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“Yeah, I think Dane forced them to pick up a few stock phrases. I’m not totally sure though. We definitely send our staff to waiter school, and they’ll teach shit like French there, although I have a feeling Dane went even further. He’s probably forcing them to get fluent, come to think of it,” I remark.
Tanya giggles.
“Getting fluent is tough,” she says. “Americans generally only speak English.”
“I know,” I growl. “Yours truly is in that boat. But yeah, Dane’s like that. He goes the extra mile, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was forcing French lessons on these guys in order to up the quality of service. Who knows? Maybe I should do it with La Bella Trattoria,” I grunt, referring to an Italian restaurant in the Corinthian.
Tanya giggles again.
“OMG, I had their lobster ravioli last night, and it was fantastic. You did a great job with that restaurant, Stone.”
I grin.
“Thanks, although sometimes I wonder whether we should even be serving ravioli. After all, ravioli actually has Arab origins, did you know? But it was imported into Italy centuries ago.”
“So it’s Italian now,” my girl burbles with a smile. “That counts. Centuries ago is ages and ages in the past.”
I nod.
“Yeah, I guess sometimes I get too caught up with being ‘authentic’ as opposed to delivering what customers want to eat. Always keep your eyes on the prize, baby,” I wink while leering at her playfully.
Tanya giggles again, but before she can speak, the waiter comes to take our order. I manage to order in stilted French, making my date titter a bit, and then the two of us begin savoring the House red.
“I like your French,” she teases. “I thought you said you were monolingual!”
“I am,” I nod. “But it’s fun to try and speak on occasion. I started taking lessons when I was in my 20’s just as a hobby, but you can see where it’s gotten me. After two decades, I’m still only able to order food, and barely even that.”
Tanya laughs, the sound making my heart contract.
“That’s okay,” she says. “Again, most Americans only speak English, so you’re already ahead of most people. Me? I only know Spanish, and not even real Spanish. It’s just Spanglish I picked up from talking with Spanish-speaking friends.”
“Like George W. Bush?” I ask.
She winks.
“Exactly like him. It’s real though! We can communicate with people, and Bush even did some televised campaign ads in Spanish.”
With that, we both laugh, and the conversation flows as the meal is delivered and we begin eating. Tanya has me enthralled because this is clearly a woman who enjoys food. She digs into the coq au vin, as well as the bouillabaisse while helping herself to a copious portion of mussels. Even the way she dips her mussels in sauce before popping them into her mouth is cute.
But then, she looks up.
“OMG, I’m a total pig, aren’t I?”
I shake my head.
“Quite the contrary, sweetheart. I love a woman who eats. Most ladies sit around nibbling at leaves of salad while downing gallons of wine, so this is a nice change.”
She giggles.
“Oh well, yeah, I definitely don’t do that. But Stone,” she continues, suddenly going serious. “I’ve been meaning to say thank you for setting me up in a suite at the Corinthian. Of course, I’ve hardly spent any time there because I’m at your place non-stop, but thank you anyways.”
I chuckle, nodding.
“Yeah, I guess we’ve been having fun, haven’t we?” I wink. “But it’s a good fun, wouldn’t you say?”
She nods, flushing beautifully.
“We have,” she nods. “But I wanted to say thank you anyways because you know my apartment is about a forty-minute drive from the hotel. So not having to make that commute every day has been a weight off my shoulders, although of course, I’ve barely shown up for work this week.”
