“Yes,” he says, kissing me again. “We’re going on a helicopter.”
Except it’s not just a helicopter but a Croft helicopter. It says so right on the side.
“You own this?” I ask.
“The company does,” he says. “I use it when I need to get down to San Diego or out to Palm Springs. Places that aren’t too far away but that in traffic are murder. Watch your step.”
He takes my hand as we get out of the limousine. The wind created by the blades isn’t great for my hair but luckily it’s long so I gather it to the side and we make a run for it. It’s actually pretty fun, like we’re in an action movie running from zombies.
Once we’re inside Rex says, “You can be sure I’ve never taken another woman on a ride before because it didn’t occur to me until just now that the wind would be too much on your hair.”
“It’s fine!” I tell him.
We get situated, buckled and helmeted and then we’re off. We soar above Los Angeles, looking down on traffic with particular delight that I’m not sitting in it in my sad little car that’s constantly on the verge of overheating.
We swoop past the Hollywood sign, and Rex points out his estate. From above it’s even more spectacular, even bigger than I realized from my one night there. We head across the city and down the coastline. I can spot late-afternoon surfers bobbing in the water, long black marks that look like sea lions. We were so close to the all the smog and congestion and stress of the city but now we’re flying above California’s natural beauty. The sun sparkles behind us across the sapphire-blue water, and we’re heading out to sea.
“Where are we going?” I ask into my headset.
“Dinner,” Rex says.
When I see an island in the distance I say, “Is that Catalina Island?”
Rex nods.
Holy shit, I’m seriously dreaming right now.
Once we exit the helicopter a black car is waiting for and takes us to a restaurant. We’re seated on a balcony overlooking the harbor as the sun sets off to our left. It’s spectacular.
“Just another Friday night for you, huh?” I ask.
“Hardly,” he says. “But this place is amazing. Seafood comes from local fisherman. Can’t get it any fresher than here. Oh, and the martinis are amazing, ice cold. Sometimes my buddies and I come out just for drinks.” Rex glances past me. “Good evening, Johnny. How’ve you been?”
A waiter has appeared, an older gentleman, and greets us warmly. “Mr. Croft, it’s so good to see you again. How’s business?”
“Busy as always,” Rex says. After some pleasantries Rex starts with the ordering, insisting I try the martini but assuring me that if I don’t like it I don’t have to drink it.
When I see that a drink costs more than my usual dinner, I feel a bit of the pressure but decide that I’m going to relax into the evening and really let Rex take over. I have to admit, it feels good to let go for a night and not worry about money or auditions or next steps or anything. I literally sit back in my chair and let the cool ocean breeze waft over me.
“You look amazing sitting there,” Rex says once he’s ordered. “The sun is just glowing on you.”
I reach out for his hand. I don’t even know what to say. I simply hold his hand in mine, our eyes on each other, soaking it all in.
Turns out the martini is refreshing (and strong—I decide one is enough), cold and delicious. Rex has also ordered sashimi and teases me as I tentatively taste the yellowfin tuna but it turns out it is smooth and delicate and I love it.
Once the sun sets I get a little chill in the evening air. I did think to bring a coat but mine is black and bulky and would have looked ridiculous with this gorgeous dress so I left it at home.
When the owner stops by to say hello to Rex, he brings me a thick wool wrap that warms me up instantly.
They think of everything it seems.
We watch as the boats in the harbor bob in the black water, some of their lights on and twinkling in the night. As dinner goes on we move closer and closer to one another.
Soon enough Rex is sitting right next to me, his hand often reaching out to touch me as he eats—rubbing my back or dropping down to my thigh. Once we’ve finished eating (the lobster is just so oh-my-god good) I’m snuggled up next to him with my head on his shoulder, the two of us looking out at the view, enjoying being with each other.
“If you’re up for it,” Rex says, “I have another little something for us back in L.A. If the helicopter was too noisy or uncomfortable we can take a boat back or even spend the night here.”
“Are you insane?” I say. “This is so amazing. It’s too much.”
“Hardly,” he says. “You deserve all this and more. And there is more, I promise.”
I knew when he said he had “a little something” back in L.A. that it wouldn’t be little at all—and it’s not.
The limo that dropped us off and took us to the airport now pulls into the lot of the Hollywood Bowl. Except it’s late—almost eleven—and there are no cars here so if something had gone on tonight, it’s long over.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“You simply can’t be an L.A. girl without really going to the Hollywood Bowl,” he says. “This place is too iconic. The season is over, obviously. You haven’t been here a full year but it does get cold in the winter, at least at night. Oh, here.” He moves forward to a box on the seat up near the driver. “I had Donald—” that’s the driver “—pick this up for you while we were at dinner.” From the box he pulls out a long wool black coat, elegant and classic. “I don’t want you to be cold.”
“Rex,” I say. “I can’t believe you. You bought me a coat.”
“I want to keep you warm,” he says.
I pull on the coat and cinch it at the waist with the belt, and it fits beautifully.
“What normally happens,” Rex explains, “is that you come early before the show begins and have dinner. Everyone brings a picnic unless you sit up in the box seats.”
“Which I’m sure you do,” I say.
“Well, Croft does own a couple,” he says. “They serve great food and wine here so it’s a whole dinner experience. And then the show begins. You have your wine while you watch the show, maybe get dessert—it’s pretty cool.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” I say, wondering if I’ll come here next summer. Wondering if I’ll still know Rex. Wondering if I’ll have landed a decent role yet.
“I think what I have planned is even better,” he says, sounding quite sure of himself.
There’s one lone security guard who lets us through. The lights are off over the seats but the stage is lit.
“Mind going up to the top?” he asks.
“Sounds good.”
We go up the steps to the cheap seats. A little table is set up with a canister of warm apple cider, which Rex serves me.
“Served by you personally?” I ask. “Wow, this must be a first. I have a feeling you’re not one of us.”
“Us who?”
“The millions who waited tables to get through college,” I say.