It was another working day at The Verdant Plate. The manager had assigned Riley and Skylar to the VIP section of the restaurant today. He said it would teach them patience, tolerance, and how not to question orders.
"Those VIPs are very annoying," a waiter complained as he came back with a half-eaten order.
"I served one who came with her kids. I saw hell, guys—HELL!" a waitress complained, looking completely dishevelled.
"Your manager is very funny," Skylar said in one sentence, denying him outright. "I can't imagine he assigned us to this hellhole to teach us what… patience?"
Riley's mind instantly went to Mrs Miller. "I've had weirder bosses," she said on impulse.
Nobody thought much of what she said, all except Skylar.
---
Riley's uniform had a wet spot, so she had to go home and change.
"It was just a wet spot. Why did you act like that?" one of the waitresses asked.
"It was more than a spot, Ashley. Did you even see her?" a waiter answered for Riley.
"What happened to your uniform, Riley?" Skylar asked.
"A baby vomited on it. In the VIP corner," Riley replied.
"That's some fucked-up shit," an eavesdropping waiter commented.
"I've talked to the manager. I told him I've learned the virtues he wanted me to learn. I can't continue working in this section anymore," Riley continued.
"That was one weird baby, and to think the mother didn't even say anything to help the situation,"
"Weirder than your former boss?" Skylar asked.
"Hmmm?" Riley raised her eyebrows.
---
Earlier that day, when Riley came back home to change, she had dropped a reply for Mrs Miller:
"Good day, ma. I've received your message. I feel your request is weird. You had earlier instructed me that this case isn't one to rush. What changed? Which instruction should I act on? I just started this job as a waitress two days ago. Give me this week, and I'll apply."
---
"No, no. My former boss isn't weird. She's just… demanding."
"That wasn't what you said before? Was she mistreating you? Is she gay?"
Riley gave Skylar a side glance with furrowed brows. "Gay? Why would you think that? She wasn't mistreating me though,"
That was the only incident that happened that day. The remaining hours were peaceful—or so Riley thought—until they got to the bar.
At the bar, she didn't see the CEO. She had guessed; he didn't look like the type who liked drinks and fun. She had fulfilled three orders so far and was working on her fourth. She was smiling, picturing herself counting huge profits that night.
"I was told by Skylar to tell you to hurry up. You do know you're not supposed to come here every day, right?" a waitress asked Riley. She nodded, then shook her head.
"No one should memorize your face," she whispered when she saw another waitress approaching.
Riley nodded and completed her order. She had packed her things and was just about to leave with Skylar when an order came in.
"Guards, stand guard. No staff leaves these premises,"
They turned to see a very angry customer gripping the barman's shirt tightly.
"I dare you to repeat what you just said," the customer growled.
"What's going on?" Skylar asked a passing waiter.
"You don't recognize him? Mr Pedro? The one who always buys Chartreuse V.E.P. whenever he comes here?" the waiter asked, and after a few more questions, Skylar nodded.
"He's fighting because he ordered 10 bottles and was given only 7. When he was told it had finished, he went paranoid. We even offered to refund the remaining payment, but he wants the drinks. He says our boss wouldn't have told him to order 10 if there hadn't been 10. He claims one of us—staff—has stolen them. Whatever, I think he's just drunk. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an order to deliver," the waiter excused himself and left.
Riley and Skylar looked at each other.
"We should leave. This could escalate," Riley said.
They both made their way to the door.
"No staff leaves," the guards at the door said.
"We—we're not staff," Riley stammered.
"What would girls like you be finding in a bar at this time?" A guard asked, suspicious of their claim.
"Hey," Someone shouted, not giving them time to answer, "Don't let them go anywhere. They are thieves," The person continued, running towards them but was slowed down by the guards around. The person was the actual guard of the bar. Skylar gave Riley an alarmed gaze, as though to say– trouble is coming. Then she did the unexpected. She punched a guard in the face and screamed at Riley "Run!"
Riley didn't need to be told twice. She ran immediately she had the opportunity.
They ran into the restaurant, through the back door, and locked themselves in. Skylar was with the key. "That was close," Skylar breathed while Riley peeked outside the windows to check if the guards were coming. "Who was that man anyway, and what did he mean by we're thieves?" Riley asked Skylar.
"He is the actual guard for De Cisasco bar. He knows me as a worker in this restaurant. He had caught me sneaking into the bar before, I promised not to do it again. You know, we've been entering into the bar before he arrives and leaving during his shift break. That's why he didn't notice us. He must have caught someone who snitched on my presence here,"
"I thought you said this was legal," Riley said.
Skylar gave her a flat look. "Riley. We've been sneaking into someone else's bar and collecting their tips. What exactly did you think was happening?"
"You made it sound flexible."
"It is flexible. Just… not entirely above board." Skylar ran a hand through her hair. "Look, our manager doesn't know. If this gets back to him, I'm in real trouble."
Riley let out a sigh, and silence drowned their earlier discussion
"So, what are we going to do… Sleep here?" Riley asked
"I'm just waiting for the heat to die down, then we'll escape,"
There was an awkward silence. Riley looked out the window once more and saw a police car. "Looks like the cops have arrived," Riley spoke to Skylar, still looking outside the window.
"That's good news. We can start going home now,"
---
Riley and Skylar made their way out of the restaurant and into a lonely street. The usual street they followed would require them to pass in front of the bar, and with the guards still lurking outside the bar it was not a good idea.
The street was quite dark and it was hard to see who was up ahead. Riley had a feeling that they were thugs, and she was right. Because when they came closer, they saw a bunch of men loading goods into a truck. They were dressed like thugs alright. It was a good thing she knew a bit of hand-to-hand combat.
"Stop there both of you, this is restricted area!" A man, with a scary looking scar, said and jumped down from the truck.
"We're just passing," Skylar voiced out, "Don't mind us."
They continued walking. "Come and take a look boys, let's have some fun," The scar eyed man said, and more people jumped down from the truck.
"I'll distract them, and you'll run" Skylar whispered to Riley.
"I can't outrun them. Can you fight?"
"Let's see…"
The men made their way to the duo. "Poor girls, you shouldn't have come out here all by yourselves," One of the boys said and lunged towards them. Skylar grabbed his hand, pulled him to the ground and hit him hard on his back with her foot.
The others saw this and lunged towards them. Skylar and Riley gave each other an assuring look and moved forward.
Men dropped to the ground one by one, groaning. "Clearly I underestimated you," One said and rose again from the ground, others with him. "Let's go," Riley tugged at Skylar's shirt. With the look on the men's faces, she was sure this round two won't go in their favour.
Skylar took her bag which had fallen on the floor and tried to make her way out of the alley with Riley. "You're not going anywhere sweetheart, we're having you here and now," The men got closer.
Riley's blood boiled as she looked at the disgusting men in front of her. She knew she couldn't fight them all but if anyone tried anything…She had a stabbing knife in her bag and she could assure them that it wasn't for fancy.
"ENOUGH!" Someone screamed from inside the warehouse. He peeked his head out of the window. "We have a mission you morons! Get back to it and let's get out of here. You know the cops are in that bar and still just around the corner,"
The man dropped from the window ledge to the car bonnet, then to the ground, landing with the ease of someone who'd done it a hundred times. He surveyed the groaning men without urgency, hands in his pockets.
"What happened here?"
"These women happened," the scar-faced man said, dragging Skylar and Riley forward by their bound wrists. Their hands were tied backwards and they were forced to kneel. The scar eyed man looked even more terrifying with the cuts on his face. Riley did a good number of them.
The man looked them over slowly. Then his gaze settled on Skylar, and something shifted in his expression–not surprise exactly. Just recognition.
"Skylar." He said and walked over to her. He crouched to her level, and turned her face in his direction.
"Don't touch me… Alan," She shifted her face from his palm.
A slow smile crossed his face. He glanced at the men still pulling themselves off the ground, some nursing split lips, one cradling his wrist.
"You haven't lost your touch," he said, almost admiringly. He stepped back, studying her outfit with new eyes. "Waitressing?"
Skylar said nothing.
Alan seemed unbothered by her silence. He turned and gestured lazily at the scar-faced man. "Release them."
There was a pause, the kind that made clear the scar-faced man didn't love the order, but he obeyed.
Alan turned back to Skylar, lowering his voice slightly. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this. But I have a contract with a big organisation. The kind you hear about and don't believe exist." He let the pause stretch just long enough. "You've heard of them. Everyone has, even if they don't know it."
Skylar's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Who?"
"E.G."
Riley had been still this whole time- head down, breathing measured, mentally cataloguing every exit she'd seen since they entered the alley.
At the two letters, something cold moved through her chest. She hadn't been listening to their conversation, but those two letters were always hard to miss on a conversation.
She looked up. Not because of her fear for the name. But to see who would be the new suspect the CID would investigate.