Bullies Targets The Wrong A Waitress — Unaware She's A Karate Black Belt Working Part-Time
Chapter 20
Theme:
Font Size:
24px
Then Braden Whitfield walked in with three friends, loud, already laughing about something from earlier in the day. He spotted the party immediately: the string lights, the pastel decorations, the cluster of elderly guests laughing together."What is this?" he said, not quietly. "A nursing home field trip?"A few of his friends laughed. Mildred's daughter turned, startled, her smile faltering. "It's my mother's eightieth birthday," she said carefully. "We rented this corner for the afternoon.""Didn't realize this place doubled as a retirement party venue," Braden said, dropping into a nearby booth uninvited, kicking his feet up onto the seat across from him. "Should have known, given the average age of the clientele."Joe felt her stomach tighten, walking over immediately. "Sir, we have other seating available," she said evenly. "This section is reserved for a private celebration.""I don't do reservations," Braden said. "Especially not for parties this depressing."Mildred, small and proud in her good blue dress, looked over at him, hurt flashing plainly across her face before she tried to hide it. "Young man," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't believe we've met.""Lucky you," Braden said, and his friends laughed again, louder this time.Something in the room shifted. Mildred's smile crumpled, and she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, her eyes suddenly bright with tears she was trying very hard not to let fall.Joe felt the same tightness rise in her chest that she'd felt weeks earlier—the same held breath. She didn't reach for anger; she reached for something steadier. She walked directly to Braden's table, standing close enough that he had to look up at her."You're going to leave this section," she said—quiet, calm, absolutely certain. "Right now.""Or what?" he said, grinning up at her, delighted at the reaction he'd finally provoked."Or I'll ask you to leave the restaurant entirely," Joe said. "Your choice."He stood up slowly, unfolding himself to his full height, clearly trying to loom over her. "You going to make me?" he said, his voice dropping, an edge creeping into it that hadn't been there in their earlier encounters."I'm asking you politely," Joe said. "I'd rather it not go further than that."For a moment, something dangerous flickered across his face. Then, just as fast, he laughed it off, shaking his head like she wasn't worth the effort. "Whatever," he said. "This place smells like mothballs anyway."He and his friends left, loud on the way out, one of them tossing a crumpled napkin toward the birthday table as a parting shot.The party never quite recovered its earlier joy. Mildred smiled bravely through the rest of it, but her eyes stayed a little too bright the whole afternoon. Joe brought her a fresh slice of cake personally, kneeling beside her chair."I'm sorry about that," Joe said softly. "You didn't deserve any of it."