Chapter 3

TATE

With ease, I swerved the car off the road and rolled it to a halt in front of the glowing, lush building that stood before us.

Braden was sitting beside me on the passenger seat, eyes slightly wide with surprise, lips parted a bit. I couldn't help but smile at the way his face was contorted.

He turned to me. “Dude. Belcroquant?”

“Mmm mhm.” I hummed, nodding. “Belcroquant.”

“This is like, one of the most expensive restaurants in town, bro.” He gushed.

“I know.” I replied with a grin, “When I told you I would be taking you to an expensive restaurant, I wasn't kidding.”

Braden shifted in his seat to regard me suspiciously.

“What?” I chuckled.

“Did you win the lottery?”

“No.”

“Are you terminally ill and are dying soon?”

I let out a loud guffaw. “What? No.”

“Then, why the hell are we here?” He demands, “Because the Tate Parker I know wouldn't bring me here just to apologize. The Tate Parker I know is tightfisted.”

“What? That's how you think of me, Braden? I'm not tightfisted, I'm generous.”

“Tell me why you brought me to a restaurant this expensive, Tate.”

I groaned. “Alright, fine, you little fuck. Nothing ever gets past you.”

“Go on, tell me.” He urged.

I let out a soft sigh. “You remember that time last month, I did an ad for a restaurant, and the clip went super viral online?”

“Dude!” He gasped. “No way! That ad was for Belcroquant?”

I nodded. “Mm hmm.”

“Dude, why didn't you tell me it was for Belcroquant?”

“Uh, because it was literally in the fucking video?”

“Oh… yeah… that's right.” He scratched his head. “So, how much did they pay you for the ad?”

I smiled at him. “That's confidential, Braden. Now, come on.”

I tried to open the door, but he stopped me.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

I looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

“So, they're offering you a free meal because of the ad?” He asked.

I nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Don't you think it's inappropriate to bring a friend when you were the only one invited?” He asked cautiously. “Don't want to see another influencer making a video about you tagging you as one of those broke influencers who take advantage of a restaurant.”

I gave him a reassuring smile. “Oh, don't worry, Braden. I'm not one of those dirty influencers. I told the staff, they said it's okay, so long as you don't take advantage and order a ridiculous amount of food.”

“You know I'm not like that.” He said.

“I know.” I replied. “You asked. Now come on.”

Braden and I alighted from the car, and I handed the valet my car keys. Braden and I entered the restaurant.

The restaurant was exactly what you'd expect: soft golden lights cascading down from the pristine ceiling, sophisticated furnishings, and a quiet song humming in the background.

There were the typical low murmurs, sounds of cutlery against ceramic plates and the soft clinking of glasses.

“Whoa!” Braden blurted out, obviously impressed, eyes full of admiration as he took in the grand opulence of the restaurant. Then he turned to me, “Dude!”

I smiled. “Come on.”

The maitre d appeared in front of us and gave me a polite smile. “Mr Tate.” His eyes shifted from me to Braden, who stood behind me. “And friend.” Then he returned his gaze to me. “Pleasure to have you here again, Mr Tate.”

I flashed him my charming smile. “Pleasure is mine.”

He led us across the aisle to the table by the window overlooking the waterfront.

“Please, take a seat,” He said warmly, “The waiter will be with you any second.”

“Thank you.”

As the maitre d left, Braden and I settled down in the chair across from each other. He couldn't stop staring around.

I shook my head, smiling. “Dude, that's enough staring.”

He shook his head. “No, it isn't. I probably will never enter this place again in my life.”

“Oh, come on, don't say that.” I said in a now gentle tone.

“Man, sometimes I wish I had started doing this influencer thingy back in high school with you.” He said in admittance. “Now you have like four hundred thousand followers and also get to enjoy all these luxuries for free. I hate that I'm always shy on camera.”

Just as I opened my mouth to say something, the waitress appeared at our table.

“Hello, gentlemen.” She greeted us politely, a broad smile spreading on her face. Clearly, she was happy to see me again.

I cocked my head to the side and flashed her my boyish smile, then winked at her. “Hello, sweet cheeks.”

Her cheeks flushed a bit. “We've been expecting you, Mr Tate.”

“The whole staff or just you?”

She averted her eyes, still smiling sheepishly and turned to Braden. “Welcome to Belcroquant, Mr…?”

“Braden.” Braden completed.

“Right.” The waitress offered him one of the two menus clutched in her fingers, “Welcome to Belcroquant, Mr Braden.”

“Thank you.” Braden said, taking the menu from her hand.

“And for you, Mr Tate.” She offered me my own menu, which I took from her, still smiling at her. “Please, make your decisions. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

She battered her eyelashes at me, spun on her heels and sashayed away, her firm, fat ass jiggling with each step she made.

Fuck.

I felt my dick jerk softly against my jeans, and I shifted in my seat, then licked my lips unconsciously.

Alright, I'll fuck that ass again tonight.

“You fucked her, didn't you?” Braden asked suddenly.

The suddenness of the question made me start a bit. “What? No.”

“Yeah, of course, you did.” He said confidently, “Don't even try to lie to me. Why would you know her cheeks are sweet if you haven't had a taste before?”

I pulled the menu over my face. “Let's just order, Braden.”

A moment of silence ensued between us as we scrolled through the menu.

“Dude!” Braden exclaimed in astonishment, “Are you seeing the prices of these meals?”

“Just pick whatever you want, Braden.”

After a moment of some dilly-dallying, we finally settled on what to order and called for the fat-assed waitress, who returned and happily took our orders.

I ordered a butter-poached lobster with saffron risotto and a glass of champagne, while Braden ordered a medium-rare filet mignon with truffle mashed potatoes and an aged Bordeaux

When the meal was finally served on our table a few minutes later, its rich and tasty aroma filled our nostrils instantly, making our mouths water.

“Wow!” Braden gushed excitedly, eyes sparkling. “Dude! This looks amazing!”

“Bro! I agree!” I pulled out my phone quickly to take some photos of the fancy dishes. I stood to my feet to get a clear view.

Just as I did so, my shoulder slammed hard into a passing figure. The glass of scotch the figure was holding tipped over violently, splashing the cold scotch across my expensive white shirt and down the front of my pants before shattering on the floor.

“Fuck!” I cursed under my breath, jumping back quickly.

The cold liquid drenched my shirt instantly, sticking the fabric to my toned chest and abs. A few heads turned towards us.

I glared down at my ruined shirt in disbelief, then back at the expressionless-faced man dressed in a dark suit. My chest burned with rage.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snarled at him, voice loud and high, attracting the rest of the remaining attention in the restaurant. “You can't look where the heck you are fucking going, you dumb fuck?”