Page 53 of Act Three

“I’ve heard great things, but I’ve never been there.”

Isaac held my gaze. We both knew what we had to do. This woman had spent her entire life in this town and hadn’t even tried a restaurant that — I assumed — was nowhere near as pricy as what we were used to in Hollywood.

“Let’s go there.” Isaac took one of her hands and I took the other.

“But…” Kyla protested, and I squeezed her fingers.

“Our shout.”

We were some of the last people to leave the zoo and the parking lot had almost emptied. I half expected Kyla to argue about our dinner choice again, but she drove up a winding road to a building that was nestled into the side of a tree-covered cliff and parked near the door. With its wooden frame, floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows, candles, and slow jazz music, it looked like a combination of intimate restaurant, classy bar, and wedding venue.

“A table for three, please,” I said to the maitre-d’, and he nodded and led us to a private table near the windows, wherewe had a two hundred and forty degree view of the surrounding rainforest. Even as the sun sank behind the hills, it still looked beautiful.

Kyla opened and closed the menu, as though she were searching for another page. A cheaper one, with kids’ meals.

“Order whatever you’d like,” Isaac said, and I nodded.

“Like we said, it’s our shout. A thank you for being our tour guide today.”

“Are you sure?” Kyla opened the menu again and scanned the list. “Sixty dollars for anentrée!”

“Very sure.”

I watched her red lips move as she read the meal descriptions. I’d never been successful by Hollywood standards — I was no Tom Cruise — but by the same token, my parents still earned royalties from their seventies sitcoms and I’d never had to worry about the price of food. Neither had Isaac, I guessed. I didn’t know much about his background, but most of the British actors in Hollywood had grown up attending private schools and drama colleges, courtesy of parents who were doctors, lawyers, or old money.

“Are you ready to order?” a young waitress asked, holding a pen over a notebook.

“I’ll have the arancini,” I said, and the woman scribbled on her pad. “And the fruitti di mare ravioli. With a bottle of merlot cabernet for the table.” I knew that Isaac didn’t drink from our dinner a few weeks ago, but I assumed Kyla would be open to sharing the bottle.

“Actually… I don’t drink,” she said quietly.

That surprised me — I could easily imagine her sitting back and sipping red wine while reading a book in a hammock somewhere. She seemed like that kind of woman.

“Just one glass of wine,” I corrected myself.

The waitress looked at Isaac, who passed his menu back to her.

“Gnocchi gorgonzola for me, please.”

“And for you?” The woman looked at Kyla, her pen hovering over the page.

“Um…” Kyla blushed and looked gorgeous in the candlelight. “The same as Wyatt.” She gestured to me and after the waitress left, leaned forward and whispered, “I’ve never even heard of half those ingredients!”

“Really?” I was surprised. I’d assumed that, working in a cafe, she would have been more familiar with a wide variety of foods. Then again… I couldn’t imagine a small cafe selling contorni. “You’ll love it. I promise.” I gave her a smile that I hoped was reassuring.

“How are you feeling about the movie?” Isaac asked as the waitress delivered a jug of water to our table.

Kyla watched as the waitress poured each of us a glass.

“Some days I feel like I’m managing fine, like I know what I’m doing. And other days…” she sighed. “I feel like I’m way out of my depth and shouldn’t even try.”

I knew the feeling. It didn’t matter how many years I’d acted or how many drama classes I’d done, there were some days where I felt like I wasn’t even qualified to read a script. I could only imagine how hard it must be for someone who’d never had any training.

“We can give you a hand to prepare for your scenes, if you’d like,” I offered. “You never need to feel embarrassed about asking for advice. We’ve both been there.”

“Here’s the thing…” Kyla exhaled. “I asked Dean to help me prepare for the sex scene, and that led to…”

She left the end of the sentence hanging while she sipped her water and her face turned red. Isaac and I looked at each other. Did she mean? No, surely not.

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