Seafood Feast on My Tab? Think Again Chapter 1

Right in the middle of the workday, my coworker, Stanley Graham, suddenly jumps up and slaps me on the shoulder.

"Next week is Mr. Todd's birthday. Since your family runs a seafood restaurant, I'll tell you what—I'll chip in 99 bucks to treat the whole department at your place to celebrate!"

He starts counting dishes on his fingers. "We need lobster and king crab. The fish has to be a fresh-killed red snapper. Don't skimp on the appetizers, and keep the beer and sodas flowing. Oh, and keep an eye on the shellfish. Mr. Todd has gout. Do a good job. Don't embarrass our department."

He nudges me with a smirk. "When Mr. Todd walks away happy, he'll probably throw a massive bonus your way. You'll be laughing all the way to the bank. You make money, you get the credit, and the boss is happy. Dylan, you seriously owe me one."

I stare at him, completely baffled. My family owns a small diner. Where on earth are we getting seafood from?

The moment I flatly refuse, Stanley rolls his eyes and walks off.

That night, a sign-up list pops up in the company group chat.

"Mr. Todd's birthday is this Saturday! I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast. Eat as much as you want, and you can bring your family too. Add your name to the list if you're in!"

The chat immediately erupts into cheers. In less than ten minutes, over 50 people sign up.

"My dad's never even had lobster. Thanks to Stanley, he finally gets to experience something new!"

"My kid loves tuna. Save a few extra portions for him!"

Stanley promises everyone everything. After dropping a location pin in the chat, he transfers 99 dollars to me.

"Dylan, take the cash. Make sure the ingredients are top-notch. Don't rip off your own coworkers."

I take a closer look at the location and smile.

It is the high-end seafood restaurant right next to my family's diner. The owner is a reformed gangster with tattoos climbing all the way up to his jaw.

The last guy who tried to walk out on a bill there still can't get out of bed.

* * *

"My family doesn't own the seafood restaurant. We own the small diner next door. You guys got it wrong."

The moment I hit send, the group chat went dead silent for a couple of seconds.

Then, my coworker, Stanley Graham, dropped a video into the chat.

In the clip, I walked into the seafood place. The hostess saw me and smiled, "Hey Dylan, welcome back. What do you feel like eating today?"

Stanley sent a string of question marks.

"You call this 'not your restaurant'? If it isn't, why did she say 'welcome back' and ask what you wanted to eat?

"Look, Dylan, nobody's trying to freeload off you. I'm paying to support your business, and you're putting on airs and making excuses? That's pretty uncool."

My heart sank. Someone had secretly filmed me after work yesterday.

Just as I started typing an explanation, Hector Weaver, who usually joked around with me, chimed in first. "Come on, Dylan. Is this really necessary? Nobody's after your money."

"Exactly. It's not like we can't afford seafood. The way you're being so secretive is pretty disgusting."

The HR guys spammed thumbs-down emojis.

"Seafood is literally everywhere now. Stop treating it like it's some rare treasure."

Someone from the marketing department jumped right in.

"We're just trying to support your place and draw a crowd. Without us hyping it up, it'd be so dead in there that no one would even walk through the door."

"I was even going to film a TikTok review and give you a free promo. That marketing is worth way more than a meal. You should be glad I didn't charge you an ad fee."

"Look at the big picture. Stop obsessing over pennies. You'll get further in life if you're a bit more generous."

As I stared at my screen, my fingers trembled.

My family was just neighbors with Charles Marsh, the restaurant owner. Charles was a nice guy who occasionally invited me over for a meal. How did that turn into me owning the restaurant?