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“Yes!” Emmet answers. He leans forward, ready to take her delicate wrists in his hands.
“Both of you, knock it off,” I say seriously. “This is my show, and I’ll decide if this can be a bondage scene, okay? Are we agreed?”
She pouts, pushing out her lower lip far enough that I have the urge to rest my balls on it.
“Fine, whatever,” she sighs. “I thought this was all Emmet's plan anyway. What happened to that idea?"
“Well since I get to do the actual spectacle part, Dillon wanted to dire
ct, shall we say.”
“I have always wanted to direct,” I nod. Then I remember she can't even see me.
And it's pretty sad, because I do look amazing.
Finally the car stops next to the bridge in the middle of downtown. The driver gets out and opens the door on the sidewalk side. People back away, startled, eager to see who’s emerging from the car. When they realize it's Emmet first, I can hear the gasps of surprise and delight.
“Can I take the blindfold off yet? I’m going to fall flat on my face.”
“No you won't! Leave it on!” I declare. I get out of the car and take her hand in mine, carefully maneuvering her onto the sidewalk, doing my best to ignore everyone. People are pushing forward again, endangering our personal space. I'm starting to wonder if this was not my best theater direction after all.
And as we get closer to the steel structures of the bridge, I realize everyone is expecting it to happen right now. They're all filming us.
“Oh, geez… Nevermind,” I mumble and untie the bandage, safely stuffing it into my trousers for later. “Here we are!”
Bella looks around, momentarily confused. She manages not to make eye contact with any of the two dozen people who are actively filming her right now.
“So we are… back in front of your office?”
I can tell she's trying to be respectful, but this is not going as planned.
“Exactly!” I exclaim with a halfhearted flourish. “But in two days, the river will be pink!”
Her eyebrows go up. “Why would it be pink?” she asks, glancing at the muddy brown color it normally is.
“Because Emmet is going to dye it for you!” I announce, but as quietly as I can. I don’t want anybody else picking this up and posting it all over the place.
“Dillon, great idea, brother… But maybe we could talk about this someplace more private?” Emmet suggests, talking to me through gritted teeth to try to camouflage the movement of his lips. He looks meaningfully at everybody’s cell phones, and I suppose he's right. Maybe this grand walk-through wasn't such a great idea after all.
“Yeah… okay. Let's head over to the grill and get a room. We can talk about it more there,” I sigh, trying not to act as defeated as I feel.
“Shows over, everybody!” Emmet announces just before he gets back in the car. “Great to see you! Thanks so much!”
When we are back in the car, Bella reaches out and pats my knee sympathetically. “I bet that didn't go exactly the way you wanted it to,” she sighs. Strangely, I appreciate the gesture. “But I like the way that you started to describe it. Is there more?”
“Lots more!” I nod, excited over again. I scoot closer to her, absentmindedly sliding the palm of my hand over her kneecap. I love the way it fits so neatly in the hollow of my palm.
We arrive at the restaurant promptly and hurry inside. Once again there's a whole group of people waiting for us, as though they knew we were coming. Then again, celebrity watchers like to congregate in places like expensive restaurants, hoping to see people like us and so on. It's not unusual.
Once inside, the noise dies down and I realize how grateful I am for the relative quiet of the busy restaurant. The hostess takes us back to a private room and leaves us with a bottle of champagne and politely averted eyes.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this,” Bella muses as she settles into a chair that Emmet pulls out for her. “Everybody knows who you are, and they just automatically treat you like royalty. Right away! It's like you live in a whole different world.”
“What do you mean? You eat at restaurants like this all the time, don't you?” Emmet asks her, smiling curiously.
She rolls her eyes a little bit. “Yeah, but when I do it, I'm nobody. They give me a little bit of the benefit of the doubt, assuming I'm going to pay my bill. But that's it. Not like they know who I am when I first walk in and they think oooooh, big spender! I'm automatically on a probationary period.”
“Oh, I see what you mean,” Emmet nods. “And now you’ve tried it our way. Which is better?”
