I knew we needed to get off the streets, but these men knew where we lived now. Our apartments weren’t going to cut it, and I definitely wasn’t going to let Carlos take us to his place. He lived in such a bad part of town that we would probably end up dead faster if we went there than if we stood on the streets screaming “KILL US NOW” at the top of our lungs. So, seeing as it was almost midnight, and most decent places were closed, I knew there was only one place we could go: Denny’s. We sat down at a corner both and a waitress came over and took our order. I got my normal poached eggs and toast, the imp got a plate full of bacon and potatoes, and Brutus got a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream on top. I didn’t know how long we would be able to stay here without drawing attention to ourselves. We would maybe get an hour or two before the staff started to wonder why we were still sitting here. I was in the middle of figuring out where we could go next when Brutus interrupted my thoughts. “Oh fiddlesticks! I forgot to tell the waitress that I wanted a chocolate milk.” If I wasn’t so distraught by our current situation I would’ve chuckled at his creative cursing. I did already want to look around, though, to make sure I knew where all the exits were, so I offered to find the waitress for him. As I walked around, I noticed there was one main entrance in the front and an emergency exit back by the bathrooms. Both were visible from our booth so I would be able to keep an eye out for the two men. Satisfied with this information I finally went to find the waitress. I looked around but saw that she was already bringing the food to our table. I’m not sure what made me turn around, but I had the strongest urge to look at the kitchen window. That was when I saw some familiar greasy hair. The assassins were in the kitchen! I was an idiot. I completely forgot that most restaurants had an exit in the kitchen. The fools must not have been as incompetent as I thought. Somehow, they had followed us here from the apartment without me noticing. I was watching them trying to figure out what they were doing. The restaurant was empty except for us. The staff in the kitchen were looking at them funny, but they didn’t bother the men (I assumed they were being paid off to look the other way). The brothers were just standing in the kitchen window whispering to each other and looking at some sort of bottle in their hands. Why weren’t they making some sort of move? Why were they just sitting there staring? “Oh shit,” I mumbled as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Page 86
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