and accordingly begins examining the menu. I take the opportunity to glance at my watch. Lisha should be here any second now. Billy, breaking celebrity rule number thirty-seven, was on time.
“You’re always starving, aren’t you?” I tease because I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Pretty much. Especially here.”
“I thought you hadn’t been to Off Vine before.”
“No,
here
,” he says, waving his arms to indicate larger surroundings. “I’m never full in LA. Now, in Texas, they know how to feed a growing boy.” He’s obviously kidding because no one gets a body like his by eating Tex-Mex and barbeque all the time. But I smile and signal the waitress.
I’d like a gin and tonic please
. I wish. I order an iced tea with lemon. Judging by Hi-my-name-is-Mandy-and-I’ll-be-your-server-today’s quick appearance, she already knows who is sitting with me, but she takes my drink order like I’m important too and proceeds to go through the tried-and-true “don’t I know you from somewhere?” method of getting Billy to identify himself. Of course Billy is exceedingly charming and gracious to our waitress, and she is blushing by the time she remembers to go get our drinks.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Billy Fox!” Lisha appears next to Billy in a tight skirt, sheer blouse, and knee-high stiletto boots. She leans toward Billy, who rises to his feet like the Southern gentleman that he is, and she air-kisses both hischeeks. “Daaarling.” Yes, she leans down to me, perhaps to give Billy a clear view of her perfect ass, and both sides of my face get “kissed” too. While I contemplate her intentions, she comes back to Billy’s side of the table to chummily take the seat next to him.
Lisha and Billy proceed through standard actor/reporter chitchat (“Did you find the place okay?”) as a conversation icebreaker, and mostly my job is just to listen and only interject if things get uncomfortable. Frankly, it’s nice to be able to sit at the same table as the interview. Some magazines insist that the publicist not be present. As if I would let that happen. In those cases, we compromise, and I end up sitting at the next table over so that I can still hear the whole thing. Either way, I’m not supposed to be actively involved in the conversation (and my presence is duly omitted from the final profile).
I periodically check my BlackBerry, which is resting conspicuously next to my bread plate, so that I can appear distracted and therefore allow Lisha and Billy an opportunity to have a conversation without it being awkward that I’m sitting there being ignored. As Lisha settles into her warm-up questions, and Billy flows right into his comfortable, honest answers, my eyes lower to the device and I run my thumb over the wheel to scroll through the newest emails.
“Sophie? Do you know the London premiere date?” Billy is looking straight at me when I glance up, which sets my stomach aflutter. Lisha is also staring at me expectantly. Expecting me to butt out, I’m sure.
“I’ll email Lisha the details.”
“Perfect, darling,” she purrs as she turns back to Billy andpeppers him with another few questions about the six-month shooting schedule in Prague.
“I love traveling, seeing the world. It’s tough on a shoot because you really don’t have time while filming to see the sights, but I usually plan to stay at least a few weeks before or after to enjoy the locales.”
“And? How was Prague? What did you see?”
Billy describes the romantic Czech Republic’s capital city, and my emails remain unread as I am totally caught up in his obvious appreciation of its historic bridges and castles.
“Have you ever been?” Billy asks Lisha.
“I have traveled extensively through Eastern Europe, darling Billy. I love that we have traveled and seen so much of the same beauty in the world. Why I—”
“What about
you
, Sophie? Have you been?” I am so caught off-guard by his question
“You’re always starving, aren’t you?” I tease because I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Pretty much. Especially here.”
“I thought you hadn’t been to Off Vine before.”
“No,
here
,” he says, waving his arms to indicate larger surroundings. “I’m never full in LA. Now, in Texas, they know how to feed a growing boy.” He’s obviously kidding because no one gets a body like his by eating Tex-Mex and barbeque all the time. But I smile and signal the waitress.
I’d like a gin and tonic please
. I wish. I order an iced tea with lemon. Judging by Hi-my-name-is-Mandy-and-I’ll-be-your-server-today’s quick appearance, she already knows who is sitting with me, but she takes my drink order like I’m important too and proceeds to go through the tried-and-true “don’t I know you from somewhere?” method of getting Billy to identify himself. Of course Billy is exceedingly charming and gracious to our waitress, and she is blushing by the time she remembers to go get our drinks.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Billy Fox!” Lisha appears next to Billy in a tight skirt, sheer blouse, and knee-high stiletto boots. She leans toward Billy, who rises to his feet like the Southern gentleman that he is, and she air-kisses both hischeeks. “Daaarling.” Yes, she leans down to me, perhaps to give Billy a clear view of her perfect ass, and both sides of my face get “kissed” too. While I contemplate her intentions, she comes back to Billy’s side of the table to chummily take the seat next to him.
Lisha and Billy proceed through standard actor/reporter chitchat (“Did you find the place okay?”) as a conversation icebreaker, and mostly my job is just to listen and only interject if things get uncomfortable. Frankly, it’s nice to be able to sit at the same table as the interview. Some magazines insist that the publicist not be present. As if I would let that happen. In those cases, we compromise, and I end up sitting at the next table over so that I can still hear the whole thing. Either way, I’m not supposed to be actively involved in the conversation (and my presence is duly omitted from the final profile).
I periodically check my BlackBerry, which is resting conspicuously next to my bread plate, so that I can appear distracted and therefore allow Lisha and Billy an opportunity to have a conversation without it being awkward that I’m sitting there being ignored. As Lisha settles into her warm-up questions, and Billy flows right into his comfortable, honest answers, my eyes lower to the device and I run my thumb over the wheel to scroll through the newest emails.
“Sophie? Do you know the London premiere date?” Billy is looking straight at me when I glance up, which sets my stomach aflutter. Lisha is also staring at me expectantly. Expecting me to butt out, I’m sure.
“I’ll email Lisha the details.”
“Perfect, darling,” she purrs as she turns back to Billy andpeppers him with another few questions about the six-month shooting schedule in Prague.
“I love traveling, seeing the world. It’s tough on a shoot because you really don’t have time while filming to see the sights, but I usually plan to stay at least a few weeks before or after to enjoy the locales.”
“And? How was Prague? What did you see?”
Billy describes the romantic Czech Republic’s capital city, and my emails remain unread as I am totally caught up in his obvious appreciation of its historic bridges and castles.
“Have you ever been?” Billy asks Lisha.
“I have traveled extensively through Eastern Europe, darling Billy. I love that we have traveled and seen so much of the same beauty in the world. Why I—”
“What about
you
, Sophie? Have you been?” I am so caught off-guard by his question
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