Reservations

[Rowan Finnegan]

Gareth Rice
General Manager and Rowan Finnegan's Personal Manservant

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Gareth was positively stewing. Not only had Rowan gone galivanting off with some strange, older man and his whore, but Aiden had decided to leave the country! Were the Finnegans not obscenely wealthy, Gareth would have been worrying after his own career. Luckily, Master Seamus was only a phone call away should either of the twins prove to have disappeared indefinitely. Gareth let out a sigh and felt his shoulders relax. He was fine, the Café was fine, everything was fine.

The Amber Room was his safe space. It spoke of finer things and a more refined past. It was a place to relax from the revelries of the rest of the café. Chaise lounges, comfortable reading chairs, bookcases, what more could a man ask for? Company. That was a start.

Galton, the head chef, could normally be found in this room during his breaks – but it was happy hour and every patron needed a little something to satiate their hunger between the attractive and well-poured cocktails that the Café had on menu. Instead of the jolly chef, Gareth spotted Maman Marie tending to one of the few tables in the room. She had clearly been talking at length to the patrons and Gareth had it in mind to interfere, but only one of the patrons looked to be irritated; the other looked to be well taken with the elder. That was good. That meant a big tip.

Scanning the rest of the room, Gareth checked to see if any of the other patrons looked distressed or in need of service. His eyes settled on a younger Japanese woman. Her eyes roving and scanning almost more than his own. She was alone and did not have a drink in hand. That could not be good. He would not kick her out without ordering, but perhaps she needed a little coaxing? He pulled away from the bar and moved towards her table.

Gareth was a reasonably attractive man. He was in his mid-twenties, standing at six feet tall and blessed with a well-toned swimmer’s build. Gareth’s hair was brown and cropped, parted off to the side; a black bespoke three-piece suit added to his air of respectability. His light green eyes took in the young woman before he approached. He coughed politely as he came to stand near her, propriety would be observed.

“Miss? You look troubled, are you in need of a server or assistance?” he asked in a smooth, British accent.