Chapter 8
At the same time Aleksei was leading Popov to his bungalow, Billy and Stone were shown to a table at Il Giardino Ristorante Italiano by an elderly gentleman with an infectious smile and an Italian accent.
“Your waiter will be right with you,” the man said, once Billy and Stone sat down. “In the meantime, may I get you something to drink?”
“Wine, I think,” Billy said. “A Cabernet Sauvignon, perhaps, or a Barolo, if you have that.”
“We just received several bottles of Gianfranco Alessandria’s Barolo San Giovanni,” the man said. “They are a small winery near the border of France.”
“I’ve had their Langhe Nebbiolo,” Stone said. “It was excellent.”
“Then the Barolo San Giovanni it is,” Billy said.
“Very good,” the host said. “Two glasses? Or perhaps a bottle?”
“Bottle, please.”
“Right away.”
The man returned with the wine and two glasses a few minutes later, accompanied by a waiter. He poured a small portion into Billy’s glass, and Billy tasted it.
“Excellent,” Billy said, satisfied.
The man smiled and filled Billy’s glass, then Stone’s.
After he set the bottle down, he gestured to the waiter. “This is Roberto. He will be your waiter.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Roberto greeted them. “Are you ready to order or do you need a little more time?”
“I think we’re ready,” Billy said. “I’ve been told your Tagliatelle al Ragù della Casa is not to be missed.”
Peter had recommended the restaurant along with which dishes were his and Hattie’s favorites.
“You have been well informed. It’s one of my favorites.”
“I’ll take that then.”
Roberto turned to Stone. “And you, sir?”
“And I was told I should have your Lasagna Classica.”
“That’s my other favorite. Appetizer?”
“The calamari, please,” Billy said.
“Perfect.”
As the waiter departed, Stone’s phone buzzed with a text. He pulled it out, read the message, then asked Billy, “How’s your golf game these days?”
“I don’t think I’d qualify for the senior tour, but I do okay.”
“Do you have plans tomorrow morning?”
“Not yet.”
“You do now. Herb Fisher’s looking for two people to fill out a foursome,” Stone said.
“Herb’s in Palm Springs?”
“Arrived this afternoon for meetings with a client. The client would be our fourth. Apparently, the other two they were set to play with had to cancel.”
“Count me in.”
Stone sent Herb a positive reply.
Soon their food arrived. But before they could even take a bite, the front door opened, and a woman at a table closer to the entrance audibly gasped. Several other diners broke out in urgent, hushed whispers.
“Don’t look now,” Stone said, “but I think we’ve just been graced by motion picture royalty.”
Billy raised a questioning eyebrow.
Stone gave a small shake of his head, an indication that the celebrity was too close for him to say anything.
A moment later, the same man who had escorted Billy and Stone to their table walked by, followed by two men and a woman.
The younger of the two men turned to say something to the other man. As he spoke, he caught a glimpse of Billy and stopped in his tracks.
“Billy Barnett?” he said.
Billy stood and smiled. “Hello, Tom.”
Mega action movie star Tom Norman walked back to Billy and shook his hand. “Good to see you!” Tom glanced at Stone and cocked his head. “Aren’t you Peter’s father?”
“I am,” Stone said, rising to his feet.
They shook hands.
Stone and Tom had met at the World Thriller Film Festival in Berlin, whereas Billy had known Tom for several years.
“So good to see you both,” Tom said. “You’re here for Damian’s party, aren’t you?”
“Peter and Hattie are spending the month here, so we’re visiting,” Billy said. “But we are looking forward to the party.”
“Come over and say hi then,” Tom said, starting toward the table where his friends had been escorted.
Billy and Stone followed.
As big a star as Tom Norman was, Stone’s earlier comment about movie royalty had not been in reference to him. The person Stone had been talking about was the older gentleman.
Damian Leon, film legend and the movie star of movie stars.
Billy didn’t recognize the woman.
As they approached the table, Tom said, “Damian, have you met Billy Barnett? He’s the one who produces Peter—”
“Barrington’s movies,” Damian finished. He stood and extended his hand to Billy. “It’s a true honor to meet you, Mr. Barnett.”
“It’s Billy,” Billy said, shaking the man’s hand. “And the honor is all mine.”
Despite being on the verge of turning seventy, Damian looked at least a decade and a half younger. He was trim and clearly fit, his jaw as chiseled as it had been on countless movie screens when he’d been younger, and his posture just as straight and graceful.
“This is my friend, Stone Barrington,” Billy gestured at Stone.
Damian shook his hand. “Any relation to Peter?”
Stone smiled. “Father.”
“You have quite the talented son.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Damian turned to the woman who’d come with him and Tom. She was also on her feet. “This is Rachel Weller.”
“The screenwriter?” Billy asked.
She blinked, surprised. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I just read one of your scripts.”
“The one I sent to you?” Tom asked.
“That very one, yes,” Billy said.
Rachel’s eyes widened. “You sent Billy Barnett one of my screenplays?”
“I did.”
Rachel blushed, then said to Billy, “Please don’t tell me what you thought of it. I want to have good memories of this evening.”
“So, you don’t want to know that I think it’s fantastic?”
She blinked. “I retract my earlier request. Tell me more, but only the good parts.”
“Rach has the worst case of impostor syndrome that I know of,” Tom explained. “Which baffles me.”
“Which script was it?” she asked.
“The Boortz Brothers,” Tom said. “Centurion Pictures and I have been looking for a project to do together, and I thought it was a perfect candidate.”
“Oh.”
“I agree,” Billy said. “We should talk about it when we’re all back in L.A.”
“I’ll call your office and set up a meeting,” Tom said.
“Perfect.”
“I think I need to sit,” Rachel said as she did just that.
“On that note, perhaps we should get back to our meal before it gets cold,” Billy said.
“Of course,” Tom said. “Good to see you.”
“If I’m remembering correctly, you’re both on the guest list for tomorrow night,” Damian chimed in.
“We are and we’re looking forward to it,” Stone said.
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing you there.”
They said their goodbyes and Billy and Stone returned to their table.
“By the way, you’re paying for dinner,” Stone said.
“I am? I could have sworn you were the one who suggested we go out.”
“I was. But you just talked business, which means you can write this dinner off.” Stone took a bite of his lasagna and groaned in appreciation. “Peter was right. This place is excellent. I wonder what they have for dessert.”