I Unintentionally Became Her Kitten

Chapter 23: Szechuan

The driver dropped us off in front of a restaurant with a sign I could not read. The text was all in Chinese. The building looked very old, like it had been built in the early days of the city and hadn’t been changed much, only patched up where needed and could use some real tender loving care. I was a bit skeptical that this was the kind of place Alisha would enjoy. The atmosphere wasn’t very posh and clean from the outside.

Still, she led me inside and I hesitated at the door, seeing the complete turnaround just through the threshold. 

Outside was all dreary run down city block but inside was fanciful Chinese stylings, gold and red decorations and a plush carpet which was kept immaculately clean. The waiters and waitresses were all dressed in proper wait-staff attire and I suddenly felt very out of place. I had never been in a restaurant or even an event venue where the wait-staff wore matching black and white uniforms, or where the hostess looked up and immediately recognized who was approaching.

“Ms. Takeno,” she greeted with what felt like genuine pleasure to see her. “It’s been a while.” Her voice was accented with what I could only assume was Mandarin or another Chinese dialect.

“Yes, it has been,” Alisha agreed. “I’m dining with my friend here, is it possible to get my usual table?” she asked.

The hostess looked down and then back up. “If you wait five minutes, we can have it set up for you.”

“That would be great,” Alisha agreed.

I shifted nervously. “Alisha,” I asked.

She looked over at me.

“Am I underdressed for this?” I asked.

Alisha shook her head. “No, you’re perfectly fine.”

I felt like my pastel blouse and dark jeans were a bit too casual for this place.

This wasn’t really what I was imagining when Alisha said Chinese food. There was an incredible smell filling this place that made me sure the food was amazing, but I had never eaten Chinese food that didn’t come from a take-out container.

But of course Alisha wouldn’t eat that kind of food, what had I been thinking?

The hostess came back, walking both quickly and gracefully in a way only well-groomed wait-staff could and gave Alisha a quick bow. “Right this way,” she said.

I followed Alisha through the dining room. Many of the tables were round and laid out with carefully arranged napkins and appetizer plates. There were groups dining already, and the food almost sparkled in the warm lighting, having an almost magical sheen to it I had never seen in real life.

The table– Alisha’s table– was in the back and up a few steps to a raised platform. I recognized immediately why she would prefer this spot. We could see the entire dining room with ease and the noise from the other diners was cut off. This also meant our conversation would be mostly private as the other two tables that were up here were empty and not even set.

I sat next to Alisha, and looked at the expanse of dark wood in front of us. They had only set the table for two, but it could have easily seated eight. Within another minute, a waiter came by with a pot of tea and a couple glasses of water.

“Anything else to drink?” he offered.

Alisha looked at me. “Would you like anything? They make good cocktails here.”

I shook my head. “I don’t really…” I let the sentence finish itself. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy drinking, I just had a very low tolerance and didn’t want to get tipsy around other people.

She nodded and then looked at the waiter, “I think we’re all set,” she told him.

He bowed and skirted off to his next table, leaving us alone for a moment.

“What kind of food do you like?” Alisha asked.

“Uhm, I like Sweet and Sour Chicken,” I said. “And Kung Pao.”

She looked down at the menu. “They specialize in Szechuan Cuisine so they might not have…” 

Szechuan? As in Szechuan sauce? I mentally tried to rack my brain for what I could remember about that term but I couldn’t think of anything other than the sauce. I didn’t know it was an entire variety of cuisine.

“They have Kung Pao,” she said. “But it might be a bit different than what you’re used to. Spicier, you know.”

“I’m okay with spicy,” I said. I couldn’t entirely understand the menu. Most of it was names and dishes I didn’t recognize and it didn’t offer descriptions of the items.

As I scanned around I rapidly realized I was probably the whitest person in here. Everyone else was of Asian descent, including Alisha, though I knew her blood lines were from Japan rather than China. The only other person who came in that wasn't Asian was her body guard but he was immediately offered a seat at the bar and I got the impression this was the normal routine for them. 

“I don’t really know what this food is,” I told her. 

“What do you mean?” she asked as she turned the menu over to the other side. 

“I've never gotten Chinese food from a sit down restaurant.”

“Oh,” she said. “I think you'll like it. Or are you worried it'll not be to your taste.”

“It's not that. I just have no idea what  I could order. I like kung pao chicken, but I wouldn't mind trying something new too, you know?”

“How about we share, then?” Alisha offered.

“Do you mind sharing with me?” I hesitated.

She leaned closer. “I stick my tongue in your mouth and you think I'm worried about sharing food?”

She had a point. “Okay,” I agreed.

“I’ll get the pork string beans,” she decided.

I nodded and almost as soon as she set her menu down, our waiter reappeared.

“May I take your order?” he asked.

“Kung pao chicken and the pork string beans,” she told him. She handed him her menu than as an afterthought added, “and an order of ye’er ba.”

“Of course, I’ll put that in right away,” he said and slipped back away with the same dedicated pace of the other wait-staff.

I didn’t know what ye’er ba

was but it piqued my curiosity.After a moment Alisha picked up the tea pot and filled my teacup before pouring some tea for herself, appearing thoughtful.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” she said. “I used to have regular business meetings here but since the politics have mostly settled down I don’t need to spend as much time schmoozing.”

“Is it safe to have business meetings in a public place like this?” I asked.

“Usually, as long as you’re in the right place. I may handle some business for the owners so they were happy to supply a private room in the back for us to discuss things privately. As long as nobody's being too obvious it works out fine, and there's good food to go along with it.”

“I see,” I said. It still seemed a bit foolish to trust a semi public space like that. But I supposed Alisha didn't trust her clientele to know where her house was and her clientele probably equally didn't trust her with knowing where their houses were. It was really a matter of wether law enforcement or her potential enemies posed a bigger threat. Law enforcement could be predictable as they had pretty strict rules they had to follow while someone who was fighting with Alisha was truly lawless. I could understand why Alisha might prefer to risk the cops in that scenario. “I am curious, though, do they deal drugs out of this restaurant?” Looking around I saw no sign of the typical drug deals, no friendly handshakes that disguised a quick passing of money and goods, nobody slipping into the back rooms for a quick sec and reemerging with a new item in hand or in their pocket.

“No,” Alisha said. “This is a normal restaurant.”

“Then what do you do for them?”

“Smuggle goods with very high taxes out of China so they don’t have to pay double or triple the normal market price.”

“Oh,” I said. There was more to her business than drugs and weapons. “So it’s… tax evasion?”

“Technically, yes. But it’s more tariffs than taxes.”

“I see…”

We were quiet for a moment as the waiter came around and set a bamboo steamer basket with small white things down in front of us. “Ye’er ba,” he explained and again slipped away.

“What is… ye’er ba?” I asked.

“They’re like rice dumplings,” she explained and picked up one by the green leaf wrapping the bottom. “They’re filled with pork and pickled vegetables.”

I cautiously took one, finding it softer than expected. I examined it. They were glossy and snow white with an unfamiliar type of leaf wrapping the bottom that gently peeled off when pulled. They were also still very warm from the steamer.

“They’re good,” Alisha said. “At least to me and most people I know that have tried them.”

I nodded and took a bite, finding it so chewy. The flavors seeped into my mouth and I nodded agreeingly. They were quite tasty with a bite that was making my mouth tingle in a new way.

Was I allergic to this?

I slowed my chewing. It didn’t itch like I expected an allergy would, but my mouth was definitely doing something I wasn’t familiar with.

“Have you had szechuan pepper before?” Alisha asked softly, examining my face.

I shook my head.

She nodded, knowingly. “It can make your mouth numb. That’s normal.”

I swallowed. “I didn’t know food could do that,” I said.

She smiled at me.

I found myself quickly going for a second bite. It was a strange and somewhat scary flavor, but it was still a delicious flavor.

It was not long before more food was brought to our table. A dish of chicken, a dish of string beans and two dishes of rice as well as a fresh pot of tea. Everything was delicious but almost entirely not what I expected. The kung pao was spicy in a way that made it hard for me to eat, but it was also so good that I couldn’t stop myself. It was also vastly different than my run-ins with the take-out variety. There were peanuts and chicken and whole peppers but that was about where the similarities ended. This version wasn’t saucy, but had a sheen from the oil it was cooked in, which was what seemed to make the food here sparkle like I’d noticed. The string beans were similar in that regard, but they didn’t have nearly as much spice to them, which I appreciated since my mouth was burning through much of the meal and they were a good break when it got to be too much.

Alisha seemed to enjoy watching me go about my routine of eating spicy food, eating white rice, eating string beans and then drinking some water and repeating this process many many times until I felt full.

There was still food left, but Alisha had set her chopsticks down and was thoughtfully holding the tea cup in her hands, evidently satisfied as well.

“I had no idea there was a restaurant like this near here,” I commented, sleepy from being warm and well fed all at once.

“Mm,” Alisha agreed. “It’s always about who you know,” she said. “I wouldn’t know about this place either if I hadn’t been invited.”

I nodded. From the outside, I wouldn’t think much of this place and if Alisha didn’t have some familiarity with the menu I probably would have found it overwhelming. 

Our waiter once again materialized within moments of us settling down, giving me the impression that Alisha was well taken care of whenever she came here, but I wasn’t certain if that was because she was an important guest or because the service was always this good.

Alisha leaned a little closer to me. “If you like szechuan food, I can ask my cook to make some,” she said.

“Oh,” I said. “I do like it but I don’t want to make anybody’s life harder.”

She shrugged. “He gets paid hourly,” she explained. “And I don’t give him a hard time about going at his own pace. I found that breathing down people’s neck while they’re trying to do their job just builds mistrust and contention.”

“I see,” I said. My brief stint of having a job after my college days had not gone well. I had quit before I had time to build up enough financial stability to get an apartment on my own. Most of that strife was because of constant wishy-washy management that could never be satisfied no matter what I did. It did not help that my parents also hated me having that job.

“If you’re more comfortable in the house, do you think I could have him come more often to make dinner?”

I hadn’t realized she had been keeping him away because of me.

“That’s fine,” I agreed. “I mean, I won’t end up alone in the house with him, will I?”

“You shouldn’t.”

The check was dropped on the table and I felt a sudden awkwardness at not being able to contribute as Alisia pulled a debit card from her purse and set it aside.

“Alisha,” I started.

She looked over at me.

“Am I just using you as a sugar mommy?”

“No, Kitten,” she said. “We aren’t that shallow.”

I thought for a long moment. “But… I can’t provide anything financially for this relationship. I still don’t have any means of making income for myself.”

“But would you leave if I suddenly couldn’t lavish you with gifts?” she asked.

“Well, no,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not taking advantage of you.”

She crept her hand over to my knee under the table. “It’s okay, Kitten. You’ve been through a lot so I wouldn’t expect you to be fully able to take care of yourself right away. Financial independence is healthy and I will never stop you from pursuing making income on your own, but I also don’t think you need to rush out there because you’re worried of what someone might think of us. You are not my sugar baby, you are my partner,” she said. “And I want us to have a meaningful relationship that doesn’t revolve around money.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Our check was brought back and Alisha signed it and stood. “Let’s go home,” she said softly and brushed some of my hair from my face. “I could use a bath with my kitten right about now.”