15. Chapter 15
Eunjae spent the rest of the time stationed at the sink. This was fine because he’d always liked washing dishes. It was an ideal mindless task, perfect for slipping away into a daydream or puzzling through a problem without sacrificing productivity. And thank goodness he knew his way around a sink — Denny had him scrubbing for most of the afternoon.
“Everyone starts at the bottom here, even amnesiacs. If you prove yourself worthy, I”ll give you something less lame to do.”
Eunjae harbored no resentment over this setup. He tackled all the dishes at a steady pace, still enjoying it even though his head wasn”t as far up in the clouds as usual. There was too much to look at, to wonder about. If he drifted too far away from the present moment, he might miss something. The kitchen was full of stories. Constantly humming with activity, its surfaces bore a patina of age and steady use. Someone had scratched a tiny heart in the corner of Mrs. Han’s stainless steel prep table. A child’s drawings were tacked up in the pantry, the paper faded and curling with time. Eunjae realized that the artwork depicted prototype Wanna Waffle logos. All were signed with the initials DWH in bold, unswerving strokes.
Around 4:00, a girl swept into the kitchen and collected her orange apron. It was Jeannie, the same teenager from the night before. She came to a halt next to Eunjae, eyeing him with great interest.
“Denny-boss,” she hollered, glossy ponytail swinging. “New hire? Since when?”
“Since whenever I felt like it, Vho. Where’s Evan?”
“Still on the way. Traffic was bad and he had orientation for his part-time thing at the aquarium.” Jeannie studied Eunjae as she tied the apron strings into a sloppy bow around her waist. “Hey, this is the guy from last night! I knew I’d seen him before.”
“Yeah, on a wanted poster.” Denny beckoned to Eunjae, car keys jangling in his hand. “Let’s go, Lying Ryan. The reinforcements are here and we’ve got errands to run.”
“Oh,” said Eunjae, turning the faucet off. He dried his hands on the faded blue gingham dishtowel he’d tossed over his shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“I’m glad you asked. First we’re doing something about the creepy purple eyes. There will be no more sleeping with those contacts still on your eyeballs.” Denny pulled a face. “Ugh.”
“But I don”t have my prescription with me. And what about the insurance?” Did he even have insurance? Eunjae had no idea. He had no idea about anything, it seemed. It occurred to him that almost every part of his life was arranged by someone else. What he did know was that he shouldn”t use the company credit card. That was obvious even without Invisible Jaehwan hissing a warning in his ear.
Denny waved these concerns away. “Don”t worry, I”ve got a guy for this. Last minute, rush job optometry with no questions asked. Owes me a favor anyway. We catered his daughter’s birthday waffle brunch after less than twenty-four hours’ notice. I bet he does this for free.”
The following two and a half hours were a nonstop whirlwind of activity. While waiting around in the lobby, the elderly receptionist regaled him with the full, unabridged story of how she lost the love of her life to a rival who stepped on her debutante gown. She sniffled loudly through most of the account. The rollercoaster of emotions left Eunjae somewhat winded, but he did come away with a new pair of glasses to tide him over until contacts were ready. Now he watched from the passenger-side window while the sun slowly set on his first full day as a fugitive. It had gone by too fast. Tomorrow, he”d make sure to wake up long before noon.
Tomorrow. Was he really staying here ”til tomorrow? Did he have the audacity?
Eunjae wrestled with these thoughts as Denny parked the Camaro. At first he didn”t even notice that they weren’t back at Wanna Waffle. This was a different shopping center, fronted by a mostly deserted parking lot and containing, among other establishments, a salon called The Final Cut.
His window rolled down, courtesy of Denny, and then Jiyeon was standing right outside the car.
“Good timing,” she said to her brother, with a smile for Eunjae thrown in. He smiled back, lifting his hand in greeting just a few beats too late.
Denny drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You sure about this, Yeonnie?”
“It’ll be fine. Everyone’s gone already. Olivia’s monthly VIP stylist dinner, you know.”
“Where’d she take them this time? I’ll call ahead, make sure they get her order wrong.”
“Woosung-ah.”
“What?”
The breeze picked up, setting the skirts of Jiyeon’s green dress whipping around her ankles. A floral pattern of petals and leaves danced along the hem, picked out in watery blues and violets. She tipped her head to the side and said, “So, Ryan Kim. We’ve had complaints from the management that your hair is floppy. How about a free haircut?”
Eunjae was late to process that, too. In truth, the sight of Jiyeon in that last, lingering bit of daylight had caught him unawares. The waning sunshine revealed details he’d previously missed: the pale gleam of a scar that skimmed her collarbone, a chipped nail, the subtle undertones of red rippling through her dark hair.
These were things he was never meant to see. These were people he was never meant to meet, let alone get to know. If he hadn’t missed his flight, Eunjae would be in Seoul right now. He shouldn’t be here as the light changed, as another day came to a close.
Eunjae was glad to be here. It felt like thievery. It felt miraculous.
As he climbed out of the car, Denny honked the horn twice. “There will be zero romantic moments while you”re cutting his hair,” he announced to his sister. “No funny business, Yeonnie.”
Jiyeon looked back over her shoulder. “Oh, I see. You”ve cast me as the villain here. I”m the one to watch.”
“I mean, yeah. Look at him. Not exactly the most seductive crayon in the box.”
“Which colors,” asked Jiyeon, “are the seductive ones, by your standards?”
“You know what I”m getting at!”
“I promise not to make things weird while cutting his hair, Denny.”
But Denny made as if he might get out of the car and follow them inside, after all. “You”re not taking this seriously,” he complained. Pointing at Eunjae, he added, “This one is spoken for. Let”s just put it that way.”
“Are you?” Jiyeon inquired, turning to Eunjae. The breeze had yet to die down, teasing strands of her hair from its elaborate braid. A length of jade green ribbon had been woven through the plaits.
“No,” replied Eunjae. He was able to answer that one quickly because it was such an easy question. Of course he wasn”t spoken for. Imagine the general furor if the fans thought he was dating someone! But he shoved both hands in his pockets, subconsciously worried that any and all sudden movements might be interpreted as seduction.
Denny put the car in reverse. “He’s spoken for. By Interpol. Because he’s some kind of fugitive trying to dodge international law. They’re probably looking for him as we speak, so don’t get attached.” Suddenly, he put the car back into park again. “And the phone! Did you think I wouldn’t notice the phone? Now you adopt mopey strangers and give them phones? This is worse than the time Mom and Dad adopted that weirdo cellist from church —”
“Her host family had an emergency out of town and couldn’t pick her up from the airport. She stayed for one weekend. I don’t think that counts as an adoption.”
“Yeah, ‘cause it counts as a classic con. I’m shocked you didn’t give her a phone, too.”
“Ryan needed one,” said Jiyeon, “and I had two, so why not?”
“That garbage piece of plastic doesn’t count as a phone! And what are you gonna do when they stop supporting a 4G network around here? I’m losing my mind all over again.”
“It can handle calls and texts just fine. There’s nothing else I need it to do. Not anymore.”
Something unreadable passed between them. Denny looked away first.
Not long after, Eunjae and Jiyeon stood together in the parking lot, having finally mollified her brother into leaving. “Let’s head inside before Interpol detects your presence,” she said.
“Probably for the best,” agreed Eunjae.