Page 70 of The Viper
"Twenty dollars?" I stared at the menu. "For olives?"
She grinned, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "Relax, soldier. I promise the escargot won't bite back."
"Escargot," I muttered. "That's snails, right?"
"Delicious snails," she said, her smile widening. "Trust me."
A server appeared—young guy, well-trained, the kind who could read a table without being told. He poured water, explained the tasting menu, and left us to decide. Lexi ordered for both of us, because I didn't know half the words on the menu and didn't want to butcher them trying.
When the food started arriving, I understood what I'd signed up for.
The first plate was smaller than my palm—some kind of fish with a curl of foam and three dots of sauce arranged like a constellation. It looked delicate, almost too pretty to eat.
"Go ahead," Lexi said, watching me.
I picked up the fork, took a bite. The flavors hit me all at once—salt, citrus, something earthy I couldn't name. It was good. Really good. But it was gone in two bites.
"I'm going to starve," I said.
She laughed. "There are nineteen more courses."
I blinked. "Nineteen?"
"Twenty, counting dessert." She leaned back, sipping her wine. "It's a tasting menu. Little bites of everything."
The next plate arrived—a single scallop on a bed of something green, topped with caviar. Then came duck, then lamb, then pasta so thin it looked like lace. Each plate was a work of art, each bite an explosion of flavor, and each portion barely enough to register. Lexi took delicate nibbles, savoring each one, while I polished off the rest.
"You're enjoying this," she said, her eyes dancing.
"I'm starving and they keep giving me doll food," I said, but I was grinning.
"You like it."
"Yeah," I admitted. "I do."
She reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. "Tell me why you're eating like you'll never see food again."
I paused, fork halfway to my mouth. "Grew up never wasting food. Mom drilled it into us—you finish what's on your plate, no exceptions. We didn't always know when the next meal was coming."
Her expression softened. "And now?"
"Now, I'm eating twenty-dollar olives and wondering if I should get used to it."
She smiled, but there was something sad in it. "You don't have to."
"Maybe I want to."
The next course arrived—something involving truffles and gold leaf that looked more like jewelry than food. I ate it, anyway, because it tasted incredible and because Lexi was watching me like I was the most fascinating thing in the room.
By the time dessert came—a small tower of chocolate and caramel that collapsed at the touch of a spoon—I was stuffed. Lexi laughed at the look on my face.
"Too much?"
"I'm going to need a forklift to get out of here."
She grinned. "Or a wheelbarrow."
I leaned back, groaning. "I need to walk this off."
