Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“That’s what it tastes like. Piss and blood.” I drank some more, happy for the fire on my tongue. “She’s helping, by the way.”

Louis quirked his eyebrows. “The lover?”

“Yes. She called her brother. He’s the one Giorgio identified as Maxwell.”

“That reminds me.” Louis ran his fingers through his hair. “Kazimir kept screaming a word the whole time. Mysh.”

“What does it mean?”

“Mouse.”

“Hmmm. So he kept screaming out mouse. Did anyone appear?”

“No. I doubt it’s a magic word.”

“Fuck you.” I walked off. “I know it’s not a magic word.”

“I think she might be the Mouse,” Louis said. “It was like he was calling her.”

“The lover?”

“Yes.”

I shook my head. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. We don’t need Jean-Pierre, and you losing it.”

“I’m serious. And what are we doing here? We need to be on the move.” Louis headed with me. “Is the food ready?”

“We just arrived. And calm down. Jean-Pierre and you, need to calm the fuck down for one minute.”

“Time is of the essence.”

“I’m about to have a heart attack.”

Louis sighed. “Okay. I’ll relax. Is Gwen here at least?”

“She should be back there. She said she was leaving her place as soon as we got off the phone.”

“Hmmm.” Louis patted down his hair and straightened his jacket. “You’re right. I’ll relax and go back there. It’s fun to talk to Gwen.”

“What are you doing?”

“What?” He adjusted his jacket again. “Nothing.”

Maybe, I’m going crazy.

We rounded the corner and hit the kitchen.

Clearing his throat, Louis buttoned his jacket and straightened the sides.

“Eh.” I stopped us in the hallway. “I don’t know why you’re fixing yourself, but you can’t fuck my chef either. I already told Giorgio.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. You can’t fuck her.”

Louis frowned. “Since when?”

“Since now. Staff is off limits. We all agreed. Boundaries, fellas, boundaries.”

“She’s a chef for the restaurant, not your place—”

“I don’t care. The shit is weird. It’s like fucking somebody in my bed or taking a shit in my bathroom.”

“You take a shit in my bathroom all the time.”

“Because for me to take a shit in your bathroom it would be leaving the place better than I found it.” I walked off. Louis’s spots were notorious for being trash piles. If anything, a nice dump improved the ambience. “Sanitation is going to fine you.”

“It’s because my maids keep quitting.”

“Because Giorgio keeps fucking them.”

“I told him to stop and he kept talking about those damn ice skates that his grandmother bought him.”

“The ones you took and used for target practice?”

“I was thirteen.”

“Giorgio’s sign is a cancer. They never let shit go. That’s why I don’t date them.”

“It must be something more than the ice skates.” Louis growled. “Is not that fucking serious, right?”

I was about to respond, as I headed in the kitchen but then I spotted what the big fuss was about with my chef.

You motherfuckers!

The chef was drop dead gorgeous, and it had nothing to do with the way those legs and hips looked in that form fitting white dress, or how those breasts pushed against the material. It wasn’t even the high heels that she donned as she labored for Giorgio in the kitchen.

She had rich brown skin and enticing big brown eyes. They were the first thing I saw. They were blues singer eyes mixing with bedroom ones. Or was it a mingling of dreamy eyes crashing with sleepy. Her eyes were the sort that one noticed first, before they spotted a nose or mouth or anything else.

But damn. . .look at that mouth.

Full, plump, and painted a wine red. The kind of lush lips that wrapped around a cock real nice, and never let go. Dainty nose and long eyelashes. High cheekbones and a slightly pointed chin.

But that was all overshadowed by that hair. It was the biggest thing on her. A massive afro of curls. Her hair wasn’t like Eden’s, which was wavier and long. Gwen had thousands upon thousands of thick candy curls, sticking here and there. And they were all around her, serving more like a halo than hair.

She’d been taking off some sort of netting on her head, when we’d walked in. It was probably to keep all those curls out of the way as she cooked.

“Oh!” Gwen jumped, when she noticed Louis and me silently watching. “I didn’t know you would be here so soon.”

I didn’t have anything to say at first. I’d gotten lost in the sweetness of her voice. And then I just muttered, “Do you sing?”

She laughed and those tiny candy curls bounced with the movement. “Wow. How did you know that?”

“You have a beautiful voice.”

Louis glanced at me with an odd look. “You’re just meeting Gwen?”

I nodded.

He laughed and walked off to the nearest stool. “Loser. She’s been working here forever.”

Shut up, Louis. It’s been some months. And I’ve been busy, sulking over Shalimar not even coming to the restaurant.