Want Your Bad Romance

I was feeding Lacey when the phone rang. I put her bowl on the floor, pet her briefly, then answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jen!"

"Kenni?" Kenna – or Kenni – Davids was a friend I'd gone through all of secondary school with.

"Yep. Hey, what are your plans for next Tuesday night? About nine to… I don't know."

"Um, clear, I guess. Why?"

"It's the grand opening of l'Amour de Cuisine – the high end restaurant I am now chef of!"

We both squealed like teenagers.

"No joke?" I asked.

"Sweetie. Would I joke about this?"

It was Kenni's dream to be a famous chef. "No. No, you would not."

She squealed again. "Omigosh! Everybody's going to be there," she gushed. "The owner is a producer – Mary McLaglen – and she's worked with so many names! She's done some films with Sandra Bullock, um, and then Ryan Reynolds and that kid, Haley Joel Osment…"

We chatted excitedly for a while. I realized how little girl time I was getting lately. I was solitary by nature, but that didn't mean I couldn't be lonely every now and then.

~

I showed up at l'Amour de Cuisine, fancy dress, red carpet and all, with my friend, television actor Victor Webster. I'd met him through Amy, with whom he'd had a brief romantic relationship.

We walked arm in arm up to the doors, ignoring most of the camera flashes.

The inside of the restaurant was brilliant. I was awestruck. I surrendered my coat to the well-dressed man at the door while I looked around. The room was amazingly spacious, with large, round tables scattered throughout. The room was decorated white and light green with small flames of red here and there. Across the room, I spotted a doorway that doubtlessly led to another dining room.

I wanted to find Kenni and gush with her for a few seconds more, but reminded myself she was most likely busy.

There were a few people milling about already, the ones who didn't have to arrive fashionably late. Victor spotted someone he knew, and I caught sight of a group of script writers. We excused each other and went our separate ways. I approached the script writers a little cautiously, as I wasn't exactly comfortable around them - people I didn't really know.

"Hi, Pete," I said as I walked up.

"Jennifer, hello!" he answered. He introduced me to those in the group I didn't already know and we all exchanged 'nice to meet you's. I fell into the background, mostly listening to their conversations which evolved from the stock market to the most likely upcoming box office hit.

More and more guests arrived as I tried to remain a passive part of the conversation.

"I thinks it's a wonderful sport. It does wear you out quickly and it's a good way to keep limber and active. And it is quite the gentleman's - or gentle lady's - game…"

I nearly jumped when I felt a hand gently touch the small of my back to draw my attention. When I turned, my eyes met the deep, mysterious brown ones of Johnny Depp.

"Hello, Jen. It's nice to see you again."

"Oh, yes," I responded, still trying to get over my small scare. "Yes, it's nice to see you, too," I mumbled.

"May I steal you?" he asked, his voice completely innocent.I realized that statement could be taken many ways, but I guessed that he meant to extract me from the conversation.

"I touched Peter Chiarialdi's arm lightly and said, "Excuse me." He simply nodded, and Johnny and I moved away from the group of screenwriters. I noticed some of the guests were sitting. Johnny led me to a table and held out a chair for me.

"Thank you," I nearly whispered as I sat. I briefly wondered if Kenni had anything to do with the decorations; among the bouquet of white and baby blue carnations in the vase on the table, their was a strikingly red rose. Johnny took a chair across from me, and I took note that he had chosen one of the smaller tables. This one was only set for four, while the majority of the others had eight places.

I cleared my throat, feeling a tad nervous for some reason. "So, why did you choose me as a dining mate? Shouldn't such an important figure like you be eating with other big names?"

He chuckled slightly. "This isn't really… my crowd," he answered, sounding a bit nervous himself. "I'm not really a people person. And contrary to popular belief - apparently - I'm not an 'important figure.' I just wear the strange clothes, do what the directors tell me to, and read the words those guys write." He motioned to the screenwriters with a nod of his head. "This event - it's more for them. There aren't a lot of people I know here."

"I feel quite the same on that front. Isn't Vanessa with you, though?"

"Not tonight, no. She had to return to France to work on some publicity for her new album."

"Oh." I was caught slightly off guard. "Well, it's a good thing we've found each other tonight, then, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

Mary McLaglan gave a brief speech and thanked us all for coming, then the waiters brought out wine, and the first course. Johnny and I discussed how we came to be invited to the grand opening of l'Amour de Cuisine. He thought it quite interesting that I was friends with the chef directly, and I found it quite interesting that he'd been invited through one of his director's co-worker's boss. By the second course, we'd moved onto our professions and how we'd gotten into them. At the third course, we were discussing our current projects - for him, Rango and Shantaram, and for me, my newest novel.

That night was one of the best I'd had in a while. After the fifth course, people began leaving, and the population of the restaurant dwindled around us. Eventually, we agreed it was time to depart.

"I had a wonderful time tonight. It was very nice to get to know you."

"Yes, me too," I told him, since he'd taken the thoughts from my brain.

"Can I walk you out?" he asked.

I wanted so badly to say yes. But I knew Kenni would kill me if I didn't talk to her. "I'm sorry, I've got to see my friend - " I gestured to the kitchen.

"Ah, the chef," he said. "Well, I hope to see you soon. Good night."

"Good night," I said and watched him walk off. When he was out of sight, I turned to the kitchen and cautiously opened the door. There were hundreds of people dressed in white carrying humongous mountains of dirty dishes around the kitchen. I was exaggerating, but that was the impression I got. I wove around the precarious piles of plates and found Kenni.

"Jen!" Her face lit up when she saw me. "I can't talk now, hon. Wait for me outside?" She shoved a glass of wine in my hand and pushed me out of the kitchen. Well… some nice red wine. Alone time. And then a giggle girl-fest in a little while. Why not?

Glass in hand, I sat down where I'd eaten and swirled the wine. I watched the red liquid and felt my thoughts mimic its whirlpool.

At dinner, Johnny had been so caring and expressive, like an open book. We had talked about our pasts, and I felt like I held back more than he did. There was something about his eyes… They looked at me like I was special. Like he'd never met anyone like me.

But beyond that - I was attracted to him. Emotionally and physically. His voice was swoon-worthy, and he was most definitely not hard on the eyes. He used his hands as he spoke, illustratively, and I found them beautiful. And then there was the fact that I felt comfortable with him. I could really open up, and I didn't feel very awkward or unintelligent, or out of place.

I began to think I could see him among the folds of my wine. I quickly set the glass on the table.

Was I falling for Johnny Depp?

~

Kenni swung her small purse as we walked up to my house. She was laughing - and a bit tipsy. I held her purse still so I could stick her car keys into it - I had refused to let her drive home - and I pulled out my own keys to unlock the door. It was well after midnight - around two I assumed. After the kitchen of l'Amour de Cuisine had emptied, Kenni and I had sat and talked with, drinking quite a lot of wine in the process. She was obviously ecstatic, and I was so happy for her. She had dreamed of this as long as I'd known her, and I believed she deserved ever single bit of it. I assumed she invited herself to spend the night, as she followed me in.

"It's all -" she interrupted herself with a hiccup. "All so wonder - " hic "-ful."

"I know, hon," I said as I patted her arm and took her purse from her. She sat on the bed, giggling - but on the verge of tears, I suspected. "I'm so happy for you," I told her genuinely. I left her there to get settled, and readied myself for bed. by the time I slipped between the covers myself, my friend was fast asleep.