The few customers scattered around the room paused to stare at him. A man wearing a bespoke tailored suit and custom leather boots stood out like a sore thumb in the rundown, dirty establishment. Damian ignored the stares. He walked toward the back corner and slid into a cracked red vinyl booth.Sal, the balding manager, wiped his hands on a towel and walked up to Aria."Table four," Sal muttered, jerking his chin toward the back booth. "Go get his order.""No," Aria said flatly. She tossed the dirty rag into a plastic bucket under the counter. "I don't serve that table."Sal frowned, his brow furrowing in irritation. "What are you talking about? Go take his coffee order, Aria. We need the tips.""If you want his order, you take it," Aria replied. She picked up a stack of menus and walked toward the front of the restaurant to seat a new group of customers.Sal grumbled under his breath, grabbed a coffee pot, and walked to the back booth himself.For the next five hours, Damian sat in
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