d start with Kazu. Where’d he go?”
“Oooh, but our dark prince said he’s going first—”
Kei dragged Kazu back to the group, then bolted out of range in a shameless bid for self-preservation. This didn’t save him from the sight of what their eldest brother was wearing under the flight suit. More accurately, what he wasn’t wearing: a shirt.
“Ah, hyung… is the zipper stuck, or…?”
“Yeah fucking right,” Max exclaimed around a mouthful of croissant. He was on his second or third helping of breakfast and showed no signs of slowing down.
Jiyeon cleared her throat. “I think you lost something.”
“Who, me?” Kazu looked down. “Like what? Oh, the dog! No, Haneul’s fine. The interns are giving her a bath. She got mud on her little paws.”
The floodgates opened. Was he allergic to decency? Did hyung need a ride to the nearest bordello? Why did he think this was a photo shoot for an adult film poster? And the dog’s name was Gelato. How was that so hard for him to remember?
Jiyeon backed away slowly. “Hmm. This won’t work. Too many brothers.”
“Sorry,” said Eunjae. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll try again.” But she didn’t put her phone away just yet. “Okay, come look before you go get changed.”
She had screenshots saved to her camera roll, taken from the Blackridge Academy website. Ezra featured in each one. He posed with his group on a field trip, and with a crowd in the school's pavilion. Jiyeon had cropped Leila out of the frame, leaving only an elbow and the brim of her hat.
“I know I don’t have a lot here. I felt bad searching through the school newsletters like some kind of stalker. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and then I kept coming back to what my mom said on Saturday night. You know, when she said Ezra’s just like you.”
“Make sure she never tells him. Being just like me is the last thing he wants.”
“Don’t you see it, though? He’s in a uniform most of the year, but when he gets to choose, he copies the way you dress."
Eunjae looked again. Realizing she was right, he said, "Same kid who called me a walking laundry basket."
"Same kid who doesn't hate you. It's the opposite, Eunjae. And I know 'cause I used to do this with Janie. She was everything I wanted to be, and everything I didn’t want to be.”
Her gaze turned inward for a moment. “Sometimes, Ezra’s just like you… but he’s also just like me.”