Chapter 10
The bell above the diner door chimed with a high, tinny ring as Julian and Arthur stepped inside. The place smelled of fried onions, old coffee grounds, and floor wax—a comforting, honest smell that stood miles apart from the sterile luxury of the country club. A waitress named Brenda, an older woman with iron-gray hair pulled back in a messy bun and a stained apron tied around her waist, looked up from wiping down the counter. She paused, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Julian’s dark tuxedo jacket and crisp white shirt standing beside Arthur in his gray cardigan. But Brenda didn't blink twice at the class mismatch; she had known Arthur for thirty years. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," Brenda said, her voice warm and raspy as she tossed a pair of menus onto the sticky table in the far corner booth. "Late night for society folk, Artie." Arthur let out a low chuckle, sliding into the worn red vinyl booth with a soft sigh of relief. "Just needed a place that served real food, Brenda," Arthur replied, settling his hands on the table. Julian slid in across from him, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the sleeves up his forearms. Brenda pulled a small pad and pen from her apron pocket, her expression softening as she looked at Julian. "Coffee for the gentleman, and whatever greasy garbage you've got on the grill, Bren," Julian said, offering a tired smile.
