My first night at the Mansion shattered the peaceful, non-toxic and idle routine I kept so far and left me with consequences. My sleep during the day time was even worse than the usual bad sleep at night. I had dark circles under my eyes and a sour taste in my mouth. My stomach barely recovered after vomiting three times. It took me considerable strength and focus to stand still during Sato’s inspection.
“Let’s see,” Emile was going through the reservation list. “There’s a group reservation, not students, but older, corporate employees, then we have two ladies, hmm, perhaps this could be for you?”
“I’m a bit tired from yesterday. Can I start with one guest tonight?”
Emile grinned. “A bit tired? That’s an understatement. You know it probably means less money?”
“I don’t care.”
“Bien, I’ll take these two, leave the group to Kim and you can take--”
Sato came up to Emile and said something in a sharp and commanding tone. Emile bowed and answered with ‘Hai, Sato san’ but as soon as Sato was far enough, he rolled his eyes and did a mocking imitation of Sato’s words.
“God, I can’t stand the prick. Anyway, he told me to assign you to table number 10. Ah, of course,” remarked Emile as he passed his finger over the names on the reservation list.
“What? What is it?”
“You’ll serve Mrs Yamamoto tonight. A very nice lady, actually. She’s a regular and always asks for a non-Asian. She prefers blond ones. Stefan, the German who worked here before you, was one of her favorites. She must be into all that Aryan race and stuff. I bet she’ll love those blue eyes of yours. So, here you go, table 10, near the window. Good luck!” He turned me in the direction of the table and gave me a slight push on the back. A satisfying grin on his face got me worried.
Mrs Yamamoto was a mature, very-well kept woman. She looked in her early 40’s, but I was aware my estimation could have been easily wrong. It was hard to tell with Asian people, particularly with women.
Her black hair was tied up in a bun, she had a long neck, prominent cheeks and wore subtle make-up on her eyes and lips. Dressed in a black skirt suit, which fitted her slim figure very well, she looked sharp and corporate. Her strict, business image softened as she greeted me with a warm smile.
“My lady,” I said, placing a welcome aperitif on her table.
“No need for ‘my lady’,” she replied softly and smiled. “Yamamoto san will do just fine. Could you bring this bottle of champagne?” The bottle she pointed to on the menu was one of the most expensive ones.
“Certainly, my… umm, Yamamoto san.”
“And please, bring a glass for you as well.”
Shit. I didn’t want to get down that road again.
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