Chapter 6 : The Diner That Wasn't

"Uh… Mia, you sure you don't wanna hit up that diner on 5th? You love their waffles." He forced a grin, hoping she'd take the bait.

Mia pouted. "That place? It's kinda… gross."

"But their coffee's great," Noah pressed, sweat beading at his temples. "And hey, they've got free refills."

Mia giggled, shaking her head. "Noah, stop being cheap! It's my birthday, remember?"

His heart sank. Feb 30. The date that shouldn't exist. Fuck.

"Ok, where?" Noah retorted, he knew he couldn't afford such expensive meals. But having a girlfriend wasn't his best financial decision ever.

"8223 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90046", Mia muttered after she searched in Google Maps.

Noah's pockets felt empty, he knew he was damn broke, the next step was to live on the streets. Noah couldn't refuse it would break her heart, but it would surely break his wallet.

With all the money Noah saved up for a new toyota, he had to let it go.

It was one, no two, no 3 goddamn hour ride, the restaurant was hella fancy. This was the restaurant, where celebrities spent their luxury or spoiled rich brats with their chicks, either way the restaurant deemed wealthy to afford their food.

Noah got to the entrance, a bright sunny logo for "SunnySide" and a dim dark purple for "Midnight". Greeted by a doorman, and polished black door. That place gave the vibes with classy, old film sets which would show the luxury chef tables. Glossy, reflective Italian marble titles, Noah doesn't know if it was Italian or French, but it was marvelous. It was a celebrity vibe place or an Instagram aesthetic photo shoot.

They both were glazing their eyes all over it. Then a well-dressed waiter, black suit, at least was better than the tuxedo Noah was wearing.

The waiter grabbed the seat for them to sit on. They were both seated.

"Thank you babe!" Mia was fluttering butterflies all over the place, Noah replied "Anything for you, beautiful." Although his financial situation would have seeked help from a homeless guy.

Mia was blushing, but Noah was sweating bullets, did he have enough money to buy it or an unpaid dishwasher job was waiting for him. He didn't know.

The menu was fancy, an ancient royal designed wood, engraved with items, surprisingly, they were priceless.

While his seering through the menu, the waiter came into the scene,

"Good evening, sir, madam. Welcome to Sunny Side Midnight. We are honored to have you."

"May I begin by offering our signature cocktail, or perhaps you already have something in mind?"

Before Noah could've said anything, "We would like to have 'The Prestige Platter'." Mia broke the silence.

"Excellent! Anything else madam?" The waiter nodded

"Ah, no, this will be it! Thank you!" Mia replied. Her excitement on the roof. Then her eyes at Noah, "Is that enough?"

Noah filled in his head with all the possibilities of filing bankruptcy, "Yeah"

Then Mia took out some selfies, some instagram ones, some with Noah, making them a cute couple, wholesome though, but in reality, two different individuals trapped by relationship marks, not by force, but by god.

Later after countless clicks and posting, food came into the scene. Mia clicked some of it too.

"Here's your The Prestige Platter"

"Charred, melt-in-your-mouth brisket draped in a velvety espresso-cognac glaze, served with black truffle fries and a delicate saffron-infused sunny-side egg." Waiter muttered, pointing at the times but it flew over both of their heads. 

Mia's Instagram caption—#Blessed—glowed over a photo of the brisket, while Noah's bank account whispered #Cursed.

Nevertheless, they started to eat.

The portions were like a kid's menu from McDonalds, might be smaller, Noah thought but hey, they are here to break the bank and enjoy the rich man illusion for a bit. 

The food wasn't the worst he had, it was bad for the price he had to pay. It was sunny side midnight for Mia, but for Noah, It was Sunny side for the price, and midnight for working overnight past midnight.

Afterwards, they ate an exotic meal. A shadow caught Noah's eye, he dismissed it as sobriety after effects, Noah stuck on the same loop he adhered to: panic, denial, burn.

But the shadows persistently shifting around, fade in, fade out. This wasn't a mistake nor a false glance.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, or may I bring the check?"

The waiter asked politely, too polite

"Check" Noah muttered, his feet and palms are sweating, not to mention his heartbeats.

Noah ran the mental math. His savings for a new Toyota? Gone. Rent? A joke. Future? Nonexistent.

He glanced at Mia, all smiles, snapping photos. She had no idea she was dining with a dead man walking.

The waiter brings the check, When Noah pays:

The card reader blinked red. Then green. Relief tasted like ramen noodles and eviction notices.

It was $1306.32, Noah was freaking inside to pay a ridiculous price for two pieces of dog meat, then some subpar fries and a cheap fried egg. Noah would've gone to Costco or Walmart, bought the ingredients, and cooked them at home for less than a quarter of the price. The truffle fries cost more than his water bill, but at least they came with free existential dread.

He was shaking, but thankfully, he had the money.

Then the waiter dropped a bombshell,"Gratuity is at your discretion, and we greatly appreciate your generosity.", In straight words, fucking tips, 10 - 20% bribery just to serve the food. With rising inflation, God bless America.

After he had paid them, they were begun to leave, until the waiter said

"Thank you for dining with us, Mr. Voss. We hope to see you again soon."

Noah's blood ran cold. The name sat heavy in his ears—Voss. Not his name. Not anyone he knew. Yet, it gripped him with the force of déjà vu.

Slowly, he turned.

A figure stood. Black hoodie. No face. Just… staring.