“Very cool,” Matthew said, and Alfred honestly wasn't sure if that was sarcasm or not. “So what time's the reservation for?”
Alfred blinked. “What?”
Matthew gave him a sidelong look. “The... reservation? What time did you make it for?”
“I didn't make one.”
Matthew sighed again. “If I have to wear a tie to it, it probably requires a reservation, Al. They won't seat us!”
“Well let's at least try. Ivan never mentions reservations, and we always get seated.”
“He probably slips them a wad of cash!”
Alfred tugged his brother into the restaurant, ignoring his protests. Reservations weren't necessary, were they? They just guaranteed a person a table. It was like buying movie tickets online, he figured. A guarantee, but not required, you could still just buy them at the theater when you got there.
“Good evening, sirs,” the douche in the suit greeted them as they walked in.
“Hey,” Alfred said. “Table for two?”
He turned to his book. “Your name?”
“Me? Alfred Jones.”
“Hmm. I don't seem to see...” The fellow trailed off, glancing nervously up at them. “Alfred Jones, you said?”
“Yup, that's me!”
“Ah...” He swallowed. “Right. Please, follow me!”
“See?” Alfred elbowed Matthew, and tugged him after the fellow.
They were seated at a small table for two in the middle of the restaurant, all adorned with fancy tableware and a single candle.
“This place looks so expensive...” Matthew glanced around nervously. “We can't afford this. And I feel like everyone's watching me and judging, ready to laugh the second I use the wrong fork...” He turned back to his brother. “What was that, anyway?”
“What was what?” Alfred spread his napkin across his lap. “The forks?”
“Are you sure you haven't been here before? That guy seemed to recognize you.”
“No he didn't,” Alfred scoffed. “He just remembered he had a table available.”
“He didn't recognize your name?”
“Not that I noticed. He was just repeating it, you know?”
Matthew shrugged, picking up his menu. He studied it for a moment and whined. “The prices...”
Alfred looked at his own menu, wincing. “Yeah. The prices.” Maybe he wouldn't tell Ivan about that restaurant. He probably wouldn't be happy Alfred was paying for that sort of thing on his own, when he couldn't afford to. “Maybe just a salad...”
“Maybe we can split that salad,” Matthew said, and Alfred chuckled.
“Gentlemen?”
The brothers turned to stare at the waiter who had approached with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Yes?” Alfred said. “Uh, we didn't order any-”
“Complements of the owner, sirs.” He set the glasses down on the table and pulled out a corkscrew.
“Oh. Well, that's very nice! But, uh, we're actually nineteen, and...” Alfred trailed off as the waiter just smiled at him and poured the wine. “Um. Thank you.”
“Are you ready to order?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry,” Matthew added. He waited until they were left alone again. “What the hell was that?”
“What service!” Alfred picked his glass up. “See, this is how to get repeat customers.”
“Offer free wine to underage diners? You wouldn't do that!”
“Well, no.” Alfred shrugged. “To each his own.”
Matthew gave him a baffled look, then returned to his menu. “Maybe I will get a salad.”
“I want something with meat in it.”
“Salad with chicken?”
“That's not meat.”
The waiter eventually took their order, and they waited, Matthew fidgeting nervously. “This place is weird.”
“No it isn't,” Alfred said. “No weirder than any other nice restaurant.”
Matthew sighed. “Don't become a snob, just because you're dating a rich guy.”
“I'm not! I'm just saying, they're all like this.”
“They act like they know you!”
“They do that on purpose, to seem friendly.”
“Really?” Matthew frowned. “Not to me. They never even asked my name.”
“Aww...” Alfred patted his brother's hand. “You can take charge next time.”
“Next time? Tonight's dinner could have fed us for a week at the grocery store.”
“You can take charge at the grocery store, then!”
Matthew gulped down a glass of wine and quickly refilled it.
Alfred laughed. “I'm just kidding, bro. I'll introduce you when the waiter comes back! Maybe we'll get another bottle of wine.”
Matthew smiled at him, and they settled back to wait for their food from the strange waiter.
Bratva 12b/??
Alfred blinked. “What?”
Matthew gave him a sidelong look. “The... reservation? What time did you make it for?”
“I didn't make one.”
Matthew sighed again. “If I have to wear a tie to it, it probably requires a reservation, Al. They won't seat us!”
“Well let's at least try. Ivan never mentions reservations, and we always get seated.”
“He probably slips them a wad of cash!”
Alfred tugged his brother into the restaurant, ignoring his protests. Reservations weren't necessary, were they? They just guaranteed a person a table. It was like buying movie tickets online, he figured. A guarantee, but not required, you could still just buy them at the theater when you got there.
“Good evening, sirs,” the douche in the suit greeted them as they walked in.
“Hey,” Alfred said. “Table for two?”
He turned to his book. “Your name?”
“Me? Alfred Jones.”
“Hmm. I don't seem to see...” The fellow trailed off, glancing nervously up at them. “Alfred Jones, you said?”
“Yup, that's me!”
“Ah...” He swallowed. “Right. Please, follow me!”
“See?” Alfred elbowed Matthew, and tugged him after the fellow.
They were seated at a small table for two in the middle of the restaurant, all adorned with fancy tableware and a single candle.
“This place looks so expensive...” Matthew glanced around nervously. “We can't afford this. And I feel like everyone's watching me and judging, ready to laugh the second I use the wrong fork...” He turned back to his brother. “What was that, anyway?”
“What was what?” Alfred spread his napkin across his lap. “The forks?”
“Are you sure you haven't been here before? That guy seemed to recognize you.”
“No he didn't,” Alfred scoffed. “He just remembered he had a table available.”
“He didn't recognize your name?”
“Not that I noticed. He was just repeating it, you know?”
Matthew shrugged, picking up his menu. He studied it for a moment and whined. “The prices...”
Alfred looked at his own menu, wincing. “Yeah. The prices.” Maybe he wouldn't tell Ivan about that restaurant. He probably wouldn't be happy Alfred was paying for that sort of thing on his own, when he couldn't afford to. “Maybe just a salad...”
“Maybe we can split that salad,” Matthew said, and Alfred chuckled.
“Gentlemen?”
The brothers turned to stare at the waiter who had approached with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Yes?” Alfred said. “Uh, we didn't order any-”
“Complements of the owner, sirs.” He set the glasses down on the table and pulled out a corkscrew.
“Oh. Well, that's very nice! But, uh, we're actually nineteen, and...” Alfred trailed off as the waiter just smiled at him and poured the wine. “Um. Thank you.”
“Are you ready to order?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry,” Matthew added. He waited until they were left alone again. “What the hell was that?”
“What service!” Alfred picked his glass up. “See, this is how to get repeat customers.”
“Offer free wine to underage diners? You wouldn't do that!”
“Well, no.” Alfred shrugged. “To each his own.”
Matthew gave him a baffled look, then returned to his menu. “Maybe I will get a salad.”
“I want something with meat in it.”
“Salad with chicken?”
“That's not meat.”
The waiter eventually took their order, and they waited, Matthew fidgeting nervously. “This place is weird.”
“No it isn't,” Alfred said. “No weirder than any other nice restaurant.”
Matthew sighed. “Don't become a snob, just because you're dating a rich guy.”
“I'm not! I'm just saying, they're all like this.”
“They act like they know you!”
“They do that on purpose, to seem friendly.”
“Really?” Matthew frowned. “Not to me. They never even asked my name.”
“Aww...” Alfred patted his brother's hand. “You can take charge next time.”
“Next time? Tonight's dinner could have fed us for a week at the grocery store.”
“You can take charge at the grocery store, then!”
Matthew gulped down a glass of wine and quickly refilled it.
Alfred laughed. “I'm just kidding, bro. I'll introduce you when the waiter comes back! Maybe we'll get another bottle of wine.”
Matthew smiled at him, and they settled back to wait for their food from the strange waiter.