Ray's current house.
Ray's POV:
“Hey Chris?” I looked up from my plate, watching Chris demolish his lasagna. He spoke with his mouth full, sending a spray of sauce across the table. Disgusting.
“Yup?”
“Do you think he—or she—will like the breakfast and lunch I’ve made?”
“The one you’re working for? Are you serious? Of course they will! Your cooking is better than anything you’d find in a five-star restaurant.” He moaned, shamelessly shoveling another mouthful into his face.
“Good?” I raised an eyebrow, feigning amusement. He rolled his eyes.
“Fine…awesome. Okay? You arrogant ass.” He muttered the last part under his breath, thinking I hadn’t heard.
“Did you just call me an arrogant ass?”
“Yeah. So what are you going to do about it?” He challenged, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Lazy pig.”
“Irritating monkey.”
“Small dick.”
“It’s not small.” He held up his fork, pretending to threaten me. As if it would even *hurt*. “Mind you, you cock sucker.”
“Vagina eater.”
“Ah, gross! I’m gay, you bird brain!” He shot me a disgusted look, dramatically feigning a vomit.
“Pussy lover.”
“Cats are cute, so why not?”
“You know I don’t mean *that* pussy.”
“Then what do you mean?” He feigned innocence, stepping closer to my side of the table.
“Choke on a dick, would you?” I grinned, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
“Yours? Gladly.” Eww. No way. I shoved him away quickly, laughing as he stumbled back toward the sink to wash his utensils. He’s nuts.
“I’m not nuts. I just love nuts.” He winked flirtatiously, sprawling on the huge couch. This house is enormous—the main house is practically a palace!
“Shut up, you horny dog. Oh yeah! Can you help me create an ad?”
“Sure. For what?”
“Cooking/Baking lessons. Here, every Saturday, 9–11am, $60 per month. Minimum five students to start.”
“Seems like you’ve had it all planned out. Okay, I’ll get it done before dinner.”
“Thanks.”
“By the way, you on for tomorrow night? Same place, same time?”
“Sure. Why not?” I paused. “Now I just need to think about what to cook tonight…”
“Cook your specialty! I mean, $300 for three meals! Lobster pasta…and macaroons?”
“Lobster pasta is okay, but macaroons might be too sweet after the meal. Maybe custard tarts with lemon zest. Sweet, light, and tangy.”
“Mhmmm, yes, please! Those custard tarts are the best! Make sure to make extras!” He groaned, remembering the taste. I made them for him before, and he always wanted more—unless I wanted something from him.
“Okay, okay. Then I’m going out now to buy the ingredients.”
“Can you get Fruit Loops and ketchup for me?!” He shouted from the stairs as he bounded upward.
“Fruit Loops, yes. Ketchup, no.” His face contorted in horror. Ketchup goes well with *most* things, but definitely not Fruit Loops.
I slammed the door shut and turned on the engine, speeding down the road.
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A touch of basil leaves… “Done!” I glanced at my dishes, satisfied. Chris was already running downstairs.
“I’m done! Here! How is it?” He whooped, dashing to the fridge for a tart.
“This is heaven!” He moaned, savoring the flavors. “You should open your own shop, Ray.”
“I did. And look what happened.”
“That was just a one-time thing. With skills like yours, you could earn a lot.”
“If you’ve forgotten, I still have this job. I should go now before the food gets cold. Yours is on the table. You can start first.”
“It’s alright. I prefer eating together. Now go quickly.” He grinned, shooing me out.
I grabbed a tray, arranging the plates of pasta and tarts on it, then carefully walked out to pass it to Joey, the butler of the main house. He was younger than me by five years.
“Here you go.”
Joey nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Ray. The Master has been very pleased with your cooking so far. He said to keep up the good work. It’s the first time he’s ever praised a cook. You must be really good.”
“Thanks. I’m glad he likes it. I made lemon custard tarts, so I can give you some later if you want.”
His eyes lit up. “Yes, please. I’d like to try your skills. Thank you, Ray. Sorry, but I have to go now. I’ll pop by to get them later.” He smiled warmly before walking back into the house professionally with the tray in his hand.
The Master must be glad to have such a good butler. Good food, a good life, full of riches…what else would he even need?
Dimitri’s POV:
“Here you go, Master.” I placed the tray in front of him, standing by the door.
“Thank you.” He turned to look at the tray—steaming pasta, creamy tarts. They looked amazing.
“What would you like to drink, Master?” Pointing to my shelf of English teas, I nodded without hesitation, understanding his preference.
With a mouthful of the delicious pasta, I swear I had an orgasm. The flavors exploded perfectly together. The lobster meat was juicy, cooked to perfection—neither undercooked nor overcooked. This is version 2.0 of my mother’s lobster pasta. Sorry, Mum—someone just one-upped you.
“Here you go, Master. Chamomile tea.”
“Is this cooked by the same cook?”
“Yes, Master. The meals are prepared by the same cook.”
“What’s his name again?” I can’t remember names well.
“Ray.” Oh yeah. That’s the name.
“Tell my mother that he’s a keeper. Make sure she doesn’t sack him without my permission.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You may go now.”
“Thank you, Master. Enjoy your meal.” Bowing slightly, I turned and walked out of the dining hall, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Ray…I wonder how he looks like.