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It was three in the morning on a random summer night and the Milkovich siblings were sitting on the couch in their front yard, still doing some celebrating despite the party being over. It wasn’t every day that their little sister turned sixteen, and even though it wasn’t a huge blowout or that MTV kind of shit, they were still having a good time.
In honor of Mandy’s birthday, they’d gotten drunk, had a barbecue, gotten drunk again and finished all the snacks in the house. The four siblings were passing a bong around, smoking some special stuff Mickey had paid top dollar for from his dealer. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure what the weed was laced with, but his high had started by the time he’d taken his second hit.
“I’m so fucking hungry,” Colin complained, holding his stomach to emphasize his point.
Iggy nodded in agreement. “Hey Mands, how ‘bout gettin’ us some snacks?”
Mandy finished her hit and blew the smoke out with a little cough before passing the bowl to Mickey. “It’s my birthday, douchebag. Besides, you assholes already ate everything,” she told him.
“So let’s go out and get something.” It was a smart idea, even coming from his stupid-ass brother.
“What’s even open this late?” Mickey muttered before putting his mouth on top of the chamber and holding his lighter to the bowl. He sucked until the weed cherried, pulled the bowl out and inhaled the rest of the smoke in the chamber.
“There’s that old school diner that’s open twenty-four hours,” Mandy suggested. “The one where the waiters have to wear those stupid hats.”
Mickey let out the smoke he’d been holding in and watched as it dissipated into the warm night air. “I ain’t driving,” he griped. He remembered the bullshit his brothers had pulled the last time he’d driven them around while they’d been high, and was not in the mood to deal with it again.
Mandy sighed. “Fine, I’ll drive,” she said, “but only because I really want a strawberry milkshake.”
The boys got up once they’d finished smoking all the weed and eagerly headed to the car, Mickey calling shotgun before the others even thought of it.
He had to admit, there was something exciting about going to a diner when you had the munchies. Even he was grinning like a dork by the time Mandy pulled the car in to the parking lot.
The diner was one of those retro-themed places, with old advertisements on the walls, jukeboxes at every table and, just like Mandy had said, the waiters (in this case, the one guy working the overnight shift) had on all-white, fifties-style uniforms, complete with checkered red and white soda jerk hats.
“You can take any table you want,” the waiter called to them from the opposite end of the restaurant where he was busy bussing a recently vacated booth. “I’ll be right over.”
The place was completely empty so the boys let Mandy choose. It was her birthday, after all. The waiter brought them menus a minute later.
“How are you guys doing today?” he asked cheerily, despite the late hour.
“Look at that!” Iggy said, actually pointing at the waiter. “A fucking ginger!”
Mickey gave the waiter a quick once-over. He had a thing for gingers, with their pale skin and their freckles. They were fucking alien-looking, and that apparently did it for Mickey. This one looked young, maybe around the same age as Mandy. He was definitely too young to legally be working an overnight shift, but it was no real surprise since they were in the South Side and people didn’t play by the rules here.
“Don’t gingers not have souls?” Colin asked, and they both fucking giggled.
The waiter sighed almost imperceptibly before asking them if they needed some more time to look at the menus. Clearly the Milkoviches weren’t the first ones to point out his red hair, and their jokes were probably as unoriginal as they got.
“Awe, I think you hurt Strawberry Shortcake’s feelings,” Iggy said to Colin with a mockingly sad voice.
Mickey watched as the redhead narrowed his eyes at Iggy and Colin but kept his voice level and polite when he told them he would get them some water.
“He’s really hot,” Mandy whispered once he was out of earshot. “I wonder if the curtain matches the drapes.” Colin and Iggy erupted into laughter again. Mickey even had to grin at that, since he’d been wondering the same thing ‒ for slightly different reasons, obviously.
They ordered once the waiter returned, all of them getting deep-fried appetizers except Mickey, who decided on a cheeseburger. The waiter walked away to pass the order on to the kitchen when Mandy realized she hadn’t ordered her milkshake and asked for one of them to get his attention.
“Yo firecrotch!” Colin called. The waiter stopped in his tracks. There was still no one else in the diner, leaving no question as to who had called for him. He turned around and slowly walked back to their booth.
Mandy amended her order, but this time, Mickey remembered to look at the waiter’s name tag. Ian. It actually seemed like the perfect name for the Irish-looking kid.
“It won’t be long,” Ian promised, still keeping up a polite front. Mickey watched him from the corner of his eye as he walked away, but was soon distracted by Mandy’s conversation with Iggy and forgot all about the cute waiter.
Mickey was in the bathroom when the food arrived, because when he returned to their booth, everyone was eating. The only problem was that his burger was nowhere to be seen.
“What the fuck?” Mickey asked, looking down at his plate of fries.
“Don’t look at me,” Mandy said, tilting her head towards the other two Milkoviches before taking a bite out of an onion ring. Somehow the weed had mellowed Mickey out to the point where he didn’t feel overly angry towards his brothers, and he settled for eating his fries.
Mickey’s siblings spent the rest of the night being complete assholes to their waiter. Every time Ian checked in with them to see if they needed anything else, they would ask for one item at a time: napkins, ketchup, water, free soda refills, more napkins. You name it, they asked for it, and for some reason, Ian complied with each and every request without complaint.
Mickey felt bad. The guy was working hard and just trying to do his job, but Colin and Iggy were taking being dicks to all new levels. Even Mandy was horrible, openly flirting with Ian in the most ridiculous ways. Mickey was sure that she’d pinched his butt at one point, based off of Ian suddenly jumping into the air before she winked at him.
They finally got the bill and each left a little bit of cash towards paying for their meal. When Mickey counted up all of the money on the table, it barely covered the whole check, even with him contributing twenty bucks for his burger, which he hadn’t gotten to eat. He couldn’t really comment though; he had to save face in front of his siblings… and it wasn’t like he was exactly rolling in cash.
They finished their refills and went out to the car but Mickey told them he’d forgotten something and went back inside. Ian was angrily cleaning the mess they’d left behind in their booth.
Mickey cleared his throat and the Ian looked up at him with a glare. “Was there a problem with your service? Because a tip of fifteen percent or more is standard for‒”
“Ay, relax,” Mickey said, stopping Ian from finishing his rant. “I came to give you this,” he said, pulling another twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and tossing it onto the table.
“I’m sorry about my brothers. They’re dicks when they’re stoned,” he explained. “And apparently my sister turns into a total skank… but it’s her birthday so don’t be too hard on her,” he said.
The redhead hesitated before picking up the money.
“Well, I’m sorry for spitting in their food,” Ian confessed. “But I’m not really,” he added.
Mickey let out a surprised laugh because he didn’t think the waiter had it in him. “Fair enough,” he conceded. In hindsight, the fact that Iggy had stolen his burger had turned out to be a good thing.
He heard a car horn blowing in the distance and knew they were waiting for him, but he wasn’t sure if the conversation with Ian was over or not.
“I have to go…” he muttered.
Ian stuffed the tip into his pocket. “You should stop by again… but without your siblings,” he told Mickey. “I work every weeknight.”
Mickey made it point to be there at the start of Ian’s shift the following night, and the night after that, and the one after that...