Fifty Thousand Reasons to Get Revenge novel · Chapter 1 of 12
Chapter 1: The Bill
I was about to leave my brother's restaurant when a woman dressed in black blocked my path.
"Miss," she said. "You haven't paid your bill yet."
I stopped with one hand on the glass door.
Mesa Garmendia occupied the ground floor of a building in Polanco, with high ceilings, bronze lamps, and three Michelin stars hanging at the entrance.
I'd eaten there about two hundred times, and I'd never paid for so much as a glass of water.
The woman was tall, platinum blonde, with long nails painted dark red and a gold badge on her lapel.
I didn't know her.
"She must be new," I thought. "And she doesn't know who I am."
I smiled, calm.
"Charge it to Mr. Garmendia's account," I said. "He already knows."
The woman looked me up and down.
Her gaze swept over my gray pantsuit, the sunglasses on my head, the logo-less handbag.
Contempt rose into her eyes.
"Miss, we're a three-star restaurant," she said. "We don't charge things to anyone here."
She pulled a printed sheet from her jacket pocket and placed it in my hand.
"Your bill."
I looked down.
And I went silent for a second.
Fifty thousand dollars.
For a two-hour lunch, for four people, with a bottle of mineral water and a salad.
I reviewed the list, line by line.
Premium dishware maintenance: three thousand dollars.
Exclusive air purification: five thousand.
Emotional management service for VIP clients: ten thousand.
Diner observation fees: four thousand.
And so on, to the bottom of the page, with dozens of absurd line items that not even a hotel in Dubai would have dared invent.
"This is a joke," I said.
"It's a bill, miss."
"I've never seen a charge for emotional management service."
"It's an exclusive service of the house."
"And what did it manage?"
"Your behavior."
I half-suppressed a laugh.
I didn't know my brother had opened such a scammy business.
"I'm Mr. Garmendia's sister," I said. "If there's a problem, have him call me at his house."
The manager raised a thin eyebrow.
"Sure," she said, with a smile. "And I'm the Queen of England."
She crossed her arms.
"Miss, that tactic isn't new. People come in, eat, and when it's time to pay, they invent a relationship with the chef."
"I'm not inventing it."
"I figured."
"Call Amílcar."
"Mr. Garmendia is busy in the kitchen and doesn't take calls from people who can't pay."
I leaned back against the door.
Behind me, some diners had stopped eating to watch.
A man in a dark suit at a table by the window pretended to read the menu.
A young couple whispered.
The manager noticed, and raised her voice.
"So now you can't pay and you're pretending to be related?"
I held her gaze.
"What's your name?"
"That's none of your business."
"It is my business."
"I'm the general manager."
"Since when?"
"For two months."
Two months.
It had been two months since Amílcar returned my long calls.
It had been two months since he replied with short phrases, "All good, sis, lots of work."
Something went cold in my chest.
I pulled out my phone and texted my assistant.
"Tell my brother that either he fires this woman right now, or I withdraw all my investment from Mesa Garmendia. Today."
I sent it.
The manager laughed.
"What did you write? That you're going to sue us?"
"Something like that."
"I'm not scared."
"It shows."
I took the bill, folded it in four, and put it in my purse.
The manager tried to take it from me.
I pulled it out of her reach.
"Let go. That's restaurant property."
"It's my bill. I'm keeping it."
"I'm calling security."
"Call them."
She gestured with her hand.
Two men in black suits came out from behind the bar.
The diners stopped pretending.
Someone pulled out a phone to record.
The manager stepped closer.
She smelled of expensive perfume and barely contained rage.
"Listen to me carefully," she whispered. "I'll save you the embarrassment. Pay, or I'll have you dragged out."
I smiled slowly.
"What I'm going to do," I said, "is wait for my brother's reply."
At that moment my phone vibrated.
I looked down.
It was a message from Amílcar.
A single line.
"Margarita, please, don't do this. Jessica is my wife."
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