Chapter 27 #2
Kyle offered up, “No, no, we are not on a date.” He waved his finger between he and Jamie with an urgent eagerness to clear up any misunderstanding. “Are you here for Dinner for Six?” he asked, his voice full of earnest hope.
“Yup. I’m Shannon.” A smile curled up on her left lip and revealed a dimple in the side of her cheek. It’s hard to compete with dimples. Kyle almost lunged at her to shake her hand, nearly knocking Jamie out of the way.
Jamie found herself a little irked that Kyle had so quickly and obviously dismissed her as a possible romantic person of interest. Here she was trying to stay open to all possibilities, to keep her judgments in check, only to be cast aside by a nerd. And in forty-five seconds flat, at that.
Maybe this was a mistake.
The door opened once more and two more people walked in.
First, a man who was on the short side, dark, hairy, slightly bulging eyes behind designer glasses and a downturned mouth that gave him a froggish look.
He was clad in an expensive sport coat and equally expensive jeans.
She supposed he might be a possible candidate for her mother’s wedding.
But upon closer inspection … was he strutting around in lifts?
Following him in was a woman. Petite, thin, of Asian descent, long dark hair pulled back tight, with scant makeup on hawkish eyes that seemed to take in everything. She wore over-the-knee camel suede boots and a shimmering white silk, flowy dress. She looked serious but utterly beautiful.
The man gestured for her to go ahead of him, which Jamie thought was nice, until she realized it was so he could check out her ass. They got to the bar.
“Hi, I’m Rick Montague. Advertising.” He shook everyone’s hand.
“You may have seen the insurance commercials on TV with the flying pig? That’s me.
” He smiled, showing off his veneers and standing proud.
He wore a pinky ring with the Harvard insignia.
Oh, no, Jamie thought. Smug. Self-important. Cheesy.
As if familiar with icebreakers from corporate retreats, the petite, dark-haired woman in the flowing white dress said sternly, “I’m Holly Kim. I work in antiquities at the Los Angeles County Museum.” Holly addressed Rick, “I hated that flying pig commercial.”
Rick’s puffed-up chest sagged.
Jamie took a long look at Holly. Controlling. Frustrated. Radically honest.
Introductions were murmured as Kyle eyes darted back and forth, making him appear both wary and excited, Shannon inspected the drink menu in a bored fashion, and Rick tried not to scowl at Holly as if she was his mortal foe. Jamie sighed and wondered if it was too late to back out of this debacle.
At 6:01 PM, they all received a text from Lorna Gray, founder of Dinner for Six: “I hope you all enjoy tonight’s dinner and remember, stay open. Also, your final guest informed me he will be a tardy by ten minutes.”
Late. Not a good sign, Jamie thought. People who were perpetually late had a personality flaw that signaled irreversible self-importance at worst, laziness or disorganization at best. Might as well rule this tardy dude out, too.
Her mind drifted to Cliff, wondered what he might be doing right now.
Probably something interesting. That he wasn’t late for.
But then she stopped herself. Her prejudgments had gotten her into trouble before. One time late did not a habit make, and Lorna had asked them to stay open. Give this a chance. She vowed to lay off the snap judgments at least until the tardy guy arrived.
They all received the text just as the waitress with the piercings walked up. “You must be our Dinner For Six group. Rad idea. Your table is ready.”
The waitress led them to the table in the center of the room. There were place settings with name tags. Jamie was sitting in between Kyle and Rick. It alternated boy-girl from there. She wondered if Lorna sat her between them for a reason. She resolved one more time to keep an open mind.
The sommelier was soon upon them. “Good evening, would anyone like to see the wine list? I’ve personally curated it and it’s exceptional, if I do say so myself.” She curtsied.
Rick wasted no time. “I’ll take that. I spent a fair amount of time at Cannes last year picking up a few awards, and I got to know the French wine regions really well. Italian, too, for that matter.”
“What kind of awards did you win?” Shannon asked innocently.
“Two Titanium Lions, and a Gold Lion for a social campaign.”
Shannon looked confused. “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of those.”
Kyle asked, “Is it actually made of titanium?”
“Er, no,” Rick endeavored to explain. “Each year, the advertising community judges the best work for that year. And my agency won the top awards.”
“Who are the judges?” Jamie asked.
“Creative directors from other ad agencies,” Rick answered.
“So, it’s an internal thing?” Holly Kim prodded.
“No, no, no. See, ad agencies around the world come together to celebrate the best ads for that year in France. It’s a big deal.”
“Is it at the Cannes Film Festival?” Jamie asked.
“No, it’s the one before that, for advertising.” Rick gave a thin smile, as if he was desperately trying to explain calculus to a toddler. “The Cannes Advertising Festival.”
“I bought toothpaste based on an ad with a cartoon beaver. Did that win an award?” Shannon asked.
“No, our work is much more elevated than that schlock. We do brand work. It’s loftier,” Rick explained.
“Right.” Shannon slowly nodded, trying to grasp the concept. “So, hang on. You give out awards for your own ads? Like, to each other?”
Rick’s smile vanished and he gave her a withering look. “Something like that.” He buried his nose in the wine list.
The sommelier cheerfully offered, “I’m happy to recommend a bottle or answer any questions.”
Shannon started. “I’ll have a vodka soda.”
“Same,” Holly said with a raised index finger.
“Do you have any microbrews?” Kyle asked.
Jamie added, “I think I’ll have another Old Fashioned.”
The sommelier looked crestfallen and departed.
“You say you know a lot about French wines?” All eyes went to Holly, who was staring down Rick like he was the subject of a criminal interrogation.
Rick, squaring off and facing Holly, said, “I’d say I’m well-versed.”
“Best Sauterne ever produced?” Holly challenged.
“Ah, you must be speaking of the superior first-growth dessert wine grown in the southern part of Bordeaux, the Gironde region, home of the ceaselessly elegant, world-class Chateau d’Yquem.”