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As I closely went over the figures, I could see the anxiousness to leave coming from Stephen. It was past eight in the evening and the Chicago night sky glowed through the windows. He kept his mouth shut, but I could tell he was ready to end his day. I didn’t give a fuck about him wanting to leave. I pay his salary, so he was going to sit there until I was finished going over every report.
By the time I was satisfied with the numbers, it was almost nine-thirty. I dismissed Stephen, telling him to have the quarterly reports on my desk Monday morning. Once he left, Basil and I sat in my office, trying to decide where we would grab some dinner.
“What do you have a taste for?” Basil asked, sitting the reports in his hand on my desk.
I grabbed the papers, stacking them with the others. “I really don’t know.”
“Let’s go to Mythos. Since I can’t have any of mother’s Moussaka, they’re the only place that can come close to hers.”
Mythos is a Greek restaurant downtown that Yiannis is a silent partner with the owner, Nicholas Papadopoulos. Nicholas is a chef from our homeland and his dishes are amazing. It’s nice to have dishes from back home. Don’t get me wrong, there are excellent restaurants here, but nothing beats true Greek cuisine and Mythos is where you want to go to experience it.
Agreeing to dine at Mythos, Basil and I left the office, ready to have a taste of home. When we arrived, Basil gave the keys to valet before we walked in. Several people stood in line, waiting to be seated by the hostess. On the weekends you need reservations to get a table and from what I heard; the waiting list is a bitch. Luckily, we didn’t need one. Yiannis brought us here one night for dinner and introduced us to Nicholas. Nicholas made sure to tell his staff that anytime we came we were to be seated immediately and our meals and drinks were on the house. He has become an extended part of our family.
Bypassing the line, we approach the hostess, Hilary who’s speaking with a couple.
“This is ridiculous. I can see vacant tables from here. Why can’t you sit us at one of those?” the man questions.
Hilary politely smiles, replying, “I’m sorry sir, but as I said before there aren’t any available tables tonight. I can make a reservation for you on our next available slot.”
He glances at the human blowup doll who has been to the plastic surgeon one too many times standing next to him, then back at Hilary. “Do you know who the fuck I am?” He seethes.
Fear registers in her eyes as her face flushes red. Having heard enough, Basil and I step forward. A look of relief washes over Hilary when she sees us.
“Good evening, Hilary. Basil and I would like our usual table,” I tell her, ignoring the asshole.
“Good evening, Mr. Kourakos. I’ll have Felicia seat you right away.”
Hilary jumps when the prick slams his hand on the podium.
“Now wait one damn minute. You just told us we needed reservations and these guys waltz in, and you don’t ask about theirs. You’re just going to give them a table that me and my girlfriend could’ve already been sitting at. This is some bullshit. Why do they get a table?”
Getting in his personal space, I answer for Hilary. “We” I point at Basil, then back at me. “We get a table because our family owns the restaurant. We don’t need reservations, and neither will you.”
The idiot must have thought I’m going to have them seated because he puts on a shit eating grin, saying, “That’s more like it.” He turns to Hilary. “You heard the man, we don’t need reservations, so have someone show us to our table.”
I snap my fingers, getting his attention. “Oh, you thought you were going to get a table when I said you didn’t need any reservations, I meant you will never need reservations to dine at Mythos because you’re fucking banned. Now, get the fuck out.”
We stare each other down as I smirk at him, waiting to see what he’ll do. Basil moves to my side, giving him the same expression as me.
In a low voice, he says, “You’re lucky my men aren’t here with me.”
A look of uncertainty grips him as I return in the same tone, “And you’re lucky I respect my family’s establishment to not coat it with your blood.”
I don’t know who the fuck he is, nor do I give a shit. He thinks he’s entitled but right now the only thing he’s entitled to is getting his ass handed to him.
“Fuck this place. The food probably isn’t worth all the hype anyway,” he says, grabbing the woman’s hand. He then storms off, pushing past the others in line, dragging her along.
Turning to people in line because it has grown, I tell them, “I’m sorry for your wait. I will take care of your drink orders.” They cheer and I add, “But drink responsively.”
I chuckle as Felicia’s now standing beside Hilary. “Right this way, Mr. Kourakos.”
“Thank you, Felicia,” I return as Basil, and I follow her.
We didn’t need her to show us to the table. We sit at the same one every time we’re here. It’s in the back and gives us a view of the entire restaurant. I never sit with my back to the door. As far as I know, I don’t have any enemies here yet, but just having the Kourakos name could put a target on my back and I’m always ready for the unexpected.
As Felicia leads us around the tables to our section, I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful African American woman sitting at a table with three other women. They’re attractive too, but there’s something about her that has me wanting to know who the lovely vixen is. She had on an off the shoulder black dress that displayed her radiant brown skin. Her long black straight hair hung down her back with a part in the middle and as we pass her table, large doe like brown eyes catch mine.
Felicia stops at our table, and we sit. She knows not to offer us menus because we usually order the same items, or we ask for something in particular for Nicholas to whip up. We tell her that we’ll have the Moussaka and as a starter drink, Cognac. She whisks away, giving me a clear view of the brown beauty at the other table.
