Page 27 of The Arrogant One
“Have either of you seen her review?” Eden inquired.
Dear Foodie never posted her weeklySeenreviews on her social media. She only teased them there, directing her viewers to the source of her article.
“I haven’t,” I admitted, and Colson signaled that he hadn’t either. “I wanted to hear it from Walker.”
Eden laughed. “Because we all know he’s going to read it to us.”
“We’d be idiots to think otherwise.” Colson sighed again. For the most laid-back man I knew, there was an edge of worry in his expression. “He’s concerned, you guys. And Walker doesn’t get concerned easily. But this one, it’s really getting to him.”
I thought about what my brother had just said. “That’s because he knows something we don’t.”
“What gives you that impression?” Eden asked.
I turned my chair toward her. “A new restaurant opens up every day in this area, and he doesn’t sweat it. Only a handful have come in over the years that have really ruffled Walker’s feathers. For each of those occasions, there’s one common denominator.”
She pushed up her glasses, the thick black frames only worn when she was too tired to put in her contacts. “The opportunity to franchise.”
“Yes.” I ran my hand over my scruff. “Younailed it.”
Colson adjusted his tie, pulling it down a few inches and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. “The last thing any one of us wants, especially Walker, is a Horned opening in every market that Charred is located.”
I smiled. “There’s one way to solve that?—”
“Sinful on the tongue and heavenly all the way down,” Walker barked after the door to the conference room flew open and he came in, reading the printed publication that was in his hand. “And I’m not just speaking about the old-fashioned. That’s the way I would describe Horned. An exquisite meal, flawlessly executed and wickedly satisfying. Make your reservation, Foodies.” Standing at the head, he let the paper drop to the table and took a seat. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
“With the buzz surrounding this restaurant, none of us should be surprised,” I said. “But take it from someone who’s been there—there’s a lot left to be desired.”
Walker set his arms on the table. The buttoned sleeves of his chef’s coat didn’t make a sound when they landed; the noise had come from his hands as they slammed down. “Like?”
“They don’t even have valet parking.” I chuckled. “What fucking five-star restaurant with prices like they charge doesn’t offer a parking service?”
Which had certainly come in handy that night. The back row of the lot was the perfect spot to sink my finger into Sadie’s pussy—a pussy I hadn’t stopped thinking about—so I hadn’t complained then about the lack of valet parking, but I was definitely complaining about it now.
“Because they don’t have to,” Eden said softly. “Take it from someone who’sactuallybeen there and sampled the food.” She glanced at me and smiled. “It was quite the experience.”
She pulled out her phone and tapped her screen, which turned on the TV in the conference room. The photos from herphone then appeared on the flat screen. “I took pictures of everything I could.” As each photo flipped to the next, she made sure we knew what we were looking at, saying, “The exterior of the building, the entrance, the hostess stand, the bar, dining room, and finally the ladies’ room.” A few seconds passed. “And now, onto the food.” At least fifteen shots followed of a meal that looked incredible.
At the end of the slideshow, Colson said, “The interior looks nothing like Charred.”
“I think that’s part of the appeal,” Eden replied. “Where we have a classic steak house feel with a modern, elegant twist, Horned feels nothing of the sort. I dare say, it’s almost an overly sexy vibe. We have traditional decor with garnet and mahogany accents, dark wood, and dim lighting. Horned is chrome and mirrors with furnishings done in emerald and sapphire.”
Walker let out a whistle of air in response.
I crossed my hands and set them in my lap. “What they’ve done—and it kills me to fucking say this—is by creating a non–steak house feel, they’re attracting people who are coming in for everything but. Seafood isn’t just an alternative, it could be the reason they’re walking through the door.” I leaned back in my chair and stared at Walker. “An environment with ambiance that welcomes all eaters.”
“You’re not helping the situation,” Walker said.
“I’m being honest. When you come into any Charred, you know the main attraction. You see it in the colors, you smell it in the air. There are no surprises. Our eaters enjoy that.”
“But is the temperature changing?” Eden questioned. “Are we not advancing with the times?”
The room turned silent.
“But we’ve implemented changes,” Colson voiced, holding out his hand to check off each item I knew he was about to mention. “We now offer a vegan option as well as a vegetariancourse. Allergens are listed beside every dish—something you hardly find in any restaurant in America and never at steak houses. We offer more health-conscious staples and side dishes, we’ve tweaked recipes to eliminate high-saturated fat fillers and seed oils, and in many of our locations, we’re farm to table.”
“But is that enough?” Walker asked.
His voice boomed across the room, and a quietness followed.
