“What are we having today, ladies?” Lee Joon asked without looking up.

 

“How’d you know it was us?” Quinn hopped onto the middle stool in front of the main counter, her favorite spot.

 

With his back remained turned, Joon lifted a hand, pointing to the door and waving a dish towel lightly in the process.

 

“The sign clearly says, “on break, be back in 15 minutes” and only you two disregard the sign constantly.”

 

“We wouldn’t disregard the sign, if you didn’t disregard locking the door. Isn’t that right, Irene?” Quinn looked to her friend for backup.

 

“Logically, if you were on break, wouldn’t it make sense to lock the door, Joon?” Irene said as polite as possible.

 

Joon sighed, throwing the towel down and turned around to face them.

 

“Double trouble as always,” he eyed them for a moment and tilted his head. “Don’t tell me. S’mores,” he pointed to Quinn. “And peanut butter-banana.” he pointed to Irene.

 

“Yes. It is indeed, one of those days.”

 

“Who’s the punk?”

 

“Why does there have to be a punk?” Quinn’s face returned to a redness she had only just shaken off.

 

“There’s always a punk when it’s one of those days. I know things. I’m all knowing.” Joon smiled, walking away from the stove in the back to get nearer to the counter. He opened the short swing door and made his way to the entrance, flipping the break sign over even though he still had 10 minutes left. It was no use. There was no such thing as a break when those two walked in.

 

They’d been coming for years. It was a novelty spot, even by South Korean standards which was filled with themed cafes and shops. Lucy’s, named after “I Love Lucy” had been Lee Joon’s dream. It may not have been the most popular eatery around, but he’d brought an image once only in his head, to life. And no one could take that away. That was his success.

 

Quinn rolled her eyes in defeat.

 

“Just this guy from school. He’s so fu-reaking annoying.” Quinn changed her course of language mid-sentence. She liked to swear in English but Lee Joon had picked up on the unsavory words and now called her out whenever they were used.

 

“I’m seventeen,” she would exclaim.

 

“Seven. Seventeen. Seventy. Don’t care. It’s not an attractive habit.” he’d say back.

 

“I’m not trying to be attractive.”

 

“Attractive, polite, whatever I need to say for you to stop.”

 

“What’d he do?”

 

“Quinn and I always sit next to each other and today he took the seat next to me so she couldn’t.”

 

There was a moment of silence as Lee Joon looked back and forth between the two of them, waiting for the rest of the story.

 

“Oh, that’s it?”

 

“What do you mean that’s it? There’s principles here, buddy.” Quinn said, "buddy" was a nickname she used for Joon. Albeit, it usually came out when she wanted to be condescending. “And can’t you work and talk at the same time? We need consoling in the shape of melted ice cream, pronto.”

 

“You’re lucky you’re a foreigner and I like you, with the way you talk back to your elders,” Joon warned, opening the freezer and pulling some containers out. “Anyway, you kids are so cute.”

 

“Yes, we know.” Quinn smiled.

 

“The way you fight over nothing. It’s not like you don’t spend every waking moment with Irene. Being one seat further apart won’t make that much of a difference.”

 

“Why are you siding with him?!” Quinn gasped.

 

“Because he’s a man,” Irene said, not one to usually make such comments but she was on Quinn’s side for life.

 

“Exactly. Men!”

 

“I’m a man,” Joon scooped some ice cream and put it in a blender with one hand, while scooping marshmallows and putting them on a piece of foil in another. “He’s a boy.”

 

“Pfft, save it,” Quinn said, getting off the stool and walking through the swing door. “You’re moving far too slow. I’ve told you a dozen times to hire more workers.” She grabbed a banana, squeezed the end and watched the top burst.

 

“And I’ve told you a dozen times not to come back here. At least wash your hands.”

 

“It’s okay, Irene and I are practically blood sisters. Plus, I only touched the part she won’t eat anyway.” Quinn justified and headed over to the sink.

 

“And this isn’t exactly McDonald’s or delivery. Just in case you can count, considering you can’t read signs, I currently have two customers and I’m one person. I think I can handle it.”

 

“I’m just saying, you know we love this place but…” Quinn didn’t have the heart to end the sentence. They all knew where it was going.

 

Joon had lucked out when it came to inheritance. Not that they were glad his parents had died, nearly back to back four years ago, but it had funded this sodashop dream, but that money wouldn’t last forever. He had to improve business. Fast.

 

They worked in silence while Irene watched.

 

“Here you go,” Quinn passed a peanut butter-banana milkshake in a sparkling glass cylinder, handing a small silver spoon with the other hand.

 

“Ugh, I’m both dying and living,” Irene said, shoving her spoon into the top so far down her fingertips could barely grasp the handle before pulling it back up, now covered with three times it’s weight in milkshake.

 

She stuffed it in , from the deliciousness.

 

Quinn tilted her head at Joon with a smile, as if to say see?

 

“It tastes just as good as his, Quinn,” Irene complimented quickly, shoving another spoonful in .

 

Lee Joon pushed Quinn's back until they were both on the otherside of the swing door and Quinn was next to her stool.

 

"Shut up, eat this, and go away before I start getting grey hairs from all your nonsense," he plopped her milkshake on the counter and wiped his hands on his apron.

 

"Geeze, you call that customer service. I'd like to speak to the manager."

 

"I am the manager."

 

"Manager, I think you should fire yourself and hire a new manager."

 

"Shut! Eat! Go!"