Revelation

The restaurant was busy with the lunch time crowd as Rome walked in the door, glancing around and quickly finding Al’s familiar face in the back. The executive lifted his hand, a smile on his face. Rome returned the smile and waved before heading that direction, skirting around a waitress and a young girl who was clearly not having the best day as she shouted at her mother and flung her chair backward across the tile floor with a screech.
It wasn’t an elegant restaurant, that was for certain, but the casual atmosphere of Shooters made it a hit with the younger crowd, and it was owned by a celebrity chef, so Rome hadn’t thought twice when he’d agreed to meet Al and the new owner of the production company here for lunch. It wasn’t too far away from the backlot where he was filming that day either, now that the desert scenes were all in the books. “Al, how are you?” Rome asked, extending his hand as the other man stood to shake it.
“Great, Rome. Nice to see you. Have a seat.” He gestured at the chair across from him, and Rome pulled it out, ignoring the dozens of eyes that were on him now. A lot of these people were either stars themselves or upper class people who were used to hanging out with the rich and famous, but enough of them were starstruck at his appearance, Rome was praying he wouldn’t have to sign any autographs or take any photos. He just wasn’t in the mood at the moment.
“How’s it going?” Al asked as he adjusted his tie and sat back down. “You look great.”
“Thanks,” Rome said. “It’s going well, all things considered.” Sometimes it was difficult for him to remember that the rest of the world thought he was a grieving widower, but enough people asked him how he was in a sympathetic voice that it often jarred his memory. “How are you?”
“Couldn’t be happier,” he said with a genuine smile and a nod. “The company has so many great things coming up, I’m really excited to see where this all goes.”
“That’s great to hear,” Rome said, honestly glad to see Al so upbeat about the state of the production company under its new ownership. The waiter came over and took Rome’s drink order. “Is the owner coming?”
“Oh, yeah. He’ll be here soon.” Al checked his phone and nodded. “Traffic. Paris is one thing, but LA is another beast altogether.”
Rome nodded in understanding and glanced down at the menu. He only had about an hour before he was expected back on set. He hoped the new owner would arrive soon so they could get their discussion out of the way, and he could go back to work. It seemed odd to be talking about what was to come next when he was so engrossed in what he was currently working on.
“I think you’re really going to like what we’ve got planned,” Al said, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands as he spoke. “The films we’ve got lined up are all going to be huge. We’ve really taken a lot of time and effort to make sure each one is a new challenge for you, suitable for your talents.”
Rome raised an eyebrow, hoping he meant a challenge in a good way. “That’s good,” he said, not sure what else to say. “Are they all dramas?”
“I’ll wait until Henry gets here to go over the details, but I’m sure you’ll really like everything. We’ve got a few comedies and action flicks sprinkled in, but the majority of them are dramatic roles, pieces you can really sink your teeth into.”
Al was talking fast, but the mention of the new owner’s name caught Rome’s attention. Something in the back of his mind began to niggle away, though he couldn’t quite put the pieces together. The waiter brought him his drink, and Rome took a sip of his tea, trying to slow his thoughts down. Did Al say Henry? Why did that name seem familiar to him, and what was the association between Henry and France?
The other man was continuing to chat at a hundred miles a minute, and Rome was a few steps behind, his mind struggling to decode the mystery set before him and keep track of the current information spewing out of Al’s mouth. It wasn’t until he said, “Ah, there’s Henry now,” and stood up that Rome got a sickening feeling in his stomach. Even without turning to look at the man, he realized exactly what was going on.
Slowly, Rome stood, turning around to look at the young man approaching their table, a snarl of a smile on his handsome face. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Rome, and his expensive French suit let Rome know his suspicions were right. Shaking his head, Rome tried to keep his emotions under check. He’d already signed the damn contract, and there was no getting out of it now. He may as well hold onto his dignity.
“Rome Verona! We meet at last!” Henry Caron said, offering his hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
Rome took his hand, even though he would’ve preferred not to touch the snake at all. “Mr. Caron,” he said. “This is a surprise, I will say that much.”
Henry smirked at him. “You didn’t know?”
“Can’t say that I did,” Rome admitted. “But… a contract is a contract. I’m sure you have the best interests of the company in mind.”
“Indeed,” Henry said, letting go of his hand and shaking Al’s.
The executive was confused. He shook Henry’s hand and asked, “Do the two of you know each other?”
“It’s a long, sorted story,” Rome replied dismissively, sitting back down.
Al’s eyebrows were still arched as he, too, took his seat, Henry filling the chair next to Al. He seemed to accept he’d have to get the details from Henry some other time, so Rome didn’t bother to explain. It would be impossible for him to tell Al how he knew Henry without getting angry. The words, “Henry is the man Lloyd Sinders forced my now-dead wife to become engaged to right after he made her get an annulment from me,” sort of choked in his throat. It would be better if Henry told Al from his perspective. Somehow, Rome assumed it would sound less harsh and accusatory coming from him.
The idea that Ella would be furious when she realized who Rome would be dealing with crossed his mind, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to keep his cool. It also occurred to him that Henry might have agreed to the terms of the ten movie contract in an attempt to ruin Rome’s career. Perhaps the man had money to burn and could make some awful movies just to bring him down. He prayed that wouldn't be the case, but there was something about Henry Caron’s beady eyes that made him think otherwise. Just when things seemed to be going well, Rome found himself falling right back down a rung or two--or ten. Was this always going to be the case? For the rest of his life?
“How have you been?” Henry asked after ordering a beverage from the waiter who’d followed him to the table. His accent was much thicker than Ella’s, but Rome had no trouble understanding him. “I hear you bought a lovely house on the beach.”
Rome’s eyebrows shifted as he wondered who had told Henry about the house. What else did he know? Surely, he didn’t suspect that Ella was truly alive, did he? “I did buy a beach house. I wanted a refuge away from the city so that when I’m not filming, I can find some peace.”
“I can understand that. With all you’ve been through recently, peace must be hard to come by.”
Henry’s tone wasn’t sympathetic. If anything, it was accusatory. “Yes, well, I’ve lost a lot recently,” he said, looking into the Frenchman’s eyes.
A condescending snicker came out of Henry’s mouth. “As have I,” he replied.
Rome’s dander was up now. Apparently, there would be no pretending that this was an actual business arrangement meant to prosper both of their careers. It was obvious now that Henry’s reasons for bringing Rome onboard had nothing to do with continuing the company’s association with the Veronas.
“Is everything… all right?” Al asked, either lost, frightened, or both, at the clear angst between the other two men at the table.
“Al, can you do me a favor?” Henry asked, not answering the question. “Could you step outside and call Garrison back at the office? I need that order from Benson Light and Sound processed immediately, and I forgot to tell him before I left for this meeting.”
“Yes, of course,” Al said, still confused. His eyebrows were raised as he looked at Rome, an indication that he had no idea the meeting would become hostile so quickly.
Shaking his head slightly to let Al know that he didn’t hold him responsible, Rome let him go and then turned his attention back to Henry. “What is this all about, Caron?” he asked, trying to keep his anger under control. “Surely, you don’t have enough money to waste making ten terrible movies because you have a bone to pick with me.”
Henry smirked, saying nothing as the waiter set his drink down. “Do you need a few more minutes to look at the menu?” the young man asked.
“Yes,” Rome replied. He’d need all the time in the world, his appetite having left with Henry’s appearance.