Celestine

twenty // jungkook

On a day with no recordings or restaurant work, I meet with Alexander in a café near the studio. He called me in the morning with some incredible news that he can only let me know about face to face.

I arrive faster, take a table at the end and order two Americanos – two sugars for Alex. I've managed to learn his coffee order in the past month.

I lean back on the grey armchair, tapping the armrest, eyes locked on the busy street behind the window. He sounded too excited for the news to be bad, but I can't get rid of an uncomfortable twist in my stomach.

Alex comes five minutes later, a waiter with our coffees right after him.

"My favorite." He chuckles, taking his baseball cap and sunglasses off. "Thanks, man."

I nod as a 'no problem' and take a sip. "So? What's the big news?"

Alex beams and says, "A producer of "Top Chef" called me. They want you as a judge in the next season."

I glare at him so long my fingers start burning around the coffee mug. "What?"

"A judge in the next season of "Top Chef". You," he says, full of energy, and takes a sip of coffee on top of that.

"What? How?"

"Well, people love you. Why are you surprised?" He chuckles. "They saw your show. Read some reviews." Alex takes another, quick and big, sip of coffee, probably in a rush. "You on "Top Chef". Their ratings go up. Your ratings go up. Everyone happy."

"But... only four episodes were aired," I say, out of breath.

"And? It doesn't matter. One would be enough. You showed them enough of what they wanted to see." He bops his chin at me. "So? Yes or no?"

"I- I need to think about it." I fall back against the armchair. "I can't maintain this, the show and my restaurant."

"I know. The show is 100% staying. But you have to make a choice. And give me an answer no later than tomorrow. The show starts in a month."

Alex stays for the next five minutes – finishes his coffee and gives me a list of benefits I'd gain by becoming the judge on the world's most famous cooking show. So famous, almost seventy countries have their own versions. You say "Top Chef" and everyone, cooking fan or not, knows what you're talking about.

The judges are top tier cooks, famous.

But it's either "Top Chef" or my restaurant...

I can't tackle both at the same time. I'm already at the brick of exhaustion, just by running the restaurant and my show. A stupidly successful show. I'm going to be honest – I expected to fail. I prepared myself for a failure and retraction. I already had plans up to a plan S. Each one promising me success, fame and a big name.

There's no question whether "Top Chef" will make me successful. I'll be at the position I need.

Still in the café, my coffee going cold, I call my mom.

"Look who's calling," she says, smiling into her words. "My TV star."

I chuckle, rubbing my aching eyes. "Hey, mom."

I don't like talking to her about the show. I avoid telling her I'm drained, not to worry her. Also, as soon as they found out, I asked them to never mention the name situation. I told my mom, "I don't like it either, but it's out of my control". I don't tell them why I'm doing this, either. Because I'm not good enough for a woman? My mom would talk my ear off.

"Everything alright?" she asks.

"Yeah, just... I kinda need advice."

"Do I put you on speaker?" she asks. "Dad's here, too. We're drinking coffee."