“What? You know you love mysharpsense of humor.”
Farzan chuckled, relaxing his shoulders a touch.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Curtis, I don’t think I caught your name.”
“With a knife? A net would work better.”
“Dad,” David begged, and suddenly Farzan had a vision of what David’s teenage years might’ve been like.
“Christopher,” David’s dad said, extending a hand.
“Farzan Alavi,” Farzan said. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too. So. You own this whole place?”
Farzan felt something weird in his chest; it took him a moment to realize it was pride. The last time he’d met a boyfriend’s parents, he hadn’t exactly had a steady job. But now?
“Yeah. Well, I own the business now. Though my parents still technically own the property.”
“Was that always the plan? For you to take over?” Christopher scooped a few pieces of chicken kabob onto his plate.
“Not really. But when they wanted to retire, I knew I couldn’t let it close, so I took it over.” Farzan glanced at David. “David’s been helping me, actually. Giving me advice and stuff. He’s got way more experience with restaurants than I do.”
“Yeah, but you’re the better cook,” David said. “You make all this?”
Farzan shrugged. He had prepped the spice mixes and marinades, but Spencer had done the actual grilling.
“You’ve got your father’s touch,” Deb said. “Maybe even a little better. Don’t tell him I said that.”
“I won’t.”
Farzan still couldn’t believe Deb knew his parents. Was, apparently, a regular at Shiraz Bistro. He was still learning a lot of the usual crowd:people who came in once a month, or a few times a year for celebrations. Families that came in every other week, or ordered takeout on Fridays. For as much of his youth as he’d spent in and around the restaurant, there was so much he still didn’t know.
“So how’d you meet this handsome guy?” Christopher asked David.
“Veryhandsome,” Deb corrected.
Farzan wanted to hide under the table.
David shot him a look. “At Aspire, actually. He came in for some wine and fries, we got to talking. Exchanged numbers.” David shrugged.
He’d left out the mistaken identity and blowjobs, but that was definitely for the best.
“Aww,” Deb said. Her own plate was piled high with rice and kabob barg, flattened filet mignon skewers, Farzan’s personal favorite. She sprinkled a liberal amount of sumac on top, too. “Where was your first date?”
“The Nelson,” David said without missing a beat. “The opening of the Kehinde Wiley exhibit.”
Farzan grinned. Hard to call it a date when they’d showed up separately after both being ditched by their friends. But it had been fun.
“You two are too cute. Look at that smile.” Deb winked at Farzan. “I think your son is in good hands, Chris.”
Farzan shook his head, fighting a blush, but David grabbed his knee under the table.
“I am.”
Another burst of warmth blossomed in Farzan’s chest. “Thanks.” He risked a quick peck to David’s cheek. “Now, I better get back to work. But it was nice meeting you both.”
“Same,” Christopher said. “Don’t be a stranger.”
