Finding The Five || FNAF Movie

6 || The First Lead

(Unedited, Barely Proofread, 3780 words)
Trigger Warning: Strong language

Saturday showed up too fast. One moment I was laying on the couch almost asleep wrapped in my one blanket and Jonah's jacket, and the next I was awake and headed out the door. The buses were a little late, but I still made it to work on time and settled in quietly. The start of the shift is usually pretty easy, the hard part comes when the students for the two pm classes start filing in.

I don't have any close friends like Jonah or even Makaylen at the coffee shop. The closest person I have is Vincent, and he's a jerk. I don't even know any of my other coworkers regardless of how many times I've worked with them, and I only know Vincent's name because he introduces himself before he starts hitting on girls. He's not the best to be around. Unlike Jonah, I didn't make any effort to try and get to know him and I don't plan on doing it in the future.

I work cashier for my entire shift, but I often have to help in the back because nobody back there likes to get anything done. Today is one of the days where our manager is scheduled to come in any second, so the kitchen is moving along smoothly and all I have to do is take orders. Easy enough.

"I'll have a vanilla latte," a young woman says, digging in her bag as she speaks to me.

"Of course, and will that be all?" I ask, ringing it up on the cash register. Christmas music is playing in the background, a song I don't know the words to even though the tune is familiar. The brunette girl who always talks about her cat Button is singing along behind me, her soft accent mixing with the sound of the bag she's crinkling as she puts baked goods in it.

"Yes, please," the woman replies. I tell her the total just as she successfully fishes her wallet out of her bag. She triumphantly pulls out a ten-dollar bill and hands it to me with a smile. I get her change worked out and hand it back to her, but she smoothly dumps it all into the top jar off to my right, her left.

"Thank you so much," I chime, knowing none of us will see a penny of it. According to an "undercover" investigation executed by an ex-detective who works the morning shift, we learned that the tips are split between two people: Vincent and his morning-shift counterpart Mason. Through a matter of unrelated events, the coffee shop also found out that Vincent and Mason have both been working night shifts with the boss at her home outside of New Orleans. Someone let it slip at our little Thanksgiving party, at which none of the three were present. Even though I was pretty new then, the group included me in the gossip.

None of that is necessarily important in the grand scheme of things, unless of course one of the men involved knows that you know, and instead of being embarrassed, he's taking the opportunity to drop hints you can be in on it too. In which case it's very important and very unwanted. But other than that, it's probably nothing to worry about.

"Hey Sterling, isn't it almost break time?" His voice annoys me almost as much as what he says with it. I tend to ignore him, but he's yelling across the café this time and it is technically time for me to take my break, so I feel inclined to respond.

"Yep, headed back," I chirp, trying to sound happy and collected, as all good employees should. The man who usually works behind the donut section— his name might be Preston— offers to cover for me and I accept, promptly taking my leave and headed back into the break room.

Unsurprisingly, Vincent follows me in.

"You look tired," he comments, and I run my fingers through my hair.

"Long night," I reply, and he makes a scoff noise, looking away from me. I realize a second later what he probably took my comment as, but instead of clarifying, I go with it. "Long night."