Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“And they seem to know you well.”
“I’ve been coming awhile.”
“It doesn’t strike me as a typical Ben East Date Night.”
I pull the napkin onto my lap. “Right.” I’ve never brought a date here. I usually come on my own, but Bray also comes sometimes.
“So what’s the deal?” Avril asks.
“What deal?” I shrug.
“This place. You’re not telling me everything, and I want to know everything.”
I grin. “Try some bread, it’s absolutely insane. And this balsamic vinegar is incredible. It’s been aged twenty-five years.”
Avril’s eyebrows pull together. “Twenty-five years?” She looks around and sees an abandoned menu on the next table, which she swipes and then scans. “These prices don’t justify a twenty-five-year-aged balsamic.”
She’s spot on.
“Beppe’s all about the ingredients. They come first. That’s why the décor looks like it could do with a facelift.”
“Yeah, it’s basic. But even without investment into front of house, how’s he justifying twenty-five-year-old balsamic?”
I’ve not seen this side of Avril before—the all-business side. But of course, she’s in the hospitality business, she’s going to know that the economics of Serenissima don’t work. Not even Bray picked up on that.
“And these prices for this location? That doesn’t make sense. Yes, it’s busy. I bet the food’s great. But this place is small. You have what? Forty covers? On this menu, I bet the average spend is…” She pauses as she looks up and down the menu. “It’s definitely less than a hundred dollars a head. Even if you managed to churn tables to give you eighty percent table occupancy, which I’m pretty sure this place isn’t doing, the numbers don’t stack up. Then thirty-two…say, six times a week at a hundred dollars a head…” She squeezes her eyes shut as she does the mental math—and I realize I’m getting a hard-on.
Watching this woman do math is getting me hard. How did that happen?
“What?” she asks as she opens her eyes. “I can feel you looking at me.”
“You’re hot when you’re all business.”
“Stop it,” she snaps.
“I mean it. I’m getting hard listening to you.”
She looks me dead in the eye. “Do they launder money for the mob or something?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course not.”
Maria appears at our table before we can continue our discussion. “Beppe wants to see you. Can you say hello?”
“Of course,” I say, pushing my chair out from the table. “You want to come?” I ask Avril. “Beppe’s Maria’s husband and the chef.”
She glances over to the open kitchen. “I’ll stay here. I’m sure he doesn’t need people crowding him.”
“I won’t be long,” I say.
I make my way to the kitchen. When Beppe spots me coming toward him, he grins, abandons the stove, and pulls me into a hug. Beppe is twenty years older than me, and whenever he hugs me, it feels so fatherly that it makes me feel lonely. It’s like I don’t remember what I’ve been missing until that moment.
“How are you, son?” he asks me.
“Very good. How’s business?”
“Grab an apron and dice that chili for me, will you?”
“Beppe, he’s got a girl he’s trying to impress,” Maria says. “You can’t put the boy to work.”
“It’s okay, Maria. Avril is unimpressible.” I glance at Avril, and she’s looking over, but she won’t be able to hear what I’m saying.
“Wow,” Beppe says. “She’s very beautiful. What did you do to deserve her?”
I laugh. “I’m not sure,” I tell him. I don’t bother to say how I’m not trying to impress her. I’m not trying to get her to trust me. I’m not trying to do anything but enjoy my evening and hopefully she gets to enjoy her evening too.
I do as Beppe asks and take an apron from the freshly laundered pile behind the door and put it on. Then I wash my hands and get to work. As usual when I get into the kitchen, I feel my muscles unlock and my brain start to empty. The feeling isn’t as pronounced as it usually is. Maybe because I’ve spent the day in bed with Avril, rotting.
I smile to myself as I chop. When I’m finished, I put everything in the right-sized bowl and put the board over by the sink for a thorough wash.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“You want to go back to your date?” he asks.
Maybe I should. When I glance over to our table, Avril’s not there. I scan the restaurant. Did she get pissed off and leave?
“Hey,” I hear behind me. Avril’s standing at the entrance to the kitchen. “You look at home.”
“He is at home,” Beppe answers for me. He stops what he’s doing and goes over to greet Avril, air kissing her on both cheeks. “Benjamin is family.”
She smiles at me like she’s really happy to see me, and I don’t want to look away from her. Just her presence here warms me.
I give her a quick tour of the kitchen and introduce her to the other members of Beppe’s family.