a restroom or grabbing a smoke?”
“Check the cameras. You’ll see them leave.”
“I don’t have time to dig through footage during dinner service.” He finally looked at me. “You know the policy. Walkouts come out of the server’s pocket.”
“That’s four hundred dollars.”
“Then take it as a lesson.”
A lesson.
As though I had invited them to steal from me.
“Then take it as a lesson.”
I paid the bill at the end of my shift with shaking hands. By the time I stepped outside, anger had hardened into something heavier.
Four hundred dollars was gone, my mother was still missing, and I had no idea how I would explain either one to my family.
Jett called me at eight the next morning.
“Can you come in?” he asked.
I hadn’t slept more than three hours, and my eyes still burned from crying. “My shift doesn’t start until
