Page 19

It ’s Called L’apertif

T he restaurant was gorgeous. High above the city, the place was walled with glass. Beyond the windows, the darkness twinkled with a million lights from the various buildings, streetlamps, and countless cars moving along the street. There was a little observation room by the host podium that had a glass floor, daring guests to go and stand out on apparent nothingness and get a three sixty view of the city.

“Though it’s really one eighty, right?” Helena said as she crept up to the edge of the glass floor, but she just couldn’t work up the courage to trod upon it.

“More than one eighty,” Rafferty said. He had no problem standing on the glass floor. He even had his hands in his pockets like it was no big thing, gazing out into the city of stars.

Helena huffed at him. “Could you like, give me your hand or say something to help me have a little confidence? I’m finding it really difficult to move my leg out there. It just won’t go that way.” She demonstrated her body’s resistance. Granted, the dress she wore went down to her knees in a tight, slinky way that wasn’t helping. In fact, it was like the short black thing with its silver threads around her bodice area was trying to tell her, “No, don’t do it. You have so much to live for.”

Rafferty turned to her and offered his hand. Before she could take it, he re-adjusted himself and bowed even deeper, his hand even more proffered. “My lady, if you would join me,” he said.

That made her laugh, and as she took his hand, her legs unlocked for a second. Then when she took the first step, she looked down. “Oh damn, no!” she squealed and backed away. “I can’t. I can’ t do it.”

“It’s fine. It looks like the hostess is back,” Rafferty said, walking off the observation deck to offer her his arm in the more modern fashion.

They approached the podium just as a woman in a short black dress with a matching short black coat took her place behind it. “I do apologize for the wait,” she said. “We had a mess up in the kitchen and…” She sighed and renewed her professional smile. “Sorry, do you have a reservation with us today?”

“Yes,” Helena said, stepping up. “It’s under Scarlet Pr omotions.”

The hostess looked down at her list. “Yes, I do think I saw that. One second.” She ticked something near the bottom before plucking up some menus. “This way , please.”

She led them through the dimly lit space filled with tables set up on different levels, one table on each, to a table along the window. Scarlet’s name had been recognized in this establishment, and while the Tower Top Restaurant didn’t often cater outside of itself, for Scarlet they would bend over backward to do it. The Winter Rose Ball was a cho ice event.

Once they approached the table, Rafferty held her chair before taking his own seat, and the hostess waited politely before presenting them both the ir menus.

“A server will be by to explain the menu, but before we get started tonight, please let me know if there are any food allergies the chef should kn ow about.”

“No, nothing for me,” Helena said, glancing at Rafferty, who was focusing very hard on his menu. “Raffie?”

He blinked and looked up. “Yes?”

Helena tipped her head toward the hostess. “Do you … have any allergies?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine he did, but one could never be sure.

“Allergies?” he qu estioned.

“No, I don’t think he does,” Helena quickly amended, exchanging an awkward smile with the hostess.

“Alright then, excellent,” she said. “A waiter will be with you shortly.”

And they were. Within two steps of the hostess leaving, the waiter swooped in to pour bubbling, clear water into their glasses from a carafe.

“Hello, I am éliott. I will be your server this evening,” their waiter said with a light Frenc h accent.

“Oh!” Helena said in surprise. “I thought we were just having French cuisine, but you actually ar e French?”

“Oui, madame.” He nodded, smiling sweetly. “The chef is my cousin, and he invited me to have a chance to come to America and work at his restaurant while I went to school. I of course sai d, ‘oui.’”

“Well, welcome to the states,” Helena said, nodding the greeting at their authentic server. “I’m glad because I don’t speak or read any French, and I need to take notes on this meal, so maybe you can help me?”

“Oui, madame, of course, but I would also like to point out…” he leaned forward to point at the menu, “that while the menu is in French, the line un derneath…”

“Is written in English,” Helena said, seeing what he was showing her and feeling silly for having missed it. “Sorry, I was just so hypnotized by all the prett y French.”

“ Quel est votre plat de poisson ce soir ?” 1 Rafferty suddenly asked in perfe ct French.

Helena and the waiter’s eyes widened.

“ Le plat de poisson de ce soir est bar au beurre blanc, monsieur ,” 2 éliott responded, “ Pardonnez-moi de le dire, mais vous parlez comme un F rancais .” 3

Rafferty paused as he was about to say something else, then slid his gaze over to Helena, clearing his throat. After an awkward pause, éliott politely said, “Is there anything else, madame?”

“No, not at this time,” she said with a note of apology, her eyes still watching Rafferty, who turned his gaze out into the c ityscape.

“Very good, madame. Shall I bring you the first course?” élio tt asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she agreed, adding an apologetic smile to her tone. He graciously nodded and withdrew.

“Rafferty, what’s wrong?” Helena asked, tipping her head to try to capture his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I am ruining your gift.” He tried to straighten and adjust his silverware setting even though they didn’t need it.

“No, not at all. It was nice to hear you speak French like that. I know you said you were from the 1600s, but you never said where. So you wer e French?”

“I do not wish to talk about it,” he said, but even as he spoke, a French accent bled through his words. He closed his eyes as he rea lized it.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it,” Helena said and took another sip of her water. “This is a really beautiful view. I wasn’t sure the clouds were going to blow through in time but—”

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Rafferty questioned, squinting his eye s at her.

“No, not if you don’t want to,” sh e stated.

He continued to squin t at her.

“What?”

“Is this that reverse psychology thing? Are you trying to trick me?” he pressed.

“No, no t at all—”

“Because ever since you’ve brought me up here, you’ve been prying away at all my secrets, and now you’re not in terested?”

“Do you want to tell me?” Helena said, getting a bit ex asperated.

“No.”

“Good! Then I don’t want to hear it because to be fair, you’ve been moping all day since I woke up, and while I get it, you’ve…” she glanced around them, but no one seemed to be listening, “…gone through hell, I frankly, wanted to just have a good dinner and enjoy myself. And I thought that’s what you wanted to do on your vacation. So stop being such an ass about it.”

Thankfully, éliott returned at that moment with a small tray bearing the l’apertif course. “The l’apertif course: Byrrh.” He set one glass before each of his patrons. Each glass had a single perfectly sculpted sphere of ice. It looked like a moon set in a red pool that smelled spicy to Helena’s nose. “Think of it as a slightly spicier sweet vermouth,” their waiter explained to Helena, per her earlier request . “Enjoy.”

And then he was gone.

“Oh my gosh, this smells divine,” Helena said, bringing her nose closer so she could take a deep sniff. “You ready?” she asked, and she held out her hand to him, laying it on the table on the window side so it wouldn’t be too conspicuous. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to turn her down again, but then he slipped his cold fingers over hers and picked up his l’apertif with his other hand. She extended her l’apertif to him and they clinked. “To your health,” she said, cutely, then together they drank down their firs t course.

Helena felt Rafferty’s hand squeeze hers as they tasted. To her it felt wonderful, a delightful buzz of warm mellow fruits dancing with the spices that made her think of elegant ladies and gentlemen waltzing in circles in the candlelight. When she peeked over at Rafferty, his own eyes were closed as he held the concoction on his tongue, like he wanted to hold the flavors there forever. But eventually they had to swallow and the momen t passed.

“Hmm, that was nice,” Hel ena said.

“You don’t remember,” her companion sudde nly said.

“Actually, I do se em to be—”

“When they take you and you die.”

1

English translation:What is your fish course tonight?

2

English translation: The fish course tonight is white butter bass, sir.

3

English translation: pardon me for saying, buy you sound like a French man.