The restaurant felt like a ghost town. For two weeks straight, we went from having lines around the block to having days where not a single customer came through the door. It was surreal, like the success we'd had was just some kind of dream that had dissolved into a nightmare.
I sat at one of the empty tables, staring down at the numbers Sasha had spread out in front of us. Bills, invoices, rent—all piling up, while the income was basically nonexistent.
"We can't keep going like this," I said, my voice strained with frustration. "If this keeps up, we're screwed."
Sasha leaned back in her chair, her ponytail hanging loose over her shoulder, looking just as exhausted as I felt. "I know, man. It's brutal out there. That one post... it fking wrecked us. People believe whatever they read online."
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the tension in my chest. "We've done everything we can to counter it. We've responded, offered refunds, posted about how much we care about food safety... and none of it is working."
Sasha sighed, staring down at the papers in front of her. "We need to get people back in here, Tristan. We talked about doing another discount event, but that'll just drain us. We're already bleeding money. One more month of this, and we'll be done."
I shook my head. "We can't afford to just sit back and do nothing. If we don't see some results within the next month, yeah... we'll have to close."
Sasha groaned, slumping in her chair. "Fuck. This is so unfair. We had a killer opening. We've got great food. But now it feels like we're going down in flames because of one asshole with a stomach ache."
I nodded, feeling the same frustration boiling in my gut. "We need something to change. Some kind of miracle."
That's when the idea hit me, though it wasn't exactly a miracle—it was more of a last-ditch effort.
"What if we brought in another influencer?" I suggested, tapping the edge of the table with my fingers. "Like we did for the launch. It worked before. Maybe it can work again."
Sasha perked up slightly, considering the idea. "Yeah, that could work. But we're gonna have to be careful about who we choose. We can't afford to pay big bucks for someone who doesn't get results. Do we even have the budget?"
I shrugged. "Barely. But if it gets people through the door, it'll be worth it. It's a gamble, but at this point, what choice do we have?"
Sasha grabbed her phone and started scrolling through a list of influencers. "Alright, let's see what we can find. We need someone with good engagement, not just followers. Someone local, who can actually get people in here."
For the next few hours, we went through dozens of potential influencers—foodies, lifestyle bloggers, fitness gurus. We sent out messages, trying to make it sound as enticing as possible, offering free meals, even small payments. But the replies were all the same.
"Thanks for reaching out, but I'm not interested."
"Sorry, I'm fully booked for promotions right now."
"I'm trying to avoid promoting restaurants at the moment."
Sasha groaned in frustration, throwing her phone down on the table. "They're all fucking scared. No one wants to risk promoting a place with a bad rep."
I nodded grimly. "Yeah, I figured that might happen. Word spreads fast in this industry."
We sat there in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on us. It felt like we were stuck, like no matter what we tried, we couldn't shake the shadow of that one bad review.
Just when I was about to suggest giving up on the influencer idea altogether, Sasha's phone buzzed. She picked it up, her eyebrows raising in surprise.
"Hey, someone actually replied," she said, looking up at me.
"Really?" I asked, leaning forward. "Who?"
Sasha opened the message, her expression shifting from surprise to something closer to disappointment. "It's... a Fortnite dancer."
I blinked. "A Fortnite dancer? WTF does that even mean?"
Sasha scrolled through the guy's profile. "Yeah, his whole thing is doing those stupid Fortnite dances. You know, like the 'Floss' and shit? He's got a big following—like, a couple hundred thousand. But... I don't know if this is what we're looking for."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Fuck. A Fortnite dancer? That's what we've been reduced to?"
Sasha shrugged, giving me a helpless look. "He's the only one who's said yes. I mean, it's better than nothing, right? Maybe he can bring in the younger crowd. Kids eat, too."
I groaned, leaning back in my chair. "I can't believe this is where we are right now. But fine. Let's do it. Get the Fortnite dancer."
Sasha smirked, clearly amused by the absurdity of the situation. "I'll message him back. We'll offer him a free meal and a small fee. Maybe he'll get his followers to come through."
As she sent the message, I couldn't help but feel like we were grasping at straws. But what other choice did we have? No one else was willing to help, and if this Fortnite dancer was the only one who could bring some attention back to the restaurant, then so be it.
"Alright," Sasha said, setting her phone down. "He's in. He'll come by tomorrow to film some videos."
I nodded, feeling a strange mix of hope and despair. "Let's hope this doesn't backfire."
The next day, the Fortnite dancer showed up. His name was @DancerOfTheVictory or something equally ridiculous, and he rolled into the restaurant like he owned the place. He was dressed in neon colors, with a backward cap and sunglasses perched on top of his head, despite the fact that we were indoors.
"Yo, what's up, my dudes?" he called out as he walked in, pulling out his phone to film the whole thing. "I'm here at Flavors of the World, about to try some dope food, and of course, hit y'all with some sick moves. Let's get it!"
I exchanged a look with Sasha, who was trying—and failing—not to laugh. "This is our savior?" she whispered.
I shrugged. "Apparently."
He set up his camera and immediately started doing one of those stupid Fortnite dances in the middle of the restaurant. People passing by on the street stared through the windows, a few even stopping to film him on their phones.
"Alright, guys!" he shouted, panting slightly from the dance. "Come through and get some of the best street food in LA! Flavors of the World, baby! You gotta try this shit!"
Sasha and I stood off to the side, watching the bizarre scene unfold. I couldn't believe this was what it had come to, but if it worked... if it brought even a few people through the door, it would be worth it.
"Let's hope this works," I muttered, watching as @DancerOfTheVictory filmed himself taking a bite of one of our signature ramen tacos. "We're running out of time."
Sasha nodded, her expression serious now. "Yeah. We need results, Tristan. Or we're done."
Q: What do you think will happen next?