Dash and Dine

NEON LIGHTS have always been quite the eye-candy.

Through the windows, our restaurant sign illuminated vibrantly on the glossy paint of the owner’s car in the lot. For owning a highway drive-in that barely get any customers, none of us had any idea how he was able to pay for his own, modified spot.

On the asphalt was the word Boss, covering two spots that only he could park in. He also had a camera installed for the specific purpose of watching the spot like a hawk. I swear it had the biggest screen in our security room.

If anyone were to park in his spot, they would get towed within seconds. One of our servers had to learn that the hard way, which resulted in me having to offer her a ride home in my brown, rust bucket. Perks of having the last shift of the day, I guess.

“What’s that smell?”

What’s-her-name had asked with a scrunched nose the moment we got into the inherited car. The only purpose of me lugging that trash around was to work out of town, but she just had to embarrass me, now did she?

I almost kicked her out with my rollerskates at the time, but I was not wearing them after our shift. I mean, she could always find her way home. It’s not like the nearest town was fifteen kilometres away— well, it was, and obviously, I was nicer than that.

“Must be the rust, sorry. Where to?” I had responded with a nervous laugh, and off we went with our dark blue uniforms and sailor-like hats, straight into the darkness of Provincial Road 212.

I flicked a loonie after standing it on its edge, letting it spin on the counter. My shifts always consisted of the same old shit. Eight hours for five days a week of pure boredom, and inching closer towards blindness from the radiance of our fluorescents. The sad thing was, I could not even use a phone to spend my useless hours on.

Our boss had the greatest idea that if he got to assign a parking spot for his beloved Jaguar, we should also have a parking spot for our apple droids. Just outside his office, was a blackboard with our names written on it for about twenty employees. My phone was always stuck on that dusty, chalky ledge.

“What time is it?” A voice groaned at the left end of the restaurant, taking me back to where I was. Clicking my tongue, I turned towards the voice— one of the waiters assigned to the floor. He was laying on the couch of the end booth playing with his sailor hat, swinging his head back and forth to the muffled beat coming from our speakers. He looked like a complete idiot.

“Get your skates off the table, Hugo. Have some decency,” a high-pitched voice called out from the other end, expressing the same thought that ran through my head— but apparently, she did not believe in the same thing. The blonde also had her skates up the same way Hugo did as she chewed on a bubblegum.

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Macy,” the blonde boy quipped back as he tapped his skates on the table, implying that he was not removing them anytime soon. A loud pop of her gum was Macy’s response. Rolling my eyes, I butted in.

“Why don’t you guys just roll around the couches in the waiters’ lounge? It’s more comfortable than the greasy ones out here,” I said loudly, enough for the both of them to hear. Hugo clicked his tongue before hoisting himself off the booth, submitting to my suggestion.

He zipped down the road-painted runway between the booth tables and the bar. “Do you think it gets any worse out here?” He asked, stopping skillfully with his brakeless skates across the counter from me. He pressed a finger down on the coin I was playing with, forcing it to skip to the end of its rapid, shallow spins that rattled the polished wood.

“I mean, we’re making money by doing absolutely nothing. What could possibly be worse than this?”

“Get robbed? Restaurant shooting? A car pummeling straight in here?”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Macy butted in. Hugo snickered before turning around and heading towards her. He outlined a bubble with his skates, pointing his toes in until he stopped just in front of the blonde waitress.

Extending a hand out, he said vivaciously, “M’lady, would you care to join me in the back?”

Surprisingly Macy took his hand and she let him help her up. Afterwards, they both left me alone on the floor as we waited for nobody. They rolled through the swinging double doors to the lounge, and that was that.

With a sigh, I picked up the loonie from the counter and put it in between my fingers, starting the roll magicians usually did with coins. It was one of the skills I had learned from working in an empty diner— that, and how to make several hangover remedies. It consisted of more alcohol, just saying.

I watched the coin smoothly roll over my knuckles and for a split second, something intrigued my peripherals.

Round, gleaming headlights appeared through the windows, getting closer as it seemingly was pulling up in our lot. Muffled music came with the glossy, black car, getting louder as it screeched into the spot by the entrance. Two spots, actually, and it had me cringing inside at the inadequacy they had presented.

Straightening up from my spot behind the till, I reached for the damp towel I used to pretend I was wiping the counters. Kind of like in the movies, each time someone walks into the scene— doesn’t matter from where— the bartender just happens to be wiping the counter. It was a way for me to avert my eyes from the blinding light as well. I think I had it on point.

After a moment I gazed up with squinted eyes, noticing something. Through their windshield was different colours of neon lights, basically matching our sign’s palette. Once the car was turned off and the lights died down, what they had became clearer. It was even partially glistening on the hood of their car.

“Is that the purge mask?” I whispered to no one in particular, realizing that I was the only one seeing that. Right, I sent them off to the lounge.

I resumed my act of movie-like bartending, wiping the counter in circles as I fixated my eyes on their glowing masks. No one could ever forget those cross eyes and stitched mouths. Well, maybe only I could never forget. God knows how many times I have watched that dystopian movie series.

The doors of the sleek vehicle opened on both sides simultaneously, as if the occupants had their exit rehearsed a million times. No, seriously. Even the way they turned to pull their seats down to let the other two in the backseats out, were all at the same time.

Their synchrony was no joke. I had a feeling they were not to be missed with, what with their black hoodies and complementary bomber jackets. Wine red, dirty white, navy blue and plain black. It was like a boy band crossing over to the dark side— masks instead of quiffed hair, hoodies instead of peace signs. I snickered.

One Direction had nothing on these guys.

But personally, Zayn was fucking hot. I could not even tell if these guys were— they did well with concealing themselves.

They beelined towards our entrance, the one in red being the first. The bell chimed as they pushed through the glass doors, summoning the servers onto the floor. They rolled through the swinging doors from the lounge and raced down the road inside the diner.

“Welcome to Half Moon where we light up your darkness!” Hugo exclaimed with exaggerated gesturing as if he was enacting a magic show.

Macy followed through with our three-man script and asked the group, “Would you like a table or would you care for some drinks from our bar?” I cringed right away at the end of her line.

It was my turn.

Forcing a huge, reckoning smile on my face, I skated through the long bar from end to end, showing off our bottles with jazz hands. “Name the booze, and we won’t refuse,” I said as I rolled back to my previous spot behind the till.

“Booth,” the white jacket— to make it easier for me, White— spoke in a low, rough voice. He folded his arms in front of him. The lack of excitement took me aback, and I could tell both Hugo and Macy were also intimidated by the way they rolled back with their skates. A tense silence ensued.

“Yeah, yeah, we want the booth,” Red reiterated obnoxiously with a pinched, nasally voice, nodding his masked face rapidly. That broke the supposed terrifying front they seemed to have put up. Blue and Black on the other side of White turned towards him with a tilt of their heads, and I could almost see how done they were with him.

Even with the cross eyes and stitched mouths, irritation reeked off their bodies. I laughed inwardly at how comical they looked.

“Pardon that idiot there, he can be a little bit loud,” Blue spoke in a subtle Italian accent. He seemed to have gotten the hang of living out here in the Great White North. Wow, how stereotypical could I be for a maple-sucker?

“Well, grab a booth anywhere you guys, we’ve got lots of space,” Hugo said before pulling Macy aside, probably to bet on who would be serving the four of them. The masked men led themselves to the far end booth, and Red picked up a menu right away. From the corner of my eye, I could see my colleagues dropping scissors and rocks with their hands. I was right.

“Ugh, why does it always have to be me?” The blonde girl screeched a moment later, losing to a paper hand. Hugo shot a fist up in celebration before he rolled backwards into the lounge. With a smile, I handed the unlucky one four menus to bring to our customers.

“Break a leg,” I said as a form of encouragement, to which she scrunched her face.

“Scary, don’t you think?” She nudged her head towards their direction. “We literally have no idea what we’re dealing with. We could die within the next minute. Like seriously, what’s with the masks?” She followed, flipping her hair back before rolling towards the group with a feigned beam on her face.

Macy was right, though. Of all the places on the outskirts of Gonor, the nearest town, why would a random group of masked men come to our diner? Was it just to get food? Was it to rob us? But if they were, they would have already. There were four of them, and three of us on skates. We would have given them anything.

Maybe Hugo called it. Maybe this was the shift when the worst of the worst would happen. I shuddered inside, not liking the feeling of uncertainty.

I was brought back to reality when Macy zipped past me, which was followed by two of the masks seating themselves on the stools across the counter. White and Black. One of them cleared their throat, nodding their chin towards me.

“Ever thought of being a model?” The same hoarse voice from earlier asked, letting me deduce it was White talking. He too seemed to have Italian roots. I raised an eyebrow, planning to ignore his remark.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” It did not work.

“How about a piece of you on this side of the counter?” He quipped back as he patted on the cushioned stool beside him, making me raise both of my eyebrows. Tucking my baby hair behind my ear, I pushed off the counter with a smirk playing on my face.

With one skillful turn on my quads, I faced the bottles of sparkles. That was what I called them. I took my favourite one, the bottle I usually gave on the house. It was honestly the worst sparkling wine on Earth, the only one that we had been trying so hard to get rid of. Since I hold the fort most of the time, I figured I’d give them out for free for the people who came sniffing around for something more than just booze.

I laid two glasses down on the counter, pouring some of the wine in each glass. Afterwards, I topped it with orange juice. Best drink ever, I promise you.

With the most effervescent voice I could manage, I presented them with two glasses of orange substances. “How about getting a piece of this? It’s on the house,” I suggested with a raised eyebrow. I leaned over the counter, coming close to White’s eye level… Kind of blinding with those neon crosses.

Instead of the usual oh shit, yeah, from my drinking customers, I received something different. It almost sounded like he was clicking his tongue.

“That looks like something Owen would piss on a good day,” he snickered. From the end of the restaurant, Red— who I now learned was Owen, yelled back, “I heard that!”

“Yeah, just tickling your ivories, my liege,” White called back, then turning towards me. “Now, where was I?”

I shrugged in response, suddenly remembering what Macy was suggesting. But how sure could we be that these people were even dangerous? Even if I tried really hard, I still could not feel the intimidation they were probably meaning to put on me.

He reached for something in the inner part of his jacket. Out came a cigarette and a lighter. Great.

“There’s no smoking here,” I said before he could attempt to put it through his stitched mouth. I grimaced. How were they planning to eat some grub and smoke darts with that mask?

“Who said it was for me?” He countered before handing it to his companion, Black. A tatted hand reached for the offensive stick, holding it between the fingers, ready to be lit.

“How are you even supposed to smoke that?” I mocked, folding my arms. Black reached for the lighter, ignoring my remark as the cigarette was put into the free space between the slits of the stitched mouth.

“Try me,” a deep, sultry voice quipped back. I stared at the green-lit mask, replaying the sound of their voice in my head. It was alluring, enticing… Like running a hand on a smooth, fluffy faux fur pillow— or for normal, erotic people, like exquisitely smooth and soft silk.

It was really magnetizing, and what intrigued me more was the resemblance of a woman’s rasp.

Clearing my throat, I straightened up and away from the puff of smoke blown my way. “Guess I can’t stop you now,” I admitted defeat. Black nodded in response, taking the Owen piss glasses from its stems and headed towards the rest of the group.

“I’m surprised you’re not begging for mercy,” White spoke gruffly as he leaned over the counter now that we were alone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He picked up one of the bottles I had in line by the sink and took a couple of shot glasses from my rack. He poured two lemon drops and shrugged.

“Take a really good look at the TV.”

I raised an eyebrow, confused. I scanned the walls of our diner, not particularly accustomed to where the supposed television was… Pretty sure we did not have one at all.

White snickered as he put the bottle back in my line, aligning it properly. He pointed a thumb towards the opposite end of his group, and I finally noticed the small wall-mounted television. Almost a year here, and I never knew that shit was there.

The newscaster spoke with exaggerated lilt, narrating in that recognizable voice as four hooded men with sacks on their backs ran off towards the edge of the surveillance camera footage. The video seemed to loop back, and something familiar appeared on the screen.

A dark feeling washed over me instantly.

I think I may have stopped breathing altogether. I stared back at my company. The same cross eyes and stitched mouth that was drilling into a safety deposit box was sitting smack-dab in front of me. I could just imagine his mouth curve up devilishly.

“Are you going to run?” His rough voice sent chills down my spine. Even with that blatant revelation, he was not at all fazed. He pushed one of the shot glasses my way.

“N-no.” At that point, I could not help but feel intimidated and fearful for the first time since they had walked in.

“Don’t worry, we don’t target small, and definitely not to rid a beautiful lady of a job.”

I took a careful glimpse at the television, quickly taking in the headline. Masked Men Escapes Police Chase. Threatened yet curious, I gestured towards their glossy car outside.

“Was that the car during the chase?”I asked quietly with a surprisingly calm voice. He nodded. “Why stop here then?”

“Owen was hungry,” he shrugged as if it were the most ordinary thing to do after engaging the police on a wild goose chase down Blackdale, a town thirty minutes away from our diner. “Are we taking these shots or what?”

Clearing my throat, I took the small flute-shaped shot glass between my fingers. “I could really use one,” I said before downing it without waiting for him, just as Macy rolled out of the doors with two aluminum trays in her hands. She flashed me a dirty look.

“Never pegged you for drinking on the job, Jade,” she expressed as she stopped to hand White his burger and fries. The masked man chuckled.

“She’s got reasons,” he spoke for me. The blonde accepted it and rolled towards the rest of his group with the remaining tray. From the corner of my eye, I could see Owen jumping in glee for finally getting his order. “Jade, huh?”

I gawked at him, not particularly comfortable that he knew my name and where I worked. He seemed to discern how threatening everything felt at that point. He leaned over the counter, and for some reason, he seemed to be way closer to my ear than it looked.

“Like I said, don’t worry. We don’t hit small,” he spoke softly in an attempt to reassure me. Before I could process everything, he retreated with the tray in his hand, beckoning towards his group. “Come on, we’re taking this to go.”

Owen groaned, and I could see that he was just about to remove his un-lit mask. He picked up his tray anyway and shuffled our way with the other two in tow. The fugitive I had spoken to for the past fifteen minutes gestured towards Blue, and he took out some cash from his pocket.

“Keep the change,” the Italian stated as he slapped a fifty dollar bill on the counter. They waved at me with two fingers before leaving with their trays, driving off into the darkness. I could not help but stare out the window, perturbed with the fact that I just served criminals.

“Talk about a little creepy,” Hugo’s voice broke through the silence after they were completely out of sight. I laughed, albeit disturbingly. The revelation of their true nature was supposed to make me wither, but I found myself recalling my altercation with the monochromatic pair of the group. Their velvety voices were enough to make me melt inside. A smile crept up on my face.

A tiny part in my head hoped that after their next police chase, they would stop by to appease their ravenousness.