𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 | Little Mermaid AU

𝟘𝟙. 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘'𝕤 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘

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The Grotto
Chicago, Illinois 📍
The Loop
March 29, 1968 || 11:00 AM (CDT)
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           "Order up!" Scuttle shouted from the service window as he smacked the bell sitting atop the expo. The chime could hardly be heard over the chatter of the patrons that filled the small space of the diner. If it wasn't for Scuttle's strong voice, Ariel doubted she would've noticed he'd even sat more food down at the pass.

"Got it!" She hollered back, hurrying to set down the plates of food at her current table before making her way back over to Scuttle. "Anything else you need?" She politely asked the two men sitting at the table.

"Uh, how 'bout some more coffee?" the man in front of her asked, shaking his empty coffee cup at her. There was a subtle, southern twang in his voice. His hair was cut short, a shaggy brown mop-top with the tops of his hair poking out in all directions. It was what passed for fashionable these days.

"No problem," Ariel smiled, refilling the cup with the carafe on her serving platter. A teasing smirk stretched across the man's face as she served him, and there was a gleam within his hazel eyes that just made Ariel want to squirm.

"Say, sugar. You wanna come dancin' with me tonight?" He asked confidently, his bright eyes trailing down the slender silhouette of her body. "With hips like those, I'm sure a fox like you can go all night,"

The man's friend laughed at the comment and it took everything within Ariel to suppress an eye roll. With the way he was looking at her, she knew there was more than 'dancing' on his mind.

If he'd asked her out like that on the street, she would've been quick to set him straight. But she was at work, and he was a customer with deep pockets.

She needed his tip.

"You know I got class at night, Flotsam," she reminded him with a dismissive wave of her hand, hoping that would be enough for him to drop the subject. Flotsam was one of the many regulars who frequented 'The Grotto'. A minor celebrity around the Loop, he performed in dozens of nightclubs around town. They'd had this conversation so many times that Ariel was starting to lose count. He knew she went to college part-time, so it was always an easy way to let him down.

But even if she wasn't a student, she would've said just about anything to get him to leave her alone.

"Well, how 'bout tomorrow? Nobody has class on the weekends," he persisted, snatching up Ariel's hand into his grasp. "And I told you, you can call me Keith," he insisted. Honestly, Ariel wouldn't mind calling him by his first name if it wasn't so damn forgettable. Having a last name as wild as Flotsam was so much easier to remember. Hell, it was even his stage name. Regardless, he always insisted on trying to get as casual with Ariel as he was with his wardrobe.

Flotsam dressed like everything her father saw wrong with Ariel's generation. His clothes were always the most vibrant shades of purple, orange, or greens—any color that was off-putting to most that can't pull them off. But Flotsam would boldly take it a step further and mix and match them with any pattern and material he could get his hands on. Floral green shirts with velvet mauve pants. A striped suit with a flannel jacket, the list went on.

Ariel was brave enough to admit she thought some of his threads were pretty groovy, but his psychedelic style had her convinced he thought he was Jimi Hendrix without the melanin.

Ariel's lips folded into a tight lipped grin.

The bell from the kitchen chimed again.

"Ariel, come and get this food!" Scuttle shouted impatiently from the kitchen. Ariel wanted nothing more than to scream right now—at this man grabbing her, at Scuttle's impatience, at the fact that the restaurant was so dang crowded on a school day—but that would be a less than ideal way to get the man in front of her off her case. Luckily, she knew exactly what to say to deter him.