David just laughed. “Hey, we’re VIPs, we’ve got to get some wine before we take in the art.”
David led the way back to the lobby. When he sidestepped an older couple headed toward the reception, his hand brushed Farzan’s. Some silly part of him—some primal instinct, maybe—told him to link hishand with Farzan’s. But they weren’t on a date. They were friends, looking at art.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets. He needed to get the night on safer footing.
“So how’s things at the bistro?”
Farzan groaned.
“That bad?”
“No, they’re fine, just… I get that I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m not a child, you know? It’s not like I don’t know anything. But my dad won’t let me work in the kitchen without hovering over my shoulder, asking if I’m sure I salted the kabob enough, or do I really think that the tahdig is done.”
“Too many chefs in the kitchen, huh?”
“And my mom’s even worse. Like, the washer—the laundry washer, not the dish washer—was leaking, and when I called a plumber to come fix it, she made me wait until she’d tried to fix it herself. And she ended up breaking it worse!”
David knew Farzan was frustrated, and it wasn’t funny, but also, it really was. He tried to stifle his laugh, but it came out anyway.
Farzan shot him a sideways glance, trying to frown, but he ended up laughing too.
“God. Is it always gonna be like this?”
“Nah. Some days, it’ll be worse.”
Farzan groaned. “Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe my parents were right.”
“Hey.” David pulled his hand out of his pocket to grab Farzan by the elbow. “You’ve got this. You’re an amazing cook. You’re going to run an amazing restaurant.”
“Thanks.”
“Seriously. That celery stew you brought? I had it for lunch like the next three days. It only got better.”
Farzan’s eyes twinkled, and he seemed to relax. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, I’ll start thinking what to make for next time.”
David’s mouth watered at the thought. Still: “Just remember, we’re not eating first.”
He was pleased to see Farzan’s cheeks darken. “I remember. Fucking first, then food.”
twenty
Farzan
That was amazing.”
“It really was.”
“Seriously, I’ve only ever seen pictures, but seeing them up close? I mean, you can read they’re thirty feet wide, but then you see them and it’s like, wow.”
Farzan loved seeing David so enthusiastic. As they’d gone through the exhibit, David had stopped in front of nearly every piece, taking them in, getting as close as he could without setting off the little alarms.
(One time he even did set off an alarm—apparently he’d leaned too far forward and tripped a sensor—and a docent came over to warn him off.)
Farzan didn’t have much of a head for art. That was more Ramin’s thing. Ramin would’ve loved this. Arya, too; it sucked that Arya was stuck doing floral arrangements.
