After the Four-Hundred-Lari Dinner, the Clients Disappeared Without a Trace, the Manager Charged Me for the Bill, but the Next Morning His Face Turned Pale

That evening, when the four-hundred-lari bill was left in my hands, I immediately realized that this money would sacrifice the entire month for Chloe and me.

It was seven o’clock in the evening, and raindrops were slowly running down the glass doors of the restaurant. I was standing by the third table, holding the order notebook, and trying not to let it show how Chloe was counting the remaining money on her phone.

“I transferred the rent, but I have to manage the electricity money by tomorrow,” she told me in the morning.
“We’ll manage,” I reassured her, although I myself did not believe it.

Serving was my second job. I was studying at university, while Chloe was still attending school, and I also paid for her medicines. Every hundred-dollar bill was not simply money to me. It was a light switched on, a full refrigerator, and several peaceful nights.

That evening, an elegantly dressed couple entered the restaurant. The man was wearing a dark green jacket, and the woman had a small golden clasp around her neck. They sat in the velvet corner booth and did not even look at the prices on the menu.

“The best steak, two appetizers, three cocktails, and that wine whose bottle is standing on the glass shelf,” the man told me.
“Would you like dessert as well?” I asked.
“Everything that is usually offered to rich people,” the woman smiled.

I could hear their laughter for a long time. Ice clinked in the glasses, while the silver knife made a sharp sound against the plate. Almost two hours later, the man raised a finger.

“Bring us the bill.”

I placed the receipt on a small wooden tray. It was a little more than four hundred dollars. The man nodded and told me that he would prepare his card.

Then I went to another table.

When I returned five minutes later, I found the booth empty. The tray was empty too.

I ran toward the manager’s office. Julian was sitting there, tapping his fingers on a pen.

“They left. They didn’t pay.”
“It was your table, Anna.”
“Check the cameras.”
“You should have watched them first.”
“I don’t have four hundred dollars.”
“Then find it.”

His voice was cold. The room smelled of burnt coffee, while the clock hanging on the wall ticked so loudly, as if it were counting time against me.

I turned out my pockets, then took the day’s entire earnings from the bearded jar. I placed four hundred-dollar bills on the table. My hands were trembling.

“This is unfair,” I said.
“They don’t pay for fairness at work,” Julian replied.

That night, the small copper crescent-shaped keychain attached to my shoe kept tapping. Chloe had given it to me, and in small letters it said “C-17” — the number of our first apartment. Usually this sound calmed me. That night, however, it seemed to be telling me that I was losing something.

The next morning, before ten o’clock, Julian called me.

“Come to the restaurant urgently.”
“Is this still about that couple?”
“Just come.”

When I opened the heavy glass door, Julian came straight toward me. For the first time, I saw that his confident face had turned pale. He was holding a thick, dark leather folder.

“The night shift found something behind the booth,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s no money. There’s no wallet.”

He extended the folder toward me. His fingers were so tense, as if something alive were moving inside.

“Anna, I think you should see this.”

My hand slowly moved toward the folder’s clasp…

When I opened the folder’s clasp, I saw my name on the very first page. Below it was written the amount of more than four hundred dollars that I had paid the previous night.

“What is this?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Julian answered, but there was fear in his eyes.

The names of other servers were written on the following pages as well. Dates, amounts, and one word: “Lost bill.”

“How many times has this happened?”
“Close the folder.”
“These are the names of my colleagues.”
“Anna, go home.”

I found a small recorder in the back pocket. Just then Julian extended his hand to take it from me.

“You can’t take that.”
“Why?” I stepped back.
“Because you don’t know whom you’re fighting.”

For the first time, his voice did not contain the sternness of a boss. A plea and fear were mixed together in it.

At the end of the folder lay a folded piece of paper. I recognized on it the handwriting of the woman who had been sitting in front of me the previous night.

“If you found this, Julian will already know.”

At that moment my phone rang. It was Chloe.

“Anna, someone came to the house and asked for you,” she told me in a whisper.

I looked at Julian. He immediately knew who this person was…

“Lock the doors, Chloe!” I shouted, although by then only heavy breathing could be heard from the phone.

Julian snatched the folder from me and threw it onto the table.

“If you want your sister to be safe, leave here calmly.”
“Did you threaten her?”
“I’m only warning you.”

The midday sun reflected off the empty glasses in the restaurant hall. Each glimmer struck my eyes. For the first time, I no longer felt like a poor student whom an older man could easily frighten. I was still afraid, but beneath it something firmer was being born.

I turned on the recorder in my hand.

Julian’s own voice sounded: “This is already the fifth table. Don’t explain anything to the servers, simply charge them the amount. The couple will always leave through the left exit.”

Julian froze.

Then a second voice sounded — that of the man who had ordered the bill.

“We’ll pretend that we intend to pay. Tomorrow there should be one more name on the list.”

The woman asked quietly: “What if someone resists us?”

Julian answered: “We’ll remind their family how expensive losing a job can be for them.”

Silence fell in the room. The crescent of the key slid from my hand and fell to the floor with a metallic clink.

“This folder contains all the records,” I said. “The names, the amounts, and your signature.”
“You can’t prove that I was running this.”
“You already proved it. With your own voice.”

At that moment the door opened and the owner of the restaurant, Mrs. Miranda, entered together with the same woman and man. Now they were no longer wearing expensive clothes. The woman was holding an official identification card.

“I’m Lea, a financial investigator,” she said. “This is my colleague Nika. We have been investigating Julian’s scheme for three weeks.”

Julian stepped back.

“You weren’t clients?”
“We were,” Nika answered. “But we deliberately did not pay the bill so that we could see what you would do. We did not leave the folder there by accident. We knew they would find it at night.”

Miranda looked toward me.

“Anna, you will get the four hundred dollars back. But this is not over yet.”

Her phone rang. She looked at the screen and her face changed.

“The police are already coming toward the building,” Lea told me. “But there is one thing Julian does not know: the person who went to Chloe’s house was not alone…”

Before these words were finished, a sharp sound of tires came from outside…