Page 12 of The Midnight Order
But my judge of character is shit lately, and I’m not sleeping well, so I push the idea from my head.
“Is the diner the only restaurant in town where you can get a decent meal?” I ask her, hoping I’m not keeping her from anything pressing, but she’s the only person I know in town.
“No, there are plenty of places to get a bite to eat at. What are you hungry for?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, my favorite is Howie’s over on Plum Street. It’s an eclectic menu, so there’s no one thing he’s known for, but anything you try won’t disappoint.”
My ears perk as I nod. “And Plum Street, is which direction?”
She smirks. “Sorry, I’m used to everyone being local. Take a left on Main and then turn right at the light. You’ll see Howie’s down on the left. It’s got a tacky sign out front.”
“Thanks, Karen! I’ll see you around.”
“See you tomorrow,” she says, and I find it odd. However, with the way her coffee tastes, she likely will, so I brush off the comment and brave the weather to get back to the Tahoe.
I follow Karen’s instructions until I find Howie’s. It has a bright red sign out front with chicken-scratch writing on it, as well as the daily specials and the restaurant’s name.
It’s nothing to look at. It sits in a strip of businesses right in the middle. If you weren’t looking for it specifically, you’d miss it.
Usually, those kinds of places in the city have the best food, so my stomach grumbles in anticipation.
Chugging the last of my coffee, I grab my purse and hop out of the Tahoe.
The first thing that strikes me is the server. Her hair is purple, and upwards of five piercings are littered across her face.
She spots me and rushes over, grabbing a menu.
The place is light and open. The only color is the red bar, where a few people are sitting with their food.
“Just one?” she asks.
I nod. “Yup. You can sit me at the bar if you’d like. I’ll be taking my food to go.”
“Introvert. I can dig it,” she replies, dropping my menu down a few seats away from an older gentleman who eyes me like I’m the coming of the Devil to Blackmoore.
“I’m not introverted as much as this town is spooky. The people are weird, and I don’t know anyone.”
She rounds the bar, pulling out her order pad and slapping it down on the counter in front of me. “Tell me about it. I grew up here.”
“Like, what’s his name down at Radio Hut?” I whisper, leaning in as I feel like she’s a kindred spirit.
“Oh, Ed?! I know! Don’t even get me going on the weirdo who owns the nail salon.”
“Hmm, I haven’t been there yet.” I look down at my chipping manicure apprehensively.
“Hah! Look at you. You’re so worried. I was kidding!”
A laugh bubbles out of me, making everyone at the counter look at me as if I’m becoming a problem.
“Sorry,” I lament.
“Don’t apologize to them. They’re old and stuck in their ways. Everyone in this town gets so fucking weird when outsiders blow through.”
“I had gotten that impression, actually.”
“Palpable, huh?”
