| |
GRANT WORTHINGTON
––––––––
They were having dinner at the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel, the epicenter of Hollywood celebrity dining. Where you sat mattered for the occasion you were celebrating.
Grant Worthington had his favorite power booth for when he closed one of his high profile movie deals. Tonight, Grant selected an alcove for an intimate date.
Victoria looked ravishing in a long-sleeve silhouette Herve Leger Nathalia Signature Essentials Dress. She certainly had the legs and curves to pull off the mid-thigh and form-fitting outfit. The cultured pearl necklace perfectly accented the black dinner dress and her long dark hair.
Victoria took in every inch of the room's hunter green walls and striped ceiling of white and the same hunter green. Celebrities and other Hollywood elite sat comfortably at tables covered in fine white linens and set with understated silverware, glasses, and white coffee cups. She drew in the scent of the simple flower arrangement at the center of the table.
Grant gazed into Victoria's hazel eyes which sparkled in the glow of the candlelight. He flashed a smile and his perfectly polished teeth glistened. Grant wasn't the best looking guy in town – not by a long shot. But he made up for his below average looks and average build by wearing Armani suits, Rolex watches, and driving Bentleys, Lamborghinis,and Ferraris.
It also didn't hurt that he was one of the most powerful producers in Hollywood. Grant Worthington could either make someone a star or kill their career with a phone call.
Victoria hoped Grant would make her a star. Grant hadn't yet told her it was never going to happen. He hesitated because the sex was simply too good.
“So, my darling, what will it be tonight?” Grant asked.
“I'm thinking a McCarthy salad to start, and the Crispy Seared Branzino for my entree.”
“Excellent choice.”
“Let me guess what you are having,” Victoria said. “Polo Crab Cake, followed by Filet Mignon.”
“You know me so well,” Grant said as he placed his menu on the table. “What about dessert?”
“I thought I was dessert?” Victoria said playfully.
“Of the best kind,” Grant said. He reached across the table and took Victoria's hand. “I booked us the Presidential Suite for the evening.”
“You spoil me,” said Victoria.
“Nothing but the best, my dear. Nothing but the best.”
They raised their glasses of Dom Pérignon.
“To us,” said Victoria.
“Yes,” said Grant. “To us.”
As they clicked glasses, Grant momentarily wondered what his wife might be having for dinner at home.