Serial Fiction: Hands – Ep 003

“Glen, how did you get a Limo?” Deron said. Glen stood outside of Deron’s office, smiling wide as the chauffer held the rear door open. He was dressed in a sharp suit he saved for public events and appearances for the theater although he added a pair of gloves today.

“Limo’s just a Transit rental. They have those now,” Glen said. It was a large stretch chariot, with enough space for six to eight people to be comfortable. The chauffer smiled at the couple as Deron hugged Glen. “I’ve got some good news about tonight for you. We’re going to one of your dream spots.”

“The Garden on High? Clutch-Behrs? Ilahi?” Deron asked.

“The third one. Care of The Dragon,” Glen said while holding up the silver key. Deron squealed and Glen’s face turned a few shades of red darker.

“Oh yes! Did you bring me-“

“Jacket, yes. It’s in the chariot. Come on, let’s go!”

Deron waved his arms up in the air and stopped short of tackling the chauffer. She laughed as he hugged her. She gave him a pat on the shoulder and he jumped into the car. Glen smiled and shook his head as he headed after him.

“Easily pleased?” The chauffer asked.

“Oh no, but when you hit the right buttons,” Glen said. They both chuckled as she closed the door behind him.

The Limo ride was short, but Ilahi and Deron’s office were in the same parts of the shell, the inner part of New Castle where the downtown ring circled the biggest towers and the large dome structure the Duke laired in. Ilahi was located in the first four floors of Groom Street Central. The building was a fat spike stretching high into the sky. Some eighty floors of offices and private spaces that starting on the fortieth floor began to contract into a single point on the northwest side of the building. Ilahi held half of the building’s base on the four floors it occupied, and as Glen and Deron stepped into the lobby of Groom Street Central they could see the façade of the restaurant’s exterior. The bottom six floors of the building were a part of a large atrium separated into individual market spaces. The large wall of Ilahi depicted tile patterns and wrought metal designs in curves and cursive script. The colors varied but blue and whites dominated the patterns. It was like looking at a gallery rather than the entrance to a fashionable restaurant.

“Excuse me.” A hume male had stepped from the restaurant as they approached. He wore a smooth brown vest over a cream colored long sleeve shirt, with slightly darker slacks and dark brown shoes. His name tag read Bakir Kartal, Concierge.  “Do you happen to bear a key?” He asked.

“Yes,” Glen said, pulling it from his pocket. The key’s tip was glowing a soft blue and when Bakri spotted it he smiled.

“Ah wonderful. Then you are guests tonight of Mr. Aitken?”

“Yes, he gave me the key earlier.”

“He presented it to you earlier today. The key itself is not a gift to keep nor can it be. We will be holding it for him after your meal today. Please, follow me this way,” the concierge said. Glen repressed a chuckle and Deron rolled his eyes.

The concierge lead them into the restaurant. They passed through the waiting lounge filled with couples and business types waited for tables. Past the main dining area that was bursting with movement of guests, wait staff, and food going to and from the first kitchen. He brought them to the lift in the back of this area where everyone dining could get a good view of who was riding up.

Built on four floors, Ilahi was really two restaurants, maybe three depending on what someone considered the top floor. The first two floors were the main seating area and a main kitchen. Normal patrons would eat here and enjoy the flavors and talents of Ilahi’s talented sous chef and the team he assembled. The third floor was for the key bearers, and here the menus lacked prices, money and data chits were never exchanged, and luxury was king. The head chef of Ilahi considered this her domain and worked wonders for the wealthy, the powerful, and the lucky. Ilahi enjoyed showing off these guests and the elevator in the back of the restaurant was built so that no one on the first floor could miss seeing whoever was above them.

The amber colored glass was distorted on the inside of the elevator and Glen and Deron missed the key bearer just entering the restaurant watching their ascent.

Hands is a serial fiction series set in the Draco Artificium universe. Read the first piece here. Find the rest of the series here. New episodes go up Wednesdays.