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Look, don’t make me say it again. Just give me the fucking wrench.

In retrospect, I realize thinking that holidays being a family time and all that would make attendance at this place die down was silly to think.

...God, that sounds pathetic.

#rbrpstarter

Candlelit Lunches || Vincent and Evelyn

The crisp white linens and silver cutlery almost blinded Vincent. He never quite understood why the management insisted on using such ugly, brash lighting. Candles, a dim lamp, would set the mood far better than this... monstrosity they used. Back in Europe, the swankest cafes and clubs sometimes even still used flickering gas flame. But nobody could accuse Fantaisie of going for realism. The name said it all; it was just a fantasy, an illusion of Continental grandeur and new money painting itself as old, chicken cooked in a bit too much wine and not enough seasoning. There was a reason that Regina Warren would not be caught dead in the place.

And despite it all, Vincent had a begrudging love for the place. Yes, the food was absurd and the prices laughable, and yes, he would rather enjoy a steak and port with Yuri, and yes, it was exhausting to have an elderly patron, on a lunch date with her nephew or niece, snap her fingers at him because clearly a black man at Fantaisie could only be a waiter. But there was simply something to be said for a restaurant that actively tried to prevent writers from gossip rags from coming in to snoop. At any of the other fancy restaurants in Los Angeles, you had no idea who was listening, but at Fantaisie, the odds were slightly in your favor that your dinnertime chat would not be in magazines the next day.

Also, Fantaisie allowed him the odd daydream of what it would be like to take Evelyn to Paris, but he would commit perjury rather than admit it.

Speaking of Evelyn, Vincent could not see her in the main dining room, and he smiled. Fantaisie had plenty of smaller alcoves and side rooms where one, in exchange for a bill handed off to a waiter, could sit and avoid notice. Most people, of course, would rather die than not sit front and center, but Evelyn was not most people. Anyway, this was just a luncheon between friends, not an attempt to socialize.

Vincent strolled up to that one table Evelyn always requested, the one that was partially obscured by a large potted plant and the bend in the wall, and pulled out the chair opposite her. “And which town gossip are we hiding from today?”

#rbrpstarter #evelyn #Candlelit Lunches