Page 3 of Lilly

"Don't do it again," my dad says, his eyes on Reed, who just nods.

"Well," Rachel says in a cheery voice, trying to break the tension in the room. "Should we go? With traffic, it might take us a while to get to the restaurant."

"Is your dad still meeting us?" I ask Reed.

"Yeah, I texted him when you were in the bathroom. He said he'd be there."

A half hour later, we're seated at a trendy and very expensive restaurant in Santa Monica. I spotted three celebrities as soon as we walked in.

"Sorry I'm late," Dean says as he joins us at the table. "Traffic was terrible. It took me ten minutes just to turn out of the office parking lot."

"It's no problem," Rachel says, smiling. "We just got here."

Dean smiles back. "Good to see you both again."

"I suppose it's been a while since we last got together," my dad says.

Back in April, my parents had dinner with Dean when they were in L.A. for a speech my dad was giving. My dad insists on knowing Reed's family, and since his mom is nowhere to be found, he's determined to get to know Dean.

My dad trusts no one. He's always convinced people are up to something or trying to get our money. But he doesn't need to worry about Reed's dad. He seems to have plenty of money and he doesn't have any kind of criminal past, at least not that I know of.

"Welcome, Mr. Kensington." A man in a gray suit comes up to our table, standing tall, his hands clasped behind him, a big grin on his face. "I'm Stephen, the restaurant manager, and I just want to say what a pleasure it is to have you here today."

"Thank you." My dad gives him a polite smile. He doesn't like it when people do this. When they suck up to him because he's rich and well-known. But it happens a lot in L.A., where people are always trying to wheel and deal and make connections. That's why we live in Santa Barbara. He has more privacy there. He can go out in public and be left alone.

"I'd love to offer you a bottle of wine from our exclusive list," the manager says. "On the house of course."

I'll never understand why rich people are always being given free stuff. My dad can afford to buy the most expensive wine on the menu and yet this guy wants to give him a bottle for free. And the freebies extend to the rest of us. Designers are always sending Rachel and me clothes for free, hoping we'll wear them and be photographed in them so the designer gets free publicity. Rachel usually ends up donating the clothes, but I sometimes keep them. My dad tells me not to, but sometimes they're really cool clothes that aren't sold in stores so I couldn't buy them even if I wanted to.

"We'll pass on the wine," my dad says to the manager, "but thank you for offering." He turns back to the table, signaling the man to leave.

"Certainly," the manager says, seeming nervous, as if he somehow offended my dad by offering him the wine. "Anything else I can do for you, please let me know."

My dad waits for him to leave, then says to Dean, "So, do you often have to work the weekends?"

"Not usually." His eyes go to the manager, who is now at the back of the room talking to our waitress and looking at us, likely telling the waitress who my dad is and how he should be treated better than her other customers. It's wrong that people with money get special treatment but that's just the way it is.

"What are you working on these days?" my dad asks Dean.

He glances away from the manager and focuses back on my dad. "I'm not sure if Reed told you but I've applied for an executive position at my company. I was in the office today putting together a proposal for some new promotional concepts that I'm going to submit to the higher ups in the hopes of increasing my chances of getting the job."

"If he gets it he won't have to travel as much," Reed says.

"That would be nice." Rachel smiles at Reed and his dad. "I hope you get the job."

He shakes his head. "I doubt that I will. A lot of other, more qualified people have applied. For years, I've tried to get one of these positions and I can't even get an interview." He looks down at the table. I get the feeling he's embarrassed he just admitted that. He knows my dad is a huge success and I think he's intimidated by that and maybe a little jealous. Reed said his dad is always saying how he should be farther along in his career.

"Perhaps this proposal you put together will convince them you're the best man for the job," my dad says.

"Either that or I'll finally get the right people on my side. It's all who you know, right?" He laughs a little, then notices my dad's serious expression and quickly clears his throat as he picks up his menu. "I suppose we should order."

He opens the menu so the rest of us do as well. Except for my dad. He's eyeing Dean and getting those lines between his eyes that mean he's getting angry. But why? Because Dean made that comment about who you know? It's true. It IS all about who you know, especially in L.A..

Another man approaches our table, but this time it's a customer. He's wearing dark gray dress pants and a white shirt but no tie. The shirt is unbuttoned at top and the sleeves are rolled up, revealing a Rolex watch on his wrist.

"Pearce." The man shows off a wide toothy grin as he steps up next to the table. His teeth are so white they're almost blinding.

"Richard." My dad smiles but he's not happy to see the guy. He's giving him that tight smile he uses when he's annoyed or doesn't want to be bothered.

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