Chapter 12
Kenna was in a great mood when Saturday rolled around. Lunch with Marshall on Friday had been awkward at first, but he’d taken her in his arms and apologized once more, asking for her forgiveness. She’d reassured him that she’d already forgiven him and they were good.
He’d taken her to Chiba-ken, a sushi restaurant she’d been dying to try, but hadn’t had a chance to yet.
Apparently, he didn’t even like sushi, and when she’d asked him why on earth he’d picked this restaurant for lunch, he’d simply said, “because you wanted to eat here.” Her heart just about melted right then and there.
He’d ended up getting the asparagus wrapped with pork. She’d gotten the sushi platter, and proceeded to stuff her face with the three different kinds of sushi that were included.
It was clear to her that Marshall Smart was one of the good ones, as Carly promised.
Kenna had been afraid he was too perfect, and she now knew that wasn’t true.
He’d messed up by not coming out and admitting he lived at Coral Springs.
But he was sorry, and Kenna had apologized again too.
If she hadn’t been so judgmental, he might’ve fessed up sooner.
She was also still pissed off at the woman he’d dated who’d been hoping he’d die so she could get her hands on his money.
Kenna knew money was important. She wasn’t an idiot.
But who he was as a person far outweighed the importance of his bank account, in her opinion.
She could take care of herself. Had been taking care of herself.
She didn’t need a man, or his money, to make her happy.
She just wanted and needed someone who enjoyed being with her, treated her and others with respect, and who she could talk to.
And Marshall fit the bill on all accounts.
Work on Thursday and Friday had been fairly normal. Saturday nights at Duke’s were usually a bit crazier. More tourists, more alcohol, and—most of the time—more tips.
Halfway through her shift, a family came in…
and Kenna just knew they were going to be trouble.
She got a vibe from them that made her feel as if all was not right in their world.
The man was large, more round than tall, and he wore a scowl on his face.
How anyone could be grumpy in a place like Duke’s, in Hawaii for goodness sake, was beyond Kenna.
The woman was thin and fairly short. Her shoulders were hunched as she followed behind her husband when Vera led them to their table in Kenna’s section.
They had a child, a little boy, who looked to be around four or five.
His eyes were wide as he took in everything around him, but he didn’t say a word as they were seated.
“Thanks, Vera,” Kenna told the hostess after she handed them their menus. “I’ve got it from here.”
“Enjoy your meal,” Vera said cheerfully.
“If we didn’t have to wait for an hour to be seated, I might’ve had a better shot at doing that,” the man muttered.
Kenna mentally sighed, but did her best to stay upbeat and positive as she went over the specials for the night and taking their drink orders.
The man didn’t ask his wife or son what they wanted to drink, he just ordered for them.
But since neither protested, Kenna assumed it was probably what they always ordered.
She wasn’t thrilled that the man ordered a bourbon, neat, but she wasn’t the alcohol police.
She just hoped he wouldn’t get drunk. She had a feeling the more alcohol he had, the worse his mood would get.
As she headed for the kitchen, Kenna said a silent prayer that she was misinterpreting the situation and everything would be just fine.
But an hour later, she knew her concerns had been spot on.
The man had ordered four drinks so far and proceeded to down each almost as soon as Kenna had put them on the table.
He was loud and obnoxious, complaining about how long it took for the food to be delivered and the temperature of their meals.
He didn’t like how noisy the restaurant was, or the music out by the Outrigger Hotel’s pool.
He constantly glared at his wife, though Kenna had only heard her say one thing the entire time she’d been serving the family.
And that was to apologize profusely when she admitted that she’d dropped her fork and needed a new one.
Of course, her husband called her a clumsy bitch, which made Kenna want to scream.
Their son seemed unnaturally quiet, and she hoped he was just uncertain about his surroundings.
Or shy. She’d done her best to engage both the wife and the little boy, but the man’s complaints made it hard to have any kind of conversation.
Kenna had just returned to their table with the man’s credit card when the shit really hit the fan.
He’d tipped a measly ten percent, but Kenna was honestly pleased he’d left her a tip at all.
It seemed the more obnoxious a customer, the less they always gave.
She still needed to package up the leftover hula pie they hadn’t been able to finish, and had just turned to head back to the kitchen for a box when the little boy stood and wandered off toward the beach, as his father bitched about something or other.
Since Duke’s was an open-air restaurant, there weren’t any walls between the tables and the beach.
Just a couple of stairways with maybe four or so steps each.
The boy had been looking wistfully toward the beach and ocean throughout the meal, and Kenna smiled to herself when she saw him give into his longing to get a closer look.
But his father obviously wasn’t happy with his son wandering off. He sprang out of his seat and took the few steps required to reach him, grabbed a handful of his shirt, and jerked him backward.
Kenna could only stare in horrified shock as the man smacked his son across the face, then swatted his butt, hard. “You do not leave our sides!” he shouted, pointing a finger into the boy’s face. “Hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sit your ass back down. Now.”
Kenna already had her phone out. There was no universe she lived in where she would not report abuse.
Didn’t matter if it was an adult to a child, a man to a woman, or even a woman to a man.
She quickly explained to the police what had happened and implored them to hurry as the family was getting ready to leave.
She managed to stall them by lingering in the kitchen for much longer than she would normally when a customer was waiting for something.
But she needed to give the cops time to get there.
Luckily, just like the other day, they arrived quickly, and Kenna met them at the front of the restaurant.
She explained what had happened and pointed out the man.
The second the man saw the police officers headed his way, he completely lost his cool.
He stood up and started swearing loudly.
Kenna watched from a distance as the officers tried to have a calm and rational conversation with him, but when he drew back his fist to hit one of them, all bets were off.
They had the man on the ground with his hands cuffed behind him before he could follow through with his physical threat.
One officer hauled him up and out of the restaurant, while the other stayed behind to talk to his wife and son.
On his way past her, the man glared and hissed, “You’ll be sorry, bitch. You’re nothing! Lower than the dirt on my fucking shoes. You shouldn’t have fucked with me. I’ll—”
“Come on,” the officer said harshly, cutting off whatever threat he was going to spew next. “I think you’re in trouble enough, let’s not add threatening your waitress to that list, shall we?”
Then he hauled him down the small hallway toward the exit…and hopefully right to his cop car sitting at the curb on Ala Moana Boulevard.
Kenna was a bit shaken at the hatred in the man’s tone, but did her best to shake it off.
She looked back at the table where his family were still sitting.
The little boy had a large red mark on his face from his dad’s abuse, and was quietly playing with a toy police shield the officer had obviously given him.
Kenna couldn’t hear what was being said, but she prayed the woman would press charges.
If anyone dared to hit her child like the man had done to his son, Kenna would’ve lost her mind.
She hurried back into the kitchen to grab a fresh piece of pie and a side order of French fries.
She’d noticed the little boy seemed to love them, while he’d only nibbled on his hamburger.
She supposed that giving him more of the greasy fried potatoes maybe wasn’t the healthiest thing, but she wanted to comfort him in some way.
And since she knew he enjoyed the fries, that was the first thing she’d thought of.
As Kenna suspected, when she approached the table, the woman was shaking her head and telling the officer she didn’t want to press charges.
Mentally sighing, Kenna knelt by the boy’s chair.
“Hey, I brought you some French fries to take home. The cook said he made too many and was about to throw them away. I figured you might want them instead.”
His eyes lit up, but before he accepted, Kenna saw him look over at his mother. She nodded at him, and only then did he reach for the container.
Kenna put the piece of pie on the table. “And I brought you a full slice of hula pie instead of the half-eaten one from your dinner.”
“Thank you,” the woman said distractedly. Kenna could tell her mind was on other things. Probably how mad her husband was going to be when he was released and able to return to their hotel room.
“Can I call you a taxi?” Kenna asked.
“No, thank you,” the woman said.
“We’re gonna need your statement,” the officer told Kenna.
She nodded.
“You shouldn’t’ve called the police,” the woman said quietly.
“And your son shouldn’t ever be hit in the face. Especially not by his father,” Kenna returned.