‘Have you been abandoned?’ he asked.
‘It’s a busman’s holiday, trying to eat in your own restaurant, I think.’
‘Mind if I join you?’
‘Why not?’ I said, pulling out a chair. Why not, indeed. Rather a real-life man than doom-scrolling, waiting for Holly to come back.
‘Are you travelling on your own?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I’ve just arrived from London for a couple of weeks to see my friend. She runs this place with her other half – he’s the chef. How about you?’
‘My family live out here, so I’m staying with them. I haven’t had a holiday for a while to be honest, so I’m trying to remember how to do it.’ His accent was a heady mix of Californian pep with an Italian edge, the best of both cultures.
‘I know what you mean – you have to slow down quite a lot out here from what I’ve seen so far. How was your food?’
‘Unbelievable!’ he said. ‘I had the scallops with beetroot and marzipan, and the chocolate-roasted duck. Both were phenomenal. I’m difficult to surprise, but the sauces were SO good. A taste sensation. Five stars. Would come again.’
‘A taste sensation?’ I repeated, teasing. ‘That’s quite the review. Xavier will be delighted.’
‘Good. He deserves to be – the feeling is entirely mutual.’
This guy radiated joy as he smiled, tapping the table to an unheard beat. His cufflinks glinted in the light, drawing my attention to a very nice watch.
‘Some more red wine?’ Tony asked, holding up the bottle.
‘Thank you.’ I’d already had my two-drink limit, but it seemed churlish to say no. I’d have one more with him, then make my excuses if I wasn’t interested.
‘Saluti,’ he said, raising his glass; his eye contact was intense.
‘Cheers,’ I replied, watching him as I drank, his white shirt bright against his tan, a couple of poppers open at the neck. ‘So, your family are here but you live in America?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been in LA for nearly ten years. I went travelling after I graduated.’
‘Same. All across Europe,’ I said, thinking back to those carefree, summer days with Josh.
‘I was in Canada, then drove down through America to California, and I liked it so much that I’ve been there ever since.’
‘I suppose it’s called the Golden State for a reason. What do you do out there?’ I asked, twiddling my wine glass.
‘Well, obviously, I work in the movies,’ he replied, a twinkle in his eye.
‘Of course you do,’ I said, brightly. ‘Doesn’t everyone in America? Are you a Hollywood star?’ I didn’t want another Pete/Blake situation on my hands.
Tony laughed. ‘Sadly, not, I’m very much behind the camera – not literally – but hidden away in the background. I’m just a frustrated film buff at heart. What do you do?’
‘I’m a make-up artist,’ I said, pointing to my face. My shop window. ‘I’ve been trying to get into the world of film myself, recently. Someone has to make the movie stars glamorous and beautiful.’
‘They sure do. Might as well be you, right?’
‘Exactly. But it hasn’t gone very well, so far,’ I said, slightly glum.
‘Can you make me glamorous and beautiful?’ Tony asked. I looked at his glowing skin and piercing blue eyes. I’d struggle to make him any more beautiful, but I could get him into a tight-fitting moon head in a heartbeat.
‘Easily.’ I laughed, looking at him closely. ‘I can make you an entirely new face if you like?’
‘That seems extreme,’ he said, alarmed. ‘Do I need one?’
‘I wouldn’t say so, no.’ I found myself staring at him again. He had a warmth and magnetism that felt comforting, but there was also something exciting about him. Something hypnotising in those eyes that was drawing me in.
