This is the longest chapter I've ever written at 16 pages. Lovino could not shut up.
I based Luise's fashion sense on my sister's fashion sense: jeans and a t-shirt. And when you ask her if this looks good, she'll say that it's nice. It's a pain shopping with her.
The timeline for the story so far, the first chapter was in mid-December and chapter 2 and 3 were during the beginning of January. I did some research and found out that the Grammy nominations come out in November. Tiina was a little late to the punch.

All soccer teams that are mentioned in this story are real soccer teams. Romano would be a fan of A.S. Roma and Spain would be a fan of Real Madrid. It's there capitals!
Li Xiao Chun = Hong Kong; Chris= New Zealand; Odo = Germania; Carmen = OC!Castile

I wasn't going to have too much Spanish and Italian in this story but when I made Françoise speak French, I had to make Lovino speak Italian. I used Google translate to help me. So, I'm sorry if the Spanish and Italian in this story is grammatically incorrect. I don't use Google for the French, so if Françoise says anything in a French Canadian dialect, sorry.

Translations
Bonne soirée= Good evening (French)
Non=No (French)
Mon amour pour la cuisine = my love for the kitchen (French)
Buonasera Antonio, come è stato il disco = Good evening Antonio, how was your drive? (Italian)
Mannaggia= Damn (Italian, often used in Southern part of Italy... at least according to wiki.)
Lo siento = Sorry (Spanish)
Perché parli italiano? = Why are you speaking Italian (Italian)
Non so perché! = I don't know why! (Italian)
Eso está bien = That's nice (Spanish)
Mi dispiace = I'm sorry (Italian)

Chapter 3
I want a new tour bus full of old guitars,
My own star on Hollywood Boulevard,
Somewhere between Cher and James Dean is fine for me
Rockstar (Nickelback) 2005

The dinner table was huge. You must have seen Disney's Cinderella. It was like the King's table (or the bed because that bed was just as big) and for those who are anti-Disney (I never understood why, I grew up on the Disney classics and they were always amazing in my view. I always wanted to dance in a ballroom, or fly on a magic carpet with Aladdin… I mean… never mind). The table was as long as Mister Burns' table in the Simpsons. And if you've never seen either one of those tables, go out and watch them! They are now pop culture (the show and the movie, not the tables.)

Now, I was on the one side of the table with Sandro on my left and that bitch Luise on my other side. Sandro was dressed well for the occasion. He had a light blue tennis shirt and khakis. Luise was in a strapless military green dress and had a bow in her short (I think she and her brother have the same hairstyle) blonde hair. Yes, Luise was in a dress and a bow! It seemed so wrong. You know how they say 'you learn something new every day'? I learned that Luise should never wear a dress and a bow. I would look way more feminine and amazing in that dress- I mean Feliks! Well… not that I wouldn't look better than Luise in that dress either. Never mind, I'll just stop talking about Luise in a dress because it was disturbing enough. Though, I had a great view of her rack. I mean, her rack was huge. I remember the first time I found out that Luise had breasts. It was two months after she had become my manager and she wore a business suit. Her blouse was two sizes too small and thank you. I couldn't stop staring. They were bigger than Katy Perry's! (I stared at those too. 'Pig.' Well, if she didn't want people to stare she wouldn't have put a cupcake bra on.)

On the other side of the table was Antonio, looking as perfect as ever, and his wife. Antonio was dressed in a yellow button down shirt (yes, Antonio actually looked amazing in yellow. How is that boy not a god? Almost no one looks good in yellow) and a pair of skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination (you got to love dreams). His wife had a green ribbon in her shoulder length blonde hair. Her green dress looked like it was a costume in 'The Stepford Wives'. She looked like a perfect little Stepford wife. It was scary.

We were all eating dinner. Emma had made filetto (i.e. filet mignon). It was too good. I think it was better than Feli's pasta. There was nothing she couldn't do. She even made a chocolate soufflé for dessert that was to die for.

Throughout the whole dinner the married couple was acting like a pair of horny teenagers. This is how you know you are having a nightmare. Your crush is making out with someone else throughout 90% of it. They were seriously going at it. It would have been hot, if it wasn't so terrifying. First I see Luise in a dress and then I have to see them going at it like a couple of rabbits? This was the worst dream I had ever had. I can't believe I had a worse dream than the dream where I walked in on Luise and Feli having sex. The scariest part was that I didn't know if it was a dream or not.
Emma was moaning like a whore. Antonio was yelling things, obviously to make me feel bad. It was a bunch of 'I love yous' and 'I will never leave yous' and 'you're so beautifuls'. And she begged for more. I was glad that table was sooooo long. Luise ate her dinner like she always did: ignoring the two exhibitionists. Sandro had his camera out and was taking as many photos of Mrs. Antonio Fernandez as possible.
I couldn't eat anything. I sat there staring in shock. Most of my dreams I was in Emma's position. This needed to end. I wanted to be in that position again!

I was glad to wake up that day. My God, I never wanted a dream like that again. I shut off my alarm clock and yawned. Damn it was 6 in the morning. I had a photo shoot at 11 am.

I felt something odd. Oh shit. I'd forgotten about her. Last night I had sex… it wasn't good sex but it was something. I have no idea who she was, but I do know that I was bored the whole time. I had to imagine I was somewhere else with… well, you know who. That was the only thing that made it bearable. Yeah, I know you're mad with me. I was in love with someone else, I should be with them. Let me remind you that that someone else was having sex with his wife. So, I needed to forget about him. I was trying to forget about him with one night stands, with whomever I saw first. Provided they were hot enough, of course. Who didn't want to come home with me? None of the one night stands were any good; this one girl could not give a blow job for the life of her, and I always would end up imagining him to get through the horror. It was horrible I'm telling you! In the end, my plan wasn't working. It just made me think of him more. Maybe if I did it more it would work… or I should have sex with a porn star… or Françoise. Hey, they have so much practice they'd better be good enough for me to forget him. Then again, I really don't want to have sex with Françoise. She's hot and all, but it was still disgusting.

The girl moved a little bit. Okay, it was time to kick her out. 'That's mean, give her breakfast!' Please. If she'd wanted breakfast, she should have been better in bed.
I kicked the girl out, nicely. Sometimes I was glad I could act. I made her believe that she wanted to leave without breakfast. I gave her cab money for those whining that I'm so mean. Yes, I know I'm a bitch- I mean, asshole. You have to be a girl to be a bitch. Or Feliks.

It was too bad that next day I was going to have to wake up at five in the morning to be at the studio by six. It was official. Elizaveta was going to play my love interest. We had a reading tomorrow. God fucking hates me.

I took a shower. I needed to get the smell of that slut's perfume off. My time in the water didn't last long. I got out smelling great and hungry as hell. I walked down the stairs to my kitchen. I grabbed an apple and started to eat. On the counter were my lines. I picked up those and I read them through. I sat down, making sure my towel didn't fall. Luise had the keys to my apartment. She could come in at any time. And today was a work day. So she would just walk in and tell me to hurry my hot ass to get to hair and makeup.

I went back to my room and picked something casual to wear (i.e. a Charles Breton shirt and jeans and Giovanni shoes). I didn't put any product in my hair today. The hair stylist would do that for me at the photo shoot.

I went back down and ate some cereal. While eating my cereal, my lesbo manager came in. Thank God she wasn't in a dress. She was in a pair of black pants and a blouse. She always makes herself look more professional when we had meetings with new people. With The Smuggler's producers she would wear her favorite long, military green, coat and some jeans. She was so close with our Executive Producer, Sadiq Annan, she had even seen him while she was in her workout clothes.

"You have two minutes to finish your cereal and then off to the limousine," Luise stated as if I was a soldier. She had her myPad out and she did not look up from it. "You have that photo shoot for TV Guide and then an interview with Emil Bondevik. After that, you have two hours to get ready for your dinner with Antonio Fernandez at 7. Is that enough time or do I have to pull you out of the interview early?" I didn't know if I should be insulted by that comment. I'm not a chick; I don't take two hours to get ready.

I nodded, getting up. "I can make it in two hours." I then downed my milk. "I'm going to pee, and then we can go."

"Go!" Luise snarled. I jumped. Out of fear, I ran to the bathroom. That bitch knows not to do that to me.

After my bathroom break, we went out. In the limo, Luise and I practiced my interview. She asked a few questions and I answered how she wanted them answered. Always remember that reporters can twist the truth. You have to be very careful what you tell reporters. My image and by extent my job depended on it. Luise always asked a few questions that I knew that she didn't want me to answer… like the questions on my love life. Yes, Emil, I am having a string of one night stands because I want to forget that I'm head over heels in love with Antonio Fernandez. Just imagine the headlines! I would never hear the end of it. But reporters will always ask about my love life and if there was a 'special girl'. We know that if I was with someone, it wouldn't be a girl and if so, she sure as hell would not be special. I never understood the fascination with celebrities' love lives. Still, my love life was, and had always been, a series of one night stands. 'But the headlines said that you dated 'that reality star'!' Rumours. Stupid rumours at that. Why would I ever in a million years date a reality star? They were worse than me! And plus I think Luise would beat me up if I ever did that. She would throw me in the hospital! It's not embarrassing, getting beat up by Luise. She probably has a dick… Ew. That made my dream of walking in on her and Feli even more disturbing.

You've seen America's Next Top Model, and if you haven't, you're not missing that much. But that show gives you the basic idea behind a photo shoot. Hair, makeup. The costumes are my favorite part. Hey, I can have a hobby involving fashion. Then, go to the studio. I had to get into character. I channeled the Mario Moretti in me. I was dressed in 1940s fashion. That meant I was in an old suit, like the ones you see when you look at old photos of your grandparents or great-grandparents, and a hat. You could not forget the hat. It was the 1940s. Go on Google and look at a picture of Cary Grant. That was the type of suit I was in. A nine piece black and white suit. Only, the pictures I was posing for were not in black and white. Hey, that could be a good idea to pose like Cary Grant. Everyone knows the fabulous Cary Grant; he was one of my inspirations for Mario Moretti anyway. Cary Grant was a great actor back in the glamorous days of Hollywoodland. Like Rock Hudson. Hey, I would have slept with a young Rock Hudson, before he got AIDS, of course. Now wouldn't that have been cool? He sure as hell would have made me forget about Antonio and we all know he was gay.

Anyway, the photo shoot went well. They got their cover page. I looked hot. All was well. I then went for my interview with Emil Bondevik. You've heard me say his name before. It was while I was talking about the people you shouldn't mess with unless you wanted Matthias Densen to beat you up. Yeah, Emil was one of them. He was Lucia's brother. Remember her? She's FBT's -Stop screaming girls! - Manager and Matthias's girlfriend. I heard that she was a very protective sister. Other little fun facts about the reporter that was technically an intern: he was the Kung Fu star, Li Xiao Chun's, boyfriend. 'Li Xiao's gay?' Well duh. If he's dating another guy it means he is either gay or bi. They met three months before when Emil became Yao Wang's -Li's older cousin- intern. One thing led to another and they started dating. They haven't come out as a couple. …That was not meant to be a pun. How did I get this top secret information? Like I said, I knew FBT.
Emil was a quiet guy. It was actually Yao that should have been interviewing me, but he was sick. Or screwing with Ivan Braginsky, either one. Emil got some tips from Tiina but he wasn't as good as her. No one beats Tiina. So the silver haired intern and I did the interview. We only talked about the show. Luise had warned them ahead of time that I do not talk about my personal life. But Luise always made sure I was prepared just in case they did. I simply said no comment. Emil understood me, so he did not ask about my personal life. It was simply business. And luckily for me, because it was all about the show, I got to go early. Consequently, I had more time to get ready for my dinner date- I mean… What do you call it? Only four people were going to be there so it wasn't a party and it wasn't a date… Should I just call it a dinner?

Whatever you call it, I needed to prepare. I was meeting the wife. It was so stupid. I should have never said yes. But I just couldn't say no. Damn it. After this dinner, I should've kept my distance from this man. I really should have.

"Luise, should I wear this one or this one?" I asked, showing her two shirts. Yes, I was at the point that I was asking a lesbian for fashion advice. Though, the lesbians I know (i.e. Tiina and Silvia), had great fashion sense. But Luise did not have any fashion sense. She would just pick the first thing she sees and give it to me. She wouldn't care if it was a yellow or, worse, an orange suit. Nevertheless, she was a chick, so she must have a better fashion sense than most men. Again, this is Luise we're talking about.

"It looks nice," Luise told me.

I sighed. "But which one looks nicer?"

"They both look nice." Now you know why you should never ask Luise Beilschmidt for fashion advice.

I looked at the green shirt. I looked very good in green. It brought out the green in my eyes. But then I looked at the red shirt. I don't know one person who could not look good in red. And red brought out the brown in my eyes. But red was a sensual colour, it was the colours girls always used to seduce their men. But I always wear green. 'Lovino, he has a wife,' I told myself. Green it was.

"Should I wear jeans, khakis, or black pants?" I then asked.

Luise yawned. "And you said you wouldn't take two hours to get ready," she said, clearly annoyed. Bitch, I was not taking two hours to get ready. Wow. I actually looked at the clock. It took me 45 minutes to pick a shirt. Maybe I was worse than a chick.

"Black," I said. But which black pants…? No, those made my butt look fat… No, I looked too skinny in those. No, I looked fat in those. Damn it. "I need to go shopping again. I have no good black pants."

"You just went shopping with Theodora and Feliks last month!" Luise complained.

"It's only been a month? Damn, I'm worse than I thought." Luise sighed and shook her head. So, I didn't have any January fashion in my closet! Tomorrow, I would casually asked Feliks to go shopping. In reply, he would start jumping up and down and scream like a little girl.

"Just pick one," Luise complained. "I gave you two hours to get ready."

"But I have to look good! I'll take these!" They were last year's fashion but at least I didn't look fat in them and they showed off my ass. "Now a blazer."

Maybe it did take me more than two hours to get ready. After I picked a blazer, I had to pick shoes, and then I had to fix my hair. I didn't want to look like Cary Grant while at this dinner whatever. As much as I love Cary, his hair style was out of style since forever. Sandro arrived at the exact time Luise told him too. When Sandro arrived, Luise started to evolve into a military woman. She was suddenly timing me and yelling at me. Why was she my manager again?

I had to put the finishing touches on my outfit. I had to have accessories. I found a matching cashmere scarf, a silver Rolex and cashmere gloves. It was January, but I was in L.A. and the weather is never that cold. Never mind, fashion was more important. Fashion is always more important.

We said goodbye too Luise. She wasn't that bad today. Actually, I disliked her less when Feli is not around. If we kept everything business, I might actually not dislike Luise… But she was playing with my brother's heart so I did not like her.

Sandro was dressed well for the occasion. He was in a navy blue shirt and some khakis. Even if khakis were summer fashion, Sandro didn't care. He loved his khakis.
"Okay, so why am I having dinner with my competition?" Sandro asked. By the way, both Sandro and Antonio were up for Song of the Year at the Grammys. Sandro was also up for two others: Best Pop Album and Best Pop Song. But they were still enemies for Song of the Year. Antonio deserved it more. Not that I'm not supportive of my brother. I would vote for my brother before Antonio. But Antonio actually wrote his songs himself. Sandro helped a little bit with writing his songs, but just a little bit.

"Did Chris say anything against it?" Chris was Sandro's manager. I don't talk with Chris that much but when I do, I can't help wondering, is Chris a girl or a boy? I've never found the answer.

"No, Chris actually supported it." The gender ambiguity wasn't helped by the fact Sandro never uses pronouns when he talks about Chris. "But I still don't understand why I'm going."

"Because I take my brothers everywhere," I told him.

"But it's Friday and I had to cancel a date. Why didn't you bring Luise?"

I gave the look. You know that look, the 'are-you-fucked-up' look. Bring Luise to this whatever you call it? No! I didn't want to spend more time with Luise then I had too. Most actors have talent agents, but not me. I had a manager. I didn't belong to a talent agency. I don't remember why, but Nonno had never let Feli or I belong to a talent agency and we had been acting since we were young. Instead, Odo Beilschmidt took care of us. Then, when Luise was old enough he gave her to me but kept Feli. So, that is how Luise became my manager. There's a difference between managers and agents. Agents just get me the jobs. Luise does much more than that.

"Yeah, yeah whatever," Sandro said. "So where is this house?"

"Luise gave the driver the address. I think it's in Malibu. But I didn't really check." By the way, we were in a small car. I had no idea where his house was. I know I'd been checking out his wiki pages (not stalking), but none of the places actually said where his house was. And I wasn't a stalker.

"Beach house… Too bad it's winter. It should have been a lunch on the beach."

"Why?"

"So I can watch girls play volley-ball," He told me, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sadly, it should have been. This was Sandro we were talking about.

"Too bad for you," I said sarcastically, which was honestly my normal tone of voice.

"I know," he whined.

"I'll take you to Long Beach so you can babe watch, okay?" I told him.
"But the water is too cold to go to the beach." I was not winning this argument.
We talked a little more during the rest of the ride. Sandro was doing well in school, thank God. Then he was working on another album. That was good too. His last hit was getting old. I told him that Elizaveta was cast as Magdolna Kossuth. He called me lucky. How was I lucky? Elizaveta was going to play my love interest! That was not lucky, I was being sent to my execution! No one understood how bad this was for me!
Luckily the traffic was good today which was odd because this was L.A. So, we got there on time, even after my fashion emergency.

When you think of a rock star's house, you think of, let's say, Ozzie's house: a huge mansion with the best fucking swimming pool ever. That was not Antonio's house. Antonio's house was more like the house on Two and a Half Men, which was modest for him. Since he'd been discovered in June, with an album out in July, this guy had been number one on the Billboard music chart for the last six months. The moment they hit youtunes and CD racks everywhere, they sold out in record time. The songs he wrote himself were constantly playing on the radio. He must have been rich enough to afford something better than that. Well, it was bigger than the House on Two and a Half Men. But still, that was his house? I wouldn't call it ugly or anything. It was a good looking place. But it was small.

Sandro and I left the car. Sandro had the wine: my favorite with Italian grapes from Naples. It was customary to bring wine to whatever this was called. We did also bring non-alcoholic wine for Sandro. Nonno usually lets him drink wine at home just for dinner. But since we were at another person's house, we thought it best not to give a minor any alcohol with his dinner.

I stood at the door, nervous as hell. I hadn't been this nervous since my first time at the Golden Globes. My heart was racing, my chest pounding, and my face hot and red. But I gathered my courage as Sandro knocked.

"Bonne soirée!" Françoise Bonnefoy? What the fuck? Why was she there? Was this really a dinner party? "You're so cute Lovino. And Alessandro, bonne soirée." Alessandro took the slut's hand and kissed it. He took her right hand because her left was in bandages. Even with bandages, she looked very beautiful.

"What happened to your hand?" Sandro asked.

She giggled. "Sex in the kitchen."

"I thought you filmed all the episodes for this season already," I said, confusedly.

"Non, non, non, non, non," she laughed. "I was having sex in the kitchen when this happened." Oh. Well, you understand how I could have misinterpreted it. Her show was called Sex in the Kitchen. "Word of advice: do not have sex in the kitchen near a stove that's on. No matter how horny you are at that moment. Arthur and I learned that the hard way." Laugh out loud. Everything about that was funny. Even the way she said Arthur in French. She did that to piss him off. Well, good thing she got burnt. She was being stupid.

"Can we come in or…" I started.

"Non, Emma told me to keep you two busy while she finishes getting ready. Sorry, Gilbert was here not too long ago and he made a mess and the maid left early," she explained. Gilbert Beilschmidt? "Did you bring wine!" She yelled and jumped at the occasion to see the bottle. As well as being an expert in the kitchen and sex, though apparently not both at the same time, she was also a wine expert. She was the stereotypical French girl. "I knew you were going to bring red wine! I cooked a dinner with that in mind." They had Françoise Bonnefoy cook dinner for this whatever-you-call-it? Why didn't the wife cook? I read on the wiki page that she was a cook. Maybe they wanted a chef to cook their food. I never did find out why. "Did you pick the wine?" I nodded. "You have excellent taste in wine. This was a good year in Naples. This is going to be fantastic with the dinner. You are going to love the dinner. I even made my famous triple chocolate cake. Yes, this wine is fantastique" Her famous triple chocolate cake… Yum. Sadly it went straight to my hips. I mean- yum. There's no sadly.

"You made the dinner even with your hand like that?" Sandro asked.

"Of course," she laughed. "I can't let a burn destroy mon amour pour la cuisine."

"Can we come in? I'm getting cold," Sandro whined.

Françoise looked back. "Sorry, she still has to get the Jell-O off of the ceiling." Now I knew for sure they had had Gilbert Beilschmidt over.

"You should have brought a jacket," I told Sandro. I was now glad I had a scarf and gloves. Sandro didn't even have a jacket.

"It's L.A.! I didn't think it was going to be cold. And I thought we would be inside by this point."

"I didn't think I was going to be talking with Françoise but life throws things at you sometimes," I replied.

"You love me," Françoise told me. No, not really.

"Is there anywhere to sit?" I asked.

"Sorry," she said. "Unless, you want to… non, there's a sliding door. You're screwed."

Damn, Gilbert screwed me. And not in the good way.

I should have spent more time on my hair. It wasn't perfect. I should have made it perfect. We wouldn't be here talking with Françoise.

"Why was Gilbert here, anyway?" I asked.

"He wanted to show Antonio something. I think it was a new song. I don't know. I was cooking and Emma was making sure the maid made everything perfect."

"So what's with the Jell-O?" Sandro asked.

"I don't know. But it's Gilbert," She said like Gilbert was a normal person.

We stood there a little bit longer. But at some point, the wife let us in. Wow, she was very pretty. This was the first time I'd seen her in person. Her hair was a little longer than her pictures on the internet. Her eyes were still green, but they were greener because of her makeup. Oddly, she actually did have a green ribbon in her hair like my dream. Scary, but at least her dress wasn't the same. She was in a white dress with a green sweater. She looked very cute. When she smiled I could have sworn it looked like a cat smile.

"Hello and welcome to our home. I'm Emma," Home? This wasn't a summer or winter home? They actually lived here year round?

I smiled (which I so hate. It hurts my face). "Thank you for having us over."

Both Françoise and Sandro looked at me oddly. First, I smiled, and secondly I'd said thank you. Françoise knew me well enough from her brother to know that I was not a polite person.

Mrs. Fernandez let us in. Well at least the house looked better than the Two and a Half Men one. The floors were cherry oak. They had an open concept house. The entrance became the living room, the living room became the dining room, and the dining room became the kitchen. It was great for parties. There were stairs that went up to what I'm guessing were the bedrooms. There was a small hallway I guessed led to a bathroom.
Emma- never mind, it was too weird using her first name- Mrs. Fernandez took my coat, gloves and scarf. I could tell she was excited. Well, she was meeting me. Françoise told her what to do with the dinner and then bid us goodbye. Oh, so it was just going to be the four of us. That was better. I looked at the table. It was a normal sized table.

"Now that's a view," Sandro said.

It was a beautiful view. We could see the waves crashing on the beach. There was a couple walking hand in hand. The moon was beautiful.

"That's why we bought this place," She said. "Would you like a drink?"

"Scotch," Sandro said. I gave him the evil eye.

"He'll have a soda," I said. "Nothing for me."

"I'll be right back," She said. She then left to get Sandro his drink.

"Scotch? Do you really think she doesn't know your age?" I asked.

"It was worth a try," Sandro told me. "Can we sit on the couch or what?"

"Just sit."

The couch wasn't the best couch in the world, but it went with the décor, so it was fine. It wasn't my taste, but this wasn't my house. The wife came back with Sandro's drink. Okay, where the hell was Antonio? He's the reason I said yes. Where was he?

"I wasn't sure which soda you like, so I just picked Root Beer."

"Thanks. I like any soda," Sandro said.

"I'm sorry, my husband should be here soon. He had to drive Gilbert Beilschmidt back home," She explained. "I would hate to start dinner without him but Françoise told me that the dinner will be ready in a few minutes." She looked worriedly at the door.

"It's not your fault. It's Gilbert's fault for coming here in the first place," I said. Gilbert and Luise were polar opposites. Gilbert was wild and crazy, Luise was orderly and anal. How were they siblings?

"How do you like L.A.?" Sandro asked.

"It's much warmer then Portland. But the traffic can be awful. I do hate when I have to leave the house at rush hour," She explained. I could see that she was trying to hold her excitement in. I make people shake.

"L.A. is one of the most populated cities in the world. Traffic is bound to be horrible," I said.

"I haven't seen traffic this bad since Madrid," she explained.

"Why were you in Madrid?" Sandro asked.

"Antonio's grandmother was celebrating her eightieth birthday. She couldn't come here, so we went to her. Driving in Madrid was horrible. Probably because I don't understand Spanish very well," She laughed. "I can speak English, Dutch, German and French but not Spanish. But Antonio has been teaching me some." She was multilingual! Damn it. I might have been bilingual- Italian and obviously English with some Latin- but I didn't know four languages! How can you learn four languages! I had enough trouble learning English growing up, even though now I am very good with it.

"Wow, I am impressed that you have enough brain space for four languages," Sandro said. Why don't you make me feel worse about myself!

She giggled, "Thank you." We heard a ding. "Excuse me; I must get the dinner ready."
The wife stood up and left. "So Gilbert is ruining our evening. How is that even possible?" Sandro asked.

"I hope he arrives soon. I need to wake up early tomorrow to start the reading with Elizaveta," I said sadly. Well, I did hope that Antonio would be there soon for obvious reasons. But I didn't want to do my reading with Elizaveta.

"I can't believe you'll be kissing Elizaveta Héderváry. You are so lucky! She's so hot!" Sandro said. Lucky? There was something wrong with Sandro's brain. "Emma is hot too." Okay, this was Sandro we were talking about. He was going to say at least once during the evening that she was hot. At least she was out of the room.

"She's pretty," I said. We all know who I think the hot one is in that marriage.

"I forgot you're not into…"

"So am. Ask the girl who left my apartment this morning," I told him. BI!

"Aww, why can't I get the women? I'm left with teenage girls… wait… never mind, I can have a sixteen year old girl and you can't," Sandro said. I rolled my eyes. He was too weird.

I sighed while he talked about his date for the People's Choice Awards in two days. Feli was coming back from Vancouver for the awards. It made me sad that I was the only one without a date. But again, I was the only one that could go in a group because I was a part of a TV cast. Oh, the Golden Globes were soon too. I would have to bring Sandro to that.

Antonio arrived while Sandro talked about his date. Wow, that man keeps getting handsomer and handsomer. He wasn't in yellow like my dream; he was in white. Wow, his tanned skin went perfectly with the shirt. Wow. Now that man is hot. Lovina made an appearance again. Great, I thought I had gotten rid of her. Apparently not.

"Hola! I thought you were coming at seven?" He asked.

"It's seven forty five," Sandro said.

"Oh," he said. That mouth made and O shape. Stop staring and say something!

"Buonasera Antonio, come è stato il disco?" Mannaggia! I was speaking Italian! That wasn't good. Mannaggia! Mannaggia! Mannaggia!

"Disco? Are we going to a disco?" Antonio asked oh so cutely. I should speak Italian more often if I get that response.

"He means, how was your drive with Gilbert?" Sandro said saving me.

"Oh, lo siento. It was fine. Gilbert was still a little drunk. I see Emma got the Jell-O off of the ceiling, and windows, and couch."

"Sì," I said. Mannaggia! I didn't mean this often.

He laughed. He took his jacket off, that man was beautiful, and put it with the other coats.

"Perché parli italiano?" Sandro whispered to me.

"Non so perché!" I whispered back.

Antonio came back and sat in the seat in front of Sandro and me. We smiled at him like nothing happened.

"Gilbert told me that his sister is your manager," Antonio said.

"Sì." Mannaggia! This was my chance to switch back to English.

"Eso está bien," he replied. He was making fun of me wasn't he? But it was hot, so, I didn't care. European Spanish was hotter than Latino Spanish, especially coming out of that mouth.

"Mi dispiace," I said. Then I gather all my strength and spoke English! "I don't know why I was speaking Italian. My brain sometimes does that." It didn't, but I needed to come up with a lie. Well, actually it did do that, but it was only after I had been speaking Italian for an hour or so.

Antonio laughed. "Mine does too. I sometimes have to think very hard so I make sure I speak in English. Is English your second language too?"

"Yeah." I spoke in English! "We were raised in Italy. But we always came to L.A. because of my parent's work."

"Your madre is Catarina Vargas, right?" Both Sandro and I nodded. And of course you've heard of Catarina Vargas, the Oscar winning actress. Yes, that's my mamma. You've also heard of my Nonno Romulus Vargas, another Oscar winner. My family was full of award winners and that didn't stop with me. "When did you move to L.A.?"

"I think it was when I started acting, right?" I asked Sandro.

He nodded. "You were eight and I was four," Sandro said.

"You started acting at eight?" Antonio asked.

"Yes, I was only a minor character in one of my mamma's movies," I explained. Yes, I was that kid in Ice Queen. That was so long ago.

"Wow, you've been living in the US longer than me. I moved to Texas when I was sixteen and my English wasn't very good," Antonio explained. I know. It's on his wiki page. "I was oddly always made fun of by my schoolmates because they thought I was from México. Then the Latinos in my class would make of fun of my accent when I spoke español. The only person that didn't make fun of me was this girl from Rumania and my sister of course." How could they make fun of that! You've seen photos of THAT! It was impossible to make fun of that hunk of Spanish ass. Oh yeah, for those who haven't memorized his wiki page, Antonio had an older sister named Carmen. 'You are a stalker.' Fuck you.

"Talking about high school again, mijn lief?" The wife came in from the kitchen. I forgot that she was even here. Wait… She had a cute little pet name for him. Okay, this dinner was going to be hell.

"Mi corazón?" And he had one for her. And I knew that meant my heart. It was disgusting. "Why should I not talk about high school?"

"We could talk at the dinner table. Dinner is ready," The wife said. This was revolting. They were happy and lovey-dovey and eww. He got up and they went together to the normal size table. Eww. 'Jealous?' Well DUH!

I gave Sandro a look of disgust.

"Look at them! They can give you pointers for tomorrow's reading with Elizaveta. You need to act in love and you've never been in love before," Sandro said getting up. Never been in love!? I can't believe Feli was more perceptive then Sandro! Never been in love! Had he seen me just now! Drooling and laughing and smiling! I even smiled! And that wasn't acting! Never been in love my hot ass.

I shook my head and got up with him. We left to the normal size table. That dream had scarred me for life! The table, the exhibitionism, the pervert Sandro, and Luise in a dress! The wife had set the table. This was odd. Every course but the yummy cake was on the table. Do people really eat like that? I thought they only ate like that on TV and in movies.

Sandro looked at me oddly. I gave him the look that it was okay. So it really was just the four of us. No one to serve food? When I invited guest -it was rare but I still did it sometimes- I had someone serve the food course by course. This was weird. 'Seriously?' Well, yeah! I've been rich my whole life!

"Is this too much food?" The wife asked worriedly. "Françoise told me that this was enough. Or do you not like Steak au poivre?"

"No, steak is fine," Sandro said cutting his steak.

"This is enough food, thank you," I said. This was different. My food was already on my plate. They used the nice plates… That or Françoise brought her own plates (I wouldn't put it passed her). Obviously the steak was amazing. None of you had Françoise cook for you, but seriously? The only thing better was Feli's pasta, and that you've already heard me talk about. She put just enough pepper and the steak was cooked just right. That chick might not be good for much but she can cook.

Nothing happened during the dinner. I took peeks at Antonio. I was trying not to be too obvious about it. I seriously could just stare and stare and stare. He had beautiful features: large eyes, kissable lips. If I had him, I would not let him out of the bedroom. We would wake-up, make love, make love while eating, take a nap, make love in the shower, maybe take a break and watch some soccer (hopefully he liked soccer because I supported Associazione Sportiva Roma no matter what), then make love, then feed each other, then make love, then fall asleep in each other's arms and do it all over again. That sure would be a perfect life. Sleep, soccer, sex… the three S's of life.

None of the conversations during dinner were that interesting. It was mainly about the People's Choice Awards. It was Antonio's first award ceremony since his album came out in July after most of the music awards had picked their nominees. But he got to start with the People's Choice. And the People chose him. And Sandro. Almost forgot about my brother. After dinner, we went to the living room again and talked some more. With world famous cake! This was when the conversations became interesting. I told them that Elizaveta was casted as my love interest. The wife agreed that she was perfect for the part of Magdolna. Elizaveta was a Hungarian immigrant, Magdolna was a Hungarian immigrant. I think the author had Elizaveta in mind when he wrote Magdolna. It must have been when she acted in that one movie… I forgot the name… wasn't it no… it's on the tip of my tongue. Triple Threat! Yes, that movie. The one she played the daughter of a criminal on death row! He must have had her in mind because when he describes the character, she looks like Elizaveta and acts like her in that movie. That was my love interest in the show.

Well after telling the wife that little piece of information, she was happy. Like, very happy and excited. Apparently, Elizaveta and I are her favorite actors. For some reason, I blamed her that Elizaveta was cast. Don't ask me why. I needed to blame her for basically everything because her husband was Antonio Fernandez. She was the luckiest bitch in the world. I needed to see her pay, if only in my mind, because in the real world she was happy. God were they lovey-dovey! Sandro and I sat on the couch and Antonio sat in that chair he was sitting in before. And where was she sitting! No not in the open seat! No! She was sitting on his lap. I wasn't sure if this was worse than my nightmare the night before.

After her inner fangirl did its happy dance, we started talking about cool stuff like soccer. Sandro was completely bored. He wasn't the biggest soccer fan. Not like me! I support my team. I watch all their games, and if I can't I tape them. I've been to some of their games, I've bought some of their merchandise. I yell (not really yell but my inner fangirl yells and dances) when they win. I boo when they lose. I boo their enemies. I'm sad when they don't make the play offs. I wear one of their jerseys when I watch soccer- any soccer game, even if they don't play. Yes, I love my soccer team. I Lupi!

Apparently Antonio was also a soccer fan. Okay now that perfect day can be perfect. But he wasn't an A.S. Roma fan… No, he was into Spanish soccer. 'Well, duh, he was born in Spain!' Shut up. Anyway, he was a Real Madrid C.F. fan. He was almost as big of a fan as I was for A.S. Roma. At first, I thought he was only a fan because they were winning all these competitions. No. He was a fan since he was a child living on a farm outside the city of Madrid. It only made sense that he would be a fan of his home team. We talked about recent games and scores. Not important, but the wife liked Club Brugge K.V., a Belgian team… seriously, Belgian soccer? But she was ignored. The wife and Sandro did something while Antonio and I talked sports. See? I'm not so girly. I like sports and I know sports.

I loved talking to Antonio. I loved looking at him too, because who doesn't. I still do. But talking to him was also just as great. I was always so nervous at first, like when I started speaking Italian to him… though now I think it was my unconscious telling me that I have to one-up his wife since she knows four fucking languages! I had to show him that I was bilingual and probably could learn Spanish easily. Italian and Spanish were related. Spanish and Dutch were not. Neither were Spanish and German… Let's ignore French. Where was I? Oh yeah. I was nervous at first but like the last time, we clicked. We were so good together. Tomatoes and soccer were my favorite things and his favorite things. And when it came to soccer we also liked two different teams, so talking about sports would never be boring.

"And yesterday, I went outside to my tomato garden-"

"You have a tomato garden?" I asked him.

He nodded. "Do you want to see?"

"It's a tomato garden. Duh," I said. Seriously, who doesn't want to see a tomato garden? It was the perfect way to get someone home with you.

"Well it's dark…" I wasn't going to see the garden. AWW! "But I did pick some yesterday and I have one left."

"I want it." I wasn't thinking correctly. "Let's see if they're as good as you say." During our talk, he had mentioned that his tomatoes were the best. I had to take him up on that statement.

"They are," He said with his amazing smile and a little bit of playfulness in his eyes. I love that little playfulness… I wish that playfulness was to seduce me into his bed… Though he really didn't need to use tricks on me. I would be there as soon as he would ask me. I knew he has a wife but I tried to forget about her when I wasn't trying to one-up her.

Antonio left the couch. At one point during the night, he and Sandro had switched seats. His wife was now sitting in that empty seat. Don't ask me what they were talking about because I really didn't care. They could be talking about killing pigs for all I knew.
Antonio came back with the tomato. So far so good. It was large and very red. It had a certain holiness to it. Every tomato had that holiness to it. But this one had more since it was touched by Antonio. I took the fruit in my hand. It was big and felt a little heavy. It was full of luscious juices. The skin of the fruit felt godly. It smelt delightful (yes, I smelt it… I had to make sure it was the best tomato ever).

"Just eat the damn thing," Sandro said, annoyed. "He does this to every tomato. He has this system, look at it, smell it, lick it and then take a bite out of it. Are you trying to hear the juices in the tomato? Come on Lovi, just eat it!"

I did have the tomato to my ear. I swear I heard the juices tell me that they were delicious. After it passed that test, I licked the fruit. So far so good. Antonio was watching me in nervous awe. I took the first bite. I died and went to tomato heaven. Okay, this was better than Feli's pasta. I called Feli's pasta orgasmic… well this was multiple orgasms. Oh yeah. I could have sex with this tomato and it would be a thousand times better than the sex I had with the slut the night before. This tomato could make me forget about Antonio.

"Will you marry me?" I asked the tomato, a tear in my eye. God this tomato was… oh God.

"Did you just ask a tomato to marry you?" Sandro asked.

"Don't worry, Antonio did that once," The wife giggled. "Or twice."

Antonio laughed with pride in his eyes. "I told you they were good."

"I don't want to eat it because it's so perfect," I said in awe. "But then again, it's so delicious." I took another bite. It did not disappoint. Okay, seriously, why did this man have to be married? I needed to kidnap him and keep him all to myself. That was a good plan. "Sandro, this tomato is the perfect tomato," I said.

"It wasn't even the best one in the batch." What? I stared at him in awe… for the first time it wasn't because of his hotness.

"This isn't? Are you a tomato god? Because I will so join your church if you are," I said.

He laughed. "No, I was just raised on a farm."

"I thought you raised bulls?" Sandro asked.

"We also had this huge garden and we sold most of it at the market. My abuela taught me everything I know about gardening." I must grovel at his nonna's feet and sacrifice to her. She would be my new god. Hopefully as reward for being her best servant, I would get Antonio.

"Well, look at the time! It's eleven!" Sandro said. "Don't you have work tomorrow at 6:00 am?" My eyes widen. I did! Fuck! "I'll call the car."

"I'm sorry I have to leave so early."

"It's understandable. You have work at 6:00 am," The wife said.

"I had fun this evening. Thank you," I told them. Hey, it was true.

"It was our pleasure," The wife said.

"We'll probably see you Sunday," Sandro said. "Ciao."

And off we went. I didn't know if I should regret saying yes to that dinner or not. On the one hand, I spent most of the time talking about soccer and tomatoes to Antonio. I had a wonderful time with him. But on the other hand, I saw that he and his wife were happily married. They were very much in love and happy. I wasn't hoping that he wasn't in a happy marriage or anything. As much as I was happy that I got to spend time with Antonio and see that we could probably talk all night, I was also sad. So I decided no more Antonio Fernandez for me. I was going cold turkey. If only that was possible.