Chapter Four Satoshi
Made from nerello grapes grown in volcanic soil, this light red wine can be explosive on the palate. Drinking well now, but its peak is still to come.
‘This isn’t what I ordered,’ the woman said as I set the Aperol spritz down in front of her. ‘I wanted green tea.’
I blinked. Of course. The spritz was for the women at the table near the classics shelf – and there should have been three of them, not just one. ‘My apologies. I’ll sort this out for you right away.’
She didn’t seem particularly offended, but of course, Isamu chose that moment to walk in. ‘Problem?’ he asked, joining me behind the bar.
‘No.’ I kept my tone casual as I started making two more spritzes. ‘Just a mix-up. I assume you went back to the vineyard last night? My couch was un-slept-upon. Yquem was despairing.’
He ignored the bait. ‘I can finish this up for you, if you want to go and take a breather.’
‘No need.’ Given this was the third order I’d confused in as many hours, I really should take him up on it, but 1) there was no way I was opening the door to another ‘you can’t do everything, Sato’ lecture, and 2) the idea of stopping even for a second made me feel nauseous.
If I stopped, I’d start to think, and then mixing up orders would be the least of my worries. ‘It’s under control.’
I delivered the spritzes, then made the green tea. ‘Sorry for the delay,’ I said, setting it down in front of the customer. ‘I’ve given you some extra wagashi to make up for it.’
My mind started to wander as she asked me questions about the wagashi, my mouth automatically supplying the answers.
Fiona’s daughters loved the traditional sweets we served with green tea, and I’d sent her home with boxes of what I’d told her were leftovers many times.
Could I use that as an excuse to turn up on her doorstep so I could apologise to her?
The customer was looking at me expectantly. ‘What was that, sorry?’
‘Do you have your sweetmaker’s card? If these taste as good as they look, I’d love to get my hands on more.’
‘Of course. I’ll just grab it for you.’
Isamu was opening a bottle of Bibliophile syrah behind the bar. ‘Go upstairs, Sato.’
‘I’m fine.’
He fixed me with a penetrating stare, the kind that was impossible to respond to without sounding petulant. ‘There’s no point staging if you’re not in the right headspace. Go upstairs, go over your supplies, and take some deep breaths.’
I gritted my teeth. Much as I was loath to give him ammunition, he wasn’t wrong. I’d get nothing useful out of the shift I was working tonight at Abode, the fine-dining restaurant my study buddy Carlton worked at, if my head wasn’t in the game.
‘The woman at Table Four wants Noriko’s card,’ I said. ‘Do you need me to give it to her?’
‘I can do it.’ Their divorce might still be an actively bleeding wound for him, but there still wasn’t a flicker on Isamu’s face at the mention of his ex-wife. He nodded his head towards the back. ‘Go.’
Much as I truly, truly hated being ordered around by my brother, I went.
Yquem was in an affectionate mood today, leaping at me the second I walked in the door. ‘I love you too,’ I told her, as she nuzzled her golden head under my chin.
I’d nearly slipped and said that to Fiona last night.
I’d found that tiny sliver of an opportunity, that window just cracked in a house that had hitherto been locked, and I’d tried to jimmy it open.
Because I like you, I’d only barely managed to say when she’d asked me why I wanted to sleep with her, a pale shadow of what I really meant.
Not that me biting back I love you had mattered. I’d clearly come on way too strong anyway. The second she’d had a chance to think about what she was letting me do to her, she’d fled as fast as her feet would carry her.
I groaned. Yquem mewed in response.
It wasn’t that Fiona hadn’t been into it. She clearly had. But just because she’d been into it didn’t mean she was ready for it, and yet I’d let things escalate so fast from kissing to her riding my fingers, and—
I groaned again. The only part of that my cock had listened to was the bit about her riding my fingers.
I let myself think about it in the shower, wrapping my fist around my erection and stroking. What might have happened next, if Charlotte hadn’t knocked at the door?
Fiona would have come again, clenching tight around my fingers. I would have licked them clean. She would have turned pink, squeezed her eyes shut, but, Look at me, I would have told her, and I would have made her watch.
Or maybe I would have held out my fingers to her, made her take them into her mouth instead. See how good you taste, I would have told her, and she would have turned even pinker.
But then she would have grinned, that spark of mischief catching in her eyes.
I would have let her unbutton my waistcoat – my shirt – my pants – and I would barely be able to control myself when she finally took me in her hand.
She would laugh as she stroked me, that champagne laugh bubbling over at the hungry sounds I couldn’t stop myself from making, and then she’d wrap her legs around my hips, and I would slide against her for a moment before I slid into her, and…
I didn’t come as quickly as she had the night before, but I wasn’t far behind.
Yquem was still demanding affection when I came out of the bathroom, but I had to deny her, lest I get cat hair all over me.
‘I’m sorry, princess,’ I told her, doing up my tie, shrugging on the jacket of the charcoal three-piece suit I only wore to formal trade events, and attaching just one pin – my Advanced Sommelier pin, the highest qual I currently held – to the lapel.
‘I’d much rather stay here and snuggle with you. ’
I selected a pair of black-framed glasses, the most conservative pair I owned, combed product through my hair, then checked my carrying case of somm supplies.
The restaurant would supply most of the things I needed, like decanters and service cloths, but I liked to make sure I had my own stock of the small things, like my favourite wine knife and ah-so, as well as pens, candles and matches.
It was calming, going through my supplies and making sure everything was in order. I let out a long breath and did not let myself think about Fiona, my hand around the nape of her neck holding her upright, the sounds she’d made when my fingers were between her legs.
Later. I would think about it later, at great length, and I would agonise over all the things I had done wrong.
For tonight, though, I had to put it out of my mind.
If I was going to have any chance of becoming an MS, then surely the first thing I had to demonstrate was my capacity to be a fucking professional.
Fiona wasn’t the first person I saw when I walked onto the floor at Abode for service. It was her daughter Rosie who shrieked ‘Satoshi!’ at a pitch so high it was amazing it didn’t shatter half the glasses as she came cannonballing into my legs.
She wasn’t the second person either. That was her other daughter Georgia, who did the same thing half a second later.
She was, however, the third. Her cheeks were flushed red – a sight I’d relished the night before – but her face was a mask of horror, an expression that made me want to turn on my heel, walk into the kitchen, and stab the largest knife I could find directly into my heart.
‘Well, hello, ladies.’ I crouched down to the twins’ level. If I was looking at them, then I didn’t have to see the way Fiona was looking at me. ‘What brings you here tonight?’
‘Auntie Chess is taking us out for an elegant dinner party!’ Georgia announced.
‘These are our prettiest dresses.’ Rosie gestured to their matching purple Peter Pan-collar dresses, speckled with a white daisy pattern. ‘Do you think they’re elegant?’
I pretended to consider it. ‘Hmmm… yes, it’s official. You’re the most elegant ladies in the whole restaurant.’
‘Girls!’ Fiona called. ‘Leave Satoshi alone.’
I dared another glance at her. The red had drained from her cheeks, and it had taken every other colour along with it. I was reminded immediately of how she’d looked when she’d stumbled into the bar the night Matt had left, and had to swallow down a wave of nausea.
I followed the girls back to their table, because fleeing wasn’t an option. ‘Lovely to see you all.’ I reached deep to find my customer service smile. ‘Welcome to Abode. I’ll be your sommelier this evening.’
They were a table of seven: Fiona, her kids, Jonah and Sadie, and Sadie’s sister Chess. ‘Lovely to see you too, Satoshi,’ Sadie said. ‘But what are you doing here? Surely you’ve got enough to do at Tsundoku without moonlighting.’
I made myself chuckle. ‘You’re not wrong.
But one of the components of the Master Sommelier exam is service.
Tsundoku is more casual than this environment, so the owner was kind enough to let me make a one-night-only guest appearance so I can practise some more formal elements.
’ I presented the wine list to Chess, making sure I was standing on her right side as per Court of Master Sommeliers protocol.
If she was paying, she was the host. ‘Feel free to ask me as many questions as you want. I’m happy to make recommendations. ’
‘Thanks.’ Chess studied the list. ‘The adults are going to do the tasting menu. Can we do matched wines?’
‘Chessie, that’s so expensive,’ Sadie protested. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘I want to. Besides, we’re celebrating. Would the first course work with a sparkling?’
I let my eyes flicker to Fiona again. She was staring determinedly at her silverware, tension radiating from every line of her body.
‘Yes, a sparkling would be a wonderful pairing,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing more celebratory than champagne. They have an excellent 2018 Grand Cru one here from a small épernay grower that I’d highly recommend: an elegant expression of a classic style.’
‘Like us!’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘Elegant!’