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9
HADES
“So… What do you think?”
I moan as I chew slowly, letting the steak dissolve in my mouth. When I don’t say anything—I can’t, because this shit is way too good to interrupt with words—and only shake my head, Sean grins.
“It’s fuckin’ amazing, right?”
I give it another few seconds, letting the flavor spread over my tongue a little longer before I finally swallow. I glance at Sean, nodding.
“That’s fucking good, man.”
His grin widens as he clinks his glass of whiskey to mine. “What can I say, man? That’s my girl.”
We’re at Shank, a brand-new steakhouse with a modern vibe in the Meatpacking District, down the street from the Whitney Museum. Sean’s an investor in the place, and his girlfriend Maya is the chef de cuisine of the joint, which was recently short-listed for a James Beard award.
Restaurants are notoriously iffy investments, since something like eighty-five percent of them close within the first year, usually way in debt. But I think Sean picked a winner here—both with the spot, and with the girl.
The food is fuckinginsane. The cocktail list is cool and trendy without being hipster and obnoxious. And they’ve got a killer wine list, curated by one of New York’s top sommeliers. Plus, the ambiance is great—low lights, German brass fixtures, exposed brick and dark hardwood everywhere. Sean and I are posted up at the bar, but there’s also a wine lounge on the second floor, the main dining room behind us, and even a few glass-walled private dining rooms along the back wall. The glass on those can be turned opaque with the touch of a button. Which is supremely cool.
“Sean, this place is going to kill it. Congrats, man.”
He grins as I raise my glass to his.
“Nah, man. It’s all Maya. She’s a fucking force.”
“Remind me why you haven’t been smart enough to wife her yet?”
He makes a face as he takes a sip. “I dunno, man. I mean I love her and shit, but it’s a big step, you know? And we’re not even thirty yet. Who knows what the future holds?”
I roll my eyes. “Dude, as your friend, I’m going to level with you.”
“Yeah? Please do.”
“Sean, you’re a six-foot-four ginger giant with generally shitty people skills and table manners, a moderate drinking problem, and a below average dick.”
He snorts a laugh. “You aresuchan asshole.”
“I’m just saying, man…the ‘future’? For you? Maya iswayout of your league and I don’t know how she agreed to go out with you in the first place. Don’t be a fucking moron. Put a ring on that yesterday.”
He grins.
“How’s the steak, boys?”
Sean sputters into his whiskey as we both turn to see the chef herself standing behind us, her hair slick against her temples under the white chef’s hat, a flush on her face from the chaos and heat of the kitchen.
“Maya,” I shake my head, waving my fork at the plate in front of me. “This is fucking….dayum.”
“Hades is about to make a mess of his underwear over your steak. And I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that,” Sean grins at his girlfriend, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
She laughs. “Well, try not to make a scene, Hades. But if you and the steak need to get a room, the Standard is right down the street. No questions asked.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Maya.”
She chuckles as she gives me a quick hug, then pulls back. “All right, well, try not to jizz on any of the guests. I need to get back in there.”
