I Made Bikers Pay Before They Ate Because I Didn’t Trust Them But They Made Me Cry With Their Action

The big biker looked at his brothers. Something passed between them. A look I couldn’t read.

“Yes ma’am,” he said quietly. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

He pulled out his wallet and handed me three hundred-dollar bills. “That should cover all of us with tip. Keep the change.”

I felt a small flicker of shame but I pushed it down. I was protecting my business. Protecting my customers. I wasn’t wrong to be cautious.

I seated them in the back corner, far from the family and the elderly couple. Gave them menus and water and tried to ignore them for the rest of the night.

But I couldn’t help watching.

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