When Jack slammed the bill on the table, Lora barely looked at it before her hands trembled taking the folder.
“I’m not paying this time,” she whispered, voice cracking.
Jack just laughed. “Relax, babe. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
But I’d seen enough. I’m Melanie, a waitress here for ten years, and Jack? He’s the kind of man who spends like a king—on Lora’s money.
That night, Jack showed up with eight loud friends. They devoured steaks and lobster, downed bottles of the finest wine—and when the $827 bill came, Jack pushed it toward Lora like always.
She excused herself, tears in her eyes.
I followed her to the restroom and whispered a plan: “There’s a double booking. We need the table for VIPs.”
Jack’s grin faded. His friends grumbled and started leaving.
Then Lora stood, kissed Jack’s cheek, and announced, “I forgot! I have a client meeting.”
Jack was left alone—with the massive bill.
He begged me, “But Lora always pays!”
“Not tonight,” I said, sliding the bill back.
Reluctantly, Jack paid his own tab.
The next day, Lora found me, eyes shining.
“Thank you,” she said. “You saved me.”
She smiled and said, “I think I’ll treat myself to a spa day.”
Jack lost a free ride. Lora gained her freedom. And I? I felt the sweetest victory of my life.
