It takes just over an hour to reach the restaurant, and when I get out of the car, there’s a warm breeze coming off the water. I stand for a few seconds, letting it blow through my hair. I don’t come to the beach enough. I’ve been in Los Angeles for a year and I can count the number of times I’ve been to the beach on one hand.
There’s staff waiting by the stairs up to the restaurant, and when one of them offers to escort me up the stairs, I gladly lean on his arm. I haven’t even been out an hour and I already know that the heels were a mistake. But there’s no way that you can wear flats with this dress. It just won’t work.
There are a few people dressed like me in the lobby, some in clusters drinking champagne. I’ve heard that this lobby is the place in Los Angeles to be seen, and several big movie deals have been brokered over pre-dinner cocktails.
I take in the scene before my eyes, and really revel in it. It’s one of those rare moments when the weight of who I am and where I am hits me. I’m a director. In Hollywood. Mixing among the industry movers and shakers. Then I hear behind me, “Amber.”
I turn and I almost fall over in my high heels. Peter is walking toward me, and he’s in a tuxedo. A full-fledged fucking tuxedo, and everything about it makes my heart pound and my mouth water. He was made for tuxedos. There should be a law passed that says he’s not allowed to wear anything else.
The suit emphasizes the width of his shoulders and fits to his waist like a glove. I’ve seen what’s under there, so I know exactly what that suit is hugging, and I never thought I’d think the words, but I’ve never so badly wanted to be a suit.
Get it together, girl. This is a business meeting, not a date. And you don’t want it to be a date. You don’t. You don’t you don’t you don’t.
“Hello,” I say as he reaches me.
His eyes are fire as he takes me in. “You look beautiful.”
“Given the way you look right now, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Peter laughs softly. “Thank you.”
I hold out my hand for a handshake, but then that seems too formal. Peter seems to agree, and we end up hugging. It’s stiff and a bit awkward, but a shiver goes through me, like a sense memory. It feels good. Too good.
Peter pulls away, and then he waves to someone behind me, and I turn to find Drew Barrymore smiling and waving. The Maître D’ approaches us, and I’m spared from having to make conversation with her, which I’m grateful for because if I’d known that that was going to happen, I’d have to give myself a pep talk or take a Xanax. Or both.
“Mr. Holleman, your table is ready.”
“Thank you,” Peter says, and holds out his arm to me. I take it as we follow the man into what seems like wonderland.
The lobby of Swann’s Lake is understated elegance with a beautiful chandelier and graceful curtains. The interior is sheer decadence and grace. Everything is coordinated in shades of faded peacock. There’s crystal and candlelight and it all very much seems like it’s lit by the moon even though the sun hasn’t set.
I’m not sure how they accomplish that, but it feels magical to me. In the center of the room is a large basin of water, which I’m sure is meant to represent the lake from the German folk tale. Though there’s no direct source of the light, there’s a very distinct moon being reflected in the water, another touch of brilliance.
Peter and I are seated near the back by a window, so we get both the ocean views that the restaurant is famous for and the atmosphere of the dining room. The plates on the table are emblazoned with a swan with flared wings, and there are feather accents on the cups and silverware. There’s not a detail that has been forgotten in this place.
“This is…amazing.”
“It’s my first time too,” Peter says. “This isn’t what I imagined.”
“They don’t allow pictures, do they?” I ask. “I’m just now realizing that I’ve never seen any. I feel like I would have remembered this.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Because of the clientele, there aren’t any photos permitted in the dining room.”
I laugh. “It’s a really well-kept secret. I’m amazed that there’s no photos out there.”
“From what I’ve heard, they have an excellent team of lawyers and people who comb the internet for pictures. They want to keep the mystery as part of the allure, so they take it seriously.”
“Yeah, I get that."
“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “Why am I here?” It’s so easy to fall into a conversation with Peter that if I don’t keep myself on track, then suddenly hours will have passed and we haven’t talked about the thing we actually intended to talk about. That’s how we got to know each other. After our first kiss, we would hang out and try to learn our lines for the play and end up just talking for hours. And of course, there was kissing. Always that, too.
“We should wait for Michael,” he says.
“Why?”
Peter shrugs. “It’s his idea. I think it’s a good one but I want him to be able to pitch it.”
“Fair enough. I guess we can order.”
“Actually no, there’s no ordering, just a chef’s menu.”
Oh. “Okay. Do we know what’s being served tonight?”
“I do,” a waiter says, appearing at the perfect time. “Tonight we will be serving orecchiette with basil chicken for your main meal. Appetizers are eggplant and sesame roses and dessert will be coffee and caramel fondant fancies.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re very welcome. May I interest either of you in a glass of wine?”
Peter looks to me, and I nod slightly. "Of course. I’ll leave it to you to choose something you think goes with the meal.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll bring that shortly.”
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I let my eyes go wide. “Okay, that food sounds amazing.”
Peter agrees. Even if they’re secretive about the decor, it’s not a secret that they have amazing food.
Another server approaches the table. “Mr. Holleman, excuse me, but you have a phone call.”
“Oh? Okay.”
He quickly follows her away and I’m left alone in the middle of this amazing place. I can’t stop looking around at the tiny details they’ve added. There are loose feathers scattered in among the rocks by the lake so it seems like a swan transformed there. The chandeliers are wrought metal shaped like wings.
In a way, it reminds me of a circus or a carnival in that it’s so immersive. Everything has been thought of and calculated for the perfect user experience.
And then on my other side is an absolutely gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean. The sun is setting and the ocean is a fiery red. I can see the beach grass moving and I imagine that perfect breeze from outside. I have an urge to kick off my shoes and go play in the sand. I wonder if I could convince Peter.
He’s back after a few minutes. “Everything all right?”
“Sort of. That was Michael. He’s had some sort of emergency with one of his other clients and can’t make it. He sounds pissed. I feel bad for whoever gets in his way. But he told me to pitch you his idea so that you can at least start to think about it.”