The Chrysalis Project - Chapter 17
After our spa session, Hayden insisted that I owed him ten dollars for supposedly staring at his ass. For the most part, I didn’t pay attention to him rambling on about how athletic and toned his body was supposed to be and how I should be delighted. While he had his monologue and was clearly enjoying himself a little too much, we hopped onto the car again in order to let Tony drive us to our final destination for the night.
Hayden and I had had finally arrived at the restaurant in a couple of minutes. The sky had already turned into the evening, and the traffic in the city was much less congested overall which helped Tony navigate around much quicker. The restaurant was located upon a large skyscraper that seemed about at least eighty stories tall. Tony bid us goodbye for now, and we had then taken the express elevator specifically catered to deliver guests to this established restaurant.
As the elevator door opened to the eightieth floor, we were met with a fancy restaurant sign that spelled out ‘Marin’, there was a waiter waiting at the lobby area near the podium who seemed to have been expecting visitors but did not say anything to us yet.
“So,” Hayden smiled as he stood in front of the restaurant, “are you ready for this?”
“Am I ready for… Marin?” I tried to annunciate the French word, “I suppose I am, although I have to admit these fake lashes are kind of heavy and I am really not used to them.” I lightly brushed my lashes with my finger and touched my face.
“Really, Sienna? It’s like rule number one in the makeup industry to not touch your face.”
“Okay, my bad, you beauty icon,” I laughed without energy.
“I meant if you’re ready for fine dining,” he asked, completely ignoring my comeback.
“I was a teenager when my parents died, excuse you,” I scoffed, “They have taken me to fancy restaurants before, I’m not a cavewoman.”
“This restaurant is probably one of the hardest places to book and only takes reservations from a VIP list, you know.”
“I’m sure I’ll do fine, and this restaurant sounds super obnoxious, is the food any good or just overly expensive to compensate for the bad taste?”
“Most people would die to even be near Marin, last chance on a refresher lesson before you go in and embarrass yourself,” Hayden winked as he walked towards the waiter and asked about his reservation.
I silently mocked Hayden behind his back, but quickly stopped myself as the waiter began to lead us to our table. Located in the corner of the restaurant, the table he had reserved was at a quiet corner surrounded by windows. The interior of Marin was similar to Hayden’s place, where the windows acted as glass walls had enabled much of the restaurant in a breathtaking city view. The waiter had pulled a cushioned chair and gestured for me to sit, and followed the same routine for Hayden, who was now seated directly across from me.
“Evening Mr. Whitehall and Ms. Hayes. Your waitress, Francine, will be here shortly to assist you,” the waiter announced as he gently handed two small, gold coated menus, “here is the wine menu to start your night.”
“Thank you,” Hayden and I both responded politely, the waiter gently bowed and left the area.
“Are these actually gold menus?” I gasped as I flipped through the endless pages of wine selections.
“You’re more worried about that than the price of wine? You are one weirdo,” he lightly snorted.
“I’m not worried about the prices, you’re paying dude,” I lowered the menu to stare at Hayden right in the eye.
“Right,” he stared back, “do you know what you want?”
“Umm,” I said nervously, “not really, I don’t know much about wine and I was thinking to just stay silent until you decide one.”
“That’s what I thought,” Hayden said, looking extremely smug, “but I’ll stop humouring you, we should get red Bordeaux.”
Francine, our waitress of the night had conveniently approached just as Hayden had been looking for someone to serve us. After Hayden had ordered wine for the both of us, Francine hastily left the area, but somehow forgot to give us the actual food menu.
“Did she just leave without giving us the food menu?” I asked, confused at the situation.
“No, your food was ordered way before we even arrived, they had to prepare earlier to make sure the full course meal for the both us were the freshest and best tasting.”
“It better not be salad or something, because I swear to God,” I lightly threatened.
“Relax,” Hayden laughed, “it will be good, I promise. How can I leave our princess Sienna starved and deprived of her greatest enjoyment in life?”
“You bet,” I smiled brightly, “real girls don’t eat salads.”
“I think everyone eats salads once in awhile, but I do have to agree that no one should order salads at Marin, it’s a waste of space on the menu and gets in the way of artistic culinary expression, you know?” Hayden chuckled.
“Yeah, that and they would charge you triple digits for something like that.”
“Yeah you’re right, it’s a total scam, which is why I stuck to some classic food you’ll enjoy for sure.”
“You’re still not going to tell me what you ordered?” I asked.
“It’s not a surprise if I tell you, I’m sure you’ll like it, provided that you’re not a vegetarian or anything because then that would be a problem.”
“I don’t think I can afford to be vegetarian.”
“Good,” he reassured, “then it will be smooth sailing from here.”
It didn’t take too long for Francine to bring out two beautifully arranged appetizer dishes along with our wine. She had gracefully placed both plates in front of Hayden and I and began to pour a fresh bottle of red Bordeaux into two wine glasses previously already placed at the table. Francine handed both wine glasses to each of us, bowed, and swiftly disappeared again.
“She’s not much of a talker,” I pointed out.
“Not much to say to us is there?”
“I guess you’re right,” I sighed, looking down at both our dishes.
“I ordered Foie Gras, duck liver pt if you want to be specific. Yours is smoked Atlantic salmon with Mascarpone and caviar on top a small bruschetta.”
“This is a glorified meat and cheese on a cracker,” I said stunned, “how am I supposed to eat this with a fork and knife?”
“You don’t,” Hayden slightly snorted in response, “you eat it with a spoon.”
“Ha-ha, not funny, I could really use some pointers here.”
“How about try it your way first and then ask me again if it doesn’t work out?”
“Okay, fine!” I said slightly angrily and attempted to cut into the crispy bruschetta with my knife. Instead of the thin bread breaking into two pieces, the sheer force of my knife pierced through the poor appetizer, causing a sharp scraping sound between the plates and my utensils.
What was even worse was that half of the bruschetta piece had flown off of my plate and directly onto the expensive looking carpet next to us. I gasped immediately in response and broke a cold sweat.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I stared back to Hayden, who had been plenty amused by how the situation had played out.
“I told you that you should have asked me for advice,” he laughed.
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