The restaurant sat on one of the busiest streets downtown, tucked between a high-end clothing store and a bank with tall glass windows.
The sign outside read "Crimson & Oak" in elegant gold letters that caught the afternoon sun. Ryan had owned it for three years now, though most people didn't know that. To the world, it was just another upscale dining spot where people with money came to be seen.
Ryan pushed through the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The lunch rush had just ended. A few tables still had customers finishing their meals, their quiet conversations mixing with the soft jazz music playing from hidden speakers.
The lighting was warm and golden, bouncing off polished wood floors and cream colored walls decorated with abstract paintings. Everything looked expensive. Clean. Normal.
The hostess at the front desk looked up and her eyes went wide. "B-Boss," she stammered, immediately standing straighter.
"Where's Leo?" Ryan asked quietly.
"In the back office, sir. I'll get him…."
"No need." Ryan walked past her, moving through the dining room toward the kitchen.
A few servers noticed him. They froze mid step, plates balanced on their arms, their faces showing surprise.
Ryan could feel their eyes following him. That familiar weight of recognition. He'd gotten used to it over the years, but today it bothered him more than usual.
He pushed through the swinging kitchen doors. The space beyond was all stainless steel and white tile, steam rising from pots on the stove. Chefs moved quickly, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces. They all stopped when they saw him.
"Keep working," Ryan said. They immediately dropped their eyes and went back to their tasks, though their movements were stiffer now.
Leo's office was at the far end of the kitchen, a small room with a desk piled high with papers and a filing cabinet in the corner. The door was open. Leo sat behind the desk, typing something on his laptop. He was a thin man in his forties with graying hair and glasses that were always sliding down his nose.
"Boss?" Leo stood up quickly. "I didn't know you were coming today. Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," Ryan said. He stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. "I need to ask you something."
"Of course. What do you need?" Leo adjusted his glasses, watching Ryan carefully.
Ryan took a breath. This was going to sound strange, and he knew it. "I need to work here. As a server. Starting today."
Leo blinked. Once. Twice. His mouth opened but no sound came out.
"Just for a while," Ryan continued. "I need... I need to look like I actually work here."
"You want to... serve tables?" Leo's voice held confusion but not fear.
"Yes."
"But you own the place."
"I know."
Leo paused, clearly trying to understand. "Alright. If that's what you need. When do you want to start?"
"Now."
"Okay." Leo nodded, accepting this strange request the way he'd learned to accept most things from Ryan over the years. "I'll get you set up. Have you ever worked as a server before?"
"No," Ryan admitted. "You'll need to show me."
Twenty minutes later, Ryan stood in the staff changing room wearing black pants and a crisp white button down shirt.
Leo had given him a quick rundown of the basics… how to take orders, how to carry plates, which side to serve from, how to open wine bottles. It all sounded simple enough when Leo explained it.
But standing there in clothes that felt too normal, too plain, Ryan wasn't so sure.
He caught his reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall. He looked... different. Softer somehow. Like a regular person going to a regular job. Not like someone who'd been in a smoke filled room last night watching a man beg on the floor.
He thought about Marcus. About the way Marcus had looked at him across that café table, like he was worth knowing. Like he was someone interesting instead of someone dangerous.
Marcus had seemed a little different today at lunch. A bit more forward. More direct. But still warm. Still... safe. That was the word that kept coming to Ryan's mind. Safe. Like being around Marcus was the one place he didn't have to be on guard all the time.
And that was exactly why Ryan was doing this. Why he was standing here in server clothes learning how to balance plates…
Because he'd told Marcus he worked here, and if Marcus ever wanted to visit, which he'd already hinted at.. Ryan needed the lie to be believable.
"Ready?" Leo appeared in the doorway holding a black apron.
Ryan took it and tied it around his waist. It felt strange. Foreign. Like wearing a costume. "How do I look?"
"Like a server," Leo said with a slight smile.
"Good."
Leo led him back out to the dining room. It was between meal rushes now, with only a few tables occupied. A couple in the corner sharing dessert. A businessman on his laptop with a cup of coffee. Three women laughing over glasses of wine.
"We'll start slow," Leo said. "Just watch the other servers for a bit. See how they move. How they talk to customers. Then you can try taking an order."
Ryan nodded. He stood near the kitchen doors and observed. The servers moved with practiced ease, gliding between tables with trays held high. They smiled at customers. Made small talk. Remembered drink orders without writing them down. It all looked so effortless.
One of the servers, a young woman named Sara, approached him hesitantly. "Boss, I can... I can help you learn if you want."
"That would be good," Ryan said.
Sara showed him how to properly hold a tray so it wouldn't tip. How to pour water without splashing. How to clear plates without making noise. She spoke quietly, carefully, like she was trying to be helpful but wasn't quite sure how he'd react.
"You can relax," Ryan told her. "I'm not going to bite."
She let out a small laugh and seemed to ease up a little.
Ryan spent the next hour practicing. He carried empty trays back and forth. Practiced his greeting. Tried to remember the specials Leo had rattled off earlier. His feet started to hurt from standing. He bumped into a chair and nearly dropped a stack of menus. This was harder than it looked.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.
Marcus: I just realized we fought over cake like two kids fighting over the last cookie. Next time I'm ordering two slices so we don't start a war.
Ryan felt his mouth curve into a smile before he could stop it. He typed back quickly.
Ryan: Smart move. World peace depends on proper cake distribution.
Marcus: Exactly. I'm basically a diplomat now.
Ryan's smile grew wider. He could picture Marcus grinning at his phone, that easy warmth in his eyes.
"Boss?"
Ryan looked up. Sara was staring at him with an expression of pure shock. Behind her, two other servers had also stopped what they were doing and were watching him with wide eyes.
"What?" Ryan asked.
"You're... you're smiling," Sara whispered like she was witnessing something impossible.
Ryan touched his face. He was smiling. When was the last time his staff had seen him smile? He couldn't remember. Maybe never.
"Is that a problem?" he asked.
"No! No, of course not!" Sara said quickly. "It's just... unexpected. Good unexpected!"
Ryan put his phone back in his pocket, trying to ignore the way they were all still staring at him. "Back to work," he said quietly.
They scattered immediately.
Ryan excused himself and walked to the bathroom. He needed a moment alone. The bathroom was empty, all white tile and gold fixtures. He stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself again.
He was still wearing the server clothes. Still had that apron tied around his waist. But his face looked different than it had earlier. Lighter somehow. Like something inside him had loosened just a bit.
This was strange. All of it. Pretending to be normal. Learning to carry plates and smile at customers. Texting someone about cake like life was simple.
But it also felt... good. In a way he hadn't expected.
His phone buzzed again. He pulled it out, expecting another message from Marcus.
It wasn't.
Matt: I'm back. We need to meet. The usual place. Tonight. 9 PM.
Ryan stared at the message. The usual place. That meant the underground warehouse where they handled business. The place that was all shadows and secrets, nothing like this bright, clean restaurant.
His two worlds, colliding.
He typed back a single word.
*Ryan: Understood.*
He put his phone away and looked at his reflection one more time. The server looking back at him. The man who smiled at texts about cake.
But underneath the apron and the white shirt, he was still who he'd always been.
Tonight, he'd go back to that world.
The real one…
The dangerous one.