Her stomach is in a flurry as she pulls into Maude. She leaves her car with valet to park. Her mind swarms with what she’s going to say. She steps with confidence passed the doorman who holds the door open for her like royalty. As she enters, she takes a deep breath.
Everything at Maude is exquisite like her classic black cocktail dress. The lighting is perfect, the ambiance is luxurious. She anticipates a palate-pleasing meal with an impressive presentation. She has every intention of paying for it too.
The restaurant is already full of diners when she enters. The hostess greets her as she walks in before Mina can say a word. It’s like she already knows her and says, “Miss Toro, I have your table ready, and your guests are waiting. Please follow me.”
Mina has only been to Maude one other time. She thinks that either the hostess has seen her recent interview in Luxe magazine or she follows some posh influencers online. Influencers with millions of followers, and millions of clones all panning to look and be like them. Plump lips that are probably Botox, high cheekbones contoured with layers of makeup. Long fake lashes; yes, the hostess most likely knows who Mina is from online influencers.
The hostess glides through the restaurant with a practiced grace. She stops at a table where Marcel is already chatting with another man. They both rise upon her arrival, a gesture of chivalry that is long dead amongst the commoners. It's an act she's only seen in reruns of black and white I Love Lucy episodes.
Marcel has a smile on his face that she contributes to the red wine he is already enjoying. “Ah, Mina,” he says, “please meet Ardan of Eden Island.”
The man’s hand is cold like his grey eyes but firm. He shakes her hand like a confident businessman. Mina can tell gauge a person's character and business style from a handshake. It's enough to tell her what kind of a person she's dealing with. A firm handshake tells her he’s a man who likes to be entertained and skip formalities but is a solid negotiator.
His eyes tell her even more as he instantly dives into hers like a hawk when they meet. Cunning and possibly too smart for his own good. She can see that he lives for the deal, and revels in the thrill. His thin lips curve into a half-hearted smile. His appearance is sharp in a black suit and it contrasts with his silver hair. She finds it odd because there isn't a wrinkle on his face, no smile lines either.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, pulling her hand away first from his cold grip. She takes her seat and says, “So Ardan, no last name? Or is Eden Island your middle and last name?” It’s a lukewarm attempt at small-talk and it takes him by surprise. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to laugh but he doesn’t.
The hostess places the one-page menu in Mina’s hands and says, “Please enjoy, your waiter will be with you shortly.”
“Eden Island is my homeland. It’s a small community, unlike your grand cities of concrete and steel. We don’t use last names. Never have in the millennium that we’ve dwelled there,” he says with an accent she can’t place.
There’s a twinkle in his eyes that tell her that he’s amused by the question. Perhaps no one asks him personal questions and she makes a mental note not to ask too many. The last thing she needs is a dealer thinking she’s seeking romantic involvement. She’s had her own mixups in the past five years of business in which someone thought she was flirting with them. The exception to that rule is Marcel and he twirls his glass of wine across the table with little interest in the exchange between her and Ardan.
“Ilander, I see. Is it tropical?”
He squints at her like he’s thinking about the question. “No. It is not.” He says nothing more about it and instead takes up his glass to drink.
Ardan is drinking out of a glass that looks like a short-stemmed wine glass. Obviously cognac or brandy. But he doesn’t strike her as a brandy person. It’s straight, no ice and he sips it slow. Mina takes this moment to gaze over the menu.
She’s not particularly fond of these kinds of restaurants. Michelin-starred, high class, and stuffy. She appreciates the finer things in life like mink coats and caviar, but she hates picking out seven-course meals.
The waiter returns and asks if she’d like anything to drink in which she gladly orders champagne. He leaves and returns promptly with her glass and pours the champagne at the table. Marcel and Ardan are both looking at the menu.
“Are we ready to order?” the waiter asks to which they all agree that they are but Mina says she’ll order last.
So he goes around the table, taking Ardan’s order first, then Marcel’s. When he gets to Mina she says that she’ll have what Marcel is having. It’s her sly way of avoiding the menu and its quizzical wording and confusing ingredients. She doesn’t like to seem like an idiot with questions because she has no idea what ‘grilled little gems’ are or if Soubise is a sauce or a French cooking method.
Marcel says she is his easiest dinner companion because she hardly makes a negative comment unless one is due. She’s easy to please. He can dine with her at a five-star restaurant as easily as going for take-out from a Chinese restaurant that doubles as a donut shop. He doesn’t have to impress her, doesn’t have to lavish her with gifts, compliments, or promises to call the next day.
This is also what makes Mina so complex and difficult, and she knows it. Her wants, needs, and desires, are all at her fingertips. A woman with the world at her feet and ideas ready to spring to life. She has a whole army of devoted followers who consider her products as the ‘best-kept’ well-known secret in Hollywood. And sometimes Marcel comes along for the ride, opting to always make his exit right before the roller coaster hits its peak. Then he returns just in time for the bottom of the drop.
“Mina,” her name rolls off his tongue like a foreign language. “Marcel tells me you are interested in the procurement of golden tresses.”
She clears her throat. “Any color is fine, as long as it is 100 percent virgin hair, free of chemicals. So, hair that’s never been dyed or permed is sufficient.”
His face is expressionless as he holds his glass and takes the final drink. He sets it on the table and says, “I can provide such a product. I am privy to your countrymen and their peculiar requests and consumption habits. You’ve come to the right merchant for such requisitions. I deal primarily in exotics.”
She raises an eyebrow and she’s intrigued to hear more about what kind of exotics he’s referring to. But the first course comes and they turn their attention to the food. A bed of black caviar atop a slice of squash decorated with tiny purple flowers is placed before her. She glances at Ardan’s plate of grilled root vegetables spaced throughout the plate and dotted with red and green sauces.
A noise escapes Marcel and he clasps his hands together. “Excellent,” is all he says before taking his last sip of wine. The waiter returns with two glasses of white and places them in front of Marcel and Mina. It’s now that she realizes Marcel has asked for wine pairings to go along each plate of their 9 courses. The waiter also brings a refill of an XO cognac for Ardan and swiftly removes the empty glasses and is gone again.
The second course comes out with a new glass of wine. This time it is a toasted Dungeness Crab minus the shell and it sits atop a layer of greens and edible flowers. Ardan is served the eggplant bao and it’s at this moment she suspects he’s a vegetarian. Maybe even a vegan.
“Does the age of the source matter to the quality of locks you seek?” Ardan asks. It’s a strange question to her, but knowing that the hair business has some shady dealings, it’s better to squash perceptions before they start. She doesn’t deal in illegal or exploitative contracts.
“Not really but younger hair tends to have a higher quality and less breakage. It depends on how well someone takes care of their hair before they cut it for us. Greying hair isn’t ideal because it is usually coarse.”
“Hmm,” is all he says before turning his attention back to his plate.
She has to admit, Marcel knows how to order dinner and she’s not afraid to follow his lead into the unique world of fine dining. The quail is absolutely delicious and falls off the bone with ease. Ardan is enjoying the Nixta pasta minus the filet mignon medallions. When it comes to dessert, he orders the Taho, a soymilk panacotta.
Dessert is enjoyed upstairs in Maude’s wine loft which is where the bar meets home. It's a mix of plush leather armchairs, a wine cellar with a full wall of wines from around the world, and a lounge with vinyl records and a baby grand piano. Mina doesn’t know what to make of it, it’s homey, yet decadent. It’s comfortable yet posh. It’s the perfect place to finalize an agreement with Ardan as it presents a more intimate setting.
All the wine parings have left her feeling lightheaded, but she’s still capable of making a deal. She still has her wits about her. Marcel chooses a chocolate sherry and to her surprise, Ardan joins them in a glass. She thought for sure he’d stick to cognac. She sips the sherry as she thinks. She has to drive soon and doesn’t want to get drunk.
“I got this,” she says when the waiter comes with the check. She’s already digging her checkbook out of her evening purse.
But to her surprise, Ardan counts out several hundred dollar bills and passes them to the waiter without looking at the bill. “Please, I insist. As a new client, it is my honor to pay for dinner. Besides, Marcel is a cherished acquaintance and always excellent company.”
To that Marcel, lifts his glass in an unofficial toast. He doesn’t wait for either to join in, he drinks his sherry down and then pours another glass.
“Well that’s awfully generous of you and I’d have to repay the hospitality in some way in the future.” She sips her sherry and watches him with keen eyes. They haven’t talked numbers yet and she’s inching toward it.
“Perhaps you shall with your first generous order of rara avis. I have heard of many a peculiar request but none so peculiar as the purchase of Rampion hair. but now it seems that I’ve heard it all, as your people say.” To that, he smiles and Mina knows she can now name her price. She’s sidetracked only for a second with his interesting way of naming hair. Rara Avis and Rampion, what did they mean?
“I would like to start with a small order first, about twenty bunches, at least 12 inches long if that is feasible.”
“Done,” he says, “twenty bunches in twenty-one days. I will have my courier deliver them to you. She will also collect the payment.”
To that, Mina smiles but inside she’s jumping for joy because now she can get Saria off her back. But the deal isn’t over yet, she needs his price and she’s willing to pay almost anything for the hair. “And your price?”
His lips twitch. “An ounce of gold will do or two kilos of silver.”
She doesn’t know the price of precious metals and she snickers at the thought of paying for anything with a bar of silver. Where on earth is going to get that? Surely not Tiffany’s.
“I don’t know how they do it on your island but we make deals in cash, American dollars, not gold and silver.”
To that he says in his strange accent that sounds like Irish the more she hears it, “You can put whatever denominational value of your choosing before the number but it is roughly $2000 for the lot. I don’t take dollars, I only take gold or silver. Maybe diamonds but they are less valuable to us.”
She does the math in her head and realizes she’d be paying approximately $100 per bunch. It’s a steep price and she wants to negotiate him down but opts to pay whatever he wants for now. Later, when she offers to buy a bigger lot, she’d talk him down to something closer to $70 or ideally $50.
“It’s a deal then,” she stretches out her hand to him and again he takes hers into his cold palm. She shivers, wondering how can a man who has been drinking all evening, still manage to have ice-cold hands?
“It has been a pleasure but I must retire for the evening.” He finishes his sherry and says goodbye. Mina watches his tall, thin frame disappear behind the doorway and down the stairs.
“Well,” Marcel says, balancing his glass on his crossed knee, “did you get what you wanted?”
He sat with a grin on his face, waiting for her to say something. Stunned, it took her a minute to realize that she just sealed a deal for the most precious hair she’s ever gotten her hands on. An exclusive deal that she should be leaping for joy over. Little did anyone know, she’d pay a fortune for the hair, anything Ardan wanted. The price of $100 each was nothing compared to what she can sell the final product for.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” she finally says.
To that, Marcel gives her a delighted smile which she writes off as a ‘self-satisfied’ smile. She knows he’s thinking that without him, she’d never meet Ardan and never have the deal of a lifetime in her hands.