Lies and Weddings(89)

The woman turned to Daniela and said coldly, “You! I want to be seated in the garden tonight under the big heater.”

“Can’t help you, I’m not the hostess,” Daniela said.

“What are you, then?” the woman asked, trying to frown, but her forehead was too frozen.

“I’m Princess Soraya,” Daniela shot back as Eden kept giggling.

The woman scowled at the both of them and tried to open the door herself. “Eh! Why won’t it open?” She whined for a moment, tapping against the doors weakly before some diners suddenly emerged and she pushed her way in past them.

“Rich, entitled, and clueless—it’s a lethal combination. I hope they send her to the bar,” Daniela said as they both cracked up again.

A few minutes later, the blond Englishman emerged from inside, glaring at them imperiously. “You can’t stand there. You’re going to have to leave.”

“We’re waiting for our table,” Daniela said.

“You’ve just lost it.”

“What? Why?”

“We’ve had a complaint about you two.”

“A complaint?” Daniela tried to clarify.

“You were extremely rude to Nancy Doheny. Have you any idea who she is?”

“I don’t care who she is. She was the one being rude to us.”

“Yes, she was clearly confused and annoyed that she couldn’t get inside,” Eden added.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, but we don’t tolerate offensive behavior here.”

Daniela’s face went red with anger. “Excuse me? There’s some guy literally finger-banging a girl at the bar, and you’re calling my behavior offensive?”

“You are clearly being offensive to me now.”

Just then Freddy peeked his head out the door. “There you are! I was wondering where you two disappeared to!”

“You all need to leave,” the host said.

“Why?” Freddy was very confused. “What happened?”

Eden sighed. “Come on, let’s just go.”

“No! I am not leaving. We have done nothing wrong and we want our table!” Daniela seethed. “I want to speak to your manager.”

“I am the manager.”

“No you’re not. Get your manager now!”

A familiar voice piped up behind them. “Yo! What’s the holdup?”

Eden turned around and saw Luis Felipe, dressed like a caricature of a nineties rapper in a white tank top, oversized white jeans, shiny new gold sneakers, and ropes of gold and diamond chains around his abnormally thick neck. He was flanked by two women in barely there cocktail dresses along with a pair of his ubiquitous bodyguards bringing up the rear.

“Oh, hi,” Eden said. “Apparently we’re being thrown out.”

“Fuckin’ hell, what did you do?” Luis Felipe chortled, clearly more intoxicated than he had been earlier.

“Absolutely nothing,” Eden replied.

“Lemme fix this. Hey, dude, there’s been a mistake…,” Luis Felipe yelled out.

“Stay out of this,” the host said, pointing a finger at Luis Felipe, before turning to Freddy and Daniela. “You can leave freely, or we can escalate this—”

“Yo, Edward Cullen! These are my guests. Take the big fat pickle out of your ass and let them in,” Luis Felipe shouted.

“Okay, you’re not coming in tonight either!” the host decreed.

“Wait, are you talking to me?” Luis Felipe’s eyes went big with genuine shock.

“Yes, you. All of you, get off my sidewalk now!” the host hissed.

“Actually, it’s my sidewalk. Get the fuck away or else,” Luis Felipe said, menacing.

“Not a chance. You’re plastered. Leave now or I’m calling the police!”

Luis Felipe turned to the bodyguard to his left. “Fuck him up.”

Before anyone could register what was happening, the bodyguard performed a blindingly swift maneuver and the host was suddenly on the ground, doubled over and moaning in agony.

“Right in the nuts!” Freddy gasped as the other bodyguard kicked him again.

“Stop that!” Eden yelled.

The host vomited on the pavement. Eden rushed to his side and held him by the shoulders, glaring up at Luis Felipe angrily. “Why did you do that?”

Luis Felipe stood there grinning maniacally.

The manager came rushing out of the restaurant with two waiters. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck? What the fuck?”

“Hey, Nico,” Luis Felipe said.

The manager froze. He held his arms out to stop the other two waiters from making any further moves. “Heyyyyyy! Mr. Tan. Dining with us tonight?” he said in an overly convivial tone.

“Yes, and I’ve been waiting out here way too fucking long.”

The manager’s eyes darted for a split second to his fallen colleague on the ground. “I’m sooooo sorry, Mr. Tan. Er…weren’t you going to be three?”

“We’re six now. I want the Chef’s Table in the VIP room.”

“Of course, of course…”

As the two waiters helped the host to his feet and rushed him through the door, the manager held the door wide and the two women accompanying Luis Felipe barged inside eagerly.