Novel & Cerita Your Table Is Ready

The room was minimalist but elegantly furnished, its modern design subtly softened by warm lighting. A rectangular table stood near the center, laden with an open laptop and a neat stack of documents. The air inside carried a faint scent of polished wood, blending seamlessly with the faint aroma of the food Jonathan had just delivered.

This girl never fails to amaze me, she always looks so glamourous. “What the hell are you doing, our table is booked for 7pm and you’re not even ready” she says looking annoyed. “I laid down for 5 minutes, I must have fell asleep, the next thing I know is it’s 7.10, I’m sorry I’ll quickly get ready now” I say. “Ok but be quick, I’ll go down to the table and get the drinks in while you get ready, don’t be long” she replied as she walked out of the room.

No joke. ‘Are you ready?’ Elias's voice lingered in my mind. ‘I am more than ready.’ I replied to him. He held my hand and guided me to the white long table. I saw blood in a bowl. I closed my eyes and again, looked at Elias. “Lay on the table,” he blurted. I obeyed what he had said. I laid my back on the table and both of my hands were above my stomach. “Let’s begin the ceremony!” I heard someone mutter.

She bought my ticket, selected my seat in this theater of her making. As the meaning of the words sinks in, a figure approaches. The maître d’, his face a mask of professional courtesy, stops at my booth. “Mr. Thorne? Your table is ready.” “I’m fine here,” I say, my voice rough. “I must insist,” he replies, his smile unwavering. He gestures with a white-gloved hand toward the main floor. Toward a small, empty table for one, positioned just three yards from Table 14. It is horrifyingly conspicuous, a stage within the stage.

It is ready. The kitchen table is set. Two plates. Two glasses. A small candle in the middle. Lit. The candle is the kind of thing that is going to make me want to cry, except I am not going to cry, because I am a person who is on a Tuesday date, and Tuesday date people do not cry, Tuesday date people eat pasta.

I shuddered and looked away, turning my attention to the food on the table and its exquisite placement. “I had this done for you,” he said slightly, reaching down and suddenly putting his gun on the table. The heavy metal landed with a dull thud that still rattled the silverware. “Also, I had a show prepared for you too. I wouldn’t want you to be bored.”

This check was going to be good, not that I needed it since my alpha was loaded. “Fuck, this is the busiest I have ever seen it here.” Tarryn groaned. “Seriously? The year I moved here was the busiest year. Great, that is exactly what I wanted to hear. I should have waited till next year to move here. ” I replied. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need the orders for tables 4 and 8.” Laveena huffed. “Sorry baby, here they are.” Tarryn told her.

Advertised Daisy. “If you want to eat something else, nothing to eat. The choice is over. You’re hungry, everything is delicious.” Mrs. Pear said to Dean. “Dean smiled back at everyone, but he wasn’t going to eat. So much work was waiting for him to come back. Dean still wondered. Daisy stood up, pulled his hand into the kitchen. “What are you afraid of? Before strange, then familiar, make yourself at home.” Daisy opened the thick basket used as a table cage to cover the food on the table, some boiled sweet potatoes, cracked the skin, saw the rosy flesh inside, put in a bamboo basket.

The tables have turned on me, what do I do now? To be continued!!