They Held a Wedding at My Restaurant and Refused to Pay,So I Called the Police

3: 3

3

Herbert Simmons, one of the servers, poked his head in from the back.

"Vinnie, you want to go over the prep list?"

I turned off my phone, walked to the register, and pulled open the bottom drawer.

"No rush."

I took out an old ledger and flipped to the first page.

Leila. Two large flower baskets.

The date was four years ago. I flipped further in.

Line after line, packed tight, all of it Leila's bills.

Dinners, birthdays, treating people, family meals.

Every entry ended with the same words: running a tab. Signed by Leila each time.

The last page was written last month. As of that month, Leila's tabs came to a running total of one hundred fifty-nine thousand three hundred dollars.

I closed the ledger and glanced at my phone again. More messages had piled up, everyone tossing in a request of their own.

"Leila's bestie, best to use fresh flowers for the setup. My wife's allergic to fake ones."

"Oh, and it's a family thing. Back home we're big on tradition. For the tea ceremony we need premium coffee brewed with spring water."

"You'll need to prepare the cash gift envelopes for the change-of-address ceremony too. The hand-embroidered kind."

Watching those lines pop up one after another, I actually laughed out of sheer anger.

Not one person in that group had asked if I was tired, not one had said thank you. Like the restaurant was theirs and I was just the hired help.

No, wrong. If it were their own place, they'd never spend this freely.

Leila tagged me again.

"Lavinia, don't just go quiet. There are a lot of people in here waiting on you."

"Can we lock the menu tonight? Nathaniel's Aunt Abbott is coming by tomorrow to look at the venue."

When I didn't reply, Leila switched to private messages and started blasting me.

"The restaurant's open either way, the ingredients are right there, the cooks are right there. It's no trouble at all."

I asked her:

"Thirty-six tables. Have you figured out what the ingredients alone cost?"

Leila went silent. I sent over the itemized bill.

The final total: two hundred fifty-eight thousand three hundred dollars.

"I can give you a discount."

Leila sent back a tongue-sticking-out emoji.

"Oh come on, you and me? When you opened this place, I invested. That makes me a shareholder. A shareholder throws a wedding, and you're counting every penny?"

Since she still wasn't getting it, I sent over her tab too.

Leila blew up instantly.

"What's that supposed to mean? Keeping records this detailed. What, are you guarding against thieves?"

Before I could get a word in, she fired off a whole string of messages.

"Lavinia Fox, if it weren't for my two flower baskets back then, would this place even have gotten off the ground? Business is good now, so suddenly you don't know me?"

Right. Two flower baskets, counted as a stake. Over four years I'd waived a hundred fifty thousand for her.

I'd meant to give Leila one last chance, but her greed had no bottom.

"Lavinia, didn't we agree? We were going to save up, buy a place, be independent women who don't lean on men."

"Getting this petty over money now, did you forget what we promised each other?"