“But you got one,” Bryn said, like she wanted Vivian to tell the story faster.
Vivian tipped her head to the side in silent agreement. For once, a memory of her former life arrived without teeth clamped around her larynx. The rare, uncomplicated pleasure of having flown in a private jet for the first time with people much further up on the Hollywood food chain.
“Was the food incredible?” Bryn’s eyes were the blue of a flame looking for oxygen to consume and Vivian’s lungs were stupid enough to burn. “Tell me everything.”
It was indulgent to draw out such a simple story. An excess Vivian shouldn’t allow herself. But the night was warm and Bryn was leaning toward her like there was nowhere else she wanted to be than in her company.
“We were swept from a private airport in a limo...” She paused, tilting her head to one side. “Do you know what a limo?—”
“Jesus, Vivian. I know what the hell a limo is.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t hold back her smile, lopsided and amused. “I’ve watched plenty ofoldmovies.” Bryn’s emphasis on the word old was so over-the-top Vivian almost laughed.
“It was a stretch limo,” she continued, remembering the sleek black car and the sound of bottles popping. Even at night, she’d never seen anything as beautiful as wine country. “And as soon as we arrived through a secret entrance hidden under vines—” She paused again, but this time to take a deep breath. “We walked into this incredible dining room. The floor was a thick bed of real grass, so we had to take off our shoes. The ceiling was alive with vines and ferns. All the support beams and tables and chairs, everything was made from trees?—”
“Wood?” Bryn leaned forward like she wanted to see the picture in Vivian’s mind.
“No. Trees.” She chuckled. “Trunks and limbs.” Vivian shrugged. “I don’t know how they managed it, but it was like walking into a magic forest.”
“That sounds incredible,” Bryn said wistfully.
“It was.”
“And the food?” Bryn asked like she suddenly remembered the story was meant to have a point.
“Six of us are gathered around this massive stump with moss growing in the cracks, right?”
Bryn chuckled. “As one does.”
Vivian kept her expression neutral for maximum impact. “And here come six servers moving in perfect unison like they’re Green Berets.” She mimicked the service with her hands. “And they set down a gorgeous glass cloche in front of each of us. But we can’t see inside because it’s filled with this smoke. But not just any smoke. Each of us had a different color swirling in front of us.”
“What was under there?”
“We didn’t know yet. There were no menus. No questions. No substitutions. The only thing we had control over was the list of dietary restrictions we sent ahead.”
Bryn was about to jump out of her seat. She reached out, hand shockingly warm when her fingers clasped around Vivian’s forearm. The touch sent a jolt straight up her arm.
“You’re killing me!”
Vivian laughed, charged by the moon and Bryn’s touch and the freedom of a connection about to be severed. “Synchronized perfectly, they lifted the cloches, releasing a beautiful plume of sweet-smelling mist. At the same time, they nudged us forward to get a really good inhale. And then I look down to see a pristine glass plate.”
Brows furrowed, it only took Bryn a second to understand themeal. Smile lines appeared a moment before her eyes turned incandescent. “There was nothing on the plate?”
“They fucking served us air.”
“Get the heck outta here.” Bryn leaned back and howled.
“With that as the appetizer, I was starving when three peeled grapes poached in olive oil arrived next.”
Bryn was still laughing when she managed, “Then what?”
“You don’t want to know.” She shook her head. “It was the absolute definition ofThe Emperor’s New Clothes. There we were, all were pretending that a speck of pepper floating in a clear broth was a stroke of genius, and my stomach was fomenting a riot.”
The harder Bryn laughed, the more Vivian wanted to be the reason for it.
“I can’t believe you all just went along with it.” Bryn wiped her eyes with her palm.
“We were just a bunch of 20-somethings with delusions of Old Hollywood glam, though we would have taken a New Brat Pack,” she added with a chuckle. “We didn’t know anything about culinary arts. My questions were for all the glowingNew York Times’ reviews.” She popped cheese into her mouth. “It just goes to show no one gives a shit about substance. We’re animals. When the pack decides something’s desirable, we crawl over each other to sink our teeth in it first. Who has time to wonder if it’s worth fighting for?” Before Vivian could accidentally frighten away Bryn’s good mood she added, “I’ll tell you one thing, the In-N-Out just north of the airport? Michelin worthy.”
Bryn leaned back, looking at Vivian like she’d never seen her before. Bryn studied her. Studied hernotwith the harsh lens of a scientist, but the soft gaze of an art curator.
