Where Sleeping Artists Lie

"Here you go," Miles said as he passed Sierra an order, the small chef frowning upon reading it.

"I need to get more of that," she grumbled.

"I told you to get them from storage earlier," chastised Shasta.

"It's on the high shelf where I can't reach. Which is why I asked you to get it."

Shasta waved his cooking utensils in the air as if to either dismiss her response or say he was busy. Either way, Sierra pouted.

"I'll help," offered Miles.

"Thank you!" Sierra smiled up at him before turning to glare at Shasta. But Shasta still had his back to her. Sierra left the kitchen, with Miles following her until they were in the hallway. She opened the door, propping it open with the giant coffee can before leading him inside.

"It's up there," she pointed to the higher shelf. Miles reached it with ease. He handed it over to her, noticing a body in the corner of his eye.

"Yaah!" He screamed as he jumped back.

Sierra, confused by the outburst, turned to see what had frightened Miles.

"Oliver, time to wake up." She knelt beside the man whose hair was covering most of his face. More strands dropped as she roughly shook him awake.

"What time is it," he mumbled, moving some of the hair out of his face.

"Nearly five. Come on, almost dinner rush," she urged. Oliver rolled off the bottom shelf. Sierra then grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him out of the storage area.

"Miles? Shasta said you were back here," called Anita as she approached the storage closet. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Oliver…," he gasped out, still in shock.

She looked at him before coming to a realization.

"Right, Oliver will sleep anywhere if you let him. Good thing you found him," she applauded him with a pat on the shoulder.

---

Miles did not like learning that Oliver could sleep anywhere considering it almost seemed to be a game he was playing, trying to scare Miles.

One time, Miles had entered the bar area to work, only to find Oliver tucked underneath a shelf which, of course, sent Miles jumping.

Everyone turned towards the noise. Miles calmed down enough to say, "Oliver." As if the entire restaurant knew, everyone nodded and went back to business except for Sierra, who exited the kitchen to examine the situation.

"Well, this is a new place." Sierra bent down and pulled out his tucked in feet, then yanked him off the shelf and onto the floor.

"Ga-wah," mumbled Oliver as he cracked one eye open.

"Time for work, sleepyhead."

"Five more minutes," Oliver grumbled as he tried to slide back onto the shelf, only for Sierra to drag him out from behind the bar.

---

After the dinner rush, Miles went on break, being the first of the afternoon staff to do so. He settled into a chair in the break room, intending to enjoy his lunch leftovers and some extra food Sierra had donated. Miles was taking a bite when something hefty rolled onto his foot. He nearly choked in surprise but managed to swallow. He looked under the table to spot Oliver sleeping.

"Sierra!"

The petite chef came to the front of the break room.

"I found Oliver," grunted Miles as he pulled his foot out from underneath Oliver.

"So, that's where he was hiding."

Sierra pushed aside a chair, grabbing one of Oliver's free arms.

"Come on." Sierra pulled Oliver up so that he hit the underside of the table.

"What the…" Oliver stopped himself from tumbling backward. He squinted one eye as he reached for his head, rubbing the spot that had hit the table.

"Your break isn't for another hour," chided Sierra as she grabbed Oliver by the arm, dragging him back to work.

---

The last customer had left for the day, leaving the servers to clean up the floor. Miles vacuumed after Anita wiped down the tables, moving in a circle around the seating area. Anita had turned the corner to proceed with the next row of dining tables when she screamed and hid behind Miles.

"What happened," asked Shasta from the kitchen, looking from the window with a knife in hand?

"D-dead, dead body," whispered Anita as she cowered behind Miles, pointing in the direction she had seen it. Miles lifted the cordless vacuum, inching towards where Anita had indicated. From the aisle, he could see part of an arm on the ground in a lifeless position. Miles looked over to Shasta, who had lowered the knife somewhat, but was still watching. Miles crept towards the body and bent over to see Oliver curled into a ball, using his extended arm as a pillow. Anita and Miles sighed in relief.

"It's just Oliver," he called out. Shasta looked dubious for a moment before cleaning the knife.

"Oliver, just a few more minutes of cleaning, then you can sleep," urged Anita with a gentle voice. The sleeping man was hardly disturbed.

"He'll never wake up if you do it like that," chided Sierra, walking up to the group. She took the vacuum from Miles and placed it near Oliver's ear. With a press of a button, the vacuum roared. Oliver jumped and hit his head on both the table and the vacuum.

"Wake up. We still got to clean," scolded Sierra as she grabbed Oliver's free arm, dragging him away.

"Sierra, I can't feel my arm," Oliver pointed out as he poked at the dead arm.

"Because you fell asleep on it."

"Sierra? Did you say something?"

Miles and Anita watched Sierra drag Oliver away before resuming their tasks.

---

As far as the staff knew, Cyrus had two jobs: reporting to corporate and making the schedule. Cyrus's third job, while unpaid, was waking up Oliver in the morning, if he could find him. If he couldn't, then it became the job of whoever else found him.

Cyrus arrived at nine since the restaurant opened at ten. If Oliver wasn't already awake, Cyrus went to look for him, in the one place he knew he would be. Cyrus got on the table and opened the hatch leading to the attic. He opened the small door to the loft above. Scattered around the small space were art supplies, finished paintings, and a sleeping bag nestled in the middle of the mess.

"WAKE UP AGATE! IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN IN FIVE, I WILL LET YOU SLEEP ON THE STREETS!" the manager yelled. Oliver immediately snapped up, still in his sleeping bag. Their eyes met, and Oliver quickly scrambled to get out of the bag. Cyrus retreated to make his morning coffee. Sometimes being the manager had its perks.