Chapter 4. The Tip

Betty’s POV

Back to work.

My mind is clouded by my problem. I kept pondering a better solution, but there seemed to be no options. Should I surrender to Jason? Will I? I must be crazy if I do.

“Betty, please take this order upstairs to number 19," Ma’am Irene instructed me.

Why me? I haven't finished cleaning the tables yet. She could have asked Thea or Samuel. They're not doing anything.

"The customer must have known you. He wants you. Hurry up."

What? The customer asks for me. Why?

I carefully ascended the stairs, carrying a tray of food for table 16. Since it's nearly closing time, there aren't many customers in the dining area, especially upstairs.

I immediately noticed the number. My body froze as I saw him sitting on his back. He appeared tall and muscular, with broad shoulders like a wrestler. The back of my hair bristles at the sight of the tattoo trail on the back of his neck, which resembles a snake.

"N-Number 16? Your order, Sir," I muttered nervously. Uncontrollably, I carefully placed the tray of food on his table.

"Thank you, Betty." His voice is solid. He smiles when our eyes meet.

How did he know my name, and who is he? Why would someone resembling an American wrestler know my name?

Have I met him before? I don't think so.

"Enjoy your meal, Sir, and have a good night," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat as I slowly step back. Yet I don't feel any immediate danger from him. It's unsettling that a stranger knows me.

"You're working hard, Betty."

I pause and glance back at him. He smiles widely this time.

"It's Diego." He stands up and extends his hand for a handshake.

I look at him, confused, as he slowly withdraws his hand and pockets it.

"These orders are for you, Betty. Your dinner tonight."

My eyes widen a little.

I was right. Diego is tall and has a solid, rock-like build, but he doesn't seem scary. His smile makes me feel I can trust him and helps me push away that sense of danger.

This is weird. Why is that?

"And this is for you," he said, handing me a white envelope.

My hand automatically accepted it, like a robot without a brain.

"Huh?" I stared at it in my hand, confused.

"That's your tip from my boss. Keep it, Betty, and use it however you like. It's all yours."

I blinked in disbelief. He chuckles slightly, then nods.

"Have fun, Betty, and have a good night, too. See ya!" He waves his hand and turns away from me.

My eyebrows arch slightly as I open the white envelope, and my mouth drops open when I see the stack of money inside.

Oh my goodness!

"W-Wait, Sir!" I call out as I run after him. He has already left the area, but I believe he's still inside the premises. I hurry downstairs and see him getting out.

"Betty!" Jane calls my name.

"Jane! The number 16 upstairs, keep it. It's for us. I'll be back!" I run outside, chasing Diego.

"Sir Diego! Sir!"

I saw him from a distance. He stops and turns to look at me.

"Yes, Betty?"

"Sir..." my breath caught, nearly running out of air.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't accept this." I handed him back the envelope.

He just looked at it in my hand.

"It's too generous for a tip. There must be some mistake," I force a smile and take a deep breath. My heart races. I have many questions, but when I see his serious gaze fixed on me, all those questions disappear.

"It's for you, Betty. There's no mistake about that," his jaw tightens.

"B-But, I-I didn't know you. How do you know my name? Have we met before?" It came out of me naturally.

He stares at me silently, and suddenly a shiny black car pulls up in front of us.

The car is a luxury vehicle. I haven't seen this specific model before, but I noticed a few similar ones in Jason's sports magazine, as he enjoys reading about vintage and expensive cars.

I swallow hard, and the passenger side window rolls down. Diego nods slightly at the driver before glancing back at me.

"Have a good night, Miss Elizabeth." He dips his head slightly toward me before opening the car door and getting inside.

I saw the driver's face and Diego. Inside the car, it was brightly lit, and I noticed someone in the back seat whose eyes were fixed on me. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but he appeared different from Diego and the driver.

The car moved slowly. I stepped back a little, but never took my eyes off the person sitting behind them.