Chapter 28: How Did the Atmosphere Turn Romantic?
Bruce chatted with Grace while he drove, and half an hour later they reached the restaurant. A valet in a crisp white shirt and vest jogged over and guided Bruce to the temporary drop-off zone beside the main entrance. After getting out, Bruce handed over the keys and received a numbered brass ticket.
Bruce and Grace walked in together. Inside, exposed brick walls surrounded them, candlelight flickering across the surfaces while a four-piece string ensemble played soft classical music, creating an intimate, romantic atmosphere.
After Bruce gave his name, a waiter led them to a window table. They both looked outside and saw light snow beginning to fall.
"The beef Wellington is their specialty, and the seafood is supposed to be amazing too," Bruce suggested, scanning the menu. Grace studied hers and said, "I'd like to try the sea bass—lemon butter sauce with roasted vegetables sounds perfect." Bruce ordered the Wellington that the waiter recommended. "And a bottle of that Napa Valley Chardonnay you mentioned."
For appetizers, Bruce ordered French onion soup and Grace chose a Caesar salad. The entrees arrived beautifully presented: Grace's pan-seared sea bass had golden, slightly crispy skin with snow-white, tender flesh glistening with lemon butter sauce; Bruce's Wellington looked golden and glossy, making his mouth water.
"This looks incredible," Bruce said, cutting a piece of steak. "Mmm—crispy outside, perfectly medium-rare inside." He moved the piece to the edge of Grace's plate. "Want to try it?"
Grace tried the offered bite. "Oh wow, this is seriously good—the pastry is so flaky and the beef is perfect." She cut a piece from her fish and placed it on Bruce's plate. "Fair's fair—try mine. This lemon butter sauce is amazing."
The waiter brought the Chardonnay, opened it, and poured Grace half a glass. As he started to pour for Bruce, Bruce said, "I'm driving—just water for me, thanks."
Once the waiter had poured his water, Bruce raised his glass to Grace. "Happy New Year, Grace—to reconnecting after all these years!"
Grace smiled warmly. "I'll drink to that. Happy New Year, Bruce!"
Their glasses clinked.
They ate and talked. Grace shared some childhood memories, but Bruce didn't remember most of them, which surprised Grace—after all, they'd been neighbors until she was twelve and he was ten, not exactly too young to remember.
Bruce suspected his patchy memories had something to do with his condition after the accident, but he didn't want to get into that. He wouldn't know how to explain it anyway.
So he steered the conversation to their careers. Grace had graduated from University of Chicago Law School last year, passed the New York bar in July, got her license in October, and joined Sullivan & Cromwell in Manhattan as an associate.
When it came to Bruce's screenwriting work, he was honest about writing adult scripts since college. Not until he sold Inglourious Basterds in early October did he start to break into mainstream work—and he still had one last adult script to finish. He laid it all out honestly.
Suddenly Bruce remembered that at the Christmas dinner, he'd forgotten to remind his friends not to mention his adult film work in front of his parents.
The thought made him relieved. "Thank God they kept quiet—Mom would've freaked out!"
Grace said, "If you hadn't told me, I never would have guessed. You seem so... normal."
Bruce laughed. "What's a porn writer supposed to look like? Sleazy? Creepy? We use keyboards, not our looks!"
Grace grinned. "I don't know, but you definitely don't fit the stereotype I had in my head."
She continued, "The first time I visited your mom, she told me you wrote scripts for film studios." Her tone turned amused. "At Christmas dinner—while you were passed out—she kept talking about your work and even asked your friends if they'd seen your movies. Looking back, no wonder they all looked so uncomfortable!" She started laughing.
Bruce swirled his water glass with a sly grin. "Actually, my screenwriting credit is a pseudonym—Hardwood. So unless Monica or I tell you, even if you watched those movies, you'd never know the writer was your friend Bruce."
Grace raised an eyebrow playfully. "Now I'm actually curious. Maybe I should track down copies and watch them."
Bruce replied, "You don't need to hunt them down—my agent Ruby has the complete collection. she is not only my agent but also works for the production company that makes and distributes them."
Grace gave him a teasing smile. "Bruce, you seem awfully eager to help—are you planning to watch them with me?"
Bruce kept a straight face, his eyes twinkling. "Honestly, I never watch my own work, but if you really want to, I suppose I could make an exception."
The rest of dinner continued with an increasingly flirtatious atmosphere that lasted until they finished, drove back to Greenwich Village, and headed to Monica's apartment for the party.
When they reached Bruce's building and got out of the car, Grace suddenly caught his hand. Bruce turned, surprised, then smiled and gently squeezed back.
On the fourth floor, they could hear loud music and laughter before they even reached Monica's door.
Bruce pushed it open to find everyone already there—plus several people he didn't recognize beyond the usual group.
Joey spotted them first. "Bruce and Grace are here!"
Everyone cheered enthusiastically, which made Bruce chuckle—he suspected that in the holiday spirit, even a random stranger would get the same welcome.
Rachel came over to introduce everyone's dates, but Bruce held up a hand. "Wait—let me guess first!"
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