I walked over to where they were arguing and stood next to Willow.
“Look around you,” Willow barked. “Does it look like I only expected fifty people? I said five-hundred!”
“I have a copy of all the paperwork, including what your grandmother signed, and it says fifty,” the waiter responded, waving a paper in her face.
“When you first walked in here and saw that there were clearly more than fifty people here, why wouldn’t you say something? You expected all of these people to split fifty hors d’oeuvres?”
The waiter took a menacing step toward Willow. “Look.”
I stepped forward, pulling my shoulders back, and imposing my entire six-foot form. “I really suggest you calm down.”
The waiter receded a bit. “Um, sir…”
Willow stuck out an arm. “It’s fine, Sandro, I’ve got it.”
My skin prickled as my name left her lips, and I stood down as she asked. “What can I do to help?”
Willow shook her head. “I don’t need your—I don’t need help.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled, just enough to pull her gaze over to me. “Let me help you like you helped me.”
I looked into Willow’s eyes and could see her processing my request. She glanced over at Ricky, who was standing dead center in a group of fifteen people, and then looked back at me. “The catering company only brought fifty hors d’oeuvres for this entire group of people.”
“You only ordered—” I shot the waiter a look and he shut up instantly.
“I don’t know what to do. People are starving, and there’s supposed to be more than enough.”
I motioned toward her grandmother. “Go, be with your grandma. I’ll take care of it.” Willow looked conflicted. I rolled my eyes. “I won’t use my gun. I won’t use my wallet.”
Next to me, I saw the waiter rigidify. I wouldn’t use my gun, but it wouldn’t hurt if he knew that I had one.
Willow looked at him and then back at me. “Promise.”
I squeezed her hand, still clasped in mine. “I promise, Will.”
She hesitated for a moment, and I had to bite back a smile as I watched her eyes scan me up and down. Eventually, she pulled her hand from mine. She ran a hand through her hair, her nervous tell, and then twirled and made her way toward her grandmother.
As soon as she was out of sight, I locked eyes with Gabriel and nodded him over. He started to make his way across the room as I turned to face the waiter.
“So listen, what’s it gonna take to get the appropriate amount of food here?”
The waiter’s eyes were darting all around until Gabriel closed in on him, standing over him with his arms crossed. “S-sirs, it’s not possible. We only brought enough food to prepare the ordered quan—”
Gabriel cracked his neck to one side. “Uh-oh. You’re about to tell him no, aren’t you?”
The waiter eyed Gabriel nervously. “Um.”
Gabriel leaned in, his awkward, non-intimidating demeanor playing perfectly into our tactic. “He doesn’t like being told no. Especially when it comes to that woman. Trust me, bud. You’re gonna wanna get some food here immediately.”
The waiter exchanged glances between Gabriel and me, with beads of sweat dripping down his face. “L-let m-me see what I c-c-can do.”
I tapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.”
Within fifteen minutes, a pack of waiters, similarly dressed to the one I’d spoken to, were walking into the manor with trays of food in their hands, more than enough to feed the people present at the visitation.
I approached the head waiter and put my hand on his shoulder, and he jumped. “See? You were more than capable of getting it here. Great job. How much is this gonna run us?”
“Um, my boss sent over a copy of the original invoice, which does show charges for five-hundred people.” I was fully expecting the waiter to pee in place at any moment. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”