Chapter Text
April
“Table 4 is demanding a full refund.”
You look up from your crepe, glaring at the speaker. Your lunch had just started, damnit. Lane shrugs apologetically. “They say that they asked for no bananas and we gave them bananas and they’re allergic.”
“Bananas?” You ask.
“Yup.”
“Oh.” Narrowing your eyes, you think about the frustration of the morning shipment. “How rude have they been?”
“Very.” Well, alright then. You sigh, pushing yourself off the milk crate seat you’ve been using. Quickly, you pack up your lunch, place it in the employee fridge - I'll be back for you – and head into the front area. It’s busy, as it always is at this time, and a few regulars wave at you as you walk by. You give them a small sincere smile in return before schooling your expression for table 4. It’s a middle-aged couple. Tourists, you assume. Typical.
“What is the problem here guys?” You give your best customer-service smile. You know, the fake-as-hell one. The man turns to face you with an angry look.
“Your server gave me bananas! I’m allergic! I can’t have bananas!” His hands move wildly as he speaks. “Is she stupid or something?” He turns to stare down the poor girl behind you. Lane seems to shrink under the man's anger.
“Sir, please do not speak to my staff this way. It will get you nowhere.” A deep breath. “Now, first of all, as it says on our menu and on the walls throughout this establishment, we cannot guarantee all of our food will be one hundred percent allergen-free, although we do try our best.” The man grumbles to himself. “Secondly, I highly doubt your – “ You pause to look at Lane's handwritten notes for the table. “- eggs benedict contains any bananas, hmm, especially since you swapped out your side of fruit for home fries. However, there is always the possibility that the kitchen staff made an honest mistake.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” He grouches. The woman -his poor wife?- looks up at you for the first time. She looks highly uncomfortable.
“Lastly sir, what you are saying happened is impossible.” Your smile grows larger. “As we’ve been out of bananas the entire day. The morning shipment of them was not in the right state to use.” The old man stutters incomprehensibly, face slowly turning red. Anger? Embarrassment at being called out? You simply smile. The woman raises her hands to cover her eyes, also turning red. “So, now that we’ve cleared up this little misunderstanding. I can assure you that your food is safe to eat! I will return you to Lane now who will finish up your experience. Have a wonderful day!” You turn to leave, patting Lane on the shoulder as you walk past her and into the backroom.
You reach the backroom quickly, stomach urging you to finish your crepe as soon as possible but pause before opening the door. A few voices echo from within. You let out a breath of air in frustration. Ooof course, it’s not empty anymore. So much for some alone time on your break. Normally, you’d be happy to chat with whoever was in the room, but after the day you’ve had…you just need some space. For a moment you stand there and weigh your options. Do you really want to go in and talk to people? The answer is a definite no. Turning to your right, you take the small hallway towards the grungy door at the end. With a small push, it opens, and you are outside.
It smells faintly of garbage, although the garbage people must have come recently enough as you see none poking out of the dumpster. It’s good enough for you. You look down at your phone. 15 minutes left of your lunch. It’s not enough time to go anywhere, but maybe you can at least get some peace and quiet out here. You walk a few feet from the door and lean against the wall, looking up. The sky has been overcast for a few days now, although the clouds look darker than normal today. Maybe it’ll storm. You frown, looking down at your phone.
One New Message
[Debbie]: movie night tn?
You smile slightly. The girl always seemed to know when you were having a bad day. You type out a quick response.
[You]: Sure. 6pm, my place?
The sound of movement followed by a muffled gasp hits your ears. Huh? You push off the wall and look around. But there’s nobody here. Maybe a raccoon? No, that sounded more human-like than an animal. You briefly consider going back inside, but curiosity forces you to stay. You feel a little like the stereotypical stupid girl in a horror movie as you go to investigate the noise. It sounded like it came from around the dumpsters. You walk towards them, feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Giving the dumpsters a wide berth, you begin to circle the area.
It isn’t until you look at the back of the dumpsters -in the small place between the back of the wall and the building- that you see anything at all. There’s a shadow in there. Something that isn’t meant to be. You squint your eyes, trying to figure out what exactly it is.
A blink and it’s gone.
A scuffling sound behind you, and you twirl around quickly to catch the back of a person (???). It’s running at an almost unnatural speed away from you. “W-wait!” You call out, but the figure turns around the corner and disappears. Silence falls upon the back again, broken only by the occasional sounds of birds. You stare at the corner for a few moments longer. What was…?
You turn back to the dumpster, walking a bit closer and focusing on the area behind it. It’s dark, but you can make out a lot of cardboard. A few layers are pressed up against the wall, the dumpster, and the floor. It also forms a sort of ceiling a few feet above. In the small enclave, you think you can see a blanket. Oh. It hits you instantly, this is somebody’s home. Your eyes widen, and you look back at the corner where the figure disappeared.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket, an alarm warning you of the last five minutes before your lunch is over. Normally you’d take the time to get yourself back in the customer-service mindset. However, you pause in returning. Your mind is moving quickly, trying to comprehend the severity of the situation you just witnessed. On the one hand, people would tell you to call the police. Having a homeless person living in the back of your diner just spells disaster. But…from the looks of the relatively established ‘house’, they’ve been here a few days at least, and nobody knew. Decision made, you quickly return to the diner and walk towards the kitchen.
“Heisenberg!” You call out as you open the door, peaking your face in. The bald chef turns towards you quickly. “I need a kitchen sink ASAP!” He looks at you a minute longer -eyes narrowing suspiciously- before he nods and turns to the other chefs beside him. He’s always so mysterious. The guy just showed up one day with his niece, asking for a job. You’re sure anyone with Heisenberg’s skill in cooking can find a better job than here…but he seems happy. You smile and step out of the doorway, hearing a ping from your phone.
[Debbie]: sounds good! I’ll bring snacks.
You don’t respond, sliding your phone back into your pocket before heading over to the take-out containers. You grab a few of the biggest ones you have and place them in the hand-off area. While you wait, you glance around the dining room. It looks like the brunch rush is dying down a bit in the front, to the relief of the two servers on duty. Lane seems to be taking the moment of freedom to clear the tables. This place really needs a busboy.
As much as you like Heisenburg, you’ll never understand why Luke decided to hire another chef instead of a server or busboy. It’s not like the diner needed a new chef. At least he’d arrived with a niece, who soon became the resident dishwasher. You hum to yourself. The angry couple from before is gone at least. You idly wonder if they are tech-savvy enough to write a bad review. Ah well. This place survives just well on regulars anyways.
Your name is called out from the kitchen. There’s quite a bit of food considering the lack of preparation time. They’d thrown together all the slightly overcooked home-fries that couldn’t be served, the broken eggs, the slightly burnt toast, overcooked bacon, and all the other mistakes into 3 containers. Hm, more mistakes than usual. You give Heisenburg a suspicious look, but he just waves you off. With a small smile, you grab the food and head back outside.
It doesn’t seem like the person has come back from wherever they ran off to. You slide the containers behind the dumpster into the cardboard ‘house’ and head back inside for the rest of your shift.
The end of your shift couldn’t come soon enough. Your feet hurt from all the running around you’ve had to do over the last ten hours. And you’re not even done yet! Well, at least now you can sit? You plop heavily down into the small office chair, leaving the door open just in case anyone needs anything. A deep breath, and you begin. After maybe ten minutes of secretarial work, you hear a ping from your pocket. Grabbing your phone, you open it to see a new message from the boss.
[Luke]: I sent the new schedule to your email.
You open your email on the ancient-looking computer and begin to print out the new schedule for the employees.
[You]: can’t talk right now. diner is burning down.
[Luke]: wait
[Luke]: what
Your phone begins to ring. You ignore it, grinning. It goes to voicemail. It rings again. You don’t pick up.
[You]: ;)
[Luke]: Are you trying to kill me?!
[You]: Back at ya. Next time come back when you say you will. Or give me a raise.
[Luke]: You sound upset. Make some coffee.
Rolling your eyes, you slide your phone back into your pocket. Your work is done, and by now the schedule is done printing. You log off the computer and stand up, heading towards the printer. Grabbing the schedule, you post it up with the others. After shrugging on your coat you head out, waving at the staff as you go.
Outside is still grey and muggy, but no rain yet. You shuffle over to your old clunky car and slide in. It takes a minute to turn on, various lights you’ve been casually ignoring lighting up as you do. You continue to ignore them, deciding instead to turn up the radio as loud as possible and pull out of the parking lot.
It's only when the diner is well in the distance that you even remember your earlier encounter.