Chapter 8: The Seating Chart

The steakhouse put my place card by the kitchen door, between a stack of clean plates and a fire extinguisher.

It said Althea (BYO) in Cassidy's handwriting, with a small star.

Everyone else sat at the long tables by the window, under the chandeliers.

The vice president sat in the middle of it all with Cassidy on his right and the people who always got a pass around her.

The company paid sixty dollars a head, and nobody was supposed to go over.

I took my lunch bag out of my tote and set it on the tablecloth.

A waiter arrived within the minute.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, we can't allow outside food."

"It's labeled," I said. "It has my name and today's date."

I turned the bag so he could read the card.

MY LUNCH. HANDS OFF.

He looked at the crown printed on the bag.

"I'll get you some bread," he said.

"Bread is four dollars," I said. "I'll pay exact."

The waiter left, and I ate my turkey sandwich at the best steakhouse in Columbus, and it was a very good sandwich.

At the center table, Cassidy was ordering.

I could hear every word, because the kitchen door kept swinging open.

"The lobster tail," she said. "And do you do a caviar service?"

"Seventy-two dollars," said the waiter.

"Perfect."

My fork stopped.

The bill came at nine, and the table went quiet.

Table one had an allowance of sixty dollars per person, which came to three hundred and sixty dollars for six.

Five of them had stayed under sixty.

The lobster tail was sixty-four, and the caviar service was seventy-two.

Cassidy looked at the paper and passed it left.