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RANDALL

Halmeoni is nervous, but the kind of nervous that also has a huge smile behind it. I do whatever she asks me to do, so that’s why I’m counting the number of to-go containers and utensils we have—because Halmeoni wants to be prepared for anything for our first day.

Julie has her long black hair tied back in a ponytail. She is helping with the prep work.

We are thirty minutes from the grand opening of KoTai inside the pop-up restaurant space that London Park’s family invested in. A nod to the restaurant that Ahma and Halmeoni wanted to start together—a fusion of Taiwanese and Korean food. The open space is filled with other vendors selling ice cream, artisan hand pies, boba drinks, and crispy fries—like an indoor food hall. It’s the perfect place to reignite our grandmothers’ dream.

There are steamer baskets full of spicy rice cakes tossed with woodear mushrooms, char siu pork kimchi buns, crystal shrimp dumplings, and fan tuan rolls made with yaksik brown rice and filled with taro paste. We have to-go jars of our grandmothers’ signature spicy gochujang black vinegar chili oil crisp that tastes great on everything.

Our stand has both a white good luck cat, beckoning customers in with its waving paw, and one money tree with a red bow around it for abundance. We are in the back of the storefront, tucked under a sign that Tyler designed that looks like graffiti.

Watching Julie chop green onions should not distract me, but here I am having to recount the wooden chopsticks again.

“Randall, where are the menus?”

Halmeoni is pacing in front of our stand. Ahma holds up the laminated menus.

“Right here, Chung Hi,” says Ahma, waving the menus in front of my grandmother.

Julie gently hip checks me. “Done yet?”

“Not when you keep distracting me.”

“Sorry,” says Julie mockingly while batting her eyelashes at me.

“Will you two stop flirting and help me get these sauce containers prepped?” asks Tyler.

“Of course, gege,” says Julie.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Randall, I don’t know why you voluntarily want to spend time with this one.”

I laugh as I help Tyler dole out our spicy gochujang black vinegar sauce into small plastic sauce containers. Julie joins us and sticks her tongue out at her brother.

“I’d say the same to your boyfriend, but—”

“He’s rehearsing for the mid-autumn festival dance performance,” finishes Tyler.

It’s Julie’s turn to roll her eyes. “You haven’t mentioned that he’s a dancer like three billion times.”

“Three billion and one times,” I add.

Tyler hums happily to himself while the three of us continue to fill the containers.

Ahma arranges the mango coconut cream rolls in the front display with expert precision. Halmeoni busies herself with wiping down the glass display.

Julie whispers, “I snagged one for us.”

She grabs a small plate she’d hidden under the register area and presents us with thin slices of a mango coconut roll. My mouth waters in anticipation. Ahma only made these soft sweet mochi rolls for birthday parties but decided to offer them on the KoTai menu after we convinced her that people would gobble these up by the dozen. Ahma and Julie made fifty fresh ones together for the grand opening, but I convinced them to make more.

Tyler peers over Julie’s shoulder. “Whatcha got there?”

“Shh,” admonishes Julie, smacking his arm.

It’s too late. Ahma hears us whispering and being secretive.

“Shao guo, did you steal one of the mango rolls?” asks Ahma.

“I’m taste testing these to make sure they are not poisonous for our customers.” Julie quickly shoves a slice in her mouth. She closes her eyes in bliss.

“I need to test them too. For quality control,” I declare.

“Me too,” adds Tyler.

I savor the tiny sliver of dessert. The soft mochi exterior is covered in shredded coconut. The inside is filled with a whipped mango coconut cream that tastes like heaven. It is by far my favorite dessert on the planet.

“Totally and completely safe,” says Julie.

“Yup,” I agree.

“I might need to try one more,” says Tyler.

He reaches toward the line of rolls in the display case. Ahma smacks his hand.

“For customers only.”

Tyler retracts his hand. He walks to the front of the register, fumbles with his wallet, and pulls out a five-dollar bill.

Julie shakes her head, refusing to take his money. Halmeoni laughs and goes behind the register. She rings up the purchase and takes Tyler’s money.

Halmeoni plates the treat and gives it to Tyler, who eats the entire thing in four bites total.

“Our first customer!” declares Halmeoni, who waves the five-dollar bill around like a flag.

“Wait,” says Ahma. She takes the money. “Get me some tape, Julie.”

Julie hands her a roll of tape. Ahma affixes the five-dollar bill to the left side of the register.

“To bring in more money,” says Ahma.

Halmeoni claps her hand on Ahma’s back. The old friends share a laugh.

JULIE

I’m getting anxious about the opening so I ask Randall to walk around the space with me. We visit the other pop-up vendors. Randall stops to talk to the pop-up shop owner. I pull out my phone to scroll through it.

With our families on speaking terms again, I finally changed Randall’s name in my phone. No more Former Friend or Danger. Just Randall.

Me

Ready?

Randall

Ready.

We taste a sample of ube ice cream topped with condensed milk from Wanderlust Creamery. At the Pie Day stand, we order two warm blackberry hand pies. After we polish off those delicious sweets, we pick up five Thai iced tea boba drinks from Boba Fett’s Boba Café from the two co-owners dressed as Mandalorians (minus the helmets).

“I am finally full,” declares Randall. He rubs his belly like a Buddha.

“I could try some Belgian fries.”

“I have a second stomach for fries,” says Randall.

I laugh. We hold hands and read through the menu at Pomme Frites. There are too many choices to narrow it down, so we ask the owner.

“My favorite combination is the salt and vinegar frites with the tomato chutney dipping sauce,” says the owner, who wears a T-shirt with a Belgian flag on it. She asks, “Your grandmothers run the KoTai booth?”

We nod.

“They brought me a plate earlier. Everything I tried was—” She makes a chef’s kiss gesture. “KoTai is a great addition to the Pop Up Company storefront.”

“Thank you so much. We’re happy to be here,” I say. “We’ll get the combo you recommended.”

RANDALL

A few minutes later, we hold the piping hot cone of thick-cut fries and sit on an aqua-blue bench. We dip the fries into the tomato chutney. Julie groans in happiness.

“Perfection,” murmurs Julie.

“I’d say the same about you,” I say, looking at her.

She blushes. “Stop.”

“Never.”

“We should get back to the booth,” says Julie.

“Definitely.”

We share a salty kiss. I trace my thumb along her soft cheek. She squeezes my thigh. I get lost in her kisses.

My phone buzzes in my shirt pocket. I pull it out.

Halmeoni is calling me. I slide to answer.

“Yes. We’ll be right there,” I say before I hang up.

“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

“The biggest.”

“Good,” says Julie.

I put my arm around her and walk back to KoTai with a full belly and my love next to me. Our grandmothers are still fussing with every little detail, but I hear Halmeoni whistling to herself—a sound that signals her heart is happy. It’s a damn good day for a grand opening.