Becca would take one look at her and know something was wrong, regardless of the stellar job Kit had done on her face. Kit couldn’t handle her friend’s perceptive mind right now, so she did what she tried very hard never to do with her closest friends: she put on a mask.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and thought of a bit part she’d played right when she’d started out in the industry. It had been of a “girl next door” whose only job had been to smile and flirt with the coffee guy who was the heartthrob, thus giving the heroine a reason to act jealous. It hadn’t been the greatest script, but it had paid her rent that month.
It was also perfect for today. Her eyes filled with cheerful joy, her lips curved, and suddenly she wasn’t Kit anymore but that happy, uncomplicated girl next door. If only the transformation wasn’t simply skin deep.
Noah picked Abe up around seven, the two of them having decided to grab a bite together after the keyboard player got into the city. “Any preferences?”
His mahogany skin gleaming with health after his camping and hiking vacation, Abe rubbed his hand over his clean-shaven skull. It was a very conservative look for the other man; he usually rocked color, with patterns razored into his close-cut and tightly curled hair. Noah hadn’t seen this look since soon after they first arrived in Los Angeles as eighteen-year-olds full of dreams.
“Remember that Italian place your bud Esteban showed us last time he was in the city?” Abe said after a second’s thought.
“Yeah.” Noah had enjoyed that restaurant too. It was run by a family of six who all seemed genuinely happy to be part of a family business. No hidden surliness or frustrated ambitions.
The eldest son, Luca, worked the door and took care of the guests. The father was the head chef, with the only daughter in the family his apprentice. The mother was a pastry chef in charge of desserts, and the two younger sons waited tables. One was studying management, the other human relations, both in preparation for opening a second family-run place.
Noah knew all that because Luca had sat down with him, Esteban, and the guys during their first visit. They’d ended up being the last people in the place that night, but rather than hurrying them out, the kitchen had sent out extra platters full of delicious bites, and the younger sons had kept topping up their drinks.
Needless to say, the five of them had left a gigantic tip.
“Here.” He passed Abe his phone. “Give them a call while I drive. They might be full up—it was a popular place the last time we were there. Number’s under Meluchi.”
Abe made the call, and from what Noah heard, it appeared the person on the other end well remembered their table. “We in?” he asked Abe after the other man hung up with a laugh.
“Yeah.” Abe put the phone in the cup holder. “They’re setting up an extra table for us on the patio. Apparently it won’t have a view, but fuck the view, I want the food.”
Noah grinned. “Yeah.” He glanced reflexively at his phone when it vibrated, but it wasn’t Kit’s face that filled the screen, the shot one he’d taken back before he’d destroyed them. She was laughing in that photo, her eyes crinkled at the corners and her hair coming loose from the careless bun in which she’d knotted it.
“I’ll grab it.” Abe picked up the phone. “David, what do you want?” he asked with the casual rudeness that was only acceptable among men who’d been friends for so long that politeness would be considered a sign of trouble. “When? Yeah, I’ll tell Noah. We’re going to that Italian place.”
A pause.
“Fuck you, man.” Abe laughed and hung up. “He’s bragging about not needing to date us now he has Thea.”