Chapter 910 How Much Money Is Specifically Lacking
Lyra's face went white as a sheet.
Sure, she needed the money and wanted to earn it, but she hadn't sunk this low.
She couldn't bring herself to use her body to make money.
She took a few steps back, her voice polite but firm, "Sir, I'm just a server here. My job is to sell drinks, nothing more."
"Don't play dumb. You came to this place, didn't you? Isn't it all about doing anything for cash?" The man looked at her with blatant disdain.
"I'm not saying I won't pay you. If you take good care of us tonight, I'll buy all the drinks you have. Go ask your manager if he knows who I am."
Lyra forced an awkward smile and tried to push her cart away.
She didn't want to use her body, nor could she afford to get into a conflict with a customer.
Seeing her trying to leave, the drunk customer got angry, stood up, and grabbed her arm, cursing, "I picked you because I thought you were worth it. What do you mean by this? I spend thousands of dollars at this bar every year, and I can't even get a server to sit with me?"
"Sir, this really isn't part of my job. I..."
"Stop pretending to be pure when you're already selling yourself," the customer rudely interrupted her.
Tears welling up in her eyes, she had been trying so hard to live her life, but it seemed like the universe had never been kind to her.
"Why are you crying? You're ruining my good mood," the customer's attitude grew nastier.
The commotion soon attracted the manager.
After understanding the situation, the manager unsurprisingly sided with the customer, scolding Lyra, "He just wants you to have a drink with him. Sit down and keep him company. You're a server; how can you get into a conflict with a customer?"
Lyra knew it was useless to argue with the manager.
The manager only cared about profits—how much alcohol could be sold, how much money could be made. Whether she felt wronged or not had nothing to do with him.
She lowered her head and stayed silent, letting the manager berate her harshly.
After scolding her, the manager turned to apologize to the customer, "I'm really sorry. The new server doesn't know better. How about this? I'll give you a discount on tonight's bill and arrange for a few more girls to come over."
"I don't need you to arrange anything. I want her to stay with me," the customer insisted, now determined to make Lyra drink with him.
Lyra had been refusing to sit down, but now he was adamant that she must drink with him.
Especially in front of so many friends, he slammed his hand on the table, "If she doesn't sit down today, it means you all look down on me."
"This is your mess. You deal with it," the manager said coldly, leaving Lyra to face the consequences.
Just when Lyra felt completely cornered, a familiar voice came from behind.
"Isn't it the 21st century? Why are you still so rude?"
Jeffery strode over, standing in front of Lyra, shielding her.
At that moment, Lyra felt an overwhelming sense of security.
Jeffery's presence was tall and imposing, blocking those disgusting gazes from the men.
"Who the hell are you? I'm a VIP customer here. See that Dom Pérignon on our table?" The customer pointed behind him arrogantly.
He didn't recognize Jeffery, assuming he was just some young guy trying to play hero.
"Trying to be a hero? Know your place. Get lost, or I'll call the manager to throw you out."
Customers were treated differently based on their spending.
A VIP who could afford Dom Pérignon certainly received better treatment than regular customers.
Jeffery looked at him like he was an idiot. Fighting with such a person would only degrade him.
He turned to Lyra, "Go get the manager."
"Okay, I'll go right away." Lyra knew this wasn't the time to argue. She quickly ran to the bar.
Seeing Lyra run off, the customer felt his pride was being trampled.
He flew into a rage and swung his fist at Jeffery.
Jeffery, who had trained before, easily handled the drunk. Especially after seeing Lyra's tears, his anger intensified.
Luckily, he arrived in time; otherwise, Lyra would have been bullied.
Soon, the customer was pinned to the ground, sporting a black eye.
When the manager arrived, he saw this scene.
He hurriedly bent down to help the customer, "Sir, are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?"
"How can you let anyone into this bar? Get them out of here!" the customer demanded.
Earlier, the manager had unconditionally sided with the customer against Lyra. Now, he hesitated.
Both were customers, but Jeffery's spending was much higher, and the person with Jeffery was a major client of the bar.
"What are you waiting for?" the customer urged impatiently.
The manager had made his decision. He helped the customer up, his tone less enthusiastic, "We respect every customer, but you can't cause a scene and fight with others. You're drunk. Let me help you to a room upstairs to rest."
"I don't want to rest. I want that girl to drink with me. Don't you understand?"
Seeing the customer still shouting, the manager turned to call other servers, "This customer is injured. Help him to the door and call an ambulance."
The customer was unwilling to leave, but he couldn't struggle against two people. Eventually, he was dragged out.
The manager approached Jeffery to apologize.
Jeffery wasn't having it, "Don't talk to me. I want Lyra to come with me to the private room. Are you letting her go or not?"
"Yes, yes." The manager feared Lyra might refuse again.
But Lyra said nothing, following Jeffery upstairs.
They went to an empty private room. After closing the door, Jeffery turned to her, "Why are you working in a place like this? Are you that short on money?"
Lyra nodded, "Of course I am. Otherwise, I wouldn't have taken this job."
If she had a choice, she would prefer a regular job during the day and a peaceful rest at night, rather than pushing a cart in a bar, risking sexual harassment.
Jeffery asked, "How much do you need? Just give me a number. I can help you."
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