Solomon pushed himself out of the booth.
Jasmine peeked out from the kitchen doors, her eyes wide with alarm. She took a step toward the dining area, but Solomon immediately held up a hand.
"Go back inside the kitchen, Jas," Solomon ordered, his voice dangerously low. "Do not let anyone else come out here."
Solomon marched toward the front entrance. He found half a dozen men wearing tailored black suits and dark sunglasses standing in the foyer. The young waiter lay curled on the checkered floorboards, coughing up blood and clutching his nose.
"What is going on here?" Solomon demanded, crossing his arms over his hoodie.
The lead man in the suit scoffed loudly, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive jacket. "This lowly, unawakened trash had the nerve to tell me the diner was not open for business yet. So, I punched him in the face to teach him some customer service."
The five thugs standing behind him chuckled maliciously at the explanation.
