CHAPTER 16
BEHIND THE DOOR
“Welcome, sir.”
A massively built bald man dressed in all black stood waiting in the posh foyer. He held out his hand, not to shake or because he expected a tip for opening the back-alley door behind the pile of garbage. This hand was on the end of a slightly bent arm, held down a bit rather than straight out.
“Your coat, sir?”
“Why do you want my coat?”
“Would you prefer to keep it with you while you dine, sir? We don’t allow coats over chairs. I was going to place it in the coat-check room for you, but I can see about special arrangements if you’re concerned that—”
“While I dine?”
“Of course, sir.”
Ephraim could hear light chatter and the clink of silver and glassware. He looked past the black-clad giant, through a drawn velvet curtain to see an extravagant room with broad cut-glass chandeliers that gave the space a soft amber glow. The floor was strewn with tables of various sizes, all draped with maroon tablecloths, hooded candles clustered in the center of each table. Every one of the people at every one of the tables was wearing a suit that made Ephraim’s look like rags.
“This is Chez Luis?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ephraim looked back at the entrance. The unmarked metal door on the outside was padded with ornate leather and pressed with fabric buttons on the inside, all in the same rich maroon as the tablecloths. He was in the fancy restaurant’s secret lobby, like the back entrance to a Depression-era speakeasy.
“What is this?” Ephraim asked.
“It’s Chez Luis, sir,” the bald man said, infinitely patient.
“I mean this entrance. Why are you here?”
“To receive you, sir.”
“Me specifically?”
“Sir?”
“Did you open the door for me? When I said the thing about the egg?”
“Perhaps you’d like to take your seat,” the man suggested, his manner polite but uncomprehending.
Ephraim wasn’t comprehending any better. They were in this strange thing together. He said the most and least logical thing. “I don’t have a reservation.”
Or money. Or the connections to be in this exclusive club in the first place.
“I believe you’re mistaken, sir. Your reservation is quite in order.”
“You don’t even know who I am.”
“Are you not Mr. Ephraim Todd?”
“Yes, but—”
“This way, sir.”
The man led him without further comment. After a long second, Ephraim followed.
They reached a booth in the corner, elevated two steps above the lower floor, far too large for one person. It was upholstered in matte leather that, on closer inspection, turned out to be intentionally distressed. In a place like this, the leather probably came from sacred cows.
Ephraim looked at the booth. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake.”
“Have you decided to keep your coat, sir?”
Ephraim looked at the booth, then at his escort. He glanced around the room, expecting every eye to be watching him. The booth was a place of honor, and everyone should be staring, wondering what this imposter thought he was doing by soiling it with his presence.
But nobody was looking. Everyone was dining and drinking as if it made sense for someone without a reservation to waltz in from the filthy back alley right to one of the restaurant’s most prominent tables.
“Sir?”
Dazed, Ephraim took off his coat. Among other things, it dawned on him that he couldn’t afford this place even if he had planned to eat. Which he hadn’t.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” the bald man said.
And then he was gone.