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Chapter 7
Not Giving Up
Lan restaurant exemplified superior fine dining.
Crimson circular lamps hung from high ceilings and bathed the space in a red glow. The place only had five tables because seating was exclusive. Not even Chase could get us reservations. Luckily, I’d called the sous-chef and asked if we could be fit in. I don’t know how he did it, but he called me back and told us to come on over.
“How do you know the sous-chef again?” Chase slipped his soft fingers from the center of my back to my hip as the host guided us to our table.
“He and I grew up in South End together. His name is Gabe. He’s really cool.”
So many lovely scents hit me at once—melted sugar mixed with cream, the savory aroma of fresh herbs being cut for a meal, the smoky fragrance of meat as it hit the fire. I let my eyes explore the dishes on each table.
I’m in heaven.
Colorful ingredients adorned square porcelain plates. Each dish appeared like the portrait of a dedicated artist.
Saliva drowned my tongue. My stomach groaned in complaint. The urge to interrupt conversations and ask the people what they were eating surged in me, but I forced myself to walk forward as an exhilarating sensation flowed in my blood.
I’m finally going to eat here!
Although I grew up with Gabe, I would never allow him to sneak me in and serve me for free. If the restaurant manager caught us, Gabe would’ve been fired or at least had to pay for the meal himself.
Entrees started at sixty dollars and rose to over a hundred. A person could reach a bill of three hundred dollars by ordering an appetizer and two meals.
Nevertheless, I dreamed of being able to eat here just once.
And here I am, at Lan, with the richest man in the state at my side.
Chase motioned for the host to leave and pulled out my chair for me. “So you’re just friends?”
“We’re definitely friends. I’ve known Gabe for years.” I sat down. “Thank you for pulling out my chair.”
“You’re welcome.”
Paintings of women decorated in fur adorned the walls. Single page menus lay in front of our chairs.
Gabe approached us, dressed in a white chef’s jacket with a red line in the center. The lamp’s glow cast a red hue on his milk-chocolate skin.
Gabe rubbed his hands together as he stopped next to me. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“Me neither.” I giggled as if I’d been tipsy.
“Did you change your hair?” Something stirred in Gabe’s eyes. Vivien always said he had a crush on me. I doubted it. She thought every guy liked me. Only I lived in reality.
I touched my now ridiculously long hair. “Yes. It’s my new look.”
