Cook the Books

he pulled the car away from the curb. “Is he sick?”
    “No,” Ade said as she crossed her long legs. “The babysitter is. The truth is that we really can’t afford to pay for one anyhow, so it’s probably for the best. He’ll go out another night.”
    “That’s too bad.” Kyle turned up the radio. “Oh, I love this song!”
    “Me, too!” Ade squealed.
    I endured their enthusiastic, if tuneless, rendition of Aerosmith’s “Dream On” and momentarily felt like a child being chauffeured around by embarrassing parents. Fortunately, what came on next was an ear-piercing Mariah Carey song that neither of the front-seat karaoke singers wanted to attempt.
    “Tonight is going to be fun, huh, ladies?” Kyle said happily. “I can’t wait to see how the food is. And everything inside will be new and decorated perfectly. This’ll be a blast!” Kyle pulled up to the valet-parking area in front of a tall building smack-dab in the middle of the financial district.
    I had to wonder why Kyle was in such a great mood tonight. With a famous chef for a father, he must have been to tons of restaurant openings; it wasn’t as though tonight’s outing were a novel experience for him. I, on the other hand, was not a regular at these kinds of events. The last one I’d attended had been at Josh’s former restaurant, Simmer.
    True to its name, the Penthouse was on the top floor of the building. The three of us rode up in a conspicuously modern elevator with mirrored walls surrounded by neon green lights. During the ride, I did my best not to check and recheck my appearance. When the doors opened, we stepped into a luxurious waiting area with rich brown leather seats and large potted plants. Although there was plenty of seating, a good-sized crowd stood there, the most notable member of which was a statuesque woman with a red shawl who was arguing with the hostess. By craning my neck, I managed to get a clear view of the hostess’s face and realized that she was none other than Georgie, Snacker’s girlfriend and Ellie’s best friend. Even though her pale skin was flushed with irritation, she looked striking. Her hair was especially lovely, short and blonde, styled off her face in soft curls.
    “So what if I didn’t RSVP? I’m here now. Can you or can you not see this fricking invitation in my hand?” The irate guest waved a paper around wildly. “My best friend is one of your investors, and believe me, she is going to be furious if you don’t have me and my guests seated in the next five minutes.”
    My, my. A quick glance around told me that there were a number of other diners who had also showed up without replying to the invitation. Kyle caught my eye and snickered at the crowd around us. He politely nudged his way through to the hostess and gave Georgie our names, eliciting a sigh of relief. Georgie caught my eye and waved briefly, beckoning me over. She was probably thrilled to have at least a few people here who had RSVP’d and could be seated at a table.
    Ade and I followed Kyle and Georgie through the immense dining area. An extraordinary amount of work had clearly gone into decorating the restaurant: the walls were a warm champagne color, small drop lights hung from the ceiling and spotlighted each table, light bamboo floors gave a feeling of airiness, and more large tropical palms were in abundance in the main room. The effect was stylish and romantic.
    Georgies attitude did not, however, match the decor. She stomped midway across the room, abruptly stopped at a table for four, slapped the menus down, and exhaled loudly. “Hey, Chloe, sorry about the mob up front. Nobody knows what the hell is going on or where anything is. This is an effing fiasco.” She thrust a hand onto her hip and watched as we took our seats. “There aren’t enough menus, so you’ll have to share. And I’m sorry to tell you that Ellie is going to be your server tonight. Good luck.” With that, she turned and marched back to the hostess stand.
    Ade scooted her chair in. “Well, isn’t she charming? Who was that?”
    “That is Georgie, Snacker’s girlfriend,” I explained. “She certainly looks stressed out.”
    “No matter,” Kyle said cheerfully, shaking his napkin out and setting it formally in his lap. “I’m sure they’ll work out the kinks. Oh, it seems I’m missing a fork. And a spoon. Here, Chloe, you take one menu, and I’ll share with Adrianna.”
    “Thanks, Kyle.” I smiled and took the menu from