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Chapter Four

Demetrius

The smells of a diner assailed me as I stepped into Fifties—frying meat, French fries, and…eau de ketchup? Whatever. I’d found my happy place.

“Hey, welcome to Fifties.” A bubbly blonde with beautiful blue eyes beamed. “Just you?”

“Yeah.”

She glanced around. “Uh…”

Every booth in the place was full. As was every stool at the counter.

“I don’t mind waiting.”

“Or he can join us. If he’s amenable, that is.” A strong voice came from behind me.

I pivoted to find a South Asian man sitting with a Black man in the closest booth.

The first guy patted the seat next to him. “I’m Arnav. This is my husband Foster. We were just commenting on how we hadn’t met anyone new recently.”

Foster rolled his eyes. But a shy smile lit his face.

I judged him to be about my age or maybe a couple of years older. I’d wondered how many other Black folks I might meet while in Mission City. The apparent immediate answer was two—previously Aaron and now Foster.

And Foster was gay as well. And married to a cute guy.

“You’re sure?”

“He wouldn’t have invited you if he wasn’t sure.” Foster spoke quietly, but with some strength behind the words. “We’re friendly.”

I grinned. “Cool.” I turned to the server, but she was already at the back of the restaurant dealing with something. I eased into the booth.

“We can flag Sarabeth to get you a menu.” Foster glanced behind him, toward the counter. “Or I might be able to—”

“Fifties has the best burgers in Mission City, right?” My smile didn’t falter.

“Well, best in Cedar Valley.” Arnav beamed. “Those would be very good words.”

“I like White Spot as well.” Foster leaned forward conspiratorially. “But don’t tell Sarabeth.”

“I’ve had White Spot. They make delicious burgers. But we have White Spots in Vancouver. We do not have a Fifties.” I frowned. “That I know of.”

“Nope.” Arnav popped hisp. “One of a kind. No franchise. So you’re from Vancouver?”

“I apologize.” Sarabeth magically appeared. “Do you need a menu?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll have a cheeseburger.”

“Great. And to drink?”

“Uh—”

“Do you like milkshakes?” Foster met my gaze.

I nodded.

“Ever have a blueberry milkshake?”