And it was time for them to come off the heat.
From the very first bite, his opinion of this place was top-notch. They bought excellent beef that didn’t need improving upon. It just needed salt, time, and then fire. The taste told him the animal had been raised on a healthy pasture, something his club knew a great deal about.
When they made it to the galbi, the first bite was so good, he had to close his eyes and completely take it in. This was a different animal entirely — literally and technically. Where the ribeye was about restraint and letting the beef speak, the marinated short rib was about transformation. The marinade had achieved the perfect alchemy, breaking down the connective tissue, driving the sweetness of the soy and the pear deep into the fibers, and when it hit the grill, the sugars caramelized in seconds. It smelled obscenely good, it tasted better.
Also, he’d butchered enough short ribs to appreciate the Korean cut — thin, across the bone, more surface area for the marinade, more edges to caramelize.
The bone-in NY strip went on last, and he treated it the same way he’d treated the ribeye — minimal interference, maximum attention, off the heat at exactly the right moment.
This was the most straightforward offering of the evening. The bone added flavor, and the dry-aging had given it the same concentrated character as the ribeye, but with a slightly leaner profile.
And conversation with Tuesday over their meal was a fucking treat. She understood food in a way most people do not, while he understood meat as few people do. Betweenthe two of them, they both learned new things. Though admittedly, he was out of his element with the Korean factor, so he learned more from her, but that was perfectly okay.
The drive home likely wouldn’t be even close to okay, and he was already reconciling himself to it. However, what came after would be entirely his call, once he had her in his ropes.
He looked forward to watching her scream and writhe later, but he also enjoyed eating interesting foods with her. Because the truth was, he’d fallen in love with every aspect of this fascinating, intriguing woman.
He even approved of the way she drove. He just didn’t like riding in the passenger seat.
- - -?- - -
Tuesday grabbed her small daypack from the trunk before they left the parking lot to walk through Renaissance Park, hoping he’d ask what was in it so she could tell him he’d find out later.
But he only looked at it without commenting.
He fell into step beside her, hands easy at his sides, completely unbothered by a mystery bag. He was trusting her with their day, and that was refreshing.
The park was only a few hundred yards away, and the two slowed their pace to enjoy the little piece of nature inside the city. This portion of the park managed to feel genuinely wild in patches, with winding trails through dense trees.
Eventually, they had a nice view of the Tennessee River running wide and calm, catching the afternoon light.
A tugboat pushed a barge downstream, and a kid in a stroller pointed and shouted, “Boat! Boat!”
There were lots of moms and toddlers taking advantage of the gorgeous sunny day in March. A twenty-something mom had stretched a blanket out on the grass and was sitting on it with her toddler, blowing bubbles.
A group of kids played with a frisbee, and at first Tuesday assumed they were skipping school, but then a mom with a nursing baby and a toddler shouted at them to throw it to Thomas, and Tuesday decided they were a large homeschooling family, and this was an outing.
She heard the Southern Belle’s calliope downriver, but it was too far away to see. A sound from a different era.
“Do you hear that?” Knife asked.
He was looking downriver, so she told him what it was and then asked, “Have you ever ridden the Southern Belle?”
He shook his head, and she made a note to look up moonlight cruises. They probably only had them on the weekends, but maybe she could work something out.
Coolidge Park had even more moms on blankets with preschool-aged kids. One little tike was clearly learning to roller skate, another was kicking a soccer ball.
And that was when it happened. An older kid, maybe five or six, on a skateboard. She saw the frisbee heading to the kid, saw the young girl jerk to try to avoid being hit in the head, and then she went down — arm first. Tuesday heard the bone breaking seconds after she saw it.
Knife ran to the girl and dropped to his butt, sitting beside her, looking her over. “Focus on me. I know I’m a stranger, but I won’t touch you, I’m just going to try to help you until your mom gets here.Look at me.”
He said it like an order, and then “Good girl, now breathe in for me…”
Tuesday looked around for the girls’ mom, and saw a woman panicking, trying to get a toddler into a stroller, and Tuesday ran to her. “You don’t know me, but that’s my friend talking to your daughter. Run to them, and I’ll put your blanket and other things in the duffel, and I’ll bring your son to you. What’s his name?”
The woman took about three seconds to decide, and said, “Thank you. His name is Matthew, and if you’ll give him a melba toast from the top of the diaper bag, he’ll be quiet even with me running away.”
She ran to her daughter, and Tuesday listened to Knife calming the mother once she arrived, while Tuesday gave the tiny toddler a melba toast and packed the woman’s things into the duffel.
