Azalea's Cookhouse Is A Family Restaurant

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Welcome back to Croupcast.

Today we are reading the story.

Is it Azalee's?

Azalea's?

Azalea's, I I would say.

Azalea's.

Cookhouse is a family restaurant, but please don't bring your family.

AKA, this is a Cece's pizza.

This is a Buffalo Wild Wings.

This is a 54th Street grill.

And I'm very excited.

Hold on, hold on,

but Cece's Pizza, you don't bring your family?

No.

I thought the whole point of that was.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Well, it's like a little pizza buffet.

When I was a kid, there was a Cece's in your house, and I loved it.

It's a family restaurant.

Please don't bring your family.

There's a little arcade corner in the back.

Yeah, yeah.

No, no, no.

It's a family restaurant.

Please don't bring your family there.

Why?

What's your problem with CC's?

Because

it's an evil, evil place.

It's a tempting, evil place, and I just don't care for it.

Did something happen to you in a CC's?

I don't want to go into my CC's debacle.

Not going to.

That's what I thought.

Maybe another time.

But this is written by Aproyal.

A proil.

Proyal.

It's AP Royal.

It's like his initials.

AP Royal.

Aproyl.

Proyal.

Or you just say Ap Royal.

Aproyal.

Sure.

Aproyal.

Aproyal.

So Aproyal has his own website.

He seems to be a very prolific author on boards like No Sleep and stuff like that.

There's a bunch of stories.

And

Ap Royal has also been picked up recently by Velix Books, which Velix has been pretty cool.

Yeah, we've worked.

We've read many Velix.

published books and we've uh you know

it's people that we've worked with uh to be able to read some of these stories So really happy that he's with a cool publishing company like that.

Yeah, they seem like a cool company They seem like very in the know about like you know cross-promotion between like youtubers and like authors making stories and stuff So they're chill so it's cool that AP Royal has got with Felix books and it looks like he has a book called the kaleidoscope coming out with them late this year early next year

But you can subscribe to his newsletter and get updates on that You can also get like short stories delivered straight to your inbox.

Has a bunch of stories across no sleep.

The story itself seems pretty highly rated.

So I'm excited.

And also the title is just enticing in itself.

Yeah.

Evil.

Evil family restaurant.

You know, is this going to turn into something more like if, you know, the Glenmont retro thing or Metro where it starts off with, or I mean, Diana's house, whatever, where someone just walks into a restaurant and gets their head blown off?

Or is it going to turn into like a, you know, Five Nights at Freddy kind of meme?

You know, it kind of, it has like a weird,

it could go either way, and I'm excited to see.

Does your brain just take all the stories we read and it like lays the tile, the titles out randomly, and you just like grab one at moments and stuff?

Is Dionysus House not the one where it begins with the

dude getting shot?

Yeah, it is, it is, but you started with the Glenmont Metro.

Well, because, yeah, I thought it was that one at first, but no, I quickly caught myself because that's the kind of bear trap my mind is.

It's how fucking ironclad it is, right?

It's a bear trap with an eight-second delay timer no no no it's a it's a depth actually wild and then the bear's like 20 feet down the trail and then it's like did you hear that because it like shut up on not a quarter of a millisecond before your heel even touches the the metal activation lever on the bear trap it fucking grabs you that's how that's the steel bear trap that my mind is that caught uh the dianea house uh incorrectly because it originally caught uh the glenmont metro well actually see that's that it saw the heel coming and it said oh hey i remember Glenmott Metro.

I'm just kidding.

And it switched it up.

Because I think that

it was bringing something in

like a prey, you know, like a predator to a prey.

And then it sees the kill right there.

It doesn't matter, dude.

I don't have to fucking justify my brain to you.

All right.

All I know is that, as always, be sure to support the author.

And as well,

check us out on audio platforms, Apple Podcasts, Spotify.

Go there right now.

Give us a five-star rating fucking listen to our show there dude it helps all right maybe ap royal maybe listen this on spotify dude if you're watching this right now consider hopping in your hopping your happy ass over to spotify and listen to it there you're talking to the author right now yeah and that's the

and that's the

see that's the that's that that's the bear trap coming out you gotta watch out

you're already you're already mad at him wait i'm not spoiling this

suggestion it's a polite suggestion.

So now you're now you're claiming that you're so quick-witted that you're near

psychic with your knowing.

Well, I didn't want to have to go out and expose myself.

But that psychic ability can also be wrong at points.

Well, see, it's never wrong.

So, in other words,

you're just guessing.

Redeemed.

Just guessing.

Redeemed.

No, no, that British poll was.

The more I think about that, the more the British thing doesn't make sense because the whole point was like, oh, this one person's British.

But because you made everyone British, it ruined that part of the story.

Well, I found redemption with them.

That's the fucking premonition, dude.

I told you.

Even I didn't.

See, that's the thing about the bear trap, dude.

Okay, so you see.

Let me finish.

The bear trap, sometimes I can't even see through the fucking fog of my own power because

I was like, is this going to just something about this that makes it British?

And then sure enough, we're on the fucking Queen Elizabeth liner there, dude.

So, so hold on.

So, you don't, you can't see specifically how it applies.

You can just see details.

Well, not all the time.

Sometimes the power is so

just so hidden in the fogs of

my mind of these bear traps that I myself

step into the bear trap as well.

You step into the bear traps, you can tell what you're thinking.

You can tell what you're going to do.

Yeah, with this power, Isaiah, you don't understand the complexities of how this kind of thing.

Okay, so

here's my point.

If you can just pull random stuff and you don't necessarily know how to play it, it's like you pulled British last time because you're super bear trap.

For today's story, are you getting anything?

Feel anything?

Let me think.

I think that it's probably going to be,

I would say, an American, but I'm going to say that we're probably going to spend the majority of our time talking about like a restaurant, probably some kind of, you know, family.

These are inferences.

These are inferences.

These are all things you're pulling from the time.

No, no, see, this is the premonition.

I think that even that we're going to sit there and we're going to have a point where I'm just going to randomly think if there's going to be somebody who's like, sorry, ma'am, that's not a problem.

And for how many?

And then they're like, oh, four, please.

And then are you scrolling down?

No, no, no.

In less than a minute, it was confirmed.

She was scheduled for tomorrow at 7 p.m.

These are just things that are kind of coming to my mind.

Her voice had reduced me to a teenager again.

She's kind of pulling.

Visions of her watering her flowers and walking her dog occupied my mind for the rest of the evening.

Okay.

Wow.

That was powerful.

That was actually powerful how that came to me.

Let's just dive in.

All right.

I don't have to prove myself.

Okay.

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It means the most.

We are now back to the episode.

As a league's cookers,

how can I help you?

Is that how you think that the.

I don't, this is our narrator talking.

So whatever voice you come up with is going to be the narrator for the rest of the story.

Well, is it a girl or a guy?

I don't know.

It's a waiter.

Normally, they don't specify in these stories.

Well, a waiter is a man and a waitress is a woman, right?

Typically.

Okay.

Just want to make sure.

Because I'd hate to go through and, you know, give another Captain Price kind of like, Azalea's Cookhouse, how can I help you?

And then it's like, I'm a 16-year-old girl from Minnesota.

I think if that happens, see, the bear trap's not catching better.

America's not catching that, so I don't know.

Yeah, yeah.

Azalea's cookhouse is a family restaurant, but please don't bring your family.

Part 1, Hunter, bring us in.

Azalea's Cookhouse.

How can I help you?

I despise the inflection in my voice.

The fakeness irked me to my core, but it was all part of the job, so I took my customer service seriously.

I've been a waiter for longer than I'm comfortable to admit, and although the job isn't rocket science by any stretch, I believe there are skills one needs to develop to be successful: a wide smile, a cheery demeanor, an unhealthy tolerance for bullshit.

If you make sure everyone's waters are filled and remembered to ask about dessert before bringing back the bill, you will do well in this profession.

The tricks of the trade were simple, but you'd be surprised how many college kids wandered into the industry with zero regard for service.

It was an epidemic, as far as I was concerned.

Pretty faces were always welcome, but seldom did they stay.

It wasn't like this was my dream job either.

I used to have real ambitions too.

Played in a rock band.

I had a marriage.

Those things, well, I wish they were as simple.

When everything went up in flames, when it all started to slip away, the restaurant industry was always there.

And to them, I was valuable.

Plays like Azalea's was a great gig.

They demanded a pristine level of service, or your ass was on the curb.

But for what you got paid compared to other places, I felt the trade-off was worth it.

I recognized the silky voice right away.

It was a twist of warm friendship mixed with passionate lover.

It was elegant.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, I think that needs to be the voice.

Well, I recognize the sucking voice right away.

It should be like, hello, I'd like to make a reservation for Friday evening.

Yes, there you go.

Okay.

It was elegant and upbeat.

It was Paulina.

I didn't take my neighbor for the type to dine at this kind of establishment.

And while it was only her voice, She could have been 100 miles away.

It was enough to send me down into an anxious tailspin.

Isn't he married?

No, no, he had a marriage.

Oh, he had a marriage.

Okay, and a rock band.

Like, it's

he lost out on that stuff, but this restaurant digs the one thing that's been dependable for him.

Yeah, yeah.

Hello.

Uh, sorry, ma'am.

That's not a problem.

And for how many?

Four, please.

In less than a minute, it was confirmed.

Oh my god.

She was scheduled for tomorrow at 7 p.m.

This is the stuff that I was saying.

Okay, go ahead.

Sorry,

For one, the audacity to do it in the first place, to just read the story ahead and say it's a premonition.

No, I did it.

But then the further audacity to call it out.

No,

what is the next line, though?

Her voice had reduced me to a teenager again.

Visions of her watering her flowers and walking her dog occupied my mind for the rest of the evening.

Wow.

Holy shit.

Oh,

wow.

That is power.

Dude,

I am scary at times.

I bet I could get psychic pebbles to do this podcast with me.

Dude, don't even plant that seed in people's minds because they will want me out immediately.

They will want me

off of the show immediately.

Who's another YouTube?

Really, any of the Oni guys would probably do it.

Yeah.

Who's another animator that I could like

sell you for?

I could sell you cheap, too.

My stock is very low, Isaiah.

You have to, you need to.

This meme is going to start a literal riot for change.

You're going to see another change.

You say that, but every time someone talks about me anywhere online, they're always like, where's Hunter?

Why isn't this supposed about Hunter?

I'd rather be talking about Hunter or whatever.

I saw one that was brutal the other day.

Look, look, I saw one that was brutal the other day.

There was

a guy that someone had posted, I read it on Instagram somewhere.

It was like, These two are some of the best personalities on YouTube.

And then someone commented, I was like, Well, one of them's a YouTube personality, the other one's a guy who got lucky with an iceberg trend.

And I was like, Ow!

That was rough.

Listen, man,

I'm glad.

You know what?

I love that we sat here.

We're two men aboard the Titanic taking out our tiny violins and playing because I see a lot of hurtful stuff, too, that makes me fucking borderline cry.

Really?

Yeah, all the time.

All right.

What kind of stuff?

I don't want to go into it because it's only going to,

when we say these things, it only gives them fuel, Isaiah.

Don't you understand?

Right.

So I just like to.

There's one guy.

So there's one dude.

He has like, I'm not going to say his name because I don't need people to know, but he has like eight followers on Twitter.

Complete nobody, right?

Yeah.

Every time I post a video announcement, after a couple hours, he will quote tweet

the tweet I made announcing it and say either good video or bad video.

And he never gives any further explanation.

That's haunting.

He never

says why.

That's actually like that.

But my algorithm, I think because I've looked at his page, it always shows me what his reaction is.

Every time I post a video, he'll just be like, bad video.

And I'll be like, oh,

why?

Damn it.

Explain.

Like, yeah.

Yeah, it's like it's a 17-year-old German kid.

You're just like, your entire existence was wrapped up in this kid.

He's like,

And I'm over here like, damn you, Will Hell.

I'm like shaking my fist at nothing.

Augustus!

It's like the kid from Charlie in the Chocolate Factory just eating chocolate.

It's literally just Augustus Gloop, just covered in chocolate, watching the videos.

What is he planning?

What is he putting together?

I know he's scheming something over there.

Yeah.

Yeah, it's just random.

what sticks you what does it and i don't really like personify it that much but it's uh it's funny that it means so much to me it's impossible not to um anyway yeah the story so you talking about being a psychic and whatnot her voice should we uh reread that line too that where i'm not i'll reread that line since you were uh i fucked it

visions from the heavens yeah i uh yeah i think i think you should normally i would be like it's okay but i think you should feel sorry for this one in particular so

her voice had reduced me to a teenage version

What?

Jesus Christ.

Oh, I don't know.

Oh my gosh, my eyesight was way off.

I read teenager again and visions.

Jesus Christ.

Her voice had reduced me to a teenage virgin again.

That's what I thought he said.

I saw visions and like my okay.

Talk about premonitions.

You're seeing something good.

You're like, I just want to have sex so bad.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Her voice had reduced me to a teenager again.

Visions of her watering her flowers and walking her dog occupied my mind for the rest of the evening.

There, is that better?

That's good.

Okay, I'm going to get

our

who's the other guys I can sell you for?

Flash kits.

I'll do it with me.

I'm sure.

Paulina was in her front yard in the morning, meticulously tending to a healthy bed of flowers.

She smiled from a crouched over position, her golden hair adding to the splashes of flourishing color.

Tulips, sunflowers, and geraniums were spread thick across the lawn like a rainbow nestled in a sky of green.

We exchanged waves, her mouth open and ready for conversation, just as the back gate swung open.

All at once, they were upon her in an orchestrated attack.

Concentrated streams of water blasted out of the barrel of their.

Oh, oh, it's kids.

It's kids with water guns.

Okay.

I was...

I saw that coming.

I'm like, did she get swatted?

I kind of like that, though.

He's like, he's like fucking turning this into a boondock saint scene with water guns.

All at once, they were upon her in an orchestrated attack.

Concentrated streams of water blasted out the barrel of their guns.

She let out a wail, covering her face from the attack.

Her white tank top was now see-through, drenched by the precision of trained killers.

The shooters, her two sons and husband, Keith, giggling at the scene of the crime as her pleas for mercy went unanswered.

I kept walking.

Hey, Mark.

I waved to the group.

A couple of the waiting staff were huddled together in front of the stairs that led into the restaurant.

It was their ceremonious drag of nicotine before the chaos.

Friday nights were always a gong show, and this one was sure to be no exception.

One of the busboys, Dwayne, was wearing a vexed look on his face.

More so than usual.

After his puff, he warned.

Silva's looking for you, man.

Text for the heads up.

From the outside, you could never tell Azalea's was a restaurant.

It looked more like a cellar with cracked cement stairs that led down into a basement.

That was Silva's vision all along, to be a hidden gem in the rough.

Walk in thinking the place was a dump, walk out pleasantly surprised.

It was the psychology of the food industry, and this element of surprise seemed to be essential for fine dining.

Azalea's was the height of exclusivity.

Not just anyone could stumble in.

In order to keep up this allure, speaking about the restaurant in any capacity was strictly prohibited.

Staff were never allowed to dine in.

We were servants, not clientele.

Not that any of us could afford it.

The menu items never seemed to reference a price, which always signaled trouble.

But from the bills I'd hand out at the end of every meal, the numbers were always staggering.

It was clear Azalea's was catering to a very specific crowd with refined taste and deep pockets.

I like that nod.

That's definitely a little...

A little nod to maybe a clientele or something that the restaurant is serving that feels a bit more exclusive hidden.

The way that this is set up is nice so far.

I just want to say it's

where it's just like, for one, I really like

Royal's writing style.

Like, the way he described Paulina getting attacked by her kids, like you said, it's kind of described almost like a boondock saint hit.

But he describes like the sexual undertones of her, like her sultry voice, her shirts now see-through.

But the like objective thing we see is that she's got a husband and two sons, right?

So is that like something about his neighbor

wanting him, or does he want her in a physical way?

Uh, and she's not perceiving that, or it's just like our author's intent of it, like, oh, dude, it sets up some interesting stuff about the psychology there.

The narrator is definitely wanting deep fucking for sure.

He's fantasizing about it, okay, for sure.

All right, all right, all right, all right.

That was a probably inappropriate way of saying that, by the way.

That is such that is you had to say deep, you had to like

adjectives to it, you had to make it more explicit.

Oh my gosh.

Good lord, man.

Okay, so anyway.

Good lord, man.

That's just.

Just

dropping a brick on the gas pedal.

We were at the red light.

He just threw it to Phil.

What the fuck are we doing, man?

He's just like, oh, I was just half stepping in it.

You're like, no, I was fucking.

I was up in there.

I was rearranging them gutty works as much as I could, dude.

Okay, there you go.

There you go again with the description.

That was like a fork with some spaghetti, dude.

I was wrapping it all around and

swarping it.

Don't say that.

What are you talking about?

Like a fork with some spaghetti.

I'm going to kill you.

Mercy.

Okay.

Anyway, I'm going to.

Okay.

What I was saying, I like Royal's writing style, how so much is conveyed in just the way he describes the scene, right?

That being said, with this description of the restaurant, we have like the initial, like the front-facing premise of like, it's just a really expensive restaurant that in order to keep, you know,

it kind of exclusive, you can't talk about it.

But then you think about it's like, what kind of restaurant can you not talk about and the menu items aren't priced you know um very so yeah it sets up it there's yeah it's like there's a double meaning like what could be happening here uh that i agree with you is just set up very well a referral and a reservation got you through the door you needed both no exceptions this drew a certain type of crowd snooty high maintenance but i didn't mind it to be honest that combination could be tiresome but it usually meant great tips.

I approached the splendor door and knocked three times.

One of the greeters let me in.

The interior was nothing like the exterior.

The foyer had a gothic medieval vibe with high ceilings and narrow hallways.

Chandeliers sparkled overhead in the dim light.

The halls were plastered with stone and exposed brick, a handful of doors on either side.

The doors concealed the intimate dining experience that Azalea's offered.

Private rooms for every party to make you feel at home.

Silva's office was the last door on the left.

I'm just picturing nothing but like a Blade movie.

Like whenever Blade like goes in, it's like a Russian nightclub that like looks like a castle or whatever.

That's what I, that's what I'm seeing with this restaurant.

I went to this one restaurant in LA that

someone

in like the YouTube talent side invited me to that was kind of similar where you had to walk down a hallway and it's like you had to have a membership or know someone to get in.

That it was, this was, it was like a very stereotypical like LA white walls, like big windows.

Yeah.

So it didn't look the same, but I'm imagining the same kind of like entry setup.

Like you have to take an elevator to get to the restaurant kind of deal.

So it was like an olive garden.

That'd be really funny.

That'd be so funny.

Password.

Dude,

Hunter, you're not going to believe this.

But the breadsticks were literally endless.

Yeah.

Yeah,

you could get as many as you wanted.

But they would just

do it.

Exactly.

Yeah, and get this.

Bill came.

Bill came, no charge.

Yeah, no charge.

I had six

pieces of bread worth of breadsticks.

Where's this on the bill?

Oh, sir, they're free.

Oh, my God.

Whoa.

Where are you taking me?

I'll sign whatever paper you pass me.

I'm talking about Sicily right now.

Me standing outside of an olive garden, just like a country bumpkin from Tennessee.

You good, sir, know how to make a deal.

You know, like 10 minutes down the road, we're going to see the Coliseums.

You fellas must be Christian.

You know how to treat a man.

God damn it, every road does lead to Rome, doesn't it?

Me looking at like a suspension bridge.

Is this them aqueducts?

Yeah, so gothic, medieval vibe, whatever, walking through.

I knocked with caution.

No response.

Two more times, nothing.

Confused, I headed back the way I came.

Hey, Julia, have you seen Silver around?

Dwayne said he was looking for me.

The greeter glanced up from her tablet.

Hey,

no, I haven't seen him.

Her eyes dive back into the seating shard on her screen.

Workers were starting to enter now, squeezing past us down the hall.

If you see him, can you please let him know I was sent to his office?

She nodded.

I followed the flow of people towards the change rooms.

My shift was about to start, and I needed to set the tables before dinner service.

The night became a blur of well-dressed people and trips to the kitchen.

I was scuttling past streams of people into narrow pockets of space while balancing wobbly plates.

Just another day at the circus.

There were glimpses of Silva here and there, darting around the halls with his gruffy beard and velvet blazer.

He was bouncing from employee to customer to office like a bad game of pong i didn't bother seeking him out i knew that he would come and find me when there was time for a breath of air in the middle of me reaming out a

whoa in the middle of me reaming out a bus boy

you gotta get your shit together right now dude you did that you did that that is what it says teenage teenage virgins and then you're like reaming out a bus boy that is read it read it what does it say in the middle of me reaming out a bus boy paulina strode past there you go.

Yeah, that's what it says.

Yes, Paulina strode past.

Her maxi dress sparkled with little rhinestones, flowing with the natural curves of her body,

leaving nothing to the imagination.

It appeared to be a family affair tonight.

The boys looked dapper in their matching bow ties, and Keith was all smiles in his tailored suit.

This was a special occasion, indeed.

Mark?

My heart sank as she disappeared into one of the rooms, one of the rooms I wasn't working.

Are you deaf?

Martin scolded.

You can fuck off with your critiques.

I don't answer to you.

I glared back at the lethargic slug.

The man looked like he hadn't caught a wink of sleep in years.

His bags were a deep black, like a coat of mascara had been slathered under his eyes.

I rattled the massive cart he was leaning against, the weight shifting in a dangerous, teetering fashion.

Some china clattered together in ominous clangs.

Fuck off!

He yelped.

You see the problem here, Martin?

The quicker you do your job, the quicker this stupid tank of a a unit is out of my way.

You're clogging up the freeway!

His face soured as he pushed the cart away.

The metal contraption was over six feet tall and wide, an ugly metal cabinet on wheels.

He muttered something under his breath as he passed.

What did you say?

He was near the kitchen before he hollered back.

It ain't as easy as it looks, chump.

I took a deep breath before entering the adjacent room.

Welcome to Azalea's cookhouse.

So he was in the hallway, and then he saw her and lost his mind, and then like he started following her mentally.

And then the guy he was yelling at, the bus boy, says Mark, and then he goes back into the fight.

Gotcha.

On my way back from the kitchen, I was balancing two plates of Hakarl?

Is that how you pronounce it?

Hackerel?

You're asking the wrong guy.

Or

Hackerel.

Hackerel.

An Icelandic delicacy, a fermented shark, when Silva tapped me on my shoulder.

Mark, I need you in my office.

Duck those off and come see me.

Uh, it's mid-dinner service, Silva.

Can this wait till my break?

It can't.

Lana will cover for you.

My blood boiled at the thought of Lana swooping in to claim my tips.

She wasn't even scheduled to work this evening.

I sighed and dropped off the food before making my way to his office.

This time, the three knocks were answered.

The door swung open.

Thanks, Mark.

Have a seat.

We were surrounded by a forest of cherry wood.

Bookshelves and cabinets filled the space, carved in looping, intricate patterns.

Everything was so polished and quaint.

There were floating shelves that carried up the walls, each holding rows and rows of books.

Behind a grandfather clock in the corner were pots of leafy plants.

I wondered how any of them survived in this dungeon.

You've been doing a great job here, Mark.

I know I'm not the most, you know, rah-rah type of owner, but believe me when I say this.

I've taken notice.

He continued, the sounds of muffled conversation trickling in through the halls.

I'll level with you here.

I'm in a pickle.

We are short bus boys tonight.

I need you to cover.

Uh, with all due respect, Silva, why would I do that?

Because I need you to, Mark.

And to be honest, it's a chance at a promotion.

A promotion?

Couldn't get Martin and his multiple smoke breaks out of my mind.

Look, Silva, I like what I do.

I feel like I do it well.

I'm not saying I don't want to help you out, but please don't spit on my face and tell me it's raining.

I'm a waiter, not a busboy.

The pay is nearly triple.

A smirk grew on his face once he detected the astonishment on my face.

he pointed his finger at me this doesn't leave the room the news went down the hatch like sour milk i understood why the chefs would make more money the menu was always revolving to keep the clientele happy they likely had years of experience overseas attended culinary school but the bus boys these guys were glorified dishwashers i knew the way silver ran the restaurant was different but this corporate structure was completely backwards Servers were the face of the business, the point of contact between the restaurant and the customer.

Surely that had to to be worth more.

I need you out there, Mark.

Like yesterday.

He got up and made his way to the door.

If you do well,

the position is permanently yours.

Do I really have a choice?

Not really.

A glint of something conspicuous in his eyes.

The door was now ajar, the bustle of the business now flooding into the room.

You'll do great.

Now go and find Dwayne.

He'll be showing you the ropes.

Dwayne was outside with one of the chefs, another cigarette to his lips.

The light emanating from the lamp post highlighted his bronze complexion.

Hey, Dwayne, Silver said you're going to tray me tonight?

Guess I'm going to be one of you guys now.

He raised an eyebrow and dropped the cigarette to the pavement.

With a blank expression, he said,

Well, hot damn.

Let's go.

He stomped the butt out and we drifted inside.

I followed him deep into the kitchen, past the cooking staff carefully preparing the meals.

The atmosphere wasn't much better back there.

Plates were sliding around amidst fits of yelling and chopping.

I passed one of the chefs giving a lecture to one of her apprentices.

Who taught you you how to work a knife?

You leave the skin on this fugu again, and I'll rip your apron off myself.

He stopped at one of the metal monstrosities in the corner of the dishroom.

Get pushing.

The cart was frustrating to maneuver given the state of its back wheels.

One wheel refused to roll in line with the others, opting to wiggle uselessly instead.

It was a cumbersome task given the sheer size of the cart.

It was heavy with its many drawers, and it was a challenge to see over it.

There would have certainly been a collision without Dwayne guiding me in the front.

We finally stopped in front of one of the rooms, my arms and legs feeling like jelly.

He held the door open as I inched the cart in, slowly.

Then the door was firmly closed shut.

The scene at the dinner table nearly knocked me off my feet.

We were inside the private room that Paulina's family had dined in.

There was Keith, his cheek resting in a thin layer of cream sauce.

His mouth was full of foam, the tablecloth soaked in a puddle of vomit.

His eyes were staring back at us in a dead stare.

Their two sons were on their floor, their bodies lying limp.

There was no ounce of recoil from Dwayne.

He just gripped Keith's head and pulled it out of the sauce.

Let's go, Mark.

We don't got all day.

The walls felt like they were closing in on me.

Everything was spinning.

Dwayne,

what the fuck is this, man?

He was dragging Keith by his shoulders, his limp legs bobbling against the ground as he was carried towards the cart.

Most of his body was able to fit into one of the compartments.

The rest of the parts that overhang were were forced in with a metal pole.

The squishing and cracking made my stomach churn.

Oh, shit, what do you think this is, Mark?

A six-figure dishwashing job?

He laughed, glint of madness in his eyes.

He had one of the boys by the back of his blazer and was dragging him along.

I'm out.

I want nothing to do with this, I said, turning towards the door.

Dwayne dropped the body and beat me there.

His arm held the door shut.

Listen, this might not be good for you.

I get it.

It ain't for everybody.

But listen to me.

And listen good.

Silva doesn't just let you you out.

I didn't ask for any of this.

I'm just a waiter.

I'm surprised.

I'm surprised.

Silva keeps the waste ass off.

I'll be damned.

Let me out.

Listen.

You're part of the Azalea family.

You've just been given a seat at the big boy table.

And families, they have secrets.

He eased off the door.

Go ahead.

Get some fresh air or prep this room.

And you can meet me at the front of the next one.

Or you can meet me at front.

Oh my fuck!

And you can meet me at the front for the next one.

I took off in a steady march past the the greeters and guests waiting to be seated past the menacing stare of silva i was focused on one thing escaping the air outside was crisp it helped steady the spinning i slowed down to catch my breath but the rapid gasp for air wouldn't stop i'll get a new job i thought start fresh flee the city

at the end of the parking lot something shimmered that caught my eye It was the flowing dress of Paulina.

She was just entering her minivan.

this is a very tumultuous moment hunter

She was just entering her minivan

I stared at the vehicle as it backed out of the stall and slowly cruised in my direction instead of taking the left turn to exit the lot the van stopped the window buzzed as it rolled down mark my words were stuck in my throat all I could offer was a slight nod everything okay I'm just heading home do you need a ride Her voice was nonchalant with no regard for what she'd done because she hadn't done anything except enjoy a pleasant meal the azalea family took care of the rest mark mark a voice yelled from the bottom of the stairs i've got to go

no worries she smiled her glen glistening white perfection before she rolled up her window she called back hey let's go by to eat sometime

the offer hung in the crisp air She drove off in the empty minivan just as Silva emerged from the bottom of the stairwell.

His hand was clutching something in his pocket.

Break time is over.

End of part one.

Very good.

You know what I like about this story so far?

This is great.

Oh, I love it.

This is so fun.

What I like about this story so far is it sets up a nice, sets up the restaurant well, sets up the dynamics of the characters well.

We're entering in this unfamiliar territory, you know, the Act II in the story where we still don't know really what they're doing.

I like that the idea.

you know, my mind immediately goes to they're cooking people, but it could also just be a guy where Silva is a guy guy who is maybe he's like a person that you know works for some other person that spends

or you know, who knows?

Yeah, I think it sounds like you, it's only members and members' friends who come there, right?

So, I think it's like if you want someone taken care of, you know, come to the restaurant, we'll lace the food, right?

We'll kill them, take care of the body, do the rest.

So, it's like a hitman service almost is what I get from it.

And that's real, that's interesting how it's like

we have mark who's like

not evil by any means but in the beginning he's kind of portrayed as a jerk right like he's yelling at the bus boy he's thinking about a married woman like physically like looking through her shirt and stuff like that like he's a bit of a jerk and now he's like in this super evil position and he's like oh i should get away i should flee the city but then seeing paulina who's now single mind you kind of like is enough to make him be like well maybe i'll you know like she asked for dinner maybe I'll stick around a little bit you know that's the uh

that's like the interesting things in these stories is whenever you have the catalyst whenever a character is approached in a situation that like really thrusts the the story forward into the trajectory that we're going you need to have something that's compelling and I think that there's nothing more compelling than sex

Like there's nothing more primal than people who are like motivated and moved by like

sexual desire basically you know what i mean yeah yeah so of course he's going to do something stupid i mean like the the way that the first part of the story does it so well is that it really

really kind of almost makes makes you like idolize her as well he talks about her in a way that is so like fantastic like it's it's just it's it's nothing but just like almost like poetry like he's just like her hair was this and you know it's like the way that we even that we're bought into her is nothing

more a rainbow across a green sky Like, yeah, very flowery language with how he describes everything about her.

And now it's like, oh, she just murdered her husband and two kids.

Uh, but now she wants to go out for dinner.

So, yeah, yeah, exactly.

A bite to eat, which also do you think that's a tongue-in-cheek thing where we're gonna find out that, like, yeah, that they're fucking cooking people or something.

Is where I'm they might, they certainly might be.

I'm sure, look, I wouldn't put it past this place morally to like serve people if like clientele asked for it for sure.

Um,

but also,

like, it's just funny that she just had her whole family murdered, and she's like, what if we got a bite to eat?

Like, is it, was it, so what if, so, was it the whole, was it the whole family, or was it just the, the husband?

The husband and kids.

So it was

dragging, yeah, because it says that after he got done shoving the husband, he grabbed the kids whose lifeless bodies were lying.

Okay, so yeah, so awesome.

So she rules.

All right, just making sure.

Yeah,

she's really cool.

Wow,

family annihilator?

That's great.

Love those.

All right.

Part 2, The Family.

The Family.

Something deep inside of me told me to run.

It cried for me to take flight, to duck behind the nearest car, to weave in and out of the stalls to safety.

My brain convinced me otherwise, however.

I stared at my red Prius parked at the back of the lot.

It was in Silva's direct line of fire.

It would be an easy point-blank shot.

Freedom was only steps away, but it might as well have been a thousand miles.

Silva's hand crept out of his pocket and landed on my shoulder.

The movement was smooth, but not smooth enough.

Polished chrome flashed for a moment, then disappeared amongst the folds of his dress shirt, back into the confines of his pocket.

Does he know I saw it?

Does he care?

So how's the shift going?

He asked, squeezing my deltoid tightly.

My words were caught in my throat as we made our way down the concrete steps.

I don't think I can do this, Silva.

He paused, one of his eyebrows raised.

I feel sick.

First day of bus intends to do that to people.

We stopped before the entrance, the sound of classical music leaking out of the building.

He finally let go of my shoulder.

Dwayne is waiting for you at Table One.

I plead with him further.

Please, let me go back to serving.

I won't say anything, I promise.

Finish up your shift and we'll chat.

If there was one thing I knew about Silva, it was that he wasn't much of a chit-chatter.

He stuck his palm out.

Phone.

There was a sinking feeling in my chest as I looked back at Silva.

Surely he wasn't serious.

Hand it over before we go inside.

You'll get it back after your shift.

No way.

It's my personal property.

I need it.

I don't think this is the kind of guy.

No,

also, I would not say this is my personal property.

I don't think that's going to suede Silva in the situation.

I don't think he'll be like, you know what?

You're right.

Due to the Constitution.

Actually, you know what?

I respect that.

Stand your ground.

You know what?

I like you.

A man can do attitude.

That's what I always liked about you, Mark.

You're a MGTOW man through and through.

That's right.

That's that red pill right there, Mark.

I like this guy.

The soft melodies continued, masking the cold-blooded murder taking place inside.

His face turned blood red, the wrath of Silva nearly upon me.

It was a face I'd seldom seen, a crack in his cold, calm demeanor.

Phone!

Now!

I laid my phone in his palm, defusing the situation.

Placed it into his other trouser pocket, next door neighbors, to the pistol.

Thank you.

Now let's go.

He knocked three times as a scowl morphed to a cheery grin.

Just like that, we were back inside the restaurant.

In a matter of seconds, one of the kitchen staff had whisked Silva in her direction.

Much of the dinner crowd had dispersed.

A moderate number of people were now up and down the halls.

I caught Dwayne's gaze leaning against the front desk, chatting with one of the other busboys.

You good?

Slightest smile stretched across his face, only for a moment until he caught Silva's gaze out the corner of his eye.

His face instantly went blank as he motioned for me to come with him down the hall.

I didn't respond.

I only followed.

Table one

looks like it's ready.

We've got a quick turnaround, so let's hurry.

My shot back at Dwayne.

He casually held the door open.

After you.

You could see the woman from the doorway.

Her head was face down.

Layers of shiny, ebony logs were spread across the table.

I detected a hint of fruit mixed with a strong hairspray aroma.

Dwayne hovered around the table, grabbing the wine glass across from the lady and swishing around the remnants of the cup.

Drink crowd.

Oh, this one was a real lightweight.

What's in the drink?

I asked out of morbid curiosity.

He took a whiff.

Some sort of fruity Pinot Noir.

Probably a mix of elderberry.

How do you know that?

You ever talk to James or Elza?

I shook my head, no.

Those were two of the head chefs at Azalea's.

I never really mingled much with the kitchen staff.

Well, if you weren't so stuck up, you'd know.

He made his way around the table, collecting some of the cutlery.

The dinner crowd wants the experience.

The slow burn, the level of poison that could take hours to set in.

With some exceptions, of course.

He cleared the glasses off the table and chucked them into one of the plastic bins.

The drink crowd?

Now they're looking for something different.

They want the death to be quick and dirty.

Instant with minimal suffering.

He lifted the lady's head up from the table and examined her face.

Her thick layer of makeup and mascara had left a stain on the white tablecloth.

At least, that's what I'm told.

I can tell you what she died from, but based on the turnaround here, I mean, it was quick.

I wondered how many bodies Dwayne had seen over the years.

Help me grab her.

And don't even think about pussing out this time, or I'll let Silva know.

We need this room cleared.

The next group is coming in, ASAP.

So I grabbed one of her shoulders and helped hoist the body up.

Her face was a disturbing shade of plum, her eyes staring back in a cloudy, empty stare.

She was pretty, what was left of her.

She was maybe in her early 40s, way too young to suffer this sort of fate.

How can you do this, man?

Her petite frame easily slid into the confines of the metal walls.

I don't know.

At first, it just really needed the money.

Closed the door and locked the panel shut.

After a while, it just becomes another job.

You'll get used to it.

You'll see.

Started pushing the metal cart towards the door.

These people have families, Dwayne.

What we're doing here is criminal.

Aw, dude, shut the fuck up, Mark.

My personal property.

What we're doing here is a crime.

Okay, hold on.

Yeah, if you, if you had to start moving bodies, you would be like,

this is wrong.

No, no, no.

Let me tell you.

The things that he is saying,

they're correct.

But him saying these things out loud, you're like, why don't you, you're like, I almost want to stuff them into a fucking locker.

You know what?

You know what?

You know what I think?

You know what I think Mark's doing here, the reason that his wording's the way it is?

I don't think, because he's still going along with it.

I don't know how much Mark really cares.

Because, like I said, in the first part, he's kind of established to be a bit of a jerk, yelling at guys, thinking about sleeping with a married woman.

So, here, it's almost like he's trying to

talk himself out of it because he's going along with it.

He's like, no, this is criminal.

My phone's my property.

You should take it.

It almost feels like he's trying to talk himself out of it.

Well, I think that I think you're onto the right thing, but I don't think he's trying to talk himself out of it.

I think he's trying to have other people talk him out of it.

I think is what he's doing.

Sure, it's like like a cry for help kind of thing.

But I think he's looking for someone to validate this feeling of being like, you know what, you're right.

Let's get like, we should just stop.

But instead, everyone's just basically like confirming this like

almost like confirmation bias or something.

But what I mean by talk himself out of it is I don't know how much he himself

like cares and is willing to do a job like this if it means a lot of that's what I'm saying is I think he's trying to it's like almost like a narcissistic thing where it's like you're pretending to be human, you know.

Like, come on, guys, this is wrong, right?

We definitely shouldn't be doing that.

He's like fucking young Sheldon.

What we're doing here is criminal.

It's like, fuck off, Mark.

God damn.

Sure, sure.

You know what?

You would 100%.

Like, if this was me and you in this scenario, I would 100% be Mark.

Oh, my God.

This house is criminal.

Give me back my phone.

That's my personal property.

And you would be the guy that's like, it's good money, shut up, put the body

three times, goddamn, three times money.

All right,

we're stuffing lobsters here.

Good God, boys.

Hell yeah.

Hunter, when you're in triple pay,

he would come out of that first room like, oh, that trash in there was a real load.

Wink, wink.

Yeah.

Here we've got a family of shrimp in room number five.

They got her body so petite and tiny, she just slides right in on immediately.

Yeah, I'm like, great.

So it's good.

They're like, wow, you're really taking to this faster than anyone has before.

Yeah, I know.

I love my job.

I'm a workhorse.

You're going to call me Sea Biscuit by the end of the day.

All right.

Yeah,

I hear you need to toss out a couple of crabs down in room four.

Would you just stop doing the food euthanisms and just get back to work?

Yeah, there's a couple baked potatoes in room four.

it's like silva silva has to come meet you in the hallway it's like you gotta quit yeah you're gonna you actually have to you have to quit you're making everyone uncomfortable you're making everyone uncomfortable

i know we're all like moving bodies and we're all in the know about this but you you're way too into this

And I'm over here like, this is illegal, guys, please.

Guys, this is illegal.

This is a crime and then like hunter over my shoulder like looks like the stake's starting to settle if you know what i mean

got a full load in this one dwayne shrugged you're overthinking this mark he motioned for me to get the door these people had a target on their back focus on your job and you'll be fine we're just simply disposing of the mess that someone else has made with that bleak sentiment We pushed the cart through the hall in silence.

On our way to the kitchen, we passed by the next group of patrons.

A couple of young professionals professionals with vibrant smiles and flamboyant suits.

My mind played Russian roulette with their bodies.

Which one's body would we fetch next?

It was clear that Duane had been lost.

The money, the trauma, maybe a combination of the two, had severely warped his mind into having a morbid indifference for life.

I knew my words would go nowhere with him.

I had this business model all wrong.

Everything I thought Azalia stood for, quality dining, intimate gatherings, unbeatable service, it was all a lie.

With the dinner crowd dissipating, the halls were a lot quieter and easier to maneuver through.

I knew this was my chance.

I knew I had one shot.

Dwayne was leading the way, pulling the metal cart from the front.

I was at the caboose, pushing the heavy contraption ahead as best I could.

The towering cart would provide the shelter that I needed.

Out of my front pocket, I pulled out a pen and notepad.

the trusty tool of the trade.

Keeping one hand on the cart and pushing it along, I used the other to frantically scribble together a note.

Craning my neck from one side of the cart to the other, I caught a glimpse of Silva.

It was on the right side of the hall, chatting with one of the guests.

The cart squeaked as we approached the front of the house.

If I had timed it right, his view would be blocked, but only for a moment.

As we approached the front desk, I took a deep breath and crumbled up the note.

Julie!

I whispered.

She was alone at the front desk, her face planted in the tablet.

I could feel the opportunity slipping away.

Just as we passed Silva on my right, I had no choice but to gamble.

I took took aim and lobbed the note into the air.

The ball of paper seemed to hang there as I watched it in horror.

It overshot the table and bobbled off Julie's shoulder just as we passed the front desk and Silva came into view.

The impact broke her gaze from the screen.

The paper bounced to the floor.

Where it landed, I wasn't quite sure.

I glimpsed her annoyed stare in my direction before steadying my attention to the front of the cart.

As we exited the front of the house and entered the hallway to the kitchen, I could feel Silva's gaze burning a hole in the back of my skull.

The kitchen had also simmered down compared to earlier in the evening.

Many of the cooks had gone home, only a handful of chefs remained, fussing around with the various display of dessert arrangements.

There were plates of chocolate lava cakes topped with caramel drizzle, crane brulee in little cups with apricot shavings, and some sort of tower of fudge layered with sheets of sugar.

The garnish was a colorful display of aki fruit and lychee.

I admired the creativity from afar as we wheeled the cart into the dishroom.

Dwayne discarded the dirty dishes and then we pushed the cart around the corner.

I saw each chef bring their masterpiece over to Elsa.

She inspected everything in the back, added the finishing touches, and the plates were carried out by the servers.

Dwayne led us down a dark hallway that bore no resemblance to the restaurant.

Had a smell of musk.

It was left dusty with no attempt made to clean or decorate the area.

There were holes in the drywall, cracks in the concrete, and questionable stains on the ceiling.

We took the card as far as we could until we hit a dead end.

The only thing at the end of the hall was a service elevator.

Duane swiped his access card and hit the button.

We waited a couple of moments until we heard a high-pitched ding.

I half expected a wave of blood to come out like the shining.

Instead, Martin's ghoulish face popped out.

Why is this asshole back here?

Silver's orders.

He's a bus boy now.

Martin's lips formed a wry smile.

Who is he now?

I looked away and helped push the cart into the elevator.

I stepped inside and waited for Martin to hit the button down.

Nuh-uh.

Dwayne said, wiping me out.

Only Martin is allowed down.

I stepped out.

Martin muttered something under his breath just as the door closed.

Chump.

Just let me say.

This entire setting is so well established.

Like...

Like, Martin's the guy who takes the bodies down, and then who knows what he does with them.

And then, like, the staff doesn't know, but silva knows and the busboys know and it's like these private server rooms that's how they are able to kill people then dispose of the bodies quietly like so many layers of this just play off each other very well yeah

i love it the rest of the night carried on like a bad nightmare i towed the line collecting the bodies and transporting them to the back of the kitchen the smell of excrement and death continued to make me gag Dwayne seemed immune to the scent.

He was finding humor in my reaction after every pickup.

No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to get their faces out of my head.

The bulge of their eyes, the bluish-purple tint on their skin, the bloated look in their cheeks.

Their loved ones would never find them.

The gravity of it all was sinking in.

When midnight finally hit, I was itching to leave the restaurant.

Silva was waiting for me at the exit.

Ought to go,

he asked, pulling me into his office.

I took a seat.

Nothing's changed, Silva.

The position's just not for me.

Well,

I'm disappointed to say the least.

He went quiet, pacing around the room.

It's going to be hard for to find a replacement.

Strolled over to one of his plants and was inspecting one of the leaves.

I eventually worked up the nerve to cut off the awkward silence.

Can I go home now?

My shift's over.

He broke out of his trance and walked over to his desk.

In the top drawer, he pulled out my phone and slid it across the table.

Of course.

I trust as always that this stays inside the Azalea family.

The words were cold, his piercing stare a warning in itself.

Of course.

I got up from my seat and made my way to the door.

When do you work next, Mark?

Monday.

Glanced up from his paperwork.

Have a good weekend.

I held my breath as I walked out of the restaurant, traveling as fast as my feet would take me.

Only once I left the parking lot did my nerves return to normal.

I was free.

There was only one thing on my mind.

I needed to put as many miles as I could between myself and Azalea's.

I could find another job, that'd be easy, but the victim's families deserved closure, and Silva needed to be exposed to the monster he truly was.

One problem was my phone.

I tried to swipe and click the power button with no success.

As desperately as I wanted to call the cops, the call would have to wait till I got home.

The streets were quiet as I pulled into the cul-de-sac.

The lights were off in every household on the block, the whole neighborhood asleep.

Paulina's minivan was parked in her driveway, the sight of the vehicle sending shivers up my spine.

Pulling up to my driveway, the headlights revealed something stuck to my garage door.

I parked the car and walked over to inspect the object.

It was a sealed envelope labeled Mark in bold black marker.

My throat tightened as I tore it open.

Inside the envelope were photographs printed in a glossy finish.

Each frame was a crystal clear with no hazy pixel in sight.

There was one of me jamming a body to the meal car, the bald forehead of the victim poking out of the cabinet.

There was another candid shot of me pushing the cart through the hall.

There were more than just photos of me at the restaurant.

There were shots of me walking around the neighborhood, pictures of my ex-wife and her daughter at the mall, photos of my mother and father watching television in their home, their bodies comfortably lounging on the sofa.

My heart was beating at a dangerous pace as I flipped through the stack of photos.

Something else was crammed to the bottom corner of the envelope.

When I pulled it out, I gasped.

It was the paper note I had written to Julie.

In my missing handwriting, it read, There are bodies in the dish carts.

Call 911.

In utter shock, I dropped the contents of the envelope.

The photos scattered across the concrete, floating away in the wind.

I dropped to my knees, quickly stuffing the contents back inside.

Some of the photos were traveling towards my neighbor's lawn in a carefree gust of wind.

I scurried across the drive-pad to collect them, glancing up at the sleepy suburban neighborhood, the place I had called home for decades.

Suddenly didn't feel so homely.

One of the photos that was carried across the lawn had flipped over.

There was writing and permanent marker on the back that read,

Welcome to the family.

See you on Monday.

That's great.

End of part two.

Oh, buddy.

Oh,

this is flowing really well.

I really like the idea of the setup of a.

I might be in love.

I really like the setup of a.

First off, we need Azalea's cookhouse merch immediately.

I want like a shitty, like, you know how like, I don't know, like, there's like Hooter shirts.

Yeah, but it's supposed to look, it's like a kind of speakeasy, like, you know, fancy underground stuff.

Uh, but yeah, if he does any merch, that's like Azalea's cook, like, make it look like a steakhouse, you know, like Azalea's or whatever.

Um,

like, I would 100% rep that anywhere, anywhere you want it.

Yeah, because it's, it's so fun.

The premise is awesome.

Like, why hasn't this been done before?

The closest thing I can think is the menu, but that was like a one-off like everyone's dying tonight kind of story this is like the whole business is killing and disposing of bodies for rich hitman tell a hitman's uh like a basically a hitman's like place where you can bring your family and you basically order that whatever uh and they dispose of the body and also something to like private rooms so they basically people die in the room other people get up leave and it's all cleaned up the only thing that my mind was thinking though is i feel like with all the people dying uh

I feel like the reoccurrence of being, I guess, unless people lied about their stories of where they were at would probably be the only way where it was.

That way, the cops would be like, wow, the last 20 fucking murders that have happened have everyone's been to this restaurant that night, you know?

So you'd probably just, people would probably just be lying.

But I mean, once again, it breaks the immersion of the fun of the story.

I'm just, that was where my mind went.

But I do like the idea of the bounty hunter restaurant, though.

Within the story,

I am willing to say, like, um,

what if all of the people that were seeing like interact with it and stuff like that?

Um,

like,

what if there's enough people willing to cover up?

What if the family is so powerful that they're able to make up cover stories for these dead people?

You could also put a body somewhere else away from the restaurant, stuff like that.

You could also probably assume, too, that they have the cops paid off or whatever.

Yes, yeah, yeah, to some degree.

So, I think that

the

okay, so for one, I'll say maybe I was a bit too harsh on our main character because it seems like as soon as he got away, he was like, How do I call the police?

How do I let these people's families know?

He seems a bit more virtuous than I we're halfway through.

I mean, I don't know, you never know.

There's a lot of stories.

Well, what I'm saying is, like, now if he like goes back to the restaurant and stuff, it's different because they've threatened his ex and his kid, they've threatened his family and stuff like that.

So, now it's a different ballgame than just virtue.

um but does that also not give him another angle to

you know well my hands are tied i have to even though it's not i mean i listen i you're right you're right that could be another excuse but but i agree that i think that based off of his response and stuff at least from the text it's more so he's legitimately afraid and you know it's a weird weird world but i'm wondering now as we dive into part three which is called the neighborhood i'm wondering does he start acclimanting to it or you know how much of a resistance does he put up to what you know to this new operation this new lifestyle he's gonna have to live yeah yeah i think he's gonna justify it a bit we'll see so with that part three of the neighborhood

the comfort of my home did little to calm my nerves the doors were locked but the damage had been done silva was watching He'd been watching for God knows how long, tracking myself and my closest loved ones in order to ensure everything was kept in the family.

The photos were a clever insurance policy, a weapon to wield if things went south.

Now I was stuck under his thumb with my real family within his crosshairs.

What a difference a day can make.

Not even 24 hours ago, I was just a lowly server.

Now I was sitting in the dark, trawling through the shady corners of the internet, hunched over my laptop and my pajamas.

I scrolled through my internet tabs, each one more incriminating than the next.

Where do I buy a burner phone?

How do you know you're being stalked?

How much jail time for the possession of a dead body?

Maybe the police would believe my story.

Maybe if I showed them where the bodies were, maybe if I could get my hands on the security footage, this could all end.

I could go back to living a normal life.

But maybe they wouldn't.

And who was I kidding?

Life was never going back to normal.

For the brief moments that I managed to doze off, all I saw were the cloudy eyes of the victims.

They will never let me sleep.

Every shadowy corner was a threat concealing one of Silva's henchmen.

Every creak from the floorboards made me jolt.

Nothing felt safe as night faded away.

A hint of amber broke through a gray arc of cloud before the harsh reality set in.

I wasn't going to figure this out alone.

I needed to talk to someone.

Someone I trusted to keep quiet.

Someone who had information that I didn't.

Someone hiding a secret as dark as my own.

Someone I think I loved, screwed up as that was.

It was an impossible thing to explain.

The cold hard facts were there.

I stared into her husband's lifeless eyes.

I carried out her children's lint bodies.

And yet here I was, still in love.

The Polina I knew was warm, inviting, full of heart.

I had known that woman for years.

Despite my apprehension about that evening, I still held out hope that there was something I didn't understand.

When the sun rose and the songbirds chirped their familiar chorus, I got up from my heaps of blankets and ran a hot shower.

After breakfast, made my way over to Paulina's house.

Usual characters were moseying around outside.

Mo from across the street was firing up his lawnmower, the purr from the engine overtaking the songbirds' tunes.

Debbie was putzing around her front yard with her little cockapoo on leash.

I only made it a few steps past my driveway before I noticed that she'd had company.

Parked beside the red minivan was an empty squad car.

Shit.

I switched gears, darting towards Debbie, self-proclaimed eclectic neighbor on our block.

We stood on the sidewalk outside of her aquamarine painted home.

The rainbow pinwheel lawn ornament stabbed into her lawn at seemingly random locations.

I dove into some polite conversation, all the while keeping my attention on Paulina's home.

Ten minutes of shit-chat went by with no movement from her residence.

I casually asked, Any idea what's going on at Paulina's place?

No idea.

A hint of a smirk emerging on her face.

She couldn't resist the delectable piece of gossip.

You know, I think there's some trouble in paradise.

What do you mean by that?

Debbie was basically our neighborhood watch.

At her age, there wasn't much else for her to do.

Oh,

I always knew that Keith was trouble.

Coming home all hours of the night with that obnoxiously loud exhaust.

She tugged on Romeo's leash, his nose deep in a pile of his own droppings.

You know, I've seen him with another gal, a dark-haired girl, a trashy thing with tattoos.

This was all news to me.

I paused to take it in, petting Romeo on the head.

That is awful.

Really awful.

But that's far from a crime, Debbie.

You know, I wouldn't be surprised if he hit her.

Debbie.

Damn, Debbie.

Debbie's just me.

She's probably

smacking her around.

Good God, Debbie.

My grandmother was the exact same way.

She'd just, you know, old lady talk about stuff, and she'd be like, oh, did you hear about Eunice at church?

I think she's hitting the bottle again.

It's like, what, grandma, why'd you say that?

It's like, she came to church last week without makeup.

And I thought that was true.

Yeah, just like, all right, that's a bit, that's a bit high level to jump to.

Maybe, maybe dial it back a little bit.

That Debbie's so funny.

Debbie, come on now.

She doubled down.

He's got a temper on him.

That's all.

I seen him toss rocks at poor Romeo when he was barking.

He thought I wasn't looking, but I was.

I stomached church knowing we were speaking about someone who was murdered.

While Debbie continued her rambling about other neighbors' deplorable acts, at the corner of my eye, I saw two cops walk out of Paulina's house.

I've got to grab the mail, Deb.

Nice chatting with you.

I waved goodbye as the vehicle rolled out of the cul-de-sac.

I waited outside of Moody's back room, underneath the humming neon sign, wondering if I was making a big mistake.

A murderer and her accomplice enter a bar.

It all feels like one bad joke.

Something tells me I won't be around to hear the punchline.

Moody's backroom is not like Azalea's.

It's a roof and four walls with a couple of kegs.

It's got a flashing eon sign that you could spot from outer space.

There are signs promoting their daily food and drink specials on every street corner in the neighborhood.

This is a place begging for service.

Anybody's service.

How I got here is still a whirlwind.

On Saturday, I retreated back to my house and opted to stay in.

I figured Paulina had too much heat on her to risk any interaction.

I was out of luck and out of time.

But as fate would have it, Paulina spotted me on Sunday on my way back from a morning jog.

I was hoping the endorphins would help clear my head, but all it did was leave me exhausted.

I couldn't resist her wave, and in a moment I found myself standing on her porch.

She had a strawberry lemonade in hand and a smile across her face.

Her hair sparkled in the sunlight.

She looked radiant.

given the circumstances.

We chatted for a bit as I tussled with my attraction to her and the reality of our situations.

She extended another offer to grab a drink and in a helpless, sudden reflex, I said yes.

The brain was no match for the heart.

And dick.

Once you.

Yeah, yeah,

I think that's what's implied by the heart, Hunter.

Thank you.

Sorry.

Once she arrived,

we're going to get you in church.

We're going to fix you.

Once she arrived, she gave me a hug and we grabbed a seat in plain view of the VLTs.

We We watched people.

What is a VLT?

It's like a slot machine, right?

Oh, okay.

See, that's I go to church.

I wouldn't know that.

Unlike you, deplorables.

Like you said.

Or like VLT.

It's like a video.

I'm just being.

Once she arrived, she gave me a hug and grabbed me in a seat.

Because they're at a bar, right?

Yeah, yeah.

So in a VLT,

the only reason I know VLTs as well is because of a trailer park volume.

You don't have to justify it.

It's okay.

No, I'm going to show you.

Yeah, video lottery terminal.

So it is, it is a

lot machine.

Yeah.

We people watch, chatting about the weather in the news.

We discussed her vacation plans to Mexico and her current projects at work.

Our first round is casual, like this.

Like, an awkward first date.

Paulina's hair is in a messy bun, but her appearance is far from disheveled.

She's wearing a boat neck sweater, silver hoop earrings, and a pair of Levi's jeans.

This is what I imagined a night out with her to be like.

This is the Paulina that I know.

Two rounds in, the conversation starts to get more personal.

Paulina asks about my history, so I told her about my divorce and how my dating life has been.

I have her full attention.

I can see the interest in her eyes.

I really don't know what else to ask her at this point, so I just keep going on about myself.

Three drinks in and the alcohol has washed away all of the nervous energy.

Floating through conversation with light-hearted, friendly banter.

She's playfully patting my arm when I decide it's finally time to chip away at her fortress of secrets.

The liquid courage, it's running foolishly through my system, so I start to ask the bold questions, questions I've been dying to ask all night.

How are you doing, Paulina?

She looks puzzled.

She sips her Mai Tai through a straw.

What's wrong with you?

I'm doing good.

How about you?

I lean in, my voice falling to a gentle whisper.

No, I mean, how are you really doing?

She puts her drink down and cocks her head to the side.

How's everything with the family?

She pauses during her drink.

Oh, they're doing well.

That does remind me, though, I should check in with Keith.

She pulls out her cell phone as I place my hand on her arm.

Paulina, I know.

Her eyebrows are raised.

I lean in closer across the table.

Yesterday at the restaurant, the cop car this morning.

I can see the color slowly draining from her face.

Her eyes are moist now.

They glisten under the pendant line above us.

For a moment, there's a pause.

The truth hangs in the air.

I don't know what you're talking about, she says, sinking in her seat.

The shift of energy in the room is now palpable.

I'm sorry, it's too soon.

I just need to know.

She glances at the exit and grabs her purse.

Wait, Paulina, hear me out for a second, please.

She stands up.

I follow suit, reaching for her shoulder.

Paulina, I won't see anything, I swear.

The bell above the exit door jingles as it swings shut behind her.

You dumb son of a bitch.

She murdered her husband and children, Hunter.

It's Paulina, though, dude.

Dude, this isn't just like a

cute mom next door.

This is like, she killed her kids.

Paulina, please.

Please love me.

You're next.

She is a black widow.

She's going to eat you next.

Oh, here she comes.

Watch out, boy.

She'll chew you up.

She'll chew you up.

She's a man eater.

Watching and waiting.

I love that song.

Watching and waiting.

Didn't mean you sing that at karaoke.

I think so.

We definitely sang some hall notes for sure.

We did.

Yeah.

I know there was that one.

There was, there's definitely

out of touch.

I know.

Yeah.

You're out of touch.

I'm out of touch.

I'm out of touch.

My hand when you're not around.

Yeah.

Anyway, you know what?

With the mention of Holland Oates, I'm back in.

Exactly.

Same Pauline is back in.

But then you brought up Maneater.

Maybe, maybe

there are fates worse.

I don't care about it.

You're watching in the night.

Come along with me.

I've been waiting for the sunlight

When I feel cold, you warm me.

And when I feel I can't go on,

I come and pull you.

Cause it's you and me forever.

Sarah smile.

That's why I love Sarah Smile.

That's a good one, too.

Mm-hmm.

That was a good one.

Thank Banks.

You are such a good singer.

It's frustrating.

After paying the tab, I drove home knowing that I shouldn't.

I'm tiptoeing the line of sobriety with an empty stomach.

The hard liquor and dark thoughts swirl around inside of me in an anxious concoction.

I scream as I pound the wheel.

Screw up, you idiot!

It's a short route home through residential streets.

The cookie-cutter homes are blurs of color as I drive past.

Besides the parked cars, the roads are empty, the sidewalks bare.

In my rear view, I notice a black SUV behind me.

It turns left when I turn left down Tedden Road.

I think I'm overreacting, so I test my theory and make another left into a nearby cul-de-sac.

Vehicle follows me in a loop past the row of two-story homes.

My chest begins to tighten.

My only thought is that I can't go home.

So I keep driving down Citadel Road, Citadel Crest, Citadel Circle, leaving the community.

I head down McKenzie Boulevard with the SUV on my tail.

Eventually, I will have to stop.

I just don't know where to go.

My heart is beating so strongly that I feel it in my skull.

I figured the safest place is somewhere public, so I decide to pull into the Southside Strip Mall.

Walmart parking lot isn't exactly packed.

There's some scattered RVs and late-night shoppers, but it's the best option available.

Park near a row of cars and wait.

Yes UV pulls up beside me.

The tent on the passenger side window is too opaque to see through.

Only hear the opening and slamming of the driver's side door.

Get out of the car!

The glow from the lamppost reveals a curly-haired woman.

Both arms are covered in an elaborate sleeve of tattoos, two colorful gardens of fully bloomed flowers in an elaborate watermark style.

I roll down the window a fraction of an inch and yell back.

Where are you following me, you psycho?

Who the hell are you?

And what are you doing with Paulina?

Oh, hell yeah, dude.

Do not just tell me.

Do not tell me that we're getting in on some gird on girl action, y'all.

Hold on.

No, call it.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,

did the colonel come in?

Because that's freaking looking good.

Stop.

Ew.

Oh, why are you such a quick?

Oh, my gosh.

You had that one banked.

You just had that on deck.

I'm sorry, dude.

I'm sorry that maybe

Paulina, our queen, our hero, and then all of a sudden, a fucking girl with a dragon tattoo, curly girl comes up.

She's just like,

you moving in?

You know what I mean?

Now we got a love triangle, dude.

No, look, it's because you're sexualizing it.

Like, if it's, it's fine, like, two, two, like, perfectly fine, like, two women want to be together, you know, that, that, that's between them.

Um, whatever.

I don't need to come in and make it into, I don't need to fetishize it.

Like, I'm sorry, that was that was wrong of me.

You know, I was probably wrong.

Was it wrong?

Was it wrong of me?

You have to react to the colonel joke on cue.

That was in your tape deck, like, skip next song, ready to play.

I'm sorry.

You know what?

I'm sorry.

You know what?

I probably I probably

jumped the gun.

Oh no, that's definitely what it is.

They were definitely having an effect.

We don't know.

We don't know that for a fact.

No, no, no.

That is absolutely what are you doing with Paulie?

That or she's like an investigator that was trying to bang down the restaurant somewhere.

That is 100% what it was.

It is your characterization of it that I've

but that is an interesting twist.

The woman that was coming was not for him.

It was for her.

Or no, you know what it is?

Isn't that the fucking woman that his that Keith was banging?

No, yes, that's the woman, but the only no, okay, Hunter.

The woman across the street said, I've seen this girl with tattoos.

It's like horror, whatever she said.

Come around.

It was actually.

Yes.

So, yeah, the little Chinese finger trap deal.

I get it.

I see how it is.

Okay, yes.

I was saying that.

I was saying that is what was happening.

No, no.

Bear trap.

It's not a bear trap.

It's already

It's so odd.

This is not a bear trap.

Dude, I'm fucking up.

If it is already happening, you were calling out something that just happened in the store.

I'm fucking like so.

Yeah.

It's like you were right about.

No, no, you said the thing, and I said, yes, that's the thing that happened.

And then you got confused.

And I said, no, the thing you originally thought would happen, that's not a prediction.

It's a fog.

You see so far ahead.

Okay, anyway, yes, you are right that it wasn't a fair happening.

It was the sexualization of the affair that I was jumping you for.

Mm-hmm.

Okay, whatever.

I roll down the window a little more, and now I notice the distinct characteristics of her face.

Dark brown hair, ice blue eyes, a prominent nose, tall stature.

Poof.

She was sitting at the table next to me.

Look, just the only reason I'm attracted.

Look, tattoos, tall, dark hair, light eyes.

The only reason

the only reason I'm attractive is because this is what my wife looks like.

This is what my wife is.

How can I resist you?

That's what I'm thinking.

I'm thinking of the movie.

Oh, here she comes.

Watch out, boy.

She'll check.

She was sitting at the table next to ours, and up close, she looked incredibly familiar.

The resemblance is uncanny.

Calm down for a second.

I said, stepping out of my vehicle.

No reason to get all worked up.

We're just friends.

Bullshit.

You know something.

I can feel it.

By now, a small crowd of shoppers are enjoying the show.

Their hands are gripping plastic bags full of groceries.

Their cart's abandoned in the middle of the road.

With a sudden eruption, the dark-haired woman that could only be Keith's sister shouts back to the crowd.

I'm calling the cops.

Okay, never mind.

I was wrong.

I was wrong.

We were both wrong.

With a sudden eruption.

No, dude.

I'd not.

That's

bear trap.

Bear trap.

Into part three.

So you're still saying that it was an affair.

I'm thinking so.

I'm thinking.

I'm thinking so.

The supper.

This is the final.

Part four of the final.

I'm excited.

Okay, no, it's Keith's sister looking because she's trying to figure out what happened to her brother.

Dude, fucking maybe.

I'm still, don't let, can a man dream?

Can a man fucking dream?

This is the first time that we've ever had a love triangle here with a girl with a dragon tattoo.

Beautiful.

Oh, beautiful Pauline.

You just like it because you think it's a hot hot hot.

You think they're both hot.

You just like it because you think they're both hot.

Well,

you know what?

Little bear claw action here, dude.

Two sweeties wrapped up, dude.

It's not a bear trap if the story said a thing happened.

No, a bear claw.

Say that same thing happened.

See, that's my bear trap working again.

I said bear claw.

Little twisted donut.

Two sweeties wrapped up, man.

What is a bear claw?

I haven't heard that expression before.

What?

A bear claw.

It's a donut.

A bear claw is a donut?

Yeah.

You look at a bear claw,

it's a donut.

It looks like a bear paw.

Okay, it's like two.

What does that have to do?

They're all tied up there.

It's a little bear claw.

Okay, I don't.

I don't have to fuck.

I'm saying they're two sweeties wrapped up in love here.

I'm just saying that it was bear claw inside the bear trap.

I'm calling it.

I'm still keeping it there.

I think my bear claw has not done me wrong yet.

Called the British thing last episode.

Calling this one here, too.

I'm telling you, man.

Better watch out.

The one thing I would not do right now is bet against the bear trap.

That's all I'm saying.

Part four.

Okay.

Part four, The Last Supper.

The crowd feasted their eyes on the drama ensuing.

The woman, who I believe to be Keith's sister, had a fiery look in her eyes.

I felt horrible for her family, but she was looking for answers to questions that I just couldn't provide.

Silva had me backed into a corner with jail time or collateral damage as the only ways out.

Can we relax for a second?

I'm just a neighbor, Mark.

That means that's it.

Well, you two should look

like cozy neighbors.

Her hands were shaking as she placed her phone to her ear.

Stop for a goddamn second.

There's a gas from someone in the crowd.

A woman resembling Keith nearly dropped her phone.

Call the cops in.

Go on.

Is going to the bar a crime?

You'll do nothing but look crazy.

The woman glared back, eventually taking the phone from her ear.

She placed it in her palm, squeezing it violently as she screeched.

Took a step back, as did some of the closer shoppers.

She did something to him.

She declared, tears willing in her eyes.

I know it.

She pointed her finger at me her body trembling and if you're stupid enough to be with her she will do the same to she will do the same to you

okay so how's that how is that uh bear trap looking now that it'll affect just

reverse psychology hey you know what at the end when pauline is smiling and old and the tattered and the tatted uh woman here walks in a frame don't be surprised when you hear the clasp of a of a bear trap that's all i gotta say okay all right

there was silence for a moment as the woman paced around the lot.

She eventually began to sob as she found a seat on the curb, her face shielded by her tears.

The crowd slowly dispersed.

Once she calmed down, we were able to make a proper introduction.

Her name was Viola.

She confirmed that she was Keith's baby sister.

Keith was her only sibling, and she became concerned that he didn't respond to her text messages Friday evening.

When he no showed for their brunch plans Saturday morning, that's when she really began to worry.

Paulina had recently decided the family was going to move out of the country with little warning or consultation provided to Keith.

This was how Paulina was.

The qualities that made her fun were also what made her dangerous.

Keith had become fed up with her unpredictable nature.

The extended family was worried that with the move, they would never see their children again.

All I could offer were some hollow words of encouragement.

Remain calm and hope for the best.

I could tell they did little to soothe her soul.

We eventually said goodbye, the lies tossing around in the pit of my stomach, knowing that the man was never coming home.

With one bomb carefully diffused, I went home to think about the major issue at hand.

My plan to build a closer relationship with Paulina had gone up in flames.

There was no new information garnered.

The opportunity had been wasted.

I suffered one more sleepless night, and before I knew it, the weekend was over.

In the morning, I peeked out my window.

Paulina's driveway was empty.

On my way to work, I saw Viola walking down the street with a small group of people.

They were maybe three blocks from from my house.

In her hand was a stack of papers.

At one of the nearby lightposts, I pulled over to look at what they were taping to the metal structures.

Help bring Keith Bargallo home.

Keith Bargallo, a loving husband, devoted father, and upstanding member of our community, has been missing since Friday, April 30th.

There is a cash reward for anyone who can provide information on his whereabouts or the whereabouts of his wife, Paulina, and their two children, Riley and Colton.

Help us bring them home.

Please call the number below.

The photo on the flyer was a family portrait taken at a nearby park.

The image haunted me all the way to the restaurant.

There was the usual rush of workers when I arrived at Azalea's.

They were scuttling through the halls, heading to the nearby change rooms, and preparing the tables for the upcoming dinner service.

As I left the front of the house towards the change room, I caught a glimpse of Silva.

He was walking at a brisk pace down the hall with a couple of other associates.

It was only a quick flash of his black and silver crew cut.

It was the only

it was only the back of his head, but that's all it took for me to suddenly feel cold.

Dwayne was dwaddling around by his locker with a couple of the other cooks when I entered.

You have a good weekend, Mark?

Ready for some more training?

This time I won't go easy.

Sorry, Dwayne,

I said while taking off my shoes.

I told you that shift ain't for me.

I'm back to serving today.

Well, that's news to me.

Siba told me I was training you this evening.

Well, he must have forgotten.

I discussed this with him on Friday.

Dwayne shrugged.

Either way, it doesn't matter to me.

Just let me know what he says before the rush starts.

Playfully swatted one of the cooks in the belly before leaving.

Let's go get that money!

That this would be you.

If you had to dispose of bodies for the mob, you'd be like, making that bread or working at a bakery.

Yeah, making that bread.

And Areola show up.

Love that cup.

Areola.

I think her name's Viola,

Viola, or whatever fuck her name is.

Areola is the spot of skin around the nipple.

No, I know.

That's the joke, but he's calling her Ariola.

And that's what I thought about this.

I think her name is Viola.

Is that Viola, Areola?

He's like, I don't give a fuck what it is.

I'm going to eat that bread.

I ain't looking at no Viola.

I'm looking for that areola.

I'll tell you what it is.

Cold down in this basement.

Like, it's a football game every day.

All right, we're going to get out there, make some good plays, get some good.

Let's

get that money, make some people happy.

Made that bread

to Hunter whistling, carrying bodies to the elevator.

Hunter shoving a family of four to a metal coffin.

After a while, I just started killing myself.

I'm just beating people to death with a hammer.

Watch out, boy.

She'll chew you up.

Hello, Ariola comes.

She's a man-eater.

Just irredeemable.

Yeah, oh, the worst.

I'm an actual man.

Not even a hint of thought about what you're doing.

You're like, I'd shove my mother in here if you tell me to at this pay.

I stared blankly at the lockers as flashbacks of Friday entered my brain.

The contorted body stuffed in the dish cart, the squishing of bloated flesh, the cracking of bones.

There was no way in hell I was ever going back to buzzing.

Silva and I would need to have another word.

After I changed into my uniform, I went to help set the tables and fold some last-minute cutlery.

I hoped to cross-paths with Silva.

He was usually running up and down the halls leading up to the service, but today I wasn't so lucky.

His office door was locked and my knocking went unanswered.

Lana gave me a wave down the halls.

I had already seen Greg at the lockers and passed by Stephan Kelly rapping Cutlery.

By my count, we were fully staffed for servers and that number excluded me.

20 minutes to go before service, I began to panic.

I asked Mia, the hostess, if she had seen Silva.

She shrugged.

Sorry, I haven't seen him.

Does he have any appointments?

I asked, scratching my head.

She scrolled through the tablet and shook her head.

As I approached the hostess podium, I noticed something resting on the the shelves behind it.

It was a cell phone with a glittery phone case and a distinct hello kitty tassel attached to it.

Julie working tonight?

No, just me.

Worked all weekend too.

So freaking sick of this place.

I pointed to the phone behind the podium.

She replied.

Oh my god, wow.

Didn't even notice that.

She must have been going nuts all weekend.

Before Mia could continue, Lena approached and asked a question about the menu.

Server whisked her away towards one of the dining rooms in order to investigate the error.

Before she left, Mia said, I'll stop by her place tonight and drop it off.

Thanks, Mark.

He gave a wary smile.

Oh, she's dead.

What?

100%.

She's dead.

Yeah, she's 100% dead.

Her phone's there?

That's so weird.

Yeah, wow.

Good cat.

She's been there the whole day.

What the fuck are you talking about?

She must have missed that.

Thanks, Mark.

What would we do without you?

Once I left, I began to snoop around the podium.

On the bottom shelf, there was a black purse.

It had a matching tassel.

Stupid cat seemed to be waving at me from the ground.

I froze.

Her wallet, her keys, everything was in the bag.

I remembered the note, and suddenly my limbs felt weak.

I jumped to the only logical conclusion.

Julie never left.

So, congratulations, Mark.

You killed Julie.

Bear trap.

Wait, what do you mean, bear trap?

When did you call that out?

Called her right before I said, well, she's dead.

Remember?

Boom.

Hit the three.

Hit the three.

Okay, whatever.

I'm not.

You know what?

The fader freak out.

You want me to have an emotional reaction to that?

As soon as Areola comes in at the end, stands next to Paulina.

That's when you have to admit the bear trap's real.

If that happens, the bear trap's real.

Okay, but until then, no.

Because it said, oh, her phone's there.

Thanks, Mark.

Like, that's such a clear, like, she's dead, right?

You don't get it when two sentences later it confirms for us that she's dead.

Okay, whatever.

I wandered down the halls, rummaging through the storage rooms in the kitchen and the dishroom.

I opened any door I walked past, searching for signs of Julie.

My heart beat aggressively in my chest with every failed attempt.

There was no doubt that Duane was looking for me too.

My watch told me that the dinner crowd would be arriving any minute.

I felt a cold hand grab my shoulder from behind.

I flinched.

Geez, Mark, relax.

Lena laughed.

They're gathering everyone together in room one.

I followed her down the empty hallway.

Monday nights were always our slowest, but the complete absence of foot traffic was very concerning.

What's going on?

I don't know.

He just told me to sweep the halls and find any stragglers.

I think you're the last one.

When we arrived, a bald, burly man held the door open.

He was a familiar face, someone I seldom saw this deep inside the restaurant.

He wasn't an employee, as far as I knew, just some sort of supplier of ingredients and various cooking supplies to the restaurant.

You could feel the heat coming from the crowd before you even entered the room.

There were too many people for the cramped space.

The air was musky as employees seated across the long table looked aimlessly across the room.

Those that weren't early enough to nab seats were standing in a line along the walls.

On top of the table were beautiful arrays of mouth-watering appetizers, bacon-wrapped prunes, Bellini with caviar, beef tartare, and cheese fondue.

A strange man with squinty eyes was pouring shots of alcohol out of many liquor bottles while the bald man from the doorway followed him towards towards the table, holding a bottle of wine.

They passed around the glasses to everyone.

Why no liquor?

The squinty man asked.

Through pursed lips, I replied.

I'm okay.

Why no liquor?

Come on, we're celebrating.

What voice are you doing?

I don't know.

I was trying to do like a French thing, but it's not really working.

It sounds like

you're doing an Asian voice because it said squinty eyes.

God.

No.

That's what I tried.

That sounds like Hunter.

What are we doing?

There you go.

Okay, that's better.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Throwing that on there.

You have to be like, come on, via celebrating.

That's German.

Okay, that's better than the direction you were heading.

Sorry, dude.

Straight off a cliff.

I has.

Sorry, dude.

Sorry if it wasn't good enough for you.

Damn.

I hesitated for a moment, then pointed towards the bottle of red that the bald man was holding.

He poured a generous amount and handed me a glass.

Is this everyone?

He asked the room.

A couple of people nodded their heads in assurance.

Okay, well, first off, I'd like to introduce myself.

My name is Sergio.

I'm one of the main investors in Azaleas.

Lana and myself shared puzzled looks.

I'd never seen this man before.

The success of this restaurant has not been lost to myself or any of the other investors.

We're incredibly proud of what this restaurant has accomplished.

And

that starts with each and every one of you.

Raise your glass.

I propose a toast.

The staff that makes this place special, from the cooking staff to the servers, the hostesses to the busboys.

You are all an integral part of this family, and

we need to do a better part of showing our gratitude.

While Sergio spoke, I began to scan the room.

There was still no sign of Julie, or better yet, no sign of Silva.

I clinged to my glass against Lana's and a few other employees in my vicinity, holding the brim of the glass to my lips.

Some of the wait staff and hostesses down their drinks and were nibbling at the finger food.

Some of the line cooks and junior chefs were pouring themselves another round with delighted smiles across their faces.

This was the first team-building event in all my years at the restaurant, so many of the workers seemed to be making the most out of the occasion.

But those that knew better held their ground.

Dwayne held his full glass to his hip with a stern expression.

Elsa was sitting at the table, her chef hat flopping out of her pocket, her glass untouched.

I'd seen too much death to enjoy the offerings.

Not an ounce of alcohol was going to hit my throat.

You should try the tartare.

Helena whispered.

It's delectable.

I smiled, wine glass still to my mouth, as I eyed the exit.

I slowly shoveled towards the door as the speech continued.

Tonight, we celebrate our employees.

Dinner service has been canceled, and don't worry, taxi services will be provided to those who will need it.

The roar from the room was deafening.

And before we start this festivities, there's one more exciting announcement.

The door slowly creaked open, sound lost amongst the celebration.

We'll be reopening at a new location, a much bigger venue.

The excitement slowly shifted into nervous apprehension.

Do not worry, Sergio assured the crowd.

You will all be welcomed back with open arms.

Azaleas needs each and every one of you.

The dim light sparkled off the chandeliers in an irides dance as I strolled through the halls.

I walked past the foyer, into the kitchen, and then down the grungy, abandoned hallway.

With everyone preoccupied with the party, it gave me an opportunity to go digging for some answers.

As I made it closer to the elevator, I detected movement.

My walk turned into a run as I saw Martin's lanky figure.

The door to the elevator was slowly closing.

I pounded my feet into the concrete and sprinted as fast as I could.

With an outstretched hand, I managed to activate the sensor just as the door was closing.

What the fuck are you doing?

He barked.

I grabbed him by his scrawny neck and pinned him to the back of the elevator.

Take me down now!

He flailed and sent a powerful kick to my stomach.

I noticed his hands were coated in a thick layer of blood.

Wheezing and clutching my midriff, I yelled.

Take me to the bodies, you scum!

We grappled with each other in the hallway.

He managed to clip me on the side of the head with a shot that made me wobble.

With gritted teeth, we both struggled for control.

I wrestled with him, holding his body close to mine as I tried to gather my composure.

The dim light from the elevator was sparking like little flashes of lightning.

The room was spinning, but somehow, with a sudden burst of energy, I managed to connect with a short jab.

It stunned Martin long enough for me to push him into the wall.

He went flying, his head hitting the corner of the wall, the wall's exposed brick.

There was a deep thud, and then his body collapsed to the floor.

A small trail of blood trickled out the sides of his head, forming a tiny puddle on the floor.

I scrambled to his body, rummaging for his access key.

There were sounds coming out of me that I'd never heard before.

Uncontrollable sobs, moans of sorrow.

I found the card in his back pocket and booked it for the elevator.

As the door began to close, I noticed the flashing red light coming from the ceiling.

The camera was pointed in my direction.

The odor was crippling.

It crept up the shaft and seeped through the cracks of the elevator doors.

The elevator carriage rumbled as I slowly descended into the unknown.

The doors eventually slid open to reveal what looked like an ongoing construction project.

The framing and some of the drywall had been completed, but the floor was packed dirt.

Darkness seemed to cover large sections of the room.

There were lights strung up on the ceiling, but there was little done to mask the smell.

If there wasn't a pile of gas masks laid out by the entrance, I surely would have vomited.

I followed the hanging, glowing orbs down the old tunnel.

It only took a couple of paces before I saw the industrial-sized fridge.

It It was a massive stainless steel house with a large sliding door.

I shivered as I entered the unit.

Inside were shelves and shelves of plastic bags.

Hearts, livers, lungs, intestines, vials of blood.

Names of either the victims or the new recipients were written in permanent marker.

Everything was sealed, labeled, and organized.

Tiptoed deeper into the cold room, only making it a few more steps before I finally screened.

Silva was rigid and face up, lying on top of a pile of bodies.

Thousand dollar suits and flowing gowns were all lined with speckles of frost.

Silva's eyebrows were covered in an icy white, his expression frozen in a look of terror.

The bullet wound was right through the center of his skull.

That moment I understood that this was so much more than a murder for hire operation.

It was so much more than a restaurant.

Everything seemed to turn to profit.

I ran out of the cool room and started pacing outside of the unit.

I wanted so badly to go back up the elevator to make my way to safety, but I knew I was on the cusp of the secrets.

There was still so much I didn't know potentially down the hall, so I foolishly pressed forward.

You dumped me.

As I went further into the...

For one, I gotta say, that is so cool that Silva was just a piece in the operation.

You know?

Like, he's made to be the big guy, but it's like, no, he messed up by letting you get too far, so he had to be taken care of.

As I went further into the basement, the smell intensified.

The piles of bodies were in plain sight, if you could even call them bodies anymore.

I removed my mask just in time to unleash a violent wave of chicken casserole.

Their stomachs were fleshy, gaping holes, hacked away with little left of their insides except for the ripped cages and bone that held the remaining bits of skin together.

Their faces had no eyes, just black holes carved out of the now rotting flesh.

The maggots were little white dots in a sea of decomposed skin, festering all through the crevices of what was left.

The dirt floor had clearly been disturbed in numerous places.

Something drew me towards one of the hands dangling from the middle of the pile.

It was dainty, the fingernails painted in a pastel pumpkin.

The flamboyant color palette looked familiar, like something Julie would wear.

As I pulled, heaps of limbs and serrated bones toppled from the top of the tower of bodies.

Roves of beetles and blowflies buzzed from all the commotion.

I recoiled, losing my footing on some loose sediment.

In the corner of my eye, I spotted the meat grinder at the end of the room.

The piece of machinery was hiding in the shadows, kept from plain sight.

As I got closer, I could see that the thing looked polished to perfection.

Sinister thoughts flooded my brain regarding its purpose.

Some off-menu items for an extra cost?

A special order of beef tartare.

I dry heaved, nearly losing my lunch once again.

I couldn't experience the gruesome scene any longer.

These were all of Azalea's deepest, darkest secrets.

Secrets that some of the family members took to the grave.

I needed to get out of here before I suffered the same fate.

There was a thundering sound of footsteps and scraping coming from the roof.

I made a mad dash for the elevator.

I strode past Martin's body down the hall and made it through the empty kitchen.

I managed to round the corner of the foyer before I heard shouting.

Hey, stop!

The bald man was wheeling one of the dish carts out of room one.

Dwayne was wheeling another behind him.

I took flight up the stairs, hearing the pounding of ominous footsteps behind me.

Managed to exit the parking lot before they were able to get close.

Okay, so

they killed all the servers, right?

Because they had to move locations or whatever.

So it's like, hey, we're shutting down.

In case any of you know anything, except for people like Dwayne who are already like in too deep,

we're going to kill everyone and then we put the bodies and we're going to dispose of them.

So it seems like they were killing people as a hitman service, but then as he said, everything turns a profit.

So they were also in the organ trade and they were also in the business of if someone wanted to eat human flesh, they had like that option with the meat grinder.

But most of the body pieces they couldn't use were just left to rot in the basement.

Yeah, I think it's one of those things where they've turned their profit at this place.

Now they're just going to start up a new operation.

Somewhere else.

Yeah.

Yeah, they've made the money here.

Like I said, everything, everything at a cost, everything turns a profit.

I told you at the start of this that I was a nobody.

I was just a lowly server.

I was no mastermind.

I was no criminal, despite what the security tapes may show.

There was no plan.

There was nothing, just a series of events that unfolded after that evening.

There was no gun, although I did think about this often during my fits of insomnia.

I would have been too much of a coward to even pull the trigger.

But if anyone deserved a bullet in their brain, it was Silva.

It would have been satisfying to do the honor, but the end result was the same.

There was no fake passport.

I just didn't know where to get one.

There was no burner phone.

I just never had the gumption to follow through.

In the end, there was just me in the open road.

My first stop was a small town bank in the early morning.

I withdrew all the cash that I could and loaded it into a suitcase.

Kept driving, only stopping to load up on fuel or to reload on convenience stores, food, and energy drinks.

I kept going for a few days until I reached the Mexican border.

I prayed they'd let me through, and for some reason, my prayers were answered.

The Azele family always proved to be a tight-lipped bunch.

There's a beach along the coast just outside of a small town.

I remembered the recommendation from a dear friend.

It's off the beaten path and far away from tourists.

I think the name was El Decembo or maybe Decemboke.

My Spanish was never the greatest.

It just seemed like a good place to stop.

The water was crystal clear and the beach was quiet.

I sat in the sand just in time to watch the sunset.

There were a few other Mexican teenagers splashing around in the water and a handful of fishermen dragging around empty nets across the beach.

There's one other person, the only other gringo that I've seen.

Her hair is an unusual midnight black for her face complexion, and her smile seems to glimmer in a familiar way.

She's all alone and out of place.

Most of all, she looks happy.

Gazing at her sprawled out on the beach towel for some reason, I felt the need to make a call.

I dialed the number, the same one from the poster.

Viola?

Uh, yes, who is this?

Who's her?

You were right all along.

And I tell her everything I know about everything.

The sun dips below the horizon.

The sky suddenly a murky marmalade.

It's harder and harder to see with every passing second.

My mind wanders into the dark recesses of my brain towards the memories I've tried to forget.

I think about my time at Azalea's and how great the job was before it wasn't.

I think about my co-workers.

I think about Julie.

I think about how close I came to death.

I think about the others who weren't so lucky.

I think about the life I took and the one that got away.

The beach is empty now.

The fishing boats are all secured and hitched to the dock for the evening.

My vision's hazy in the shadows of the night, but I still hear the playful frolicking in the water and the soothing splash of the waves against the rocks.

At this moment, I am sure it's the most beautiful place in the world.

It's a matter of time before they find me.

Whether they track my cell signal from the nearby towers or they find the footage from the restaurant, tomorrow I'll be in another town and another after that for as long and as far as my money will take me.

For now, I sit and take in the crashing of the waves, avoiding the dead, restless eyes that will come for me in my sleep.

And that is the end of Azalea's.

I gotta say,

I love that

Azalea's Cookhouse is a family restaurant.

The family always, uh, the family always comes first.

Uh,

great story, really enjoyed it.

Great, no sleep find, very, great, no sleep find.

Yeah, I will say, very excited.

First off, his the book that comes out this year, you said it's called Kaleidoscope, right?

From Velocity,

I think the Kaleidoscope, the Kaleidoscope, the Kaleidoscope, yeah, from Velix books.

That would be one I'm definitely, we're definitely going to, whenever that gets released, we should definitely let you all know, but that would be one I'm picking up.

I think the only thing we should also it's uh it's also a anthology horror series so uh if we can get in contact with him when it comes out we should definitely do one of the stories from it i think yeah we should just make sure that'd be cool um and you can sign up for his newsletter to get updated and new new short stories from him as they come out because this story banged i liked it a lot yeah it was a lot of fun i think that the uh only criticisms i had were one uh the tattooed woman and Paulina not being together, I think was kind of a missed opportunity.

That's kind of a bummer for for everybody.

I think, no, no, no, I'm going to speak for everybody.

I think everyone was kind of like, let out a kind of, I don't know, disappointed sigh.

But I will say, I think the ending, it kind of felt like it was one of those, it felt like it was a conclusion to a story where it was just kind of like, I'm done.

Like, I'm just kind of, I'm done with the story.

Yeah, but it's also at the same time, it's like you either end with our main character dying or you end with, because he, he saw everything.

Like, he goes to the basement and he sees what they're doing with the bodies.

He sees that Silva's been killed.

This is a part of a much bigger operation that he can't hope to deal with.

So he just escapes.

And then I did, at the end of part three, whenever Keith's sister comes up, or whatever his name was, when his sister comes up,

Viola, and is like, I know something happened to my brother and she's like emotional and everything.

I was like, I don't really know if that was a good touch.

But then at the end, after he's done everything, that's like his last piece of redemption.

Like, even if I can never go home, even though if my life as I know it is over, I'm going to call her and say she was right to hopefully get the word out.

That's like a lifeline at the end of the day.

Yeah, I mean, it's a confessional, but I don't know.

I mean, like, once again, it's, it is what it is.

I mean, this is a store we have.

I'd be curious to see a version of this where it's like, you know, if you had this Paulina thing, it'd be kind of interesting if a guy found out that the restaurant that he's working at

is a place where people come to kill people.

He finds that out, right?

He's still obsessed with his neighbor who has a family or whatever.

And

if the waiter would have put in the order to have the family killed or whatever, and then she, I don't know, rejects him.

And then it's this way where he's like bought more into the system or something like that.

Or like, you know, he becomes more adapted to it.

Like just a weird kind of character arc, I guess would have been just something interesting.

Food for thought.

You know, it is what it is.

What, I mean, that's not the reality we're living in, so it doesn't matter, but just a little thought I had.

But all in all, had a lot of fun with this.

I'm glad to, it wasn't like a,

I don't know.

This is a, it kind of reminded me of the Midnight Meat Train a little bit, of just kind of like just a very fun, weird premise.

Obviously, midnight meat train takes this fucking crazy route at the end, but this is still.

I just kind of liked how grounded it was.

Yeah, I had this thought near the end where I'm like, I hope this doesn't become like when he goes to the basement, I hope it's not like

Silva's the devil.

Yeah, there's just like a demonic sacrifice.

Yeah, it's like, and there's these creatures that are praying.

I was afraid to go that route, but no, it's just like a body, like body part trading circuit and broadened bodies.

So I like how, like you said, said, how it stayed grounded.

I really like all the story beats I took.

I thought it was interesting how like Paulina is kind of like, oh, she's cute.

And then she's a part of this whole world.

And he tries to like justify it to himself, but it doesn't work out and he has to escape.

Like I'm really happy with the decisions it took.

I thought it was great, played out.

I really love the writing style.

The writing style was awesome.

I think.

I think the Paulina thing, I think that could have been seen through a little bit more.

Like, I think it would have been interesting if

they get together or whatever.

He knows what's going on and he still pursues this woman, whatever, and that ends up getting her killed.

And that's also what sets things up.

You know what I mean?

Her being able to just kind of get away or do whatever.

I don't know.

I wish that there was more clarity or just more of like making her such an integral part because he's just so obsessed with her.

So extremely obsessed with her the whole time to where, you know, maybe he's like, I'll take it to the grave.

Or like he finds this out and he's like, well, you know, she, she's complaining to him about her husband.

I don't know.

Just different ways you could have played with it.

Once again, not the reality we're living in.

It doesn't matter.

But had a lot of fun with this story.

I think it's just because it is an interesting story

like uh the concept is so unique and cool that it's like oh well you could do this this this with it and i think that's just a symptom of like having such a creative concept for a short story that naturally you're going to be like oh well think of all these other things you could do with this concept yeah because it's a unique concept so i think it's more so a statement if he had a really good idea uh that i want to see more stuff done with it i want to see more to work i think there's going to be a lot of people there's going to be a lot of people saying that they wish that this was like a movie or something.

You know,

it was incredible concepts.

Yeah.

I mean, it's just one of the things that

you could do an entire anthology series out of different stories from Azalea's, right?

Yeah.

Yeah.

You could almost like White Lotus or something, like a season of a show.

One restaurant, and then the next season's like a different restaurant they open up.

That kind of thing would be kind of sick.

But no, the Kaleidoscope coming out later this year, guys, we'll let you know.

Be sure to see, you know, just,

be sure to check out AP Royal.

Great writing.

We appreciate you guys so much.

And also to all the audio listeners listening right now on Spotify.

We appreciate you.

And if you were watching on YouTube, please do consider going there on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, listening and giving us a nice rating.

It really does help us out.

So until next time, everyone, don't be eating at Azalea's.

Or if you find Paulina, hit me up.

Let me know.

Do that.

And most importantly, Hunter was wrong about his prediction.

There will be a redemption moment again.

The bear trap

always gets its victim.

Goodbye.

Sure.

Yeah.

Have you quit recording?

Okay.

Hunter was wrong and I was right.

And he's also, he does this a lot.

He'll say things are going to happen that don't happen.

And he has them cut from the recording in the end, but he's lying.

If Hunter ever tells you anything is right, he has gone back and posted and edited it.

And he lying.

He lies all the time.

He's full of lies.

But yeah, great story.

Check out the author.

Bye.

Baby hair

with a woman's eyes.

I can see you watching in the night.

Come along with me, I've been waiting for the sunlight

when I feel cold.

You warm me,

and when I feel I can't go on,

I come and pull you.

Cause it's you and me forever,

Sarah smile.