by Kayt Miller
“Shall we?” I say extending my hand toward her door. She grabs that hideous coat and stomps to the door. It appears Miss Cartwright has a sassy side.
“Sure.”
I can’t help noticing when I suggest we ‘leave her coat in the car again tonight’ that she’s not pleased. I see her jaw flex and a little grunt sound coming from her, but she doesn’t argue. I follow her out her front door and watch her engage the deadbolt. As we descend her steps, I look at her back and wish she wasn't wearing the enormous parka so I could admire her figure.
Opening the back door of the limo, she slides into the seat moving all the way to the other side of the car. Fine with me. I slide in and scoot all the way over until we’re sitting hip to hip. She attempts to scoot away, but the door is blocking her. “Care for some champagne this evening?”
“Better not. Isn’t this a work meeting or something?”
“Or something. Potential clients. I’m trying to get them to hire me to design their new office structure.”
“Office structure?”
“A forty-eight story office structure with restaurants, shops, leasable office spaces, as well as some residential spaces.”
“Like our building?”
“Exactly. Only mine will be beautiful.”
“Our building isn’t ugly.”
I shrug. “No, but it isn’t beautiful.”
“Why don’t you design a new building for yourself?”
“I already have. I’m not ready to pull the trigger on that, so to speak.”
“Oh.”
I watch her slip out of her large winter coat then fidget with her dress. Peering down at her lap, I see her skirt has ridden up her thighs. So much so I catch a glimpse of the top of a stocking and a clip from her garter. Jesus, is the woman wearing garters and stockings? I noticed in her apartment that she’s again wearing hosiery with the seam up the back of her leg. Little Lexie has a sexy side.
I groan when she moves her dress down covering up what has to be the sexiest thigh I’ve ever seen. Sure, it’s much bigger than I’m used to seeing but that doesn’t seem to mean a damn thing to my cock. No matter how much I protest intellectually, my dick is pretty happy with tonight’s revelation. Down boy.
As soon as Eric pulls up in front of the restaurant, he steps out to open our door. I take Lexie’s hand in mine and pull her with me out the door onto the sidewalk. There’s a long, boldly striped awning or Porte-cochère made of canvas that extends out from the front door of Chez Paul to the street.
At the entrance, a doorman opens the front doors for us, and we step inside. “Wow,” she says in a breathy voice. “This place is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She turns and peers up at me. “You designed this?”
“I did. Many years ago but it’s nice to know it still packs a punch,” I chuckle. She nods, so I continue, “I was inspired by the French countryside, to a more feminine palette filled with light and sparkle. I attempted to bring that to light using a montage of gilt-framed mirrors, open-shelved bottles, elegant light fixtures and a series of cabinets that showcase the owner’s collection of vintage French glassware and curio cabinets while creating intimate dining alcoves. There are glass doors that we refer to as French doors that enclose each dining alcove. The intention was to make you feel like you’re in a lovely French Château.”
I pause to look at Lexie to be sure she understands what I’m saying, but she’s not paying attention to me. Instead, she’s talking to the hostess. I harrumph because, damn it, she should be listening to me; not talking to a restaurant employee.
Lexie must have heard me because she turns back to me, “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just asking her where the ladies room was.”
“No problem,” I shrug. It’s fine. Really. I mean, I designed the fucking place. I could have told her where the restrooms were located. I shrug again. Okay, yeah, my pride is a little hurt that she isn’t blown away by my work but whatever. I didn’t even get to the good parts––like the muted achromatic color choices or the whimsical fabric choices like seersucker and toile I selected or the reasons for it. And let’s not forget about the ceiling, an open coffered design made of pine, for this space. It’s ingenious. Nope, little Miss Lexie could care less.
Chapter 19
Lexie
This restaurant is beautiful. Stunning is a better word for it. It feels warm and homey with the wooden ceiling and earthy colors throughout the place. It feels cozy while still giving you the distinct impression that you’re somewhere special. But, I think I’ve offended Gabriel. When I return from the restroom, I find him pouting near the bar area. I didn’t mean to ignore him as he talked about his design; I just needed the ladies room, urgently.
“Your restaurant is beautiful, Gabriel.” I step up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
This seems to appease his ego a little bit because he smiles down at me. “Thank you.”
I’m about to ask him what kind of food they have here when an older man steps up to Gabriel. “Gabriel, it’s wonderful to see you again,” the man says in a thick accent.
When Gabriel responds, he does so in another language. “Bonsoir Monsieur Souvoir. C'est merveilleux de te revoir aussi.”
Then the man replies, "Ah, excellent, votre français est bien amélioré."
I’d love to tell you that I understood what they were talking about but I don’t. All I hear is gibberish. I’m not going to lie, though, hearing Gabriel speak another language is pretty darned sexy.
"Bien sûr, j'ai pratiqué," replies Gabriel.
My head keeps moving back and forth between the men. Part of me wants to be introduced so I can hear my name in the mix, but I stay quiet.
"Avez-vous un client avec vous ce soir?"
Gabriel looks at me then back at the man, "Oui, ils sont en retard."
Ooh, it’s French. He’s speaking French. I’ve heard ‘wee’ before.
“Eh bien, allons-y tout de suite, je vais être sûr que tu seras pris en charge ce soir.”
"Mercie."
I know that one too. It means thank you. Gabriel takes my hand and leads me through the restaurant to a pretty little room with a small, round table and four chairs. “Have a wonderful dinner.” The man says as he departs. I look around and see that it feels like we’re in a dining room of a fancy French house. There are even glass doors that can close to give us more privacy.
“This is cool, Gabriel. And you speak French?”
“A little bit. I needed to learn some of the language before I could understand what Monsieur Souvoir wanted for his restaurant. The language barrier was a problem, initially.”
“So, you learned French?”
“Oui,” he says with a chuckle.
Gabriel holds my chair out for me but before I can sit down a man about the same age as my dad, so around age sixty, and a woman who is probably younger than me walks into the room. I can tell the guy is older thanks to his gray hair and receding hairline. He’s wearing a nice suit, but his belly is protruding just like dad’s as well. He raises his hand out for Gabriel, and they shake. Ah, these must be the important clients.
I look over at the young woman who has to be his daughter. Right? She’s really beautiful. Tall and slim with long brown hair highlighted with blonde, she’s wearing a tiny, red mini dress that sparkles as she moves and shows off the longest legs I’ve ever seen. My eyes follow them down to deep red stilettos with a floral applique on the front. Hells bells, they’ve got to be six inches high. “Wow, your shoes are amazing.”
When she doesn’t reply, I look back up at her face, and I’m a little surprised by what I see. She’s looking down at me, lips pursed like she’s annoyed. “Do you work here?”
“Uh…”
“Let me introduce you to my girlfriend. Bill, this is Lexie.”
Bill wraps his arm around his companion and pulls her into his side. “And this little spitfire is my wife, Tanya.”
Wife? Seriously? She’s
got to be twenty if she’s a day. Tanya holds her hand out for Gabriel who kisses it. She simpers and coos at him like a cat in heat, while ignoring me completely. Bypassing any other introductions taking my seat at the table.
I guess we’re sitting. And not in the right order. Around the table, the order is Gabriel, Tiffany, myself, and Bill which means I’m sitting across from Gabriel, not next to him. I don't like it. Having him next to me I feel safer, more secure. This way, my back is to the entrance of the room, and that makes me feel vulnerable for some reason. Yeah, I know I'm irrational. Sue me.
When a server enters the room, he hands us each a giant menu. If I had to guess, I’d say the thing was two feet high and the same width when it’s open. It’s huge. Next, our waiter takes our drink order. Each of the other people at the table orders a cocktail, but I choose to go for the gusto, “Whiskey. Neat, please.”
“Top shelf?” the server asks.
I shrug, “Sure.” I have no idea what ‘top shelf’ even means but sounds better than bottom shelf. I snort to myself and look up to see Gabriel scowling at me a little bit and Tanya glaring daggers. Geesh, what’d I do now?
I ignore the looks and open up the menu. Oh, crud. The entire thing is in French. I look through the titles of each section and hold my breath as I read silently and struggle internally. Okay, I know Plats Premiers is listed first so it must mean appetizers. Deuxieme? I have no idea what those are. Les Poissons and Les Viandes et Les Volalles are the next two headings. Heck, even the descriptions of the food are in French.
“Uh, do you think they have an English version of the menu?” I say peeking up over the top of my ginormous menu.
Without looking up from his menu, Gabriel asks, “Would you like me to order for you, sweetheart?”
I sigh in relief but before I can answer Tanya interrupts. “Oh, Gabriel. Would you?”
Uh, um, I’m confused. He was talking to me, right? Should I also respond or just wing it?
“Lexie?”
Okay, he was talking to me. “Yes, please.”
When the waiter returns with our drinks, I take a big gulp of my whiskey and nearly choke. Coughing and wheezing, I look up and see that expression again on Gabriel’s face. You know the one? The one where his eyes are pushed together causing deep lines to appear on his forehead and his nose to scrunch up? In case you can’t see it. I’ll tell you what it is. Annoyance. It’s definitely annoyance. I shrug because, honestly, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Ooh, I think the whiskey is already working. My intrinsic need to be a people pleaser is evaporating. Awesome.
I sip my drink and listen as Gabriel orders our dinners in fluent French. Tanya is practically on his lap by the time he finishes the instructions to the waiter. I look over at Bill who isn’t pleased with Tanya either. “So, Bill. What kind of business are you in?”
Tanya almost chokes on her cocktail. I roll my eyes and look back at Bill. “Cosmetics.”
“Cosmetics?”
“That’s what I said.”
“So, you want Gabriel to design a building for your headquarters?”
“I want a new building. I’m just not sure if I want…”
“Oh, that reminds me of that Brady Bunch episode where Mr. Brady is hired to design a building for a cosmetics lady. I think her name was something silly like Baby or no! Beebe. Did you ever see that one?”
Bill blinks at me as I speak. “No? Well, it was hilarious. First, she wanted a building that was shaped like a powder compact.” I giggle.
“Lexie?” Gabriel asks like it’s a warning.
No longer a people pleaser. Remember? I ignore him because I’m on a roll. “But she was fussy and didn’t want that one, so she demanded that he design one that looked like a lipstick.” I snort a laugh as I take another sip of my whiskey. Wow, this stuff is strong. I’ve barely finished the glass, and I’m loopy. I guess I should have eaten something today. It’s hitting me hard.
“In the end, she was way too difficult to work with so Mr. Brady just told her he wouldn’t design her building.” I drink the last gulp down and plop the glass down on the table with a little too much force. “Oops.”
“Wow, that was riveting,” snaps Tonya.
“Well, it is if you watched the Brady Bunch, but you’re not old enough to know about the Brady Bunch. It was a classic.” I turn to Gabriel. “Right, Gabriel?”
“I’ve never seen the Brady Bunch. I was busy doing more important things.”
I snort loudly, “Whatever, Mr. Fancypants. Like you were doing important stuff when you were ten.” I scoff then feel the flush of heat on my face and sweat suddenly appears on my forehead. “I think I drank that too fast.”
“You think?” snaps Tonya again.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I sip water. As soon as the food comes, I’ll eat, and it’ll absorb some of the alcohol from my body. But when the food arrives, it comes with a glass of wine. I sip on the delicious dry wine and stare at my plate. I can’t seem to find a way to eat it. It’s a small plate with little black balls in a pile on one side, some pink mushy stuff on the other and some kind of foam in the middle. Thank goodness there’s bread on the table.
I look over at his plate and see he’s got a selection of cheeses and some of the black balls like mine. “Uh, Gabriel?”
“Yes?”
“What is this?” I say pointing at my plate.
“Caviar, smoked salmon tartar, sturgeon caviar, and potato foam.”
“Oh, okay.” I look down at my plate again. “Great. Awesome.”
I pick up the weird fork with the three prongs and poke around on my plate a little bit. Catching one of the black balls, now known as caviar, on the tip of a prong, I bring it to my mouth. Using my tongue, I swipe it off the tip of the tine and bite into it. Oh. My. God. Who eats this shit? I want to spit it out but I can’t. Gabriel would probably hog tie me and drag me out the door. Heck, after seeing the first course, maybe I want him to do that.
I quickly grab a slice of bread and slather on some butter. Biting into it I moan. “Mmm, French bread is da bomb.”
“You should really watch your carbs, Leslie.”
“I am. I’m watching them as I eat them,” I snicker. I look up at Gabriel and see that stupid scowl again. Note to self. Stop looking at Gabriel.
When the next course arrives, I see it’s soup with another glass of white wine. This wine is different than the one that came with the caviar. I sip it and wince. It’s bitter. Setting that glass back down I stare at the soup. I place my spoon into the beige concoction and stir it to see if anything with legs pops up. “It’s wild mushroom soup with truffle foam,” Gabriel says, anticipating my question.
“Oh, okay.” I dip my spoon into it and bring it to my nose. Sniffing it, I decide it’s safe. I lick the tip of the spoon and let the flavor move over my tongue. “It’s good,” I say smiling.
“Wonderful,” Gabriel deadpans.
I ignore him and peak over at Tanya’s plate. She’s got a yummy salad with nuts and cheese on top. Lucky duck.
I only get one or two sips of soup before our waiter is back to take the dishes away. I want to grab the edge of the bowl and pull it back, but I refrain. God I’m hungry. We seem to wait forever for the next dish. So much so I wonder if we’re actually finished. That is until a new plate of food is placed in front of me, and a glass of reddish-pink wine next to it. I sip my wine as I look down at my plate. Before I can even move, Gabriel says, “Veal and lamb loin with lamb au jus and vegetables.”
“Veal?” I gulp. “And lamb?”
“Yes. Veal and lamb. Now, eat up. It’s delicious.”
“I can’t eat veal or lamb?”
“Why not?”
“Well, because. They’re babies. Plus they treat those poor animals terribly.”
“How so?” asks Tanya.
“Well, they keep the little calves in boxes, dark boxes, so they can’t move or see. It keeps them from developing muscles that would make their meat tough. T
hen they butcher them. They have no life. They’re born, shoved in a box, and killed. And lamb? It’s just a baby.”
“Wow,” she says as she bites into her veal. “Sounds awful.” She smirks as she emphasizes her next bite of the poor little calf’s meat.
“Lexie, just eat.” Gabriel looks like he’s losing patience with me. I can see his eyebrow twitch a little bit as he arches a brow.
“I can’t eat this, but that’s fine.” Damn, I wish I could have my soup back.
“Lexie. All animals we eat are killed. Are you a vegan?” asks Bill.
“No.”
“A vegetarian?” Bill again.
“No.”
“Then I don't understand your argument.”
“It’s just extra cruel.”
“Butchering any animal is cruel.” Bill smirks then adds, “But delicious.”
I watch him as he takes a huge bite of his lamb. What the heck? Everyone ordered the lamb and veal? I push my plate away slightly and sip my water. Damn, I wish I had another whiskey.
Chapter 20
Gabriel
Well, would I call tonight a success? Hell no. Would I call it entertaining? Hmm, I’m on the fence. I’d have to say tonight was illuminating and frustrating, both of those were caused by the little blonde in the 1950s style dress. Lexie.
By the time dinner was over, I was confident that Bill Snodgrass did not want to work with me. To be honest, I didn’t care to work with him either. His wife was rude to Lexie throughout the meal. If Tanya thought I wasn’t paying attention, she was mistaken. The fact that she had her hand on my thigh all night was also a deciding factor.
As for Lexie? She wasn’t rude; she was just a tad uncouth. I was shocked at her lack of table manners. There are just some things we don’t discuss at dinner. How our food is killed is one of those things. Getting drunk on a $150 glass of Macallan wasn’t her brightest moment either. At least she has good taste.
