“No. Now that I’ve had a chance to watch the videos, and David confirmed that he paid for your portion of the meals, I don’t have any concerns. I’m just glad that you listened to my advice,” Mr. Morris said.
It sounded like not all his clients heeded his advice. I’d learned it was crucial to find people who knew what they were doing and then let them do it. If a lawyer told me not to do something, then I’d better not.
“I figured that if I want to play ball, I should,” I said.
Dad thanked everyone for their time, and we hung up.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I wish you weren’t involved. You know how the press will twist it if your name gets associated with something like this. They will assume the worst, and you’ll never convince them that you tried to do the right thing. Just look at what happens to whistleblowers. Rarely do they escape unscathed,” Dad said.
He was right. As uncomfortable as this whole situation made me, him pointing that out only caused me to worry more.
◊◊◊
When we got back to the set, I was approached by Misaki.
“Who are you taking to lunch today?” she asked.
“I’d planned just to grab something from the cafeteria.”
She immediately switched to big-sister mode.
“We all came to America to shoot this show because it was more convenient for you. You must show that you are thankful and make an effort,” she said.
“I didn’t ask that it be shot here,” I said, and then thought about it. “My agent might have told them that I didn’t want to have to travel to Japan.”
I formally bowed to her.
“Please guide me,” I suggested.
“You’re not as inept as I’d assumed,” she said in all seriousness. “You should ask Mr. Otsuki. Meanwhile, I will consider who should be next.”
It looked like I would be getting to know everyone better.
◊◊◊
“That’s a wrap. You have an hour for lunch,” Mr. Otsuki announced.
I approached him and then bowed.
“Would you be so kind as to go to lunch with me?” I asked.
The hustle and bustle of people escaping for lunch stopped. Mr. Otsuki looked around and could see every eye on set was watching this play out.
“Yes. That would be very nice,” he said, and then to the cast, “Make that an hour and a half.”
When I told Lexi what Misaki had recommended, she got busy trying to figure out where to take him. She informed me that she had called her dad, and he suggested Geoffrey’s. He’d even called them when Lexi wasn’t able to get a reservation.
I could tell that Mr. Otsuki was impressed when Manaia pulled up in the Range Rover and did the driver routine. He drove us into the heart of Malibu.
“This was initially called Holiday House, a historic hotel that opened in 1948. Shirley MacLaine, Lana Turner, Frank Sinatra, Marilyn Monroe, and John F. Kennedy all came here. Back in the ’80s, it was sold, and the name changed to Geoffrey’s Malibu.
“Please remain seated until I come to a stop, and I will get the door,” Manaia said.
When did he become a tour guide? He must have done his homework before the trip. I would bet that Lexi had a hand in that. Mr. Otsuki seemed to appreciate Manaia’s efforts.
When we entered the restaurant, the staff was very attentive. They recognized me and used Mr. Otsuki’s name without having to be told, even pronouncing it correctly—‘oat-ski.’ They took us to the patio that had an ocean view and seated us right in the middle.
“Only the best for VIPs,” our hostess said.
Lexi’s dad must have some serious pull if they were treating us like this.
I shared with the waiter that I liked to try new dishes. He suggested that I get the Tahitian corn chowder and watermelon salad as starters. The chowder had lump crab in it. When they brought it, I had to take a picture. Their presentation was something I wanted to show Mary Dole, the manager and part-owner of my two restaurants, when I got a chance. It would blow people away back home.
For lunch, I had the pan-seared Chilean sea bass. It reminded me of when we vacationed in the Caribbean during spring break last year. I would have to bring Brook and our parents here when they all arrived.
As lunch went on, Mr. Otsuki relaxed, and I found he was a funny guy. I’d only seen the business side of him. Like most Japanese, he took his job very seriously. He was married and had three daughters under the age of fourteen. His oldest had started to discover boys, and he and his wife worried.
He was amused that I’d been smart enough to ask Misaki to lunch first.
“That was luck,” I admitted. “I knew she was the first one who was supposed to flirt with me, so I thought I should get to know her better. It was a happy accident that I did. She seems to think she’s my big sister now.”
“That is a significant role for her. I would listen to her advice,” Mr. Otsuki counseled.
“She was the one who suggested I take you to lunch. She said she would plan out who would go with me each day moving forward.”
“Yes, that would be good for morale. I’ll add a half-hour to lunch each day you plan to go out.”
