Happy Hour Diners Pt 1: John
Disclaimer
: All characters appearing in this work are above 18 years of age and fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This story is written from the perspective of John, a white, heterosexual 35 year old male.
~
Spring is such a nice time to be alive, isn't it? Not only is the air perfectly crisp and cool, but it seems to never carry any staleness regardless of the time of day. It is especially enjoyable when I'm walking home from work as I am now, with the wind gently blowing across my face and kissing away any sign of tiredness from the long day I've had today.
Accountancy isn't something anyone could really call a passion, but it is certainly repetitive enough to numb out unwanted thoughts which would have otherwise completely overtaken my mind. I've gone out of my way to take up a simple yet undemanding position at my company, with my boss being baffled at me for not vying for promotions like my coworkers. It would lead me into management eventually and that is not something I want to ever be a part of. Money isn't a problem for me at all, and I want to retain my simple, no-frills life just as it is. I've seen too many roller coasters, and since my divorce and selling my business due to my dwindling mental health, I've finally settled into some semblance of normalcy just now, without any plans of ever giving it up.
"Hey, John!" I feel someone tap my shoulder from behind, as I'm walking on the sidewalk.
I turn around to find it's my friend and coworker, Dave.
"Hey man. What're you doing here?" I ask.
"I was looking to ask you at the office if you wanted to join me and Gavin for drinks and dinner. You left before I could get a hold of ya."
Dave from Marketing is a buff, 6 foot 3 inch tall fella with a jawline that could be used as a mechanical ruler. His interests lie primarily in pretending that his looks had no role in having him hired or that he is the company "thirst trap" (a term I learnt from overhearing my teenage nieces talk about dudes they must like in school.)
Apart from all that, he is a surprisingly down to earth guy with a genuinely likeable personality. I could never have imagined that I would be friends with someone like that, going purely by appearances, and yet here I am. Our looks may differ a lot with me looking more like an accountant with average 5 foot 11 inches and brown hair against his model-esque features, but we get along well enough. Gavin Warren is a new hire over at marketing whom I haven't spent enough time with yet.
I consider the dinner invitation for a moment and then say yes.
***
Dave told me that Gavin gave him an address to reach at by 8, and that he was taking care of all the arrangements. I wondered what he meant by that but seeing that Dave seemed to be quite relaxed about it, I let the question drop.
We've arrived at a quaint looking diner in the downtown by 7:55pm. Upon walking in, we spot Gavin sitting in one of the booths by himself. He instantly spots us at the entrance and comes over.
We then walk over to the billing desk where Gavin nods at an aged Asian man behind the desk, who slowly grabs one of those card keys that can be swiped and leads us to a hallway that leads deeper into the back of the building.
Is this some kind of a secret seedy sex parlour? It couldn't be, it looks too clean and homey, like a humble family-run restaurant.
We reach the end of the hallway and the old man stops infront of heavy, floor-to-ceiling curtains. He then moves them to one side to reveal a huge metallic door with a keypad on the side. I'm struggling to keep my jaw from dropping open as I watch him tap the password in and use the card key to unlock the massive door. Dinner and drinks has taken an interesting turn tonight,
that's for sure.
"Two hours," he tells us in a heavy accent without looking at us as he walks away.
I look at Dave trying to figure out if he knows what's going on but he seems equally puzzled. Gavin seems to have a spring in his step as he walks into the hall, the metallic doors sliding shut behind us.
This section is simply an extension of the public portion of the diner we came from, with the same décor and interiors but with relatively dimmer, intimate lighting. There's no one here besides us.
"Ah, this should be good enough." Gavin leads us to a booth by a large window through which I can see into what looks like a mini garden. Sitting here, you couldn't tell you're in the downtown market at all, with shops and restaurants lined up on both sides of the street without any grass patches.
Dave finally speaks up, "Dude, what is this place? Where have you brought us?"
Gavin smiles looking down at his phone and says,"It's just something I wanted to show you guys and see what you think. If you guys like it, we could make this our happy hour hang out spot."
