3. Chapter 3
Eunjae set his fork down on the plate, wondering if this announcement meant the place was closing for the night. He didn’t have a chance to ask Jiyeon, though. As if summoned by the gong, a younger, similarly built fellow popped his head through the swinging kitchen doors. He’d looped the orange apron around his neck like a towel. “Dad, what the heck,” he bawled out. “You do this every night!”
Across from Eunjae, Jiyeon snorted.
“What? It’s done! How else are they supposed to know?”
“Because they can tell time?”
Jiyeon rose from her chair. “My brother,” she whispered to Eunjae. Louder, she said, “Okay, Denny. Let it go. We’ve still got customers.”
“They can’t hear me. It’s fine.” Denny entered the room like a tectonic disturbance. Barrel-chested, wearing jeans that may or may not have been ironed, he displaced the very atmosphere with his presence. Scowling, he pointed at the gong. “That,” he hissed at his father, “is for display purposes only.”
“This is what you’re worried about? You think I’ll break the stupid gong?” The older man muttered something under his breath. Then he caught sight of Eunjae, who was transfixed by this tableau and still had a forgotten forkful of waffle in transit to his mouth.
“You!” the man exclaimed, beaming so widely that his whole face was transformed. “Where have I seen you before?”
This was a difficult question to answer, and not just because Eunjae couldn’t afford to be honest. Apollo was an international phenomenon. He and his brothers had starred in their own Netflix documentary, endorsed a staggering number of brands both individually and collectively, and had sold out two global arena tours in the past five years alone. There was at least one bus in Bangkok with their faces on it, plus three hotels in Tokyo with Apollo-themed luxury suites. For their last single with all nine members present, Apollo had performed on multiple American talk shows. Record-breaking, critically acclaimed, they were known as one of the most successful K-pop acts of the past decade.
Case in point, this man could’ve seen him anywhere. Maybe even some kid’s lunch box.
Thinking about all of this left Eunjae feeling so fatigued that he wanted to curl up on the spot and take a thousand-year nap. That kind of thing happened frequently in the world of The Brass Key. It ought to be socially acceptable in the real world, too.
Thankfully, Denny saved him from having to respond. “And don’t announce that Waffle Wednesday is over!” he scolded his father, carrying on as if he’d never been interrupted. “I told you, we start the Closing Countdown five minutes before special pricing ends. It goes up on the TV like those New Year’s Eve countdowns. I even showed you!”
“I couldn’t make it play!”
“Then why didn’t you ask Yeonnie? She’s right there!”
A belligerent huff. “I’m not speaking to your sister about anything. Not until she says sorry.”
Jiyeon took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly through her nose. She marched over to the counter and jabbed a finger at the kitchen door. “In there. Both of you, let”s go.”
“You know, Han Jiyeon,” her father fired back in rapid Korean, “those were our hopes and dreams. And you stomped on them! Bam! How could you? We didn’t raise you that way!”
“I thought you weren’t speaking to her,” mumbled Denny.
An older woman bustled out next, wiping damp hands on the apron tied around her waist. Her t-shirt had the word PEMBERLEY printed across the front in big block letters. “What are you fighting about in front of everybody? So tacky!” Then she grinned at some customers in scrubs a few tables down from Eunjae. “Oh, those guys from the hospital are back. Nice guys! Bring them some smoothies, tell them to come back with more friends.”
Eunjae assumed this newest character to take the stage must be Jiyeon and Denny’s mother. They’d both inherited that wavy hair and the dimple in her left cheek, although Mr. Han took sole credit for their height.
“Dad’s sulking about the Arthur Hong Betrayal again,” Denny said. Eunjae could hear the capital letters. He couldn’t see Jiyeon’s face, but it was like her whole body frowned in response.
“Oh, Arthur Hong!” groaned Mrs. Han. “Arthur, that good boy! That good, sweet boy!” She came out to join the others, bringing Jiyeon no closer to her goal of getting everyone back into the kitchen. “I’m still mad too. I thought it was all happy again, you and him. Maybe you’re too picky, huh? Too much like me.”
“Yeah, probably. Let’s talk about this after closing, though.”
“We should talk about it! We should talk about lots of things! You never come home, you never bring Arthur —”
“Uh-huh. Yes, I know. I’m awful.”
“Not awful, Yeonnie. You are not awful to me.” Mrs. Han patted her on the cheek. And then, just when it seemed the matter was resolved, she whispered, “But I miss Arthur!”
“I’ve seen him before,” Mr. Han continued insisting to no one in particular. He motioned at Eunjae, who had to expend a great deal of willpower just to remain seated. His body’s rote response was to slither under the table and disappear from view. “Jeannie-ah, where have I seen this one before? Tell me. You have a young brain, remembers everything.”
The teenager working the register replied much too quickly for Eunjae’s taste. “That’s easy. He looks just like Ari from Apollo —”
“Aren’t you supposed to be closing out?” Denny interrupted, indicating the cash Jeannie held in one hand. “You forgot how to do it again, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t forget,” she wailed back. “I can’t forget something I never learned. Don’t listen to Uncle. My brain is young and it holds nothing.”
Jiyeon was still locked in a whispered exchange with Mrs. Han. Denny launched into a lecture about why leaving the drawer hanging open was a surefire way to invite bandits onto the premises, and why was she counting all the smaller bills first? Leaving the others to their respective arguments, Mr. Han maneuvered around the counter, crossing to the window so he could flip the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.
“Okay,” he said, grinning at Eunjae. “Now, don’t tell me your name. I’ll guess. I can do it. You want more food? No, no, don’t worry about the time. You stay right there.”
Mrs. Han appeared at his elbow. “Only one waffle? You don’t like them?” Without waiting for an answer, she caught Denny’s attention with a snap of her fingers. “Woosung-ah, go get some more food. We have batter left over.”
Denny leveled a stare in Eunjae’s direction. “Is he paying for it?”
“So rude! It’s on the house. I’m the boss, do as I say.”
“You play sports?” Mr. Han inquired, still focused solely on Eunjae. “Been on the news? Oh! Those commercials, maybe. Yes, that could be it. Yeonnie,” he bellowed, “what’s the commercial I like, with the ice skating and the big panda bears?”
“I’ll tell you,” Jiyeon said evenly, “if you help me with something in the kitchen first.”
Eunjae felt her hand come to rest on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he heard her murmur in his ear. “Stay as long as you like. No one’s rushing you out. Though if you wanted to run as fast as you can, I wouldn’t blame you.” And then she was off, rousting various family members into the kitchen even as customers began trickling out through the orange door. Before acquiescing to his daughter’s demands, Mr. Han turned around to address Eunjae one more time.
“If you’re lonely,” he said, brows knitted together, “come visit us here, yeah? We’ll save a spot for you. This same spot. No questions. Just come in, doesn’t matter when.”
Jiyeon eyed her father askance, smiling even as she led him away. “See, that was nice. You should’ve opened with that instead of shouting at him.”
We’ll save a spot for you. What had brought that on?
They had their backs turned, but Eunjae bowed to them both anyway.