"You know I can't let you go, right?" The man asked, voice gentler than I was expecting it to be. I looked up and he was staring right at me, eyes uncharacteristically kind.
I nod slowly, whispering, "Go ahead."
~~~
Ava Williams is just trying to l...
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I glanced at the clock on the wall, brushing the few stray dark strands that escaped my ponytail and sighed in relief. Less than two hours left, I thought as I wiped the same spot on the counter for the third time that night. It was almost four o'clock in the morning, and we haven't had a single customer since midnight which was unusual for a Saturday night. We usually had a constant stream of people even on weeknights. I swear I've cleaned this whole restaurant from ceiling to floor.
There were only three people that stayed past midnight. Tom, the owner, who sits in his office most nights filling out paperwork. How he has enough to busy himself with, I didn't know but then again I had no idea what it took to run a mildly successful diner. He claimed to be a night owl, which I guess led him to open a 24-hour diner thirty years ago right outside the heart of Chicago. He occasionally came out of his office if it picked up or if he wanted some company to pass the time. There's also Micki, the cook and he has been around almost as long as Tom has. I hadn't seen him in a while so I can only assume that he was asleep on his makeshift cot in the stockroom.
The bell above the door chimed, signaling a new customer. I smiled to myself when I heard rustling in the back. Time to wake up, Micki. I turned to greet the new customers, gathering a stack of menus in my hand. "Welcome to Blackwolf, how many-?"
"Three." A deep voice interrupted me.
When I looked up, I almost dropped the menus. The man in front of me was attractive to say the least. His black hair was perfectly tousled. His jawline was obscured by a fine covering of stubble. His leather jacket fit snug over a black shirt paired with dark jeans boots. I could make out his sculpted physique under his fitted clothes. He seemed to radiate with power as he stared down to the menus in my hand and then back to my face. He gave off a vibe that loosely translated, don't piss me off.
There were two other men with him. One had short curly blonde hair and a hint of tattoos peeked from under his white long-sleeve sweater. The other had dark brown hair cut close to his scalp and a neatly trimmed beard. He was sporting a black jeans and a denim button up that complemented his dark skin and brown eyes well.
Damn, did these guys come straight from a photo shoot? At four in the morning? I mentally shook my head.
"Would you like a table or a booth?" I asked the first man, looking back to him. I caught him curiously studying me with a pair of dark gray eyes and he didn't look at all embarrassed.
"Booth. As private as possible." He responded, meeting my stare.
I glanced around the empty diner, eyebrows creeping toward my hairline. "Okay, follow me." I led the three men to the very back of the very small dining area and gestured towards a booth. "Is this private enough?" I asked innocently, biting my lip to keep the smirk from my face. There must have still been a mischievous glint in my eye though because the man threw a very unamused look my way.
