บททั้งหมดของ Seafood Feast, Dine and Weep: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 8

Me: [That seafood restaurant isn't run by my family. My family's shop is the little breakfast place next door. Everyone's misunderstood.]For two seconds after I sent that message, the chat went quiet.Then Denise Sutton posted a video.In the clip, I walked into the seafood restaurant, and the hostess greeted me with a smile. "Amy, you're back! What are you in the mood for today?"Denise slapped a string of question marks under it.[Not your family's place? If it's not your family's place, why does the hostess know you by name? Why's she asking what you want to eat?][Amy, nobody's trying to freeload off you. I'm paying for this. I'm supporting your family's business, and you're throwing up excuses and acting difficult. What's the point of that?]My stomach dropped. That video had been secretly filmed the night before, right after I left work.I was about to explain myself when Tyler Chapman — who was usually friendly enough with me — beat me to it. [Is this really necessary,

Someone tagged me in the chat.[Amy, my wife's allergic to shrimp. Steam her a separate grouper when we're there.]Another message popped up right after.[My dad's got gout, no shellfish for him. Make him a private bowl of oatmeal with foie gras, freshly made — don't you dare fob him off with day-old leftovers.]I gave a cold, silent laugh. Eating and drinking for free wasn't enough for them — now they wanted to work me like hired help?I didn't reply. The next morning, I went straight to Gerald's office.Gerald was on the sofa, drinking coffee. I got straight to the point."Gerald, you saw the message I sent yesterday, right? That seafood restaurant really isn't—"Gerald's face darkened. He set his cup down, not gently."Amy, your attitude is a real problem."My stomach dropped.He frowned and rapped his knuckles hard on the desk. "Do you honestly think I care about some birthday party? You think I'm dying for a taste of your seafood? I'm doing this for the company!" He s

Denise's lips trembled, then she screamed. "Nonsense! You must have set this up with Amy! This is her restaurant! She's the owner! The two of you are in on this together, trying to con me!"She jabbed a finger back and forth between Marcus and me, practically leaping out of her seat like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.Marcus slapped the business license down on the table, pointing impatiently at the registered owner's name."Read it carefully. My last name is Doyle. This restaurant has nothing to do with Amy. Her family's shop is next door. They sell meat pies."Dead silence fell over the room.Clear as day. No room for argument.An uproar broke out."So then, what we've been eating this whole time is—"Kevin shot to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor."This restaurant's owner was in the news before. Someone tried to dine and dash here, and then..."He didn't finish the sentence, but everyone understood exactly what he meant.The whole table went cold, like t

The mediation room at the police station had lights so white they hurt to look at.The mediator squared up the fifty-three identification forms and tapped them against the table. "Everything's on record. This is the arrangement you all agreed to yourselves — Denise covers forty percent of the total cost, Gerald covers twenty percent, and the remaining forty percent is split evenly among everyone else present. Sign here."Denise's hand shook so badly she could barely hold the pen.Gerald's face had gone the gray of a wrung-out dish rag, a vein pulsing hard at his temple.The rest lined up one by one to sign. With every signature, someone muttered a curse or slammed their pen down.The colleague with the family of six had to come up with nearly three thousand dollars. His eyes were rimmed red as he signed, and the look he gave Denise could have skinned her alive.Only a handful of people could actually pay on the spot. Everyone else signed IOUs, pressed their thumbprints onto them,