#Chapter 79: Mean Spirited
Abby
The lunchtime rush is finally easing up. Much unlike yesterday, it’s been a smooth day so far, and I feel
relieved; but that’s exactly when it happens.
I’m scanning the restaurant floor, making sure everything is running smoothly, when I hear the crash.
It’s a shocking mix of the sound of ceramic shattering, gasps, and the thud of a body hitting the floor,
followed by a loud “Ow!”
My heart lurches into my throat as I rush over to see one of my waitresses, Sarah, sprawled on the
ground amid a mess of broken dishes and spilled food.
“What happened?” I ask, my eyes darting around the room, locking onto a group of snickering
teenagers at a nearby table.
“I saw it,” Karl says, striding past me. “Those little s hits tripped her. Deliberately.”
In seconds, he’s at their table, his face dark with anger. “You think that was funny? Get up.”
“It was an accident!” one of the kids says, feigning innocence. But it’s clear that he’s full of sh it. They all
are.
I kneel beside Sarah, who’s clutching her wrist, her face pale. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I think so,” she mumbles, grimacing as she attempts to move. I call over two other employees to clean
the mess and guide Sarah to a chair.
Karl reappears, dragging the shame-faced teenagers behind him. “Apologize,” he commands, his voice
icy. They mumble sca ttered apologies, looking anywhere but at Sarah or me.
“Sorry isn’t enough,” Karl continues. “You’re washing dishes for the rest of the night. And if I see any of
you around here again causing trouble, you’re going to wish you never set foot in this place.”
“Karl, you can’t—” I begin, but my voice trails off with a look from Karl. A look I know all too well, one
that embodies his spirit of an Alpha.
I watch the teenagers slink off to the kitchen, led by Karl. The room is quiet now; even the low hum of
conversations has died down. But my focus is on Sarah, who is sitting by the bar and wiping tears from
her
sorry, Abby,” she says as I approach. “All
not your fault.” I give her
while, I help pick up the slack in
But it’s not long before the front door swings open,
them tells me all that I need to know: they have that
air about them, and my heart sinks. They must
the owner of this establishment?” the woman asks, her eyes
worthy of
am,” I reply, bracing myself for a potential
they’re here, washing dishes? Something
arms over
in my throat. “They tripped one of my waitresses. She’s
was
the accusations, perhaps even threats of a lawsuit. But
a tired
have to deal with this,” she says, shaking her
them, but
mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told us it was
a
their words. This is not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s a relief, like a
lifting off my shoulders.
a
cautiously, gauging their response.
fitting punishment indeed.” The man nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In
if you’d be willing. A week of scrubbing your kitchen and doing whatever tasks
should drive
you sure?” I ask, stunned.
not an imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn
and not expect to deal with
his hands on a towel. His eyes meet
subtly, a smile breaking
these are the parents,” I explain. “They agree with your punishment.
an entire
a hand to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust
would know.” He glances
gaze to my
settled,” the man
to have a
bar, suddenly drained
next to me, his shoulder barely
I say softly, a slight laugh escaping my lips. “But these past couple
chock full of surprises.”
warm and comforting.
the truth in his words. Maybe it’s
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