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We’ve got a lot of shit to talk about, but once that’s done, I’m done fucking around. I’m taking her tonight. She’s ready and so am I.
27
Lucía
It’s a perfect day. The kind where if someone offered to grant me a wish, I’d have a hard time thinking of one that would make it any better. Reece and I are in his car, top down, speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway. I have a scarf tied around my head to keep my hair from blowing. But caught up in the exhilaration of the moment, I reach under my chin and untie it. I laugh in delight as my hair blows wildly around me.
The noon sun is shining, and it’s an unusually warm day for the end of October. But there’s a nice breeze and it feels great. It’s dry, but there’s moisture that makes it feel like a sweet caress.
After breakfast, he went home to change and told me to be ready in an hour and to wear something a little nicer than casual. He said we were going to lunch at Spago in Beverly Hills; and then he had a surprise for me. I protested when he suggested that restaurant. He just waved me off and said, “It’s easy to get a table and the food is great. And it’s on the way to where we’re going.”
It’s also very public. Just the kind of place I’d avoid since my book took off. Reece is a paparazzi magnet. I’m not an expert, but I’ve heard Jess reading from the celebrity gossip and me hearing, seen coming out of Spago. I’m worried that if we go to Spago, someone will take a picture of us together. People will start asking, right away, who I am; where I came from.
When I gave voice to that concern, Reece had said, “Why should you be afraid of that? Own it, Lucía. You need to stop hiding. You have the right to be here. You have a valid work permit and you’re a law-abiding person. Besides, Spago is discreet. It’ll be fine.”
As we turn off the 405 and onto Wilshire Boulevard, he hits a button on his dashboard that starts to put his top back up. “We’re almost there, not much privacy on Wilshire, even at this end of it.” He grabs my hand. His fingers twine with mine and remain that way as we make our way up this iconic stretch of road.
We’re passing through the greenest strip of Wilshire when Reece’s phone rings. His car’s dashboard announces that “Graham” is calling. He touches a button on his steering wheel and a booming voice replaces the music we were listening to.
“Yo, R. Are you in LA?”
“Yup,” Reece responds.
“And you didn’t even let your bros know you were coming? You’ve disappeared to that house in fucking Malibu. You’ve left O, D, and me to handle all these thirsty hoes on our own.”
I can’t stop the gasp that comes out of my mouth.
“Graham, you’re so dramatic, man. I’m in LA, but only for today and I’m with my lady, so watch your mouth.”
“Oh, shit,” Graham drawls. He has a deep, very strong Southern accent. God, it’s sexy. And I know who he is because everyone knows who Graham Davis is. He’s a very sought after personal trainer. He has his own TV show where he helps people lose weight. He’s got a line of workout clothes, diet supplements and his own line of sports drinks. He’s also a notorious womanizer and a professional bad boy. Jess has a picture of him on the wall of her pottery studio. She calls him her muse.
“Excuse me, Reece’s lady. If I’d known you were in the car, I would have tried to sound like I have some manners,” he says and I look at Reec
e, not saying anything.
“Graham, shut up. And you could always come to Malibu if you miss me,” he says.
Graham scoffs, “Yeah, right. Meet us for dinner tonight. I’ll text you the details and you better be there. Don’t say no. I’m hanging up.” Then the line goes dead. I turn to him, excited by having been in a car where Graham fucking Davis was just talking.
“Sorry about that. We don’t have to go to dinner,” he says apologetically.
“Are you crazy? Of course we have to go to dinner. Can I invite Jessica?”
“You want to go to dinner? I thought you’d want to go home early.”
“Why would you think that?” I ask him, perplexed. “I’m having the best day.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure. We can stay in LA for dinner.”
He pulls past Soul Cycle in Beverly Hills and I see all the women sweating their asses off and I remember that I promised myself to add some sort of cardio to my workouts. I’ve been eating all the food Jessica cooked for me. ALL of it. My half-assed yoga isn’t going to cut it.
And then he’s turning onto North Canon and we’re at the restaurant.
The valets come and open each of our doors and only then does Reece let go of my hand. As soon as we’re standing together, he grabs hold of it again. “I promise Graham is much nicer than that phone call might lead you to believe. Omar and Dave will be there, too, so yeah invite Jessica if you want.” As soon as we enter the restaurant, a young man, dressed in a suit and tie says, “Welcome, Mr. Carras, Ms. Vega. Your table is ready. Please, follow me.”
I turn to Reece and whisper, “You must come here a lot. They’re acting like you’re royalty or something.” He chuckles. “Yeah, my dad loves it here. Since I was a kid, this has been our spot. When I’m in LA, my parents and I meet here for lunch almost every day. It’s convenient, great food and they’re more discreet than a lot of other places in town. We’ll have privacy here.”
We walk through the restaurant, which is tasteful and understated in its decor, but it feels special. It’s a beautiful space full of beautiful people. I see several very famous people as we pass by and all of them stop Reece to say hello. He introduces me to everyone by saying, “This is Lucía Vega.” And nothing else. And to my amazement, some of them have heard of me. Their faces brighten. One woman who is one of my all-time favorite actresses grabs my hand and says, “I cried reading your book. You told a story that everyone needs to hear. So glad to meet you.” I am so star struck, I’m unable to do more than nod and mumble, “thank you.”
