Miss Lucy’s opened last month across the street from my apartment. It’s the only restaurant in town that serves fried zucchini, so I was in love from the start. Plus, the place looks amazing. The spherical glass building is designed so customers can look out, but no one can see inside, and it lights up and changes colors at night like an oversized disco ball.

My balcony overlooks the entire restaurant, and I can even see the underground parking garage entrance in the back. But I’ve noticed something strange about Miss Lucy’s: not everyone who goes in comes out.

One night, my buddies Cole, Steven, and I watched from the balcony as customers arrived.

“Hey, Will, do you think there’s another exit?” Cole asked.

“Doubt it. You can see everything from here.”

As far as I knew, there was one way in and one way out.

Once, I counted the incoming and outgoing traffic, and sure enough, twenty-six cars arrived between dinner and closing time, but only seven left.

There has to be a rational explanation. But what?

Regardless, I was craving fried zucchini, so Steven and I stopped by one weeknight. After a quick trek across the intersection, we arrived.

Inside, dance music played, neon lamps and wall-to-wall aquariums lit up the room, and massive chandeliers hung above velvet lounge chairs and antique mirrors.

“Cool place,” Steven said.

But the hostess scowled when we approached. She had hawklike eyes and a fierce perm. Her nametag read: Helga O.

“Are you on the list?” she asked.

“What list?”

“The list.”

“I don’t know—”

“You have to be on the list to enter.”

“We need reservations on a Tuesday?”

I glanced around, seeing no one, but giant room dividers sectioned off the dining area, so I couldn’t see how many people were there.

“No, you need to be on the list.”

I turned back to the surly hostess. “Okay, can you put us on the list?”

“No. That is not how we operate. You have to call at least two days before to put your name on the list.”

“I can’t just tell you my name and have you add it to the list now?”

“No.”

Steven nudged me and whispered, “ Come on, man. Let’s go.”

But this lady wasn’t going to ruin my plans. “Okay, we’ll be in touch.”

"Forget this place,” Steven said as we left.

But I wasn’t giving up. So, I called the restaurant, and Helga answered right away.

"I'd like to put my name on your list."

This time, Helga sounded professional and polite.

“Certainly, sir. For how many guests?”

Steven, me, Kiera, Layla, and Cole.

“Five.”

“For which night?”

“Friday.”

“Your guests’ first names please?”

I gave her all five names.

“Very good. You’re on the list. Give your server the password 4355 when you arrive.”

*****

Friday night, Steven, Kiera, Cole, Layla, and I walked to Miss Lucy’s from my place. Unfortunately, Helga O. greeted us.

But this time, Helga was all smiles. “Yes, I see you’re on the list. Your password, please?”

“It’s 4355.”

“Perfect. Right this way.”

Then, when Helga pulled back the giant room divider and led us into the bar area, it felt like entering another world. Bright purple lights lit up the space, which looked three times larger than I’d imagined. There were wall-to-wall aquariums with tropical fish, massive flatscreen TVs, velvet lounge chairs, and a revolving bar.

It looked like something in Vegas. I couldn’t believe I lived across the street from this place.

“Damn!” Cole said as we followed Helga up a spiral glass staircase into another room. The upstairs floor resembled a library, with large bookshelves and sofas.

We were so enamored with the surroundings, we hardly noticed we were the only people there.

We followed Helga all the way to the back until we reached a bookshelf against a brick wall. Then, Helga opened a book on the middle shelf and pressed a large button inside. As if on cue, the bookshelf crept open, revealing a spacious private dining room and bar.

“Unbelievable,” Kiera said.

Inside was a lit, translucent glass floor above a koi pond. And there were more chandeliers, mirrored tables, and velvet chairs, along with a private bar. We even had a private server.

“This is all for us?” I asked, my jaw dropping.

The place looked like a cross between a 1920s speakeasy and an ultra-modern lounge. And with the ambient lighting, the space had an otherworldly feel.

“How much is this going to cost?” Cole whispered.

I shrugged. “The online menu didn't look too expensive.”

Then again, I’d only checked the fried zucchini price…

“Check out these seats!” Layla said, running her hands along the black velvet chairs.

“Unbelievable!” Kiera said. “And check this out.”

The velvet seats and tables sat on a revolving platform that switched on and off.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Steven said, playing with the switches.

Helga switched off the revolving platform, motioned for us to sit, and handed us the menus. “Your server will be with you soon.”

Then, she handed me a mini iPad. “You can use this to customize your experience,” she said, pointing to a text box. “Type in your request in this box, and your server will send you a confirmation and an estimated delivery time. You can also change the music.”

She showed me a music library with tons of playlists. And we could even change the light colors.

“No way!” Kiera said, pressing the buttons as the chandelier lights changed from white to green to red. Even the floor bulbs changed colors.

Cole glanced around, taking it all in. “Will, are you sure this place isn’t expensive?”

"I don't think so."

Helga left, and the bookshelf door closed behind her, leaving us to enjoy our secret space.

We opened the menus, but no prices were listed.

That’s strange.

I grabbed the iPad and typed a note to the server. “Where are the prices listed?”

After a moment, the server responded: “They aren’t.”

My buddies and I exchanged nervous glances.

“What does he mean, the prices aren't listed?” Cole said.

I typed: “How much are the drinks?”

He wrote: “One minute.”

But he never replied.

“What the hell?” Cole asked.

My heart raced. What did I get us into? What if this place is over-the-top expensive? My friends will kill me.

I watched the iPad, waiting for the server to reply, but he never did.

*****

Minutes later, a man wearing a tuxedo arrived with a tray of cocktails and appetizers we didn’t order—chocolate martinis, red bulls, veggies and hummus, and fried zucchini.

Fried zucchini! I filled my plate.

Cole nudged me. “We need to see the prices first—”

I looked up at the server. “Hey, could we please see the prices before we order more?”

But he didn’t say a word.

“Sir—” Cole started.

But the server ignored him. Instead, he pulled out a list, but I couldn’t see what was on it. Then the server walked over to the wall and flipped a switch.

At that moment, the music stopped, and the room went black. Even the iPad screen went dark. Someone gasped.

“What the hell?” Steven said, nudging me.

“Hello,” I said.

Silence.

Moments later, the lights switched back on, and the music returned. But the server—and Cole—were gone.

What the hell?

I whipped my head around looking for Cole, but he was nowhere.

“Cole?” I said, still searching. I looked behind chairs, the bar—everywhere—but no Cole.

My heart raced, and my stomach sank.

Layla squealed. “Where’s Cole, you guys? He was just right here.”

“Cole?” I called again as my stomach fluttered.

We ran through the room, searching again, but he was nowhere to be found.

I grabbed the iPad, my hands trembling as I typed. “Help. Our friend is gone.”

Two seconds…ten seconds…one minute…five minutes.

No response.

Layla rushed to the bookshelf, looking for a button to open the door. “How do we get out of here?”

“I don’t know,” I said, grabbing the iPad. “Maybe we can find a button on here.”

But there was no button for the door. Just switches for music, lights, and food, but nothing else.

“Someone call the restaurant and ask the hostess,” Kiera said.

I pulled out my cell phone and called the restaurant. After what seemed like a hundred rings, Helga the hostess answered.

“Our friend is missing, and we need to open the door to look for him.” I tried to keep my voice steady.

But Helga was no help. “You’ll have to wait until your server returns.”

“But he isn’t answering.”

“Then you have to wait until he returns.”

She sounded like a robot, as though she’d been pre-programmed to give the same useless responses no matter what customers asked.

“But the server didn’t answer my last questions—”

“He’s going by the list,” Helga snapped and then hung up.

Huh? What does that even mean?

“You guys,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but—”

At that moment, the secret door opened, and our server reappeared with another tray, even though we hadn’t ordered anything else.

“Sir, where is our friend?” Kiera asked, her eyes frightened.

But the server refused to answer. He wouldn’t even look at her—at any of us.

Instead, he placed the items on the table. Then, he pulled out his list again, scanned it, walked back to the wall, and flipped the switch again. And once more, the music stopped, and the room went black.

And when the lights and music came back on, the server and Kiera were gone.

We hadn’t heard a peep.

“What the hell?!” I shouted. My heart thumped as we searched the room again, panicking.

Steven’s eyes bulged, and Layla froze, looking too terrified to speak.

"Kiera?" we called.

But silence.

Moments later, the server returned with another tray of items we hadn't ordered.

Once again, he set the items on the table, scanned the list, walked to the wall, and flipped a switch.

Again, the music stopped, and the room went dark.

A small gasp was the only sound.

And when the lights and music returned, the server and Layla were gone.

“Holy shit!” Steven said. “Let’s get the—"

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said. “I’m calling the police.”

My fingers shook as I called 911. But the call dropped before it rang.

“I lost the signal!” I shouted. “You try.”

Steven tried, but the call dropped for him, too.

“Why won’t it go through?” he shouted.

“I don’t know,” I said, dialing the front desk again. Apparently, that was the only number that worked.

After a few rings, Helga answered, sounding unmoved as I explained the situation.

“Three of our friends have vanished. We need help—now. Let us out of this room!”

But the hostess remained calm. “You’ll have to wait until your server returns.”

“But he won’t talk to us!” I shouted, my anxiety surging.

I checked the wall for the button he was pressing, but it only controlled the lights.

Then, Steven’s face turned paper white. “Dude, I think they’re going in alphabetical order. First, Cole. Then, Kiera. Then, Layla.”

“Shit! We’ve got to get out of here.”

But when the server returned, this time, there was no tray. He simply placed a bill in front of me.

“Where are our friends?” I shouted.

He shrugged. “They’ll be back,” he said. His voice was flat, emotionless, and robotic. “Please pay your bill, sir.”

The server just stood there. Not a hint of anxiety or discomfort.

“But where are our friends?”

“Sir, please pay your bill.”

My eyes popped when I saw the bill. “It’s over two hundred dollars, even though half the guests vanished. What the—”

But Steven stopped me. “Dude, screw the money. Just pay the man, and let’s get out of here.”

I didn’t argue. I handed the server my credit card. He ran it and handed it back without another word. Then he opened the door, and we ran out.

Our friends were nowhere to be found, and no other customers were dining when we left. Steven and I dialed the police right away.

But the cops were no help. “We can’t do anything unless they’ve been missing twenty-four hours. Your friends are probably playing a prank.”

He obviously didn’t know our friends.

*****

The next morning, a knock sounded at the door.

I shuffled to the door and peeked out. Layla!

I flung the door open. “Holy shit!” I threw my arms around her. “What the hell happened to you?”

She wore the same clothes from the night before. Her face was ghost-white and terror-stricken, and her voice sounded flat like she was in shock.

“Where is Kiera? Cole?”

She stared at the wall, hardly blinking.

I held her close, happy she was safe but worried about my other friends.

“Those people,” she said, pointing toward the restaurant. “I don’t know who—or what—they are, but—”

Her voice trailed off. And I just hugged her.

An hour later, Steven came over and pressed for details.

“Layla, I know you’ve been through a lot—I can’t imagine—but we really need to know what happened. And we need to know if Cole and Kiera are okay?”

After a moment, she spoke. “When the lights went out, someone pressed a cloth over my mouth, and everything went black. And…next thing I knew, I woke up in a dark room. Couldn’t see anything.”

“Where did he take you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I have no idea where we were.”

“What happened to Cole and Kiera?” Steven asked.

Layla shrugged. “At one point, another man came in—I don’t know who—and he pushed Kiera through a doorway. It looked like a long hallway with this creepy blue light blazing inside. I don’t know. I only got a quick glimpse before he shut the door.”

Layla’s eyes welled with tears as she continued, and I handed her a Kleenex. “A few minutes later, the guy opened the door again and pulled Kiera back into the dark room where I was. But the person who came back—she—it wasn’t Kiera.”

Layla sobbed.

Steven patted her shoulder, and his voice softened. “What do you mean it wasn’t Kiera?”

Layla’s whole body shook with sobs. She could barely speak, but after a moment, she calmed and continued. “I don’t know. It wasn’t her. Her voice, her energy. It just wasn’t her. I don’t know who—or what—took her place, but she isn’t Kiera anymore. That’s all I know.”

I hugged Layla, imagining myself running across the street to bash the server’s head in. But getting pissed would only lead to more problems. Instead, I had to stay calm and think clearly.

“How did you get away?” Steven asked.

“It was so weird. The server just said, ‘the bill has been paid,’ and let me go. I have no idea what that was supposed to mean.”

None of it made sense to us, either. But after twenty-four hours, I called the police to report Cole and Kiera missing.

*****

Perhaps the strangest part about this experience is what happened several days later when police called with an update.

“Your friends didn’t go missing," the officer said. "They said they told you they were leaving early. And your friend Kiera is working at Miss Lucy's now."

“Wait—what?”

No way. That's impossible.

That didn’t sound like her. And it wasn’t like either of them not to call or text for days. So after I hung up, I called Miss Lucy’s.

Sure enough, Kiera answered, but her voice sounded flat and robotic. I barely recognized it. “Miss Lucy’s. Kiera speaking.”

“Kiera, it’s Will. What happened to you? And why are you working there?”

But it was like she didn’t know me. All she said was, “I'm sorry, sir. Are you on the list?”

I hung up.

I never did find out everything that happened to Cole, Layla, and Kiera that night, but I was grateful Layla had been spared.

After that night, Cole and Kiera changed; I felt like I hardly knew them anymore, and they spent all their time with their creepy, new friends from the restaurant.

Since then, I’ve talked to other people who’ve been to Miss Lucy’s and they all have similar stories. And some people’s friends vanished but never returned.

Unfortunately, the police didn't believe their stories.

However, everyone says their friends are different now.

Maybe what really happens at Miss Lucy's will always remain a mystery. But one thing we do know is we're never going back.