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“You work here?” Isaac scanned the room, taking in the customers, the wooden tables, the barstools along the front window, and the bookshelves that lined the walls.
“Only until she’s famous, eh?” Bob elbowed me jovially. “I’ll get you sorted.”
The cafe was booked out, but Bob disappeared out the back and returned with a round wooden table in his arms, breathing heavily as he placed it in the gap between two other diners.
“You don’t have to…” I started, but he disappeared out the back again and returned carrying two chairs stacked on top of each other. He slid one under each side of the table.
“I don’t want to pry, but is this a… date?” He raised his bushy eyebrows twice as he looked from Isaac to me, and I laughed.
“It’s not a date. It’s just two colleagues having dinner.”
“I have a personal rule to not date co-stars,” Isaac said politely. Or perhaps it only sounded polite because of his British accent. “It never ends well.”
Bob gave me a sympathetic look.
If only he knew.
“Order anything you want,” he said as he clapped his meaty hands together. “It’s on the house.”
He rushed away before I could argue, but Isaac must have experienced this before because he didn’t seem to be concerned.
“Don’t worry,” he said, as he picked up the menu. “I’ll leave a big tip. Now, which meals do you recommend?”
“Excuse me,” a woman said, as she kneeled next to our table and held a notebook and a pen in Isaac’s direction. “I’m a massive fan of your theater work. Would you mind signing this for me?”
“Of course.” Isaac took the pad and pen and scribbled a short message with his signature. “Anything for a fan.” He gave it back to her, and she rushed back to her table.
“I’d recommend the salmon…” I started, but was interrupted by another, “Excuse me.”
This continued for another twenty minutes, with Isaac signing autographs, posing for selfies and never complaining once. Bob brought out a jug of sparkling water and I poured two glasses and gulped it to try to silence my rumbling stomach as Isaac continued to sign autographs.
Was this what my life would be like if I became famous? It was fun signing autographs for the kids, but I couldn’t imagine being mobbed like this everywhere I went. Especially when I was starving, and all I wanted to do was eat.
Maybe this isn’t something I want…
I shook the thought away. There was no guarantee that starring in one movie was going to make me famous. And even if it did, I was still an amputee. Surely that would hold me back from reaching Isaac’s, Dean’s, and Wyatt’s levels of fame.
Finally, everyone who wanted an autograph had one, and Isaac turned his attention back to the menu.
“The salmon looks good,” he said. Bob returned, and I ordered two servings with all the sides, and then refilled our water glasses. “So, what’s been going on?”
I took a deep breath. There was no way I could tell him about what I’d done with Dean, so I decided to dance around the subject.
“Have you ever been in a fake relationship?”
Isaac frowned.
“No. I’ve been through a real marriage, and unfortunately a real divorce, but no fake relationships. They’re common in Hollywood though… so I’ve heard.” He sipped his water. “Why?”
“Just wondering.” I looked over to the kitchen, where the chefs seemed to be moving slower than usual. I knew it was my mind playing tricks on me because I was so hungry, but I still wished they could move faster.
“Are Brooke and Dean in a fake relationship?” Isaac’s eyes glowed, and I shook my head, but perhaps I didn’t have enough energy to look convincing because he looked out the window and muttered, “I knew it.”
I cringed, knowing that Dean would hate knowing that I’d shared his personal information with his colleagues.
“No… not Dean,” I covered, although I sounded unconvincing even to myself. I decided to change the subject and remembered something that Jamie had mentioned earlier. “You were married?”
Isaac nodded.
