“David, this is Deb,” Christopher said. “Deb, my pride and joy, David.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” David said, offering his arm as she stepped up onto the curb. Her nails were short, manicured, and the same lavender as her lips. “How’d you two pick this place?”
“My ex-husband’s Iranian,” Deb said. “We used to come here all the time. I still bring my kids when they come to visit.”
“Oh yeah? How many kids you got?”
“Two daughters. Both in their twenties.”
Christopher held the door open; after letting Deb through, he rested a hand on David’s elbow. “I hope this place is okay.”
“It’s fine,” David said, a little too quick.
“What?”
But David shook his head.
Deb was at the host stand, waiting next to a lovely fat white woman with her black hair pulled back into a ponytail. David followed them to their booth in the corner. A small, red-wreathed chandelier hung above, thankfully high enough David didn’t have to worry about standing up and hitting it.
“Nathan will be taking care of you tonight,” the host was saying. “Let us know if you need anything, Deb.”
“I will. Thanks, Patricia.”
David slid onto his side of the booth, crooking his arms out a bit because his pits were suddenly sweaty. Deb was a regular. At Farzan’s restaurant. Did they know each other?
David’s back was to the kitchen, so he wouldn’t even have any warning if Farzan suddenly appeared. The restaurant was noisy, joyously so, with couples and friends and families talking in a mix of English and Farsi, many of them shouting over each other or cackling in laughter. Itdidremind him ofMy Big Fat Greek Wedding, come to think of it. He fought back a smile at the memory, but his dad caught it.
“You been here before?”
“No, but I’ve heard it’s good.” David was not about to get into his whole deal with Farzan. One, he didn’t want to steal his dad’s thunder (not that there was thunder to steal, since he and Farzan weren’t dating). Two, his dad would undoubtedly make a way bigger deal of it than it was, and that would only muddy the waters even worse.
If he could just get through the night, he and Farzan could laugh about this later.
“Thanks, Nathan,” Deb said as their server, a lanky boy with blond hair and wispy eyebrows that made him look surprised, dropped off their menus. Shit, was she on a first-name basis with Farzan too? Did she know he’d taken over? “Itisgood. Better than my ex-mother-in-law’s cooking, but please don’t tell anyone I said that.”
David laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Deb offered a twinkly smile. “They do an appetizer sampler, and sharing platter if you want kabobs. But they also have amazing stews.”
“I bet,” David said, remembering Farzan’s delicious (and gas-inducing) celery stew. Much too dangerous to have tonight. “Kabob does sound amazing.”
Christopher leaned in close to look over Deb’s shoulder at her menu, instead of scanning his own, and they made such a cute picture together, David was tempted to pull out his phone. He’d seen his dad in a lot of moods: joyful, exhausted, proud, angry, sad, even drunk once (just theonce, and that was the night he learned why his dad didn’t sing in public). Still, he couldn’t remember ever seeing his dad so… flirty.
Had it been like this between his mom and dad when they were younger—when he was younger? Before the house turned into awkward silences and awkwarder conversations over the dinner table on Sundays? David got a strange pang in his chest.
“So a sampler and a platter?” Christopher said. “David, why don’t you pick the wine?”
“Yes, please,” Deb added. “Your dad says you’re about to take a big fancy wine test?”
“It’s for the Court of Master Sommeliers,” David explained, flipping the menu to find the wine list. “Basically it means you’re one of the most knowledgeable people about wine in the country.”
Deb let out a low, pitch-perfect whistle.
“He hasn’t even taken it yet, and he’s already got job offers rolling in from fancy restaurants in California.”
One offer—half offer, really—could hardly be considered rolling in, but David smiled and shook his head and studied the list. All were more or less table wines—he spotted Farzan’s favorite cheap Malbec, the one they’d had their first night together—and with only 25 percent markup, too. David would have to mention that to Farzan: even Aspire, which prided itself on its low markup, did 33 percent.
They ordered their appetizer sampler (some sort of yogurt-cucumber dip, a salad of tomatoes and cucumbers and onions, and bread with feta cheese and herbs) and a bottle of wine to split (David went ahead and picked the Farzan-approved Malbec). Once Nathan left them, David steepled his fingers.
