“One bowl today. Five tomorrow. Soon we’ll have people sitting here all afternoon without buying anything.”
He gestured toward me.
“Customers don’t want to eat next to people like that.”
I lowered my eyes.
“I’m not trying to cause trouble,” I said.
Trevor approached my chair.
“Then leave.”
Josie protested.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Trevor ignored her and caught my arm, pulling me to my feet.
My knee bumped the table.
Coffee spilled across the white tablecloth.
“Get out,” he ordered again.
“I’ll go,” I answered.
But he continued pushing me toward the entrance.
My damaged boot caught against the carpet, and I stumbled sideways.
That’s when I saw something that changed the entire situation.
An elderly woman wearing a purple coat stood at the hostess desk.
She leaned on a cane and was paying her bill.
Brittany accepted her credit card.
But instead of immediately using the restaurant’s official payment terminal, she moved the card beneath the counter.
