Two security guards approached, hesitation written across their faces.
Right then, the restaurant manager came rushing over.
One look at Toby's expression and the manager broke into a jog to reach him.
"Mr. Weiss, what seems to be the problem? Whatever it is, just tell me and I'll take care of it right away."
Toby let out a cold snort.
"What's the holdup here?"
"The service standards in this place are really going downhill. Can't you see there's a broke nobody here ruining the atmosphere?"
The manager froze, then followed Toby's gaze toward me.
"So sorry, so sorry. I'll take care of it right away."
He bowed and scraped before Toby, his voice dripping with flattery.
Then he turned to me, his expression hardening.
"Sir, this is a fine dining establishment, not a homeless shelter. I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately."
He gestured toward the door with an open palm.
"You hear that?"
Toby slapped me lightly across the cheek, grinning with satisfaction.
"Broke losers need to know their place. If you can't afford it, don't come in here pretending you can!"
I didn't move.
Toby took my stillness for fear, and it only made him bolder.
His hand came down harder the next time.