Noir ⎊ TONY STARK

chapter two ▪ 24 candles

California, 11 years ago

It's a quiet autumn night, only a few customers remain in the diner where Alana works and there's just 20 minutes left until her shift ends. She's in an unusually sour mood but, she reminds herself, she's a professional and won't let her emotions affect her actions while she works.

"Have a good night," Alana tells a couple of regulars as they head for the door together.

"We will, you too Alana," they respond happily before walking off hand in hand.

Alana clears their table and allows herself a small grin at the large tip and the note wishing her a happy early birthday beside it. She heads into the back with a tray of dirty cups, plates and cutlery and begins cleaning them, her heart sinking as she reminds herself that she has work again tomorrow.

"Think fast!" a male voice yells from behind her.

Alana whips around quickly in shock and a damp dishcloth hits her in the face. She removes the gross fabric and makes a face at her attacker who's wheezing with laughter, leaning on the stainless steel counters.

"Haha, real funny Jeremy," she says, sarcastically, turning back to the plates that she was scrubbing clean.

Jeremy is one of her co-workers. His main skill set: pissing Alana and everyone else in the building off. She recognised his voice before she turned and if she didn't know him any better she would've ignored him. The main reason she turned around because she was worried that Jeremy might have been planning on chucking a plate at her. She's witnessed Jeremy on two seperate occasions throw crockery at someone. The first time it was a bowl and the recipient managed to catch it. The second time it was a plate which wasn't as lucky. Jeremy somehow managed to get out of cleaning the shards of plate up and Alana ended up being the only person who bothered to sweep up the pieces.

Needless to say, Jeremy is a total wild card.

"So . . . It's your birthday tomorrow, right?" he says, leaning on the sink to face the blonde.

"Yep."

Despite the mention of the happy occasion, there isn't any happiness in her tone and her scrubbing becomes noticeably more violent.

"Well, I'm not working tomorrow," Jeremy continues.

Alana shoots a look of bored frustration at the lanky man behind her. She had begged and begged for a day off for her birthday but her request had been declined by her manager and she is almost 100 percent sure that Jeremy is knows. As the biggest gossip in the area he takes it upon himself to eavesdrop and create drama as often as possible.

"Congratulations," she says as calmly as she can, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

"I'm not here to gloat for once," Jeremy says, snatching a sponge up to work on a different pile of plates.

"Then what are you doing?" Alana asks, skeptically.

"I'm here to make a deal."

Alana nods for him to continue but doesn't take her focus away from the plates in the sink in front of her.

"I cover for you tomorrow if you take my Saturday graveyard shift."

"You know that I hate the weekend graveyard shifts."

He shrugs cheekily, "If it makes any difference, it'll be Lacy working with you during the shift."

Jeremy then drops the sponge and walks off with a tray under his arm to clear some more tables, leaving Alana to consider it alone as she scrubs at a particularly well attached piece of unidentifiable food.