Curtis looked at the broken plate on the floor, then at the phones recording, then at Nora’s trembling hands. He didn’t move. “I’ll finish my dinner,” he said. “Then I’ll leave.” Brett’s smile vanished.
What happened next took less than three seconds. Brett swung. A hard open palm aimed at the side of Curtis’s head. The slap connected.
Curtis’s face turned sideways. The sound cracked across the food court like a gunshot. Every conversation stopped. Curtis didn’t fall. He stood exactly where he was. His cheek flushed red. He blinked once. Then he turned his face back to Brett and looked at him with the same quiet expression he had worn the entire time.
That look made Brett’s stomach clench. “Hold him,”
Brett snapped. Four students moved instantly. Two grabbed Curtis’s arms from behind. Two more flanked his sides. They pinned him against the booth, arms locked behind his back. Curtis didn’t resist. He let them hold him like a man who had been held before and knew that struggling was a waste of energy. Brett stepped close. “See, this is what I’m talking about.
No fight in you. No spine. Nothing.” He slapped Curtis again, harder this time. Curtis’s head snapped left. A red mark bloomed across his cheekbone. “Hit me back,” Brett whispered. “Come on. Give me a reason.” Curtis said nothing. Brett turned to the crowd. “You all watching this? This is what a coward looks like.
A truck driver who can’t even defend himself.” Phones were everywhere now. Dozens of screens glowing in the fluorescent light. Someone had started a live stream. The viewer count was climbing. Brett noticed it and grinned. He loved an audience.
He turned back to Curtis. Grabbed his jaw. Forced him to look up. “You’re nothing,” Brett said, each word deliberate and slow. “You drive a truck. You sleep in parking lots. You eat alone. And when a real man puts his hands on you, all you do is stand there. Like an animal waiting to be put down.”
One of the students laughed nervously. The others tightened their grip on Curtis’s arms. Nora was on the phone behind the counter whispering to someone. Her hands shook as she dialed. Brett wasn’t done.
He grabbed Curtis’s jacket collar and dragged him toward the exit. Curtis’s boots scraped across the polished floor. The four students followed, keeping their hold. Brett pushed through the glass doors into the parking lot. The night air hit them. The lot was bright.
