“Table for three?” Andrew asked, smiling through the fatigue of the shift. The man nodded and spoke before the girls could. “Yeah. Somewhere near the back.” His voice was calm, clipped. Authoritative. The girls didn’t say a word.
One of them—a brunette with freckles and a worn red hoodie—kept her eyes down. The other, slightly taller, hugged a navy tote bag to her chest and scanned the room in short, jerky glances. Andrew grabbed three menus and led them toward a booth tucked into the corner. It wasn’t exactly private, but it was the most secluded table in the café.
“This okay?” Andrew asked. The man answered again. “Perfect.” The girls slid in across from each other. The man sat beside the girl in red, boxing her in. “I’ll get you started with water?” Andrew offered. “Yes, thank you,” the man replied. “We’ll look over the menu.”
Andrew nodded and walked away, though something about the setup didn’t sit quite right with him. He’d served families before. Dads and daughters, uncles and nieces—but this felt… off. The girls looked too stiff. Too tense. And why didn’t they say a word?