Kathryn remained at the table for several minutes. She felt confused and concerned in equal measures. Davis’ expression really turned when she mentioned the wedding this weekend. What was that? Was he concerned she was going to ask him to go? Why would he be concerned? It’s a little late to invite someone as a plus-one. She’d already RSVP’d that she would be alone weeks ago. Her plan was to connect with old friends and have fun with them. Bringing a date into the proceedings, even as just a friend, seemed unfair to him. She shot regular glances at the back hallway. She was still going through scenarios in her head. Maybe it was the food? The timing could have been coincidence, but the food may have been bad. She could check with her uncle, but it seemed somewhat unlikely. She’d hate to worry him over something unrelated. After 10 minutes, she relented and went to check on him. There were minimal customers at the time, so it was not difficult to account for everyone in the diner. The three teens by the door, the two other couples in booths and a regular, Rick, at the counter. Davis should be the only person in a bathroom. Outside the men’s bathroom, she leaned her head to the door to listen for signs of retching but heard nothing. She knocked softly and followed a moment later with, “Davis? Are you okay?” Nothing. Kathryn took another survey of the dining room. She was confident in her assessment that the bathroom would otherwise be empty. She knocked again, opening the door tentatively and poking her head in. No one was in the open area. She turned to check the stalls and all three doors were wide open. The bathroom was empty. She returned to the hall to regroup. She looked around and concluded that he went out the back door. The only other doors around were the locked mop and broom closet and the women’s bathroom. As she continued to wonder what happened, she did a walkthrough of the women’s bathroom—just in case. She returned to the table and pulled out her phone. She started to text Davis but stopped. She could be wondering if he saw the text for a long time. She wouldn't know if he missed it or ignored it. She decided to call. “Hi, you’ve reached 279-510-8610. If you didn’t dial the wrong number, leave a message.” “Shit, voicemail,” she said aloud to herself. She hung up before the beep and tried again. “Hi, you’ve reached 279-510-8610. If you didn’t dial the wrong number, leave a message.” “Fuck,” she said, growing more frustrated. Worry started to creep in, as it had to be something she said that bothered him. The same thoughts swirled around in her head. She had to have said something that freaked him out. He was jittery when he walked in, sure. But, he was happy eating the pie. She did almost all the talking between then and Davis' freak out. It just didn't make any sense. Kathryn was not content by inaction. She hated the feeling of waiting for something to happen. If she did something wrong or someone needed help, she would rather get in trouble trying. She would have to find him. It’s not crazy. Her friend is acting strange and looks in distress. Friends check on friends and she was going to check on him, as well as figure out what she did wrong. Where to start? She didn’t exactly know where he lived, but she felt she had some ideas on how to find out. She stowed her book and notebook in her backpack and shoved the bag behind the counter. She then grabbed her coat and headed towards the kitchen window while putting it on. Arturo was tending to a couple of patty melts and getting a drink of water. He caught a glimpse of his niece out of the corner of his eye. “Hey Kat, are you leaving?” he asked, flipping the sandwich components. “Yeah, uh, Davis kind of ran off and I’m a little worried about him.” “Is everything okay?” he asked while shifting his full attention to Kathryn. “I think so, I don’t know. It can’t be anything too serious, I think. More 'weird.' We were talking about the wedding I’m going to in Seattle this weekend and he bolted.” Arturo did not respond as he attempted to make sense of what about that would lead to worry. “Umm, do you, by any chance, know where Davis lives? Has he ever said anything?” she asked her uncle. He let out a deep breath and thought. While thinking, he plated the patty melts. He slid the plates to Darren, another cook, to add the french fries and pickles. “I don’t think I know any more than you,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve talked to him more than I have, and he’s only ever mentioned to me that he lived close by.” “He’s mentioned it’s above a Chinese restaurant, I think, but there are a couple around here. I was hoping you’d be able to help narrow it down before I leave.” “Sorry, dear,” he offered sympathetically. “I know a couple have apartments upstairs. You could start with The Mandarin. You can ask Paul, I’m sure he’d tell you if Davis lives there. He's the manager and always there.” “Thanks, that sounds good. I’ll be back in the morning, see you then?” “You got it, kiddo. Good luck.” “Thanks.” Kathryn opted for the front door. She always felt it easier to get her bearings from the front rather than the back. She pulled out her phone and double-checked where The Mandarin was located. It was about a half mile east and a block and a half north. She started walking and decided to try one more call. “Hi, you’ve rea—” “Motherfucker, seriously?” She was frustrated as she started walking in the direction of The Mandarin. She held onto her phone as she started to walk, hoping Davis would respond to her missed calls. It took about seven minutes. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the restaurant. The neon red light illuminating her on the otherwise dimly-lit street. Inside The Mandarin, it appeared the dining area was closed. The buffet was empty, and a hostess was fielding calls at the front stand. She entered and patiently waited for the young woman to finish on the phone. Kathryn tried not to stare at the girl, who looked in her late teens. Kathryn surveyed the restaurant, remembering the two or three times she’d eaten here. It was good food, and everyone was really friendly. “Hello, are you picking up?” the young hostess asked. “No, actually, um, is Paul around?” “I think he's upstairs in the office; do you want a manager or are you looking for him specifically?” inquired the young woman. “I want to talk to him, we’ve met before. My name is Kathryn, my uncle owns Arturo’s Diner. We met a few months ago at Palmer Street Days?” She looked almost apologetic at the amount of information she gave the woman. The teen hostess she just smiled. “I’ll see if he’s available,” she said. The young woman turned to the phone, punched in some numbers and waited. Kathryn stood by, milling around the entryway. She listened in to a side of the phone conversation, trying to look calm. “Hi. There is someone down here that would like to talk to you. Do you have a sec? … Her name is Kathryn, she works at Arturo’s … Yeah, she just asked for you by name … Okay … No problem … See you in a bit.” The young woman turned her focus back to Kathryn, “He’s on his way down.” “Thanks,” she responded, settling in one place to wait. It wasn't long when Paul emerged from the back. “Hello Kathryn. So good to see you,” offered the tall man, greeting her with a warm smile and his arms spread in a welcoming manner. “Hi,” she responded, trying to reciprocate with a smile that matched his warmth. “How can I help you? Has Arturo finally decided to take me up on my offer?” Kathryn recalled a conversation with her uncle and Paul when she was introduced to him. Arturo mentioned that the only Chinese food he ate was egg rolls and fried rice. Paul offered to put together a sampling meal for him. She wasn’t sure Arturo would ever actually take him up on the offer, but her uncle was gracious, nonetheless. “Not tonight,” she responded. “I actually wanted to ask for your help, well, I just have a question, really. I’m looking for a friend of mine and you may know him.” “I know a lot of people, so I’m hopeful I can help,” he said, resting on the hostess stand. “Davis Archer? I know he lives above a Chinese restaurant in walking distance to the diner, but I’m not sure which one. I think The Mandarin and one other have apartments. I figured I’d check with you first.” His expression hardened a bit but remained engaging. “Do you mind if I ask why, you are looking for him?” “We’re friends and were hanging out at the diner. He looked like he was going to be sick and dashed out the back door. I’m trying to check on him. I’m worried I upset him.” She didn’t stop talking. She thought she paused to let Paul talk, but he hadn't. In actuality, she took a slight breath and started unleashing her concerns. She became more self-aware and awkward as she went, but was unable to stop. “We were talking about a wedding. I’m not sure if he thought I was going to invite him, but I mentioned it was my friend from growing up, Jenna. It’s in Seattle. But I wasn’t asking him to go. He had mentioned that he was invited to a wedding, too.” When no one stopped her, she kept going. “It was a coincidence. I wouldn’t invite someone to a wedding the week of, unless I RSVP’d ‘plus one,’ which I hadn’t. We’re just friends, Davis and I. I care about him, and it’s not that I wouldn’t invite him to a wedding. To be honest I get the feeling he wouldn’t like going to a wedding, but that’s not where the conversation was going.” She was finally able to stop herself as she needed to take a deep breath. Paul and the young hostess stared at her. An amused smile started to wash over his face, but he did not speak, thinking there may be more. Kathryn composed herself and continued. She was much more measured this time, “So, I’m worried about him. I’d hate to think I upset him.” After a beat, she concluded, “Or it’s food poisoning, but I doubt that.” Paul approached his exasperated guest and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know Davis. If he did not live here, I would tell you right away what I knew,” he started. “I do take my role as a landlord very seriously. I don't share my tenant’s information without their permission. I respect their privacy.” Kathryn nodded along, anticipating there was more. “That said, I know your uncle and you appear to be sincere and really worried. He lives upstairs and I will walk you up there. If he doesn’t want to see you, I only ask that you respect that and not make this difficult for any of us.” “Thank you.” “Follow me,” he said, leading her outside and through the apartment entrance.