4. Day Four
Day Four
O ver the next days, the back-and-forth became a routine I started looking forward to.
On Monday I delivered a gumball machine and even got a sweet for myself. It was a dorky, endearing gift Leo unsuccessfully tried to pretend he didn’t like.
When I was already on the road, my phone pinged and I read the message from Peter when I parked my bike in his fancy underground garage.
Peter/Boss:
I beg forgiveness, but the business meeting has run long today and I will be home later than planned. Please use this time to eat dinner. I have sent instructions to the building’s restaurant to add anything you order to my tab.
RayRay:
Thanks, boss!
I took the change of plans in stride. The money from this job was enough I didn’t worry about wasting time. And hey, free pizza! Or maybe hamburgers. I had to check what the restaurant had to offer.
When I was seated at a fancy table and given a menu with meals I could barely pronounce, I realized I made a mistake by not paying attention to what kind of restaurant Peter sent me to. Now that I looked around, I stuck out like a sore thumb between other guests who looked like they threw money in the air for fun. Did this restaurant have five Michelin stars? Wait, no, the most you could get was three stars, wasn’t it? Either way, even one star on any ranking was probably too good for me.
My head hurt as I looked at the array of foreign or unnecessarily complicated dishes. When I noticed there were no prices printed anywhere, it was the nail in the coffin. I closed the menu shut.
Unfortunately, the waiter took that as a sign to approach to take my order.
“A hamburger,” I blurted out after the man suggested the special of the day, which was a fucking lobster. A lobster!
“A… hamburger, sir?” The waiter raised a brow.
“Yes. A hamburger. With water,” I nodded firmly. Surely a simple hamburger with no fancy drink couldn’t cost too much, right?
“As sir wishes,” the waiter bowed and returned with water and a complementary tiny dish of greens and cucumber pieces for ‘cleansing the palate’.
Ten minutes later I was served a delicious burger. I would moan around the first bite if the people weren’t staring at me already. All in all, when Peter finally sent me a message calling me to his penthouse I was nearly in a pleasant food coma.
Somehow I dragged myself up to the apartment to report.
“Thanks for the food, man,” I said once I took my customary seat at the table. “The burger was awesome.”
“A… burger?” Peter looked at me as if I had grown a second head. “You ordered a burger there?”
“What’s everyone’s problem with burgers?” I bristled. “I just wanted to order something that wouldn’t cost the equivalent of my rent! The waiter looked at me funny when I ordered it and now you…”
Peter blinked at me slowly.
“Well, it doesn’t surprise me that the waiter was taken aback by the order, seeing as they don’t have hamburgers on the menu.”
“They sure do,” I argued. “As I got one.”
“They don’t. What that particular restaurant has, however, is a policy to cater to the guest’s wishes, whatever they may be. For an additional fee, of course. No doubt one of their employees ran to some other restaurant to get you your burger.”
My mouth dropped open. What? That made no sense! Oh shit, did that mean…
“Did that additional service cost more than the fucking lobster?!” My voice rose high. “Please tell me I didn’t make you pay more when I wanted you to pay less. Fucking please .”
“There’s no need to worry, Raymond. I consider it money well spent. You deserve a little treat.” The way he said it made my cheeks redden. Fucking millionaire was going to be the death of me. Just throwing his money around and saying nice things to me…
Ridiculous.
Unacceptable.
How dare he.
I considered it a payback when I read the playful haiku from Leo and it made Peter blush.
“Sweetness on my tongue
As I suck and lick and taste
Two balls together.”
Peter nearly choked on his tongue at the suggestive poetry and I mentally pat myself on the back, then took my leave.
Even though I was sure the haiku spurred Peter’s imagination, he wasn’t the one who was haunted at night by the visions of that pink tongue curling around the treat and Leo moaning in delight at the taste.
I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to escape my too vivid imagination, but in the end, I shoved my hand in my pants. As I stroked myself to completion, Peter’s words reverberated in my head.
You deserve a little treat.