Page 4 of Monster Diner

He’d tried refusing to give Igor human food, but attempts to feed Igor raven-appropriate foods resulted in him pecking at Victor’s fingers or head until he got a patty melt, milkshake, or whatever else he was craving in the moment. Igor had been living with Frank as long as Victor had been working at the diner, which had been close to twenty years. And according to Frank, he’d belonged to his father before that. Apparently Igor had acquired a taste for diner food. Being a familiar meant he had odd little quirks other birds didn’t possess. Plus, he made an excellent taste tester.

Igor finished his breakfast, cawed, and then flew into the living room towards his favorite roosting spot by the window. Victor satisfied himself by making a perfect fried egg, which he inhaled before washing the dishes, and wiping down the counters. He could let the rest of his life fall apart, but he’d never leave a kitchen dirty.

The driveway to the house faced the back of the diner. And normally he’d enter through the back door, but he decided to take the long way and go in through the front. It was early, the sun had yet to rise, and a thin, misty fog hung over the asphalt. The retro, red neon diner sign was flickering, and Victor added replacing the lights to his long to-do list.

He entered, and the bell chimed, alerting the staff to his arrival. It was that liminal time of the morning before the sun rose and the morning rush began—which was at most three to four people—and after the midnight crowd of nocturnal residents had left. In a small town like Pumpkin Hollow, everything moved at a pretty steady pace.

Which is why he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Gertrude, one of his most notorious regulars, behind the counter pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“I’ve told you you’re not supposed to be back there,” Victor said with a sigh.

“Frank always let me,” she replied.

“Frank’s not—” He choked on the words. Their usual banter soured his stomach. Gertrude would do as she pleased. She would act like she owned the diner, and he’d scold her, and she’d lie and say Frank let her. He’d tell her Frank wasn’t there, but trying to say it now felt like he was getting hit by a mallet of grief.

Frank had been a friend, a mentor. He was the reason Victor was able to stand up to his creator and chase a job he loved.

Gertrude came out and patted him on the arm. “Sorry, dear.”

She perched on her usual red stool as Victor took his place behind the counter and automatically reached for the creamer in the mini fridge there. The same routine, the same conversation he’d had a thousand times before as he slid it over to her. She added a small splash of creamer; it hardly changed the color.

“Since you’re here now, can I order?” she asked before daintily sipping her coffee.

“Didn’t Annalise or Trudy get your order already?” Victor frowned.

“Trudy isn’t here. Late again, I bet.” She shook her head as if they were her tardy employees.

“What about Annalise or Jason?” They weren’t supposed to clock out until he and Trudy clocked in for the morning shift.

He turned around and peered through the kitchen window. The overnight cook, Jason, was missing as well, and Victor groaned.

“Maybe she’s in the supply closet looking for ketchup again,” Gertrude said with a pointed look at the rows of filled ketchup bottles on the counter.

“Excuse me,” Victor said calmly, but on the inside, he felt like a duck gliding on still water while furiously paddling beneath the surface.

The dry storage room door was ajar, and the wet sucking sounds and hushed giggles were enough for him to want to turn around and run. Victor knocked on the door to alert them, and he heard Annalise’s surprised laughter followed by Jason’s mumbled curse.

He waited outside the door, arms crossed, as they slunk out. Annalise smoothed her hair, smiling coyly as she tried to cover the bite marks on her neck, while Jason wiped the corner of his mouth. But his heavy-lidded eyes gave it away.

Victor ran a hand over his face. At this rate, he was going to rub his nose off.

“Guys, you promised me if you both worked overnights I could trust you…”

“It was dead, and Jason was thirsty…” Annalise said with a smile, but it quickly faded at the look on Victor’s face.

“Sorry, chef,” Jason murmured.

Victor shook his head. “Not a chef. You know what, go. We’ll talk later. It’s almost sunrise.”

“Thanks, and sorry.” Jason dipped his head in apology, hardly disguising a yawn.

“Yeah, sorry, Victor.” Annalise smirked as she ran back to gather her purse.

“I’m gonna have to change the schedule,” Victor muttered aloud to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Jason was a vampire and could only work overnights. Annalise was a great waitress with a theoretically flexible schedule, but now that they were dating and blood swapping, clearly they couldn’t be left alone. He didn’t have time to babysit them overnight, and he couldn’t ask the daytime waitress, Trudy, to work overnights. She was a single mom of two kids. The afternoon staff had similar limitations. Frank would have seen this coming from a mile away and never allowed the schedule change. Maybe that was why he’d always been working. Things had run smoother when he was around.

Victor returned to the dining room and took Gertrude’s order, not that he needed to ask. She always got a cup of plain oatmeal and a couple sausage links on the side.