The place is packed, just as he feared.
He should have seriously not let himself continue watching the Lakers game instead of answering Steven and Curly's frantic messages. Honestly, he could most likely blame Roland for this one, getting him so absorbed and he could also blame the sports channel in their 3-bed apartment for working today of all days, but it didn't matter now.
It was horrific. Steven hadn't been kidding when he warned him to get there ASAP.
Curse his mother and father for giving him the shortest legs in history.
He could barely find his way over people's heads and elbows as he manovured through the crowds of people in the small cafe that night, attempting not to make a fool of himself as he finally spotted their manager up the back near the kitchen door and freed himself from the claustrophobic mess, the Buzzfeed sign in its red neon glory mocking him with it's buzzing that almost made his head fall off his shoulders.
He almost stumbled, but thankfully, was caught by Kelsey as she dashed though, speaking a hurried 'thanks!' as she disappeared back into where he had just emerged, turning to his manager wide-eyed. "Christ, Sara, what the fuck?"
"Blame Steven." Sara responded, gesturing to the chaos in front of them as friends and servers alike dipped in and out of view. "One of his new ideas for the cafe. Open mic comedy night. Don't think he expected this kind of turnout given we're so fucking small and he knows it as he brought the place, but that weird guy he hangs out with that does the food delivery told everyone. I'm going to have an aneurysm later tonight, I can feel it."
"God, I know we work for him, but seriously, what was he thinking?" He didn't bother to comment that the 'weird guy' Steven hung out with was Adam, the fucking best food deliverer on the planet thankyou very much, too focused on the job as hand as he tied his apron on.
"Why didn't Andrew talk him out of this?"
"He's on a business trip up in New York for the network company he works for. Some meeting for a new technology called Watcher that they might want to invest in. Steven's been looking at for the cafe, some security system. Thinks if Andrew's company take stock in it, he can get it on the cheap or something."
Sara hurried around him, attempting to grab some silverware and menus before they went flying. "You should have /seen/ the look on his face when he turned to me on Tuesday, Ryan. It was like a cartoon villain being taken out of a cage. He couldn't be stopped."
"Yikes." Was all Ryan could say. He knew the owner's mind, as he'd been working for him for several years now, since he was just out of college. Whenever Steven had an idea, not even California's finest could stand in the way, as evidenced only 2 years ago when California's finest /did/ turn up to arrest people, only to find Steven half-naked surrounded by "yogies" as they chanted in Latin around a small campfire, an /actual/ campfire in the middle of the cafe.
(Andrew almost crucified all of them, go figure, but to be fair, Steven said they were decent folks, it wasn't his fault that they wanted to have their "meeting"| at their establishment.)
Shaking the memory away from the front of his mind (god, the chanting, as if his head hurt didn't hurt already), he quickly stretched his hands out in front of him. "What can I do, boss?"
"Hurry up and get behind the counter with Daysha and Curly, we need all hands on deck."
"You got it." Dashing off as quickly as Kelsey had previously, Ryan prayed that Steven would be paying overtime to all of them at the end, because this was bullshit. The cafe was clearly too small to host an event like this. Had it happened several years ago when the place was barely known and just started to pick up regulars, maybe it could have worked without oo much fuss, but now, it was a circus as he tried to get food and drinks through crowds without it being spilled on the floor, or worse, someone's front.
The crowd settled over time, about 2 hours if Ryan's arms and feet have anything to say (and it wasn't anything good, he'd felt like he'd been at the gym for days on end), but it's still a lot to keep up with as people come and go on and off stage, boos and cheering becoming too loud over time for Ryan's barely functioning brain.
Eventually, however, he's on a rare break, his body pressed up against the brick back wall next to the door that leads into the back of the kitchen, dark eyes peering up at the stars as clouds of LA smog pass by nonchalantly. He's only out there for 10 minutes when Sara turns up again, obviously having been somewhere in the throws of people judging by her cheeks flushed from work and carefully arranged curls mangled. "Ryan, I need you."
Taking a quick sip of his water (more like downing it as if it were a shot), Ryan hustled back into the premises where Sqara is dragging him one-armed towards the crowd as fast as her body can propel them forward. "What's wrong?"
"Someone's decided in their obviously dumbass wisdom-" Sara starts and Ryan's head already starts to re-throb. "-to pay for everyone's drinks and given everyone's starting to leave as it's a workday, thank fucking god, we need to find the guy."
"Okay, so what's the problem? Can't you just call his name out of the tab?"
"That's the thing, he was a walk-in. There /is/ no name on the tab."
"Well, what did he look like? Surely Curly or Daysha got a look at his face."
"Thankfully she did. We're looking for a tall guy, lanky and scruffy looking, with thick glasses and brown hair. He might be wearing a bandana according to what she remembers, but she knows he was wearing a plaid shirt or jacket when he came up to the counter."
"Okay, good. We should be able to-" Ryan's words die in his throat as his eyes take stock of the crowd. Oh no. Oh god. The crowd is….it looks like a carbon copy of itself!
There were at least a baker's dozen of people who matched Daysha's description, all nestled in between crowds of tables and standing people. Any one of these people could be the guy Daysha served! Shit, he could see why Sara needed to find him bad, but why had she…?
Turning slowly back towards Sara, he hears her say something to him, but also doesn't hear her as his mind is attempting to catch up to his environment. As if by some hellish deed he did as a child coming back to haunt him, Ryan's brain waits as his manager's words fully register in his mind finally, before turning on the freak out button.
"You want me to do WHAT?!"
"Find him." Sara's voice isn't joking and Ryan's pretty sure he may pass out if she keeps talking. "Ryan, we need to find him and fast. I know it's a lot, but we're going to lose a shitton of revenue and tips if we don't catch him before he leaves and forgets to pay."
Ryan mentally does the math and winces. Sara's right, of course she's right. Given the turnout, if they don't get this type of money in, Steven will have a fit and worse of all, as Sara already reiterated, those tips over the evening from service could mean a little extra for the rest of the team before their next pay-packet comes in.
"Sara, anyone in that crowd could be this guy! He may have already left! It's like sending me out to a drag show and telling me to go and get the person in a wig and eyeliner!"
"Hopefully he hasn't." Sara's chest heaves, as if she can feel Ryan's turmoil. "Look, just go out there like you're...picking up dishes or cleaning tables and see if you can spot someone who just...gives off a vibe. I don't know."
Ryan almost wants to just rip off his apron and leave, but he values his job more and he knows this could be a lot for all of them. Hell, this could get him Lakers tickets for Christ sake, someone had to do it. Looked like it would be him after all. "Fine."
Swallowing, Ryan prepares himself quickly for what's coming and envelopes his short ass into the mosh pit of people as some guy performs on stage to their general amusement, stalking only people who matched the description.
(He got elbowed in the face several times as he moved after one guy, but found soon after that he obviously didn't wear glasses or have long enough hair to warrant a bandanna.)
He's just about to go after another guy who's leaving with his girlfriend when he trips over one of the cables leading up to the microphone's situated on stage and ends up falling backwards after attempting to stop himself.
The descent in his mind as it's happening is slow and agonizing and it gives him plenty of time to brace for the impact of the back of his head hitting the concrete of the stage or worse, the wooden floor of the cafe, when his body is suddenly caught. "Hey little fella, almost kneed you in the face there! You okay?"
Opening his eyes again, Ryan's taking a few panicked breaths in when he looks up to see the owner of the voice and hands that caught him. Freakishly tall, brown hair, bandanna, plaid shirt, thick glasses. Oh please, please be who he thinks he is.
"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for saving me. You don't happen to have a tab tonight do you?"
"Oh-Oh shit, yeah." The guy's eyes widening behind his glasses is almost comical to Ryan as he slowly assists him back to standing, the shorter male shaking himself off as the taller one keeps talking. "Kinda made a bet with a buddy that if he performed tonight, I'd pay for everyone's drinks. Stupid decision now, but hey, life's all about adventure, right?!"
"Oh yeah, adventure is out there!" Ryan honestly doesn't know what came over him at that moment so that he quoted Disney, but he doesn't really care right now. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that we're closing up soon and my manager just wanted to make sure you hadn't left in order to pay for everything. I'm Ryan by the way."
"Shane. It's nice to meet you, Ryan. Sorry about everything." They shake hands and Shane somehow moves them through the crowd and back to the counter. Sara looked almost like she's going to fucking pee herself out of relief and honestly, Ryan kinda feels the same.
He watches diligently as Shane pulls out his AMEX and swipes it, Daysha grinning as she hands him a 5-mile long receipt, almost as tall as Shane is and they all laugh.
"Well, I guess that's one way to measure up!" Shane can't help but joke while Ryan pretends to stab himself in the heart melodramatically behind him, Shane seeing from the corner of his eye. "Hey, you hurt yourself now, but I was funny! They thought so!"
"Can't impress me that easily."
"Maybe I'd like to try." Shane easily quips back and says his goodbyes, chuckling as he leaves Ryan standing there blushing, trying to frown, but failing to hide a smile.
Several months later at the next open night ("Couple's open night-" Steven springs on them and it takes the most self-control she's ever had in her life not for Sara to go up to him and wrap her hands around his throat), Ryan's sitting at a candlelit table on his night off as people run rings around him, his shoulders covered by a long, warm jacketed arm as Shane grins beside him, both rolling their eyes as some weasel plays the piano and another sings or really, 'croons' like a beached whale dying out in the South Pacific.
It's not perfect by any means and not half as much a rake in as comedy night or headache-inducing (wait, no, it's that last one as well), but given the way he turns halfway through the show to look behind his shoulder and sees his exhausted friends grinning and giving him the thumbs up, it's pretty perfect to him.
He'll most likely say otherwise tomorrow when he rolls in with a hangover. At least he wouldn't forget his pants this time.