Sunset Beach Condos

Lia was alone in the diner.

It was early, too early, but somehow she, of all people, had been trusted to open, and for some reason, that felt like a win. So she’d shown up in an oversized hoodie, maybe stilla little drunk from the night before, thank you Rowdy and Jax, with smudged makeup, hair tied in a loose, lopsided knot, and told herself: You can totally do this. How hard could breakfast be, really? The answer, by the way, was extremely. But she didn’t know that just yet.

The coffee machine glared at her like a mechanical demon, and after a few confusing button presses and zero results, Lia decided to improvise. Usually someone had already turned this machine on by the time she arrived in the afternoon. She filled one of the metal coffee pots with water, shoved a paper filter with the grounds still in it, because that seemed right, and placed the entire thing, plastic handle and all, directly on the gas stove burner. Then she turned the flame to high. And walked away. To do her makeup. She would regret this momentary flash of old vanity quickly. By the time she got one wing of eyeliner perfect and was halfway through the other, something acrid drifted into the air. Her nose scrunched, but the smell didn’t connect, and she continued what she was doing. “Ew,” She muttered, thinking maybe someone had burned toast last night, but largely, she didn’t think about it.

It wasn’t until she turned to grab lip gloss that she noticed the orange flicker reflecting in the metal napkin dispenser on the counter. Her head snapped toward the kitchen.The pot was engulfed in flames, the plastic handle warped and oozing, filter paper curling into ash, and, because she’d opened the window earlier for “ambiance”, the flame had caught the curtain, which now blazed like a bonfire at Coachella. “Oh my GOD!” Lia screeched, nearly falling backward off her heels. Her brain froze. Her hands flailed. Then she remembered her phone. She snatched it up and fumbled to unlock it with trembling fingers. “Okay. Okay. This is fine. We call people. That’s what we do.” Her voice climbed as the fire roared louder, but for some ungodly reason, she didn’t think to actually leave the burning building.

“Siri, call 911!” She shouted, and when someone answered, Lia freaked. “There's a fire! I set it on fire! There’s a fire. A massive one! The 59 Diner! I didn’t--” The dispatcher tried to ask questions, but Lia was pacing in wide circles, eyes wide, mascara already starting to run. “No, I don’t know where the fire extinguisher is! Do I look like I know that?! Just, please hurry!” Smoke curled through the vents and crawled along the ceiling tiles. The alarm screamed overhead. Lia stood in the middle of it all, still holding her phone like a weapon, yelling half-coherent directions while the flames danced behind her.

It would later be determined that the coffee pot exploded approximately twenty seconds before the fire truck pulled up. Because this is Lia, of course it did.

But Lia, not entirely educated on the process of fire, inhaled so much smoke as she was panicking that she wound up passing out before she could reach the back door.