Karate Champion Picked the Wrong Waitress to Impress His Friends — Then the Room Fell Silent
Chapter 3
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"I'm telling you, Brazilian jiu-jitsu is a joke," Derek slurred loudly, slapping the wooden table so hard the silverware rattled. "It's just hugging on the ground. If a grappler comes at me, I just hit him with a teep kick to the chest. Game over. You can't grapple if you're unconscious."Logan laughed, holding up his phone to record. "Show 'em, Derek! Show 'em the teep!"Derek, drunk on cheap beer and his own ego, slid out of the booth. He stood in the middle of the main aisle—a high-traffic area where servers were desperately trying to ferry food to hungry customers."Watch this," Derek said. He bounced on his toes, adopting a wide traditional karate stance. He threw a flurry of punches into the empty air, punctuating each strike with a loud, obnoxious kiai shout. "Yah! Yah! Boom!"Customers at nearby tables leaned away in alarm. A mother two tables down pulled her young son closer to her, eyeing the large, sweating man swinging his fists near their dinner plates."Mr. Henderson," Harper said, standing near the waitress station. She pointed toward the aisle. "He's going to hit somebody. You need to ask him to sit down."The manager swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "I... I can't, Harper. He's a VIP. His dad buys the restaurant's entire staff Christmas dinner every year. Just let him tire himself out.""He's not a toddler; he's a grown man throwing kicks near a family," Harper said, her tone sharpening. "If you won't do it, I will."Before Henderson could stop her, Harper grabbed a fresh towel and a check presenter, marching directly toward the center of the storm. As she approached, Derek spun around, attempting a flashy tornado kick; his foot missed a busboy by inches, the gust of wind rustling the kid's hair. The busboy scurried away, terrified."Sir," Harper said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise of the restaurant with surprising authority.Derek stopped bouncing, turning to look at her. He was breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. "What's up, sweetheart? Did you miss the show? I can do it again.""I need you to return to your seat," Harper said, keeping a respectable distance. "You're blocking the aisle, and you're making the other guests uncomfortable."Trent let out a loud, mocking, "Ooh!" from the booth. "She's laying down the law, D! You going to let the help talk to you like that?"Derek's drunken smile vanished, replaced by a dark, ugly scowl. His ego, already fragile from the earlier interaction where Harper hadn't flinched, flared up aggressively. He took two large steps toward her, towering over her 5'6" frame."I'm making people uncomfortable?" Derek sneered, leaning in close so she could smell the tequila on his breath. "Do you have any idea who I am? I just won the Great Lakes Invitational. I bring more money into this dump in a night than you make in a month.""That's wonderful," Harper said, her expression completely blank. "I still need you to sit down."Derek scoffed, looking back at Logan's phone to make sure the camera was on him. He wanted to reestablish dominance; he wanted to make this stoic, annoying waitress look small.