The Sweet Tooth

by Margot Larson

  THE SWEET TOOTH

  Margot Larson

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  CHAPTER 1

  Almost every evening since he moved in to his apartment six months ago, when Solomon got home from work, he would walk up to his neighbor’s door and pause. He would listen for the sound of ‘the guy next door’ in the kitchen. Most nights, like that night, he heard the sounds of dinner starting to be prepared; pots or pans being removed from cabinets and plunked down onto the counter or stove or food processor set in motion and sometimes the quiet sound of a knife chopping. Normally, he would listen for a few moments then move down the hallway to his flat. He would step inside to begin what had become his nightly routine.

  Step# 1: place briefcase on coffee table

  Step# 2: remove suit jacket

  Step# 3: drape jacket over the back of sofa

  Step# 4: get a beer out of fridge

  Step# 5: open sliding doors to balcony

  Step# 6: step through doors

  Step# 7: stand at rail or sit on patio chair

  Step# 8: listen and wait

  And normally he would wait for the aromas of his neighbor’s dinner to come wafting over on the spring breeze through the open sliders. That night he was in for a surprise. He stopped, like usual, at the door but was shocked when his neighbor threw the door open. Solomon stared wide-eyed at the brunette in front of him, “Oh…um…..I…uh…sorry.” Even though he was startled by this strange turn of events Solomon closed his eyes and inhaled the inviting aroma of grilling steak, the smell rich, comforting, warm and mouth-wateringly delicious.

  “Hey!” the brunette was more excited than surprised to find the blonde man at his door but thought the man looked adorable with his eyes scrunched closed and inhaling.

  Solomon was startled again and blushed; he quickly opened his eyes and turned his head to the voice, “Hey, yourself.”

  “Mathieu, Mathieu Wallace. It’s nice to finally meet you. Sorry if I scared you.” the man formerly known as ‘the guy next door’ said holding out his hand.

  “Solomon Kelly, nice to meet you too,” he shook the offered hand. Solomon eyed his neighbor up and down. He was a little taller, a little leaner, with golden brown eyes and chin length, curly, brown hair. The face was very friendly, the smile was warm and was that an Irish accent? Solomon couldn’t help but smile back. “Um, aren’t you going to burn your steak?” That part came out without Solomon meaning it too and a hand flew up to cover his mouth.

  Mathieu’s smile broadened, if that were even possible, as he chuckled “I just took it off, it’s resting so the juices redistribute back throughout the meat. Are you new to London, then?”

  That was definitely an Irish accent! “I moved in here a few months ago but I’ve been in London since university. I’m from New Zealand originally.”

  “I saw you moving in. I’m sorry I didn’t say ‘hi’ sooner.” Mathieu flushed and looked away.

  Solomon noticed the taller man’s color change, “It’s okay. I’m glad we’re meeting now. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. Anything.” Mathieu smiled again.

  “Are you a chef?” Solomon was sure he was right.

  “No,” Mathieu replied. “I just really love to cook,” he mentally kicked himself for not putting two steaks on the grill but he didn’t know that that night would be the night he would finally work up the courage to meet his neighbor. “My grandparents cooked my parents are both really good cooks so I guess it runs in the family. The kitchen is my favorite room in the house.”

  “I’m a mess in the kitchen,” Solomon confessed. “I can barely work the coffee maker and the microwave”.

  “Microwave!” Mathieu gasped in fake horror, hand over his heart, “You’re killing me!”

  Both men laughed and Solomon opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a beeping sound emanating from further inside the apartment. “That’s my timer; don’t want to keep a good steak waiting. It was really nice meeting you”.

  “You too” Solomon replied, “enjoy your steak”.

  Mathieu turned to go but he stopped and spun around, “if you’d like some cooking lessons sometime just give me a knock. I mean it, anytime”.

  Solomon didn’t have to even think about it but he didn’t want to sound too eager so he said, “I just may take you up on that. Thanks”.

  With a smile and a wink, Mathieu turned again and disappeared into his apartment letting the door close gently behind him.

  Solomon knew he’d take Mathieu up on the offer. He even knew that if the offer hadn’t been made he would’ve figured out a way to bring the idea up sooner or later (preferably sooner) himself. He marched down to his door but didn’t bother going through every step of his nightly routine, there was no point but he was quite happy with the reason why. The blonde man did the first three steps and was just about to do the fourth when he realized he was starving. He took his mobile out of his pocket, brought up his contact list and pressed on ‘Adrian’. When the call was answered Solomon said, “I need steak. You’re coming with me. Meet me at Anders’ in 30.”

  “Um, okay, but when we get there I want to hear all about it,” Adrian laughed into the phone. “See you in 30.”

  ***

  The critics described Anders’ Steak House as “upscale” but Solomon thought it was perfect and didn’t really see anything upscale about it. The dining room was small but the tables weren’t so close together that you couldn’t hold a private conversation. The upper parts of the walls were brick; the lower parts; dark stained wood. The bar was the same dark wood as the paneling, the chairs and booth benches leather cushioned and the tables covered in white linen. There was no meaningless, yard sale junk hanging on the walls like in a lot of the chain restaurants these days. The wait staff wore classic uniforms of white button-front shirts with black ties and black trousers and never sang Happy Birthday to any of the patrons. In Solomon’s opinion it was the perfect restaurant. The fact that it was owned by one of his best friends, he assured people, had nothing to do with it. Okay, maybe a little.

  Adrian stood waiting on the sidewalk outside for Solomon to arrive. They shook hands and hugged like the old friends they were and as Solomon reached out a hand to open the door Adrian asked “what happened?”

  “Why did something have to happen? Can’t I just ask one of my best friends to meet me for dinner?” was Solomon’s reply.

  Adrian didn’t fall for it for a second. “Come on, seriously? You never ask me or I should say tell me to meet you at Anders’ on a random Tuesday”.

  Solomon didn’t respond, only smiled, as they were led to their favorite booth across the room from the bar. While still not answering Adrian’s original question he wasn’t completely silent as the two made small-talk until the waiter appeared to take their drink order. Adrian understood and patiently waite
d for Solomon to open up. He knew his friend well enough to know that he’d talk eventually and that right then Solomon wanted to keep him in suspense.

  The waiter returned with their drink order, two craft beers, and they placed their entrée orders. For Solomon; the grass fed filet with a side salad and baked potato. For Adrian: the rib-eye with mixed vegetables and steak fries. When the waiter walked away Solomon sighed “the guy next door was cooking steak and it smelled so good I got a craving for steak. It’s really as simple as that.”

  It was Adrian’s turn to sigh as he responded, “there has to be more to it than that. You’re forgetting who you’re talking too. I know you too well to think that’s all there is.”

  “Why?” Solomon asked and took a mouthful of beer.

  “Because. How long have you lived there, six months? I’m guessing that it’s not the first time he’s made steak”. Solomon shook his head as Adrian continued. “But today you found it necessary to have steak too. So, what else happened?”

  “I met him. He surprised me by opening his door when I was walking by.” Solomon said shyly there was no reason he could see to go into the whole pausing and listening thing he did every night. He knew he’d be teased about it relentlessly if he did.

  “Okay and….” Adrian realized that Solomon wasn’t going to give anything up easily and that he’d have to probe for information.

  “He was really nice. When I told him I couldn’t cook he offered to give me lessons.”

  “Okay and….”

  Solomon could feel the blush spreading over his face, “he’s, um…cute” he said turning away from Adrian and looking down at the table. He didn’t know why he was being so coy about it, Adrian was the last person who would ever judge his taste in cute guys.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well? What’s he look like? What else did you talk about?”

  Solomon looked up and smiled, “he’s Irish, a little taller than me, big, brown eyes, dark, curly hair. You know, cute. His name is Mathieu. He told me that he loved to cook.”

  Adrian pointed a finger at Solomon accusingly, “you’re smitten”.

  “No!” Solomon swatted the finger away.

  “Yes. Look at you. You can’t stop blushing. You’re definitely smitten,” Adrian chuckled.

  “I only spoke to him for five minutes”.

  “Who says you can’t be smitten in five minutes? It’s nice to see you interested in someone again. It’s been what, two years? You are taking him up on the lessons.” That last part was a statement not a question.

  “I’m thinking about it. I mean, you should smell some of the aromas coming from that apartment. I swear, if I could gain weight just by inhaling the scent of delicious food I would weigh 500 pounds.”

  They were still laughing when Anders came out of the kitchen with their order. “What’s so funny?” he asked sitting down on the booth bench next to Adrian after placing the plates on the table.

  “Solomon’s crushing on his neighbor,” Adrian told him before Solomon could open his mouth.

  “I am not!” Solomon shouted causing the heads of some of the diners seated near them to turn disapprovingly in his direction.

  “Solomon says he’s ‘dreamy’,” Adrian told Anders.

  “I did not,” Solomon shouted a little lower as he tried to kick Adrian under the table.

  Adrian and Anders burst out laughing at Solomon’s obvious frustration.

  “I don’t know why I’m still friends with you two. All I said was that he’s ‘cute’.”

  Solomon hung his head as his two friends continued to laugh, “Don’t you have something to do in the kitchen?” he asked Anders.

  Anders pulled himself together before sliding out of the booth, “yes, actually.” He then turned to Adrian, “call me tomorrow morning to fill me in”.

  Adrian nodded at him but Solomon said, “Wait. What? If anyone is going to call you tomorrow morning to fill you in it’ll be me.”

  Anders returned to the kitchen still laughing and shaking his head.

  After a few bites into their dinner Adrian asked, “So, how come you’re only telling me about him now?”

  Solomon was taken aback, “I told you. I just met him today.”

  “But you never mentioned the smells from his kitchen before.” Adrian raised his eyebrows. He knew there was more to the story he only had to find a way to worm it out of his friend.

  “I don’t know. I guess it just never came up.” There was no way he was ever going to mention inhaling aromas on the balcony. Ever! Right?

  Adrian eyed Solomon suspiciously, “And just how do you smell these aromas anyway?”

  “With my nose, idiot.” Solomon smirked, “ha, ha…one point for me.”

  “Uh, clever.” Adrian rolled his eyes, “Come on, spill it.”

  “Okay, one day after work I got a beer out of my fridge and went onto the balcony. I’d had a bitch of a day. I wasn’t out there for long before I smelled something. Turns out that Mathieu opens his balcony doors when he cooks and that was where the smell was coming from. I don’t know what he was cooking but it smelled divine. Happy now?”

  “Is that all? What’s the big deal about that? In any case, I’m glad you finally told me. I hope it works out for you.”

  “Adrian, I just met the man. It’s not like he asked me to marry him or anything.” It was Solomon’s turn to roll his eyes.

  “Well, then here’s to potential somethings,” Adrian said as he raised his beer.

  “Potential somethings,” Solomon repeated as they clinked their bottles.

  CHAPTER 2

  Mathieu had noticed the blonde man outside on previous nights but he didn’t go out himself. He never went out there himself, ever. He could only open the door to let the heat out of his kitchen. Then one night, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his neighbor lean over their shared railing and sniff the air, close his eyes and smile. Each night after that the brunette would catch the blonde doing it again and again. Wednesday night Mathieu made baked flounder Florentine but Solomon didn’t go out onto the balcony. Mathieu couldn’t tell if any lights were on in the apartment and he hadn’t heard his neighbor coming up the stairs or making any noises so he assumed (correctly) that his neighbor wasn’t home from work yet.

  Thursday night Solomon was home at his usual time but he didn’t pause in front of Mathieu’s door as he usually did. He went right into his apartment, put down his briefcase, took of his jacket, grabbed a beer out of the fridge and went out onto the balcony. Mathieu’s doors were also open but he wasn’t outside. Solomon inhaled deeply, ‘something Italian’ he thought. A few minutes later he heard his name being called. Mathieu was standing between the open slider doors and motioning for him to come closer. Solomon noticed that he was breathing very heavily like he had just run a marathon.

  Mathieu smiled, “hello neighbor.” He wanted to say ‘missed you last night’ but he held his tongue. Instead he decided to ask “would you like to join me for dinner? It’s pasta with a Bolognese sauce and a side of spinach.”

  Solomon looked at Mathieu’s face with his big brown eyes and wide grin and he found himself saying “I knew I smelled Italian. I’d love too. I have a bottle of red wine somebody gave me as a gift should I bring it?”

  “Absolutely, I’ll meet you at the front door.”

  Solomon found the bottle of red wine on top of the fridge, dusted it off and remembered to grab his house keys before heading out the door. Mathieu was already waiting with his door open. He stepped aside to let Solomon in. As he closed the door he said, still panting, “Let me give you the nickel tour. This is the living room,” he gestured broadly and took a deep breath. They both knew that their two flats had the exact same layout. Mathieu put a hand on the small of Solomon’s back and guided him forward, “over there is the kitchen and dining area and over there,” gesturing with his right arm, “is the bedroom and bathroom”. He held out his hand.

  Solomon
looked at him quizzically, “what?”

  “I’m waiting for my nickel, you know, for the tour.” He tried to keep a straight face but failed when he broke into a smile.

  Solomon put the bottle of wine into Mathieu’s open hand, “I’ll have to owe it to you. I’m good for it, I swear. And if I don’t get it to you; you know where I live.”

  “That’s right. Don’t try to skip out in the middle of the night or anything I’m a really light sleeper and I’ll hear you.” Both men laughed and Mathieu turned to go into the kitchen. “Have a seat at the table, dinner’s almost ready.”

  Solomon sat down at the dining table and watched Mathieu move around with an easy grace, from stove (checking and stirring) to the cabinets and drawers (for plates and utensils) to the dining table (to set it), back into the kitchen. He brought out a basket of dinner rolls, a butter dish, corkscrew and the wine, the last two items he handed to Solomon before returning to the kitchen, “would you please?”

  “It’s the least I could do.” Solomon took the proffered items. While Solomon tried to open the wine bottle he glanced around the apartment again, the dining area and kitchen had the same ceramic tile but Mathieu’s seemed more worn, in the living room and hallway there was carpeting while Solomon’s had hardwood floors and a few area rugs, the walls were painted a warm ivory color the same as his. Mathieu had a sofa and two club chairs in chocolate chenille while he had a sofa and loveseat in brown leather. Mathieu’s television was a little larger but still a flat-panel like his. The appliances in Mathieu’s kitchen were older and look well used but Solomon’s appliances were newer stainless steel and looked like they have never been touched.

  With the bottle successfully uncorked Solomon poured the wine as Mathieu returned to the dining area. “Everything is almost ready. I’m just waiting for the water to boil.” He took the chair across from the blonde and picked up his wine glass for a sip. “This is good. It should go well with the Bolognese. You said it was a gift?”

  “Yeah,” Solomon replied taking sip from his own glass, “last Christmas a friend gave it to me. I’m not exactly sure what he was thinking, maybe that I needed to expand my tastes. I’m more of a beer guy.”