“Well, I just want—I just want to, like, sit down somewhere and eat a lot of food. Not just get food while we’re walking. I want to sit down and rest and eat.”
I looked solemnly into his eyes. “I think that can be arranged.”
103
We ended up back near Central Park, searching for a place to eat. A diner on Fifty-seventh Street looked good, but there was a half-hour wait. Then, off the street inside the park, we saw a restaurant. Millions of tiny blue lights covered the oak trees that surrounded it. The sign said, Parking for Garden Tavern, This Way. Plunked among the trees was a huge building with tons of plate glass windows overlooking the park.
Gazzy said excitedly. “This looks great!”
It was also the last place on earth I wanted us to go. Too big, too flashy, too expensive, and no doubt full of trendy grown-ups. We were not going to blend. We would not be inconspicuous.
And yet, the Gasman wanted to eat here. And I had promised him pretty much anything he wanted.
“Uh, okay,” I said, already feeling dread and anxiety seeping from my pores. Fang pulled open the heavy glass door, and we stepped inside.
“Whoa,” Nudge said, her eyes wide.
From the reception area, we could see three different dining rooms. There was the Prism Room, which was dripping with crystals, basically: chandeliers, candelabras, faceted windows. Door number two led to the Garden Room, which was like a lush, overgrown rainforest, but with tables, chairs, and waiters. The third one was the Castle Room, for those of us who needed to feel regal while we chowed. They all had soaring ceilings with rafters. The Castle Room had an open fireplace big enough to roast a steer.
I was glad to see we weren’t the only kids—though we were the only ones without a grown-up.
“May I help you?” A tall, blond, modelly woman glanced at us, then looked to see who we were with. “Are you waiting for your parents?”
“No,” I said. “There’s just us.” I smiled. “Can we have a table for six, please? I’m treating everybody with my birthday money.” Another lie, another smile.
“Um, okay,” said the hostess. She led us to a table in the Castle Room, way back by the kitchen. Since the kitchen would be a useful escape route, if necessary, I didn’t quibble.
She passed out large, very fancy menus as we scrambled into our seats. “Jason will be your server today.” With one last, uncertain glance, she left us.
“Max, this is so, so great,” Nudge said excitedly, clutching her enormous menu. “This is the nicest place we’ve ever eaten!”
Since we’ve Dumpster-dived for lunch on many occasions, this was an understatement.
Fang, Iggy, and I were miserable. Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel were ecstatic.
Actually, the Castle Room would have been neat, if I didn’t
hate crowds, sticking out, grown-ups, feeling paranoid, and spending money.
On to the menu. I was relieved to see that they had a kids’ section.
“Are you waiting for your parents?” A short, stocky waiter with slicked-back red hair—Jason—was standing next to Iggy.
“No, there’s just us,” I said.
He frowned slightly and gave us a once-over. “Ah. Are you ready to order?”
“Anyone know what they want?” I asked.
The Gasman looked up. “How many chicken tenders are on a plate?”
Jason looked almost pained. “I believe there are four.”
“I better have two orders, then,” said the Gasman. “And this fruit cocktail. And two glasses of milk.”
“Two orders for yourself?” Jason clarified.
The Gasman nodded. “With fries. To start.”