"A woman in your position, Ms. Dickerson—you can afford to settle a bill. Don't make this ugly for everyone."
Her voice was ice, threaded with warning.
My clients frowned, their gazes shifting to me.
I knew what they were thinking—that I was the one trying to skip out on the tab.
"Lucille, what's going on here exactly?"
"If it's not that much, a few of us can cover it. No big deal."
A couple of clients I'd known for years spoke up.
I shook my head and set the two-hundred-thousand-dollar bill down in front of them.
The whole table froze. Then several faces went dark with anger.
These people had eaten here with me plenty of times. They knew what a normal tab looked like.
This was nothing close to normal.
Eight bottles of premium red wine, opened all at once.
Not to mention the cigarettes and liquor on top of that.
I always picked up the check when I hosted. They knew the boundaries and would never have ordered like this.
Janet watched their expressions harden and immediately turned back to me. "Ms. Dickerson, these are all your clients."
"Surely you don't want them stuck in this room with you indefinitely?"
"If you won't pay, none of you are leaving."
She said it like it was already decided.