The host gives me a polished smile as I approach.
“Hi. I’m meeting Charles Milton for lunch. Out on the patio,” I say.
He glances down at a register before him.
“Name please, ma’am?”
“Robin Blake.”
“Right this way,” he says with another frosty smile.
I follow him through the elegant dining room. Couples and a few groups are already sitting eating at some of the tables, but it’s far from busy. The host leads me onto the patio. I expect it to be cold, but the heaters are doing a great job and it’s pleasantly cool instead. The patio is a little busier than the inside of the restaurant, and I can see why. The urban garden is a delightful array of ferns and greenery, and a small waterfall trickles delicately down a rocky façade into a koi pond at one end. The main attraction though, at least for me, is the view of Rodeo Drive and the hundreds of shoppers who come and go in the designer boutiques that line the street.
Charles stands up as he sees me approaching the table. He doesn’t shake my hand. He kisses it.
“Good to see you, Robin,” he says.
“And you, Mr. Milton,” I reply.
The host pulls my chair out, and I sit down. Charles retakes his seat.
“Please, call me Charles,” he says with a smile.
The host has faded away from the table.
“Should we order and then talk business?” Charles says.
I nod, although I am suddenly nervous, and I don’t know if I’ll even be able to eat anything. I choose a goat’s cheese and California date salad, something light that I can hopefully swallow, and a glass of sparkling water. Charles, who clearly isn’t nervous about this, orders a black truffle pizza and a glass of merlot.
When the waiter leaves, Charles grins at me.
“I have to take advantage of being out from underneath the wife’s watchful eye. She’s got me on one of those keto diets. Do you have any idea how many of life’s luxuries you miss out on when you can’t eat carbs?”
I laugh.
“Oh, I can imagine. What’s life even about without bread and pasta?”
“Precisely,” he says.
We make small talk while we wait for our order. When it comes, it looks so good I find my appetite is back with a vengeance, and I kind of wish I’d ordered something different. One bite though and I’m sold. It’s delicious.
“So, let’s talk business,” Charles says. “I’m going to cut to the chase here. I like you, Robin.”
Oh, here we go. Now here comes the “suck my cock and the job’s yours” speech.
“I really want to work alongside you. I’ve seen your work. It’s clever, and it sells. I’m not interested in playing some sort of game where you have to jump through hoops to know that this is going to happen.”
Okay, I was wrong. It seems that I’m the judgmental dick in this conversation. I go to thank him but he’s not finished yet.
“I ask one thing in return. I’m not playing games and I would like you to do me the same courtesy. I don’t work with agencies. I work with one person. Of course, I realize you’ll need a team behind you. What I mean is if I sign on with you, it will be for an obscene amount of money, and I don’t expect to call you to find out you can’t fit me into your schedule because you’re busy on other projects. Can you promise me that?”
I open my mouth to assure him that’s the case and then I close it again. I like Charles. I initially misjudged him and then I did it again, but he’s a genuine guy. And I owe him the same courtesy.
“I’d like to say yes, but you’ve put your cards on the table, so here’s mine. I’d have to call my boss and confirm I can hand over a couple of big projects to other team members.”
“Okay,” he says.
He looks at me expectantly.
“Oh. You want an answer right now?” I say. “I thought you’d want to go through my proposal first.”
He shakes his head.
“If I knew about advertising and brand messages, I wouldn’t need you, Robin. I trust your judgment. I don’t need to hear all the details. If you can promise me that one thing, I’m willing to sign on with you right now. Obviously, we’ll talk budgets and things later, but as far as I’m concerned, you just do your thing and I’ll leave you to it.”
“Then please excuse me while I go and make the call,” I say with a smile.
Charles stands as I do. I walk through the restaurant and across reception. I debate going up to my room, but it’ll be quicker to step out into the street and I don’t want to keep Charles waiting. He could change his mind if he thinks I’m playing him.