First Night: Dominated By Their Landlord by KT Morrison

Author:KT Morrison [Morrison, KT]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Seven

“Dinner’s here,” she said quietly, then rose and kissed his forehead, whispering, “Don’t be a crab. Come and get something to eat.”

After a long drawn out sigh he followed, coming up the steps to join her in the kitchen as Reza opened the door.

“You were cutting it close,” he said to the young guy standing at the threshold. Black pants and a white smock, padded nylon bag at his hip, its wide black strap crossed over a shoulder next to a bold pheasant in gold stitching emblazoned on the smock’s chest.

“The Golden Pheasant?” Jonny said aloud.

Charlie turned and said, “You know it?”

He nodded. Sure. Only the oldest and most celebrated restaurant in the city. Reservations were made months in advance, dinners ringing the cash register at $200 a plate. Not the kind of place offering home deliveries, so the fact Reza could bring service to the apartment was impressive. But he wouldn’t tell Charlie. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

The waiter crossed into the kitchen now, Reza extending a hand out to bid him in. “Sorry, Mr. Khan, Chef called me back—she added something special for you, off menu.”

“Betsy’s a sweetheart,” he said, “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

The bag hoisted up to the counter, he unzipped the top flap and began transferring the contents to the countertop. “Well, Mr. Khan,” he said as he worked, “I’m Rainey. I’m here to serve tonight—if you’d like.” Plastic bags and containers and foil dishes spread out now, Rainey turned to shake Reza’s hand. “Shall we start with the Scottish langoustine?”

“I don’t think so, Rainey,” Reza said, shaking his hand. “You can leave it on the counter. Take the night off.” Now he withdrew the other hand from his pocket and opened a wad of bills.

“Are you sure, Mr. Khan? Would you like me to set up your plates?”

“Leave it to me,” Reza said, pressing three fifty-dollar bills to Rainey. “The kitchen is a little cramped for four, anyway.”

Rainey said nothing, but looked around the kitchen and out the pass through to the living area, tucking the bills into a pocket on his smock.

“Besides,” Reza continued, hoisting the bottle of champagne off the kitchen table, “my friends and I have … personal … matters to discuss. Something of a celebratory nature.”

Rainey spied the bottle, said, “A David Sugar? Must be great news.”

“It is,” Reza said, smiling at Charlie now.

“I’ll get out of your way then, let you get eating. Oh—Mr. Khan, this one,” he said, holding up a small white plastic bag with a square cardboard carton inside, “this is from Chef, made specially for you. Sea urchin from California, with bergamot caviar. And, you’ll celebrate with the Krug, but chef sent a bottle of 2012 Saumur–Champigny, a Clos Rougeard, with her regards.”

“Thanks, Rainey, tell her I’ll be in touch,” Reza said, guiding him to the front door with his emptied bag where they stopped and talked quietly a moment.

Charlie regarded Jonny again, hands in the pockets of her skirt, eyebrows high, expression bright and blithe, but her mouth pursed with a tension.

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