“No stairs,” Ezra said immediately, “and wide pathways.”
“That’s right,” Darian agreed.
“You should think about a flow for the staff so that everyone’s moving in the same direction,” Ezra said, “and two doors leading to the kitchen, one for incoming traffic and one for outgoing.”
“I thought about that already and drew some arrows on the designs for how I think the flow might go,” Darian said. She laid out the floor plans for Roman and Ezra to peruse. They looked fairly standard to Roman, and he thought any one of them might do, but Ezra pointed to one in particular.
“This one has enough entry and exit points that staff are less likely to bump into one another, and all pathways go by both the bar and the kitchen.” Roman took a closer look while Ezra continued. “You can build your booths in the outer perimeter and use the central area for large parties and groups. Then you’ll have areas for people who want calm and quiet and those who want to be seen.”
Darian nodded. “I like that.”
Conversation continued with Roman taking notes and offering his input while Ezra and Darian brainstormed and problem solved. “Let’s talk about the kitchen now,” Darian said. “For obvious reasons, I’d like to customize at least parts of it to the height of someone in a wheelchair, like myself.”
“Have you considered adjustable countertops?” Ezra asked. Darian cocked her head. “It would work like the desk I have at home. It’s a standing desk with a crank you can adjust to any height. Something like that might work for the kitchen.”
“I know a machinist,” Roman offered.
“That’s a great idea,” Darian said. “Though with stainless steel, it might get expensive.”
“We have the budget for it,” Roman said.
“And I would also suggest video feeds so that you have a bird’s eye view of what’s going on at all times,” Ezra continued. “One where you can zoom in to help with the height differential. And wider pathways in your kitchen area. They tend to be very tight and not at all conducive to maneuverability.”
They surveyed the kitchen next. It had been stripped bare, without any sinks or appliances and only the plumbing fixtures poking out of the drywall. Ezra slowly circled the space while he and Darian discussed where it would make sense for the various equipment to go. Roman knew the basic necessities of a functioning restaurant kitchen but he didn’t have Ezra’s spatial reasoning or Darian’s hands-on experience. Ezra flipped over one of the floorplans and mapped out the kitchen to he and Darian’s specifications, using the edge of a paint stick as a ruler. His drawing was mostly to scale and included not only the necessary counters, sinks, and appliances but schematics for food and equipment storage as well.
“That’s really clever,” Darian said, appraising his work. “This is definitely something I can work with. And look, Roman, with Ezra’s design there’s room for that rotisserie I wanted.”
Roman added “rotisserie” to his list of soon-to-be-made purchases.
On their way home from the restaurant, and with a future date planned to visit again once the larger pieces had been installed, Ezra turned to Roman and said, “That was fun.”
“Thatwasfun. You were brilliant. I wish I’d had you during the planning phase of all my restaurants.”
“Well, I don’t need to go into the paradox of time travel with you, but I’m very glad I’m able to consult with you and Darian on this one. Oh, and I just remembered something else.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s taco Tuesday.”
“You hungry?” Roman asked.
“Starving.”
Roman smiled at his own personal achievement. Ezra was excited about food.
* * *
Well,what could Roman say other than he was in love with Ezra? His roommate, housekeeper, boyfriend, and lover. Roman’s feelings for the young man had gone from a nebulous sort of supposition to a marrow-deep certainty. He loved Ezra in the mornings, sleepy-eyed and craving cuddles. He loved him in the afternoons when he was diligently focused on his schoolwork or else methodically attacking some household chore. He loved him in the evenings when they teased and bantered over dinner. And he loved him in the nighttime when Ezra was a different kind of vulnerable, laid out before him on the bed, so needy and wanton, begging Roman to raise him to the heights of ecstasy and then hold him while he floated back down.
One evening Roman came home late from work to find Ezra listening to a song from his playlist of old R&B music and swaying along to the melody.
“Hey, babe.” Roman went over and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend without interrupting the gentle sway of his hips. They rocked together in the living room while the melody drifted out of the speakers, the dulcet notes casting a spell over the otherwise quiet room. “Whatcha doing?”
“I was missing you, so I decided to play some of your songs, and then this onereallyreminded me of you, so I just kept playing it.”
“This one made you think of me?” Roman asked with tenderness.
“Yes, I like it when she says ‘tighter.’”
