I checked the restrooms, then hurried toward the entrance. No sign of them.
Jett barely looked up when I rushed into his office.
“They left,” I said. “Table twelve. They didn’t pay.”
He exhaled through his nose. “Maybe they’re in a restroom or grabbing a smoke?”
“Check the cameras. You’ll see them leave.”
“I don’t have time to dig through footage during dinner service.” He finally looked at me. “You know the policy. Walkouts come out of the server’s pocket.”
“That’s four hundred dollars.”
“Then take it as a lesson.”
A lesson.
As though I had invited them to steal from me.
“Then take it as a lesson.”
I paid the bill at the end of my shift with shaking hands. By the time I stepped outside, anger had hardened into something heavier.
