Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,92
we stepped inside the elegant restaurant, the girl couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“I don’t want to bother you, but you’re Declan Davies, aren’t you?” She smiled, but it wasn’t a scary I’m-going-to-follow-you-into-the-bathroom-and-dig-your-used-paper-towel-out-of-the-bin smile. It was calm, friendly.
I looked around nervously before nodding. Her father watched us disapprovingly, but kept quiet.
“Would you mind signing an autograph for me? We watched Letters to My Former Self in my film class, and I thought it was really beautiful. I even started a club at school to help raise money for homeless teens.” Her eyes shined genuinely.
“Ace! I’d be happy to.” And I meant it. I didn’t mind this part of being famous. A lot of times the negatives seemed overwhelming, but every once in a while, I was reminded of the positive influence my fame could have as well. The good parts were usually just a whole lot quieter, like a sweet girl inspired by a character I’d brought to life, than the screaming mongrels that waited outside.
She reached for her purse to find a loose scrap of paper for me to sign, but I stopped her. I grabbed the permanent marker off the maître de stand, and quickly looped my scrawling signature across the bill of the hat I’d just been wearing.
“Wow! Thank you! We could totally auction this on eBay, and make some real money for the club.” Her eyes marveled at the hat like it was a piece of treasure, which was ironic, considering if I hadn’t given it to her, it had been headed straight to the trash.
I grinned, pleased with her enthusiasm, but shook my head.
“Don’t do that. You should keep it. Here, wait a second.” Digging out my wallet, I quickly scribbled out a check and handed it to her. “I’m sure it wouldn’t have gotten you more than that. The hat is yours, a personal gift from me.”
Her eyes widened comically at the amount, and I felt all the stress rolling off my body. It felt good to do something nice.
The maître de returned and led me to the table where my lunch companion was already waiting, inducing a whole new kind of nervous stress to itch up my spine. Platters of pristinely displayed sushi passed us on waiters’ raised hands, and I knew that even if it weren’t for the nerves, I wouldn’t have been excited about the food. I wasn’t a fan of raw fish, no matter how fashionable it was at the moment.
Between the public appearance and unappetizing meal, it was clear my only reason for being there was my respect for Joseph Hoffman. The man was a legend, and I was more than a little willing to make these exceptions to be in his acquaintance.
He stood up when I entered the private area where we’d be dining, his chocolate-colored hand extended to me in greeting. His head was shaved bald – shiny and round – and even though I knew he was pushing seventy, he exuded very little age.
For the first time in my life, I was a little star struck. I couldn’t think of single thing in the world to say, and I vowed to never again take amusement from the girls who got lightheaded at the sight of me.
“You’re a bit scrawnier than I was led to believe,” he broke the silence. His voice wasn’t the deep baritone his stature suggested, but instead light, almost musical in pitch.
I couldn’t help but laugh. No one had ever accused me of being smaller than expected. Usually it was the opposite.
“It’s an honor, Mr. Hoffman.”
He nodded briskly, accepting the compliment. “I hope you don’t mind I’ve gone ahead and ordered for us.”
“Not at all.” It was all the same to me.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here. You’re an actor at your prime, and I’m a retired director with a whole bunch of useless awards at home.” He paused, letting the waiter set our food down. The one good thing about Sushi was that it came in two short rows so I knew exactly how much I was going to have to suffer down.
I was clumsy with the chopsticks, but I’d just managed to wrangle the morsel into my mouth when he asked, “How do you feel about all these remakes the studios are enamored with right now? Because I think it’s a damn shame when not one of these idiots can summon up an original idea.”
I coughed violently, choking down the entire roll in my surprise.