After Hosting His Engagement Banquet Here, My Husband's Friend Regretted It

My restaurant had been open three months. For all three of those months, my husband's childhood best friend had been bringing people in to eat.

Three hundred thousand dollars in tabs, and he'd never paid once.

The place was bleeding money every month. I finally couldn't hold it in and mentioned it to him, just once, asked him to settle the bill.

His answer, in front of the whole restaurant, was to slap me across the face. Twice.

"I only eat here because I'm doing your husband a favor. What gives an outsider like you the right to come asking me for money?"

My husband quietly turned his head and pretended not to see.

I didn't shout, didn't make a scene. I turned and walked out.

Three days later, he was getting engaged. He rounded up every relative from his side and the woman's side, booked out the entire restaurant, and gave me his orders.

"Today I'm throwing my engagement party here, and you're going to bring the most expensive liquor and the best dishes to every single table!"

I glanced at the transfer contract I'd just signed for the restaurant and gave a faint smile.

"Sure."

When those two slaps from Job James, my husband's best friend, landed on my face.

The noisy restaurant went silent in an instant.

Every eye in the room swung toward me.

Everyone except my husband, Clay Swanson, who quietly turned his head and pretended not to see.

I looked up at Job's vicious face, then at Clay playing deaf and dumb.

I didn't argue, didn't make a scene. I just walked out of the restaurant.

Behind me, Job was still cursing.

"I knew Clay before you even came along, and now you've got the nerve to come to me for money? You try asking me for money again, I'll slap you again."

I didn't look back.

Out on the street, the cold wind hit me, and the sting on my cheek came into sharper focus.

But inside, I was calmer than I'd ever been.

I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and made a call.

"Hello. I want to transfer ownership of a restaurant."

"I don't care how low the price is. I only have one condition."

Once I'd worked things out with the person on the line, I didn't go back to the restaurant.

I went straight home instead.

The moment I reached the door, I heard Job's aggrieved voice coming from inside.

"Clay, you really need to keep that wife of yours in line."

"You and me grew up thick as thieves. How does she have the face to hit up her own husband's best friend for money over one meal?"

Clay sighed, sounding a little helpless.

"She really was out of line on this one."

"But the restaurant is hers, she paid for it herself, so I can't come down on her too hard."

Job's voice rose at once.

"So what if she paid for it herself?"

"She's your wife. Her money is your money."

"Clay, I'm telling you, you can't spoil a woman like that. When it's time to lay hands on her, you lay hands on her. Look at how I hit her today. She didn't dare make a peep."

"You'd better set her straight later. Don't let some outsider wreck twenty-plus years of brotherhood between us."

Clay was quiet for two seconds, then muttered.

"I know."

The next second, I pushed open the door and walked in.

The two of them turned to look at me in unison, displeasure all over their faces.

I ignored them, went straight into the bedroom, pulled open the closet, and started packing.

Clay followed me in and shut the door behind him.

"What are you doing?"

I folded my coat and pushed it into the suitcase, calm.

"Packing. I'm moving out."

Clay's face darkened, and his tone turned impatient.

"Glenda Simmons, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"Job was wrong to hit you, fine, but you shouldn't have humiliated him in front of everyone either."

"He's my best friend. You expect me to get into a fight with him over you?"

"Can't you use some sense and fix that petty, nickel-and-diming streak of yours?"

My hands paused for a moment.

Then I looked up at him and said, mildly.

"Don't worry. I won't do it again."

With that, I folded the last piece of clothing, laid it in the suitcase, zipped it shut, and walked out of the house without looking back.

Behind me, Clay started to come after me, but Job stopped him, sure of himself.

"Clay, let her go."

"You can't coddle a woman. Running off is just her way of trying to get a grip on you. As long as you don't take the bait, she'll come crawling back in tears in a few days."

With Job's mockery ringing after me, I carried my suitcase into the elevator and went down.

Then I checked into a room near the restaurant.

Once I'd settled in, my phone rang.

It was a message.

After I read it, I smiled, satisfied.

For the next two days, I went to the restaurant as usual and ran everything like nothing had happened.

I only stepped away now and then to make a few calls and sign a few papers.

Maybe he was trying to freeze me out. Job didn't come by the restaurant those two days.

Neither did Clay, who normally couldn't stay away from the place.

But he sent me the occasional text:

"Glenda, enough already. Stop making a scene."

"Job and I grew up together. Can't you swallow it, just for my sake?"

"Job's right, you've been spoiled rotten. If you've got the nerve, then stay mad forever. Don't come back."

I didn't reply to a single one. I just quietly went on with what I had to do.

Three days later, right as I finished signing the last contract, Job showed up.

He wore a brand-new suit, hair slicked back and shining, arrogance coming off him in waves.

On his arm was a fashionably dressed young woman.

His girlfriend, Angela Fox.

Clay trailed along beside them, not looking at me.

Behind them came a whole crowd of people.

Most of them were relatives from Job's and Angela's families.

The moment they came in, the whole bunch helped themselves to tables all over the restaurant.

Job swaggered up to the front counter and gave me his order.

"Today I'm booking out your whole restaurant for my engagement party. Every table gets your most expensive drinks and your best food."

"Australian lobster, abalone, sea cucumber, king crab, Wagyu, the luxury seafood stew, all of it. For drinks, top-shelf whiskey straight up. Don't cut any corners."

I lifted my head and looked calmly at the strutting Job, confirming with him.

"You're sure you want all this food and drink at every table? Once it's ordered, there are no returns or exchanges."

Job slammed the counter and raised his voice.

"Obviously!"

"When I tell you to serve it, you serve it. Where's all this yapping coming from?"

Angela's relatives gasped in admiration.

"Wow, all these fine drinks and dishes, that must cost a fortune, huh?"

Job waved a careless hand.

"Today's my engagement party with Angela. It's got to be done big."

"Don't worry, every bit of it's on me. You all just eat and enjoy yourselves."

Then he turned his head, glaring at me to hurry it along.

"What are you standing there for? Go serve the food!"

I looked at that cocky face of his.

Then I glanced at the restaurant transfer contract I'd just signed, and gave a faint smile.

"All right."

With that, I walked straight to the front door and hung up the sign: "Private Event Today. Closed to Walk-Ins."

Then I went back to the kitchen and told the head chef and his crew:

"Job's booked out the whole place today. Every dish goes exactly the way he wants it. Australian lobster, abalone, sea cucumber, king crab, Wagyu, luxury seafood stew."

"For drinks, top-shelf whiskey only. Load every table down with it, don't hold back."

The head chef froze for a second, then lowered his voice.

"Boss, there's no way this Job guy actually pays today either. If we really do everything he wants, we'll lose our shirts!"

I gave a faint smile.

"It's fine."

"Just do it."

Seeing how set I was, he didn't push it, just turned and got the prep going.

Soon the kitchen was in full swing, the clatter of pans and the rhythm of knives rising over each other.

The rich smell of it drifted through the whole restaurant.

Out in the dining room, everyone was heaping praise on Job and Angela.

"Job, you're really something. Throwing an engagement party this big."

"Angela's so lucky. Marrying a man like Job, capable and generous, sparing no expense even on an engagement party. Once they're married, she'll be set for life."

Basking in it, Angela's mouth curved up high, her face full of smug pride.

"Of course. Job promised me. Said from now on I'll eat and drink like a queen, every single day."

Job slid an arm around her waist and gave a proud smile, as though he'd already become the most successful man in the world.

Soon the heavy hitters started coming out to the tables.

Australian lobster, abalone with braised sea cucumber, luxury seafood stew, king crab sashimi. Every plate was beautifully arranged, and every one of them clearly cost a fortune.

The whiskey came in by the case, servers hauling it out and setting bottles on every table.

Looking at all that expensive food and liquor, Job's relatives went slack-jawed.

"My God, all these top-shelf dishes and drinks, for real? This engagement party is seriously impressive."

"Right? Food at this level, most people never taste it their whole lives."

"Having a relative as successful as Job, that's a real honor for the whole James family!"

Angela's relatives were just as stunned by the spread.

"Heavens, this abalone and sea cucumber, the top-shelf whiskey, I've only ever seen this stuff on TV. Never thought I'd get to try it myself in this lifetime."

"Job spends big and thinks big. He's definitely going to do great things someday."

"This son-in-law of the Fox family, we've made up our minds about him!"

Floating on all the praise, Job stood up with his glass raised, full of himself.

"Thank you all for honoring us by coming to celebrate my engagement to Angela."

"Eat all you want tonight, drink all you want. If it runs out, order more."

"I'm covering everything. Don't hold back on my account!"

The moment he finished, the whole room broke into cheers again.

Glasses went up all around, and the toasts came pouring in for Job.

"Come on, come on, let's toast our generous, big-thinking groom-to-be. May he do better every year!"

Wrapped in all the toasts and flattery, Job felt a satisfaction he'd never known before.

He held Angela close and thumped his chest as he declared to the room:

"Starting today, we're all one family."

"From now on, whatever you want to eat, just come to this restaurant and drop my name, Job James."

"Everything goes on my tab. You won't pay a cent."

At that, everyone's eyes lit up, and they crowded around him with another wave of praise.

"This kid is the most big-hearted person I've ever met!"

One line after another, until Job's nose was practically pointed at the ceiling.

Riding the endless flood of flattery, Job strolled slowly over to the front desk and leaned in to taunt me in a low voice.

"Glenda Simmons, don't you love money? Aren't you the one who counts every last penny?"

"Today I'm going to burn through every dollar in your place, so you learn what happens when you cross me."

The old me would have gotten a headache over a line like that from Job.

Now it just struck me as funny.

I looked at him and said, without a ripple:

"Suit yourself."

When I didn't come apart the way he'd pictured, Job frowned, a flicker of displeasure crossing his eyes.

The next moment he glanced at the tab on the table, and a sly look spread across his face.

"This whole meal only ran five hundred grand?"

"No wonder you're so calm. Guess the money just hasn't hit hard enough yet."

Then he turned and called out to a nearby waitress:

"Bring the menu. I'm ordering more."

The waitress looked to me for a cue.

I nodded.

She set the menu down in front of Job.

He flipped through it, drawling out his order:

"Bird's nest soup. Another bowl for everyone."

"Shark fin. One pot each."

"Caviar. However much you've got, bring it all."

When he was done, he tossed the menu onto the table and gave me a taunting grin.

"Well? Does it hurt to watch?"

I lifted the corner of my mouth and shook my head.

"Not at all."

His face stiffened, thoroughly annoyed.

"Then bring out some of that bluefin tuna sashimi. Two pounds per table."

He swept his gaze over the relatives from both families, chin tilted up, and added:

"And pack up a serving of Australian lobster and king crab for every single person, plus a bottle of top-shelf whiskey to take home. Call it a midnight snack."

That set the whole room off again.

"Wow! Not only does he feed everyone like this, he sends them home with doggie bags too. Is this what real money looks like?"

Even Angela wore a look of pride and worship.

"Job, I really didn't expect it. You're even more generous, even more of a big shot than I imagined."

Only Clay couldn't help walking over to Job, lowering his voice.

"Job, that's enough. Keep ordering and you'll clean the place out."

Job shot me a taunting glance and sneered.

"That's exactly what I want. Order out every expensive thing in this place, so certain people finally learn their lesson and stop nickel-and-diming everything."

Then he looked at Clay and asked, his voice dropping:

"Clay, we grew up together, you and me. You're not going to let Glenda Simmons come between us and wreck my engagement party, are you?"

Clay looked at me, and in the end he chose to say nothing.

Job stared me down from on high, his eyes full of the pleasure of getting even.

I just smiled and said nothing.

It was the waitress who looked at me uneasily and asked softly:

"Boss, do you really want me to put this order in?"

I glanced at Job and Clay and nodded.

"Put it in."

"Whatever they order, we serve."

Seeing me obediently place the order, Job looked like he'd won a war, flashing Clay a smug grin.

"See that?"

"She's toeing the line now, isn't she?"

"I told you. You can't go soft on women."

With that, he sauntered back to his seat, well satisfied, and went on eating and drinking.

Soon the waitress carried out Job's order exactly as instructed, plate after plate of bird's nest soup, shark fin, and caviar.

Then came the takeout, dozens of servings of Australian lobster, king crab, and top-shelf whiskey, set quietly beside each guest.

At the sight of it, every guest in the room burst into fresh praise.

"This is the most lavish, most extravagant party I've ever been to!"

Job waved a magnanimous hand.

"This is pocket change, nothing at all. If you like it, we can eat like this every day!"

I looked at the tab.

Their total had already climbed from five hundred thousand to a full million.

Watching every prized ingredient and bottle in the place get ordered out, Job was finally satisfied.

Stuffed and content, he leaned back in his chair and let out a belch.

Then he stood, walked over to me, and said, full of swagger:

"Glenda Simmons, that meal should be enough to teach you a lesson, don't you think?"

"Remember, don't be so petty with people from now on."

"Or I've got plenty of ways to deal with you!"

With that, he led the whole crowd toward the door.

Just then a group of men suddenly blocked the entrance, cutting Job off, and their leader spoke to him without the slightest courtesy:

"You racked up a full million at my restaurant today, and you think you're walking out without paying?"