Lies and Weddings(87)
“So your sister is on the Daddy List?”
“Yep, she finally made it on the list this year,” Freddy said as they approached the host stand by the door and he eagerly announced, “We’re with the Farman-Farmihian party.”
“Terribly sorry, but we don’t have a booking with that name,” the host said in a British accent that was so over-the-top, Eden figured it must surely be put on.
“Er…can you check your reservation list again?” Freddy asked, noting that he hadn’t even glanced at the iPad on the podium.
“I know everyone who’s coming tonight, and there’s no Farman-Farmihian,” the host replied curtly.
“How about ‘Daniela’?” Eden offered.
The man stared at Eden in surprise, clocking her accent, which was many tiers posher than his. “Daniela what?”
“I suppose it would be Farman-Farmihian,” Eden replied.
“Sorry, nobody by that name.”
“How about Abe Froman?” Eden quipped.
“No Abe Froman,” the host replied grimly, not getting her joke.
“Wait. How about Princess Soraya?” Freddy suddenly blurted out.
The host’s demeanor immediately transformed. “Of course. The princess is inside.”
“Thank god!” Freddy exhaled in relief as the host tapped on his iPad and pointed it toward the glossy black door. The telltale click of the door unlocking was the sweetest sound Freddy had ever heard, and they soon found themselves entering a handsome wood-paneled mock tavern with black and white titled floors, forest-green velvet banquettes, and vintage Scandinavian bronze lamps on each table. Everything glowed that beautiful McNallyesque golden glow, and the place was packed with raucous diners reveling in the fact that they were being seen at the hottest restaurant in town. Eden spotted Daniela waving to them from the long bar at the back of the room.
“I’ll meet you in a sec, gotta pee like a Russian racehorse!” Freddy said.
Eden waded through the crowd and made it up to the cramped bar, where Daniela greeted her with a big hug. “Isn’t this place fabulous? I don’t even want to tell you how many publicists had to die for us to get a table here.”
“I’m not going to ask!” Eden laughed, scanning the room and noticing yet again that all the women were dressed to the nines, while most of the men—especially the older ones—looked like they had come straight from the gym in their sweatpants, sneakers, and baseball caps. Eden leaned in to Daniela’s ear. “So I’m noticing something about LA. Why is it that every guy is dressed like—”
“An overgrown man-child?”
“I wasn’t going to put it like that, but yes! The rich kids all dress like old men, and the old men dress like kids.”
“That’s because everyone’s obsessed with youth in this town. The women all get so many fillers they look like ventriloquist dummies, while the men dress like they’re sixteen and get hair transplants. That’s why you see so many baseball caps, they’re all hiding their scars until their hair fully grows back. It’s also a power thing. The sloppier you look, the more important you are. See the guy over there who looks like a football coach from a small Texas town who should have retired two decades ago? He’s the head of a major film studio. And the geezer over there in the Hawaiian shirt who looks like he woke up hungover from a Jimmy Buffett concert? He’s a gazillionaire who’s sold three of the world’s biggest media companies.”
“Fascinating…,” Eden said, staring at the ruddy-faced man and noticing the bread crumbs all over the front of his Hawaiian shirt.
“They’re all competing to look like teenage hobos, because it means they are too important to give a shit. So every climber tries to ape this look. Most of them are just agents or talent managers. You can tell because they’re the ones wearing the expensive hoodies with their Nautiluses. The Nautilus is a dead giveaway.”
“What’s a Nautilus?”
“It’s a watch.”
“Oh, like the one the man next to us is wearing?”
Daniela glanced down at the man’s wrist and shook her head contemptuously. “No, that’s an Oyster. Oysters are for real estate brokers hawking overpriced houses in the Bird Streets.[*2] Nautiluses are for midlevel entertainment execs. Look at that guy in cargo shorts and flip-flops over there—he’s not even wearing a watch. That’s true power.”
The hostess came up to them. “Your Highness? I have good news. The party at your table was just served their desserts, so that means you’ll be seated within thirty, forty-five minutes, tops.”
“Fabulous,” Daniela said.
After the hostess had left, Eden said, “So I had no idea you were a princess.”
Daniela burst out laughing. “I might have taken some liberties…that’s my future mother-in-law’s name. Yeah, Lior’s mom is descended from Afghan royalty, even though he grew up in Rome and Tel Aviv.”
“How cool. I’ve always wanted to visit Tel Aviv.”
“Well, you’re coming to my wedding—it’s going to be there!”
“Twist my arm! When’s the big day?” Eden asked.
“We’re doing it in November when it cools down.”
“Sounds perfect.” Eden hesitated for a moment before she ventured to ask, “Tell me, how did you know that Lior was ‘the one’?”