Suspicion of being followed

Renly approached Table Fourteen, a smile on his face. Reflexively, he greeted them in a familiar manner, "Good evening..." However, seeing Tom and Steven in front of him, who he had just met at the theater merely three hours ago, the unexpectedness of this coincidence caused a brief pause in Renly's words. A hint of amusement and curiosity crept into his smile, while a cascade of question marks flooded his mind. Despite that, he continued with his habitual greeting, "How can I assist you today?"

Steven was studying the menu while Tom spoke cheerfully, "The food here isn't the most famous, didn't Woody explain that when he recommended it?" Their relaxed and intimate manner showed no signs of the intense argument that had occurred during the audition.

Upon hearing the waiter's greeting, Tom lifted his head, ready to speak. However, his words seemed to halt on the tip of his tongue. Clearly, he hadn't anticipated such an unexpected encounter either. For a moment, Tom wasn't sure what to say; his smile widened significantly even before he could utter a word.

"One serving of truffle cream spaghetti... and then..." Steven, oblivious to Tom's momentary pause, looked up from the menu to place his order. However, as he saw Renly standing before him, his words faltered, and the rest of his order vanished along with the momentary silence. "Why are you here?" Steven reflexively questioned, his expression turning stern as his eyebrows furrowed deeply. "You must realize that your behavior during the audition has no positive impact, not to mention that stalking is never an encouraged behavior."

Stalking?

Given Steven's influential position in the industry, he had naturally encountered countless intense situations and being followed by fans wasn't unusual. Aspiring actors going to great lengths to secure a role was also a common sight. So, he didn't panic. Instead, he slammed the menu down onto the table and berated Renly loudly.

Renly's smile didn't waver; he placed the menu back into his apron. "Mr. Spielberg, I believe you've misunderstood. This is where I work. If you have any dissatisfaction with my service, please feel free to complain to my direct supervisor." His tone remained confident, tinged with a hint of mockery. The height advantage from his standing position and the seated Steven accentuated his calm assertiveness.

Observing Steven's gradually stiffening expression, Renly gestured towards the bar area politely. "Would you like me to inform the manager?"

"Ha!" Tom, not sparing any face for Steven, burst into laughter, shattering the tense atmosphere. He then playfully patted Steven's shoulder, though whether it was comforting or teasing was uncertain. "No, no need." Tom waved his hand at Renly, declining his offer. "We just wanted to find a place for dinner. Woody Allen recommended this bar, mentioning that there's a different style of performance every night. Is that true?"

Sitting beside Tom, Steven wore a somewhat unpleasant expression. Having navigated Hollywood for over twenty years, Steven had established himself as a heavyweight figure whose word was law. He had grown accustomed to giving orders from a position of power. Seeing Renly's initial reaction, Steven naturally associated it with the afternoon audition – an argument with Tom – but he didn't expect to have misunderstood the situation. An awkward moment ensued.

Renly, however, didn't continue to focus on Steven but turned to face Tom. Skillfully, he began an introduction. "Tonight's performance is folk music. Jason Mraz will be performing for thirty minutes. Additionally, a local independent folk singer from Harlem will open the show. The performance will also feature..." Renly glanced at the clock on the stage, "...starting in twenty-five minutes."

"Wow, that sounds great!" Tom paid no heed to Steven and exclaimed on his own, "So, for dinner, what would you recommend? I know there are countless delicacies to discover in the bars and restaurants of Greenwich Village, but us out-of-towners are quite clueless."

Tom's wit and humor seemed to continually jest at Steven. From the corner of Renly's eye, he could even catch a glimpse of Steven's face turning as sour as the bottom of a pot. Steven cast Tom an intense glare, but Tom paid him no mind, finding the situation rather amusing.

"It depends on your preferences," Renly pretended not to notice anything and continued, "If you'd like to fully concentrate on the performance, I'd recommend some simple dishes. For instance, our chef Jack's Submarine Sandwich is the best in all of New York. Paired with French fries and Munich dark beer, it would make for a splendid evening."

Renly's cheerful and vivid recommendation earned a satisfied smile from Tom. However, Steven remained seated beside Tom, his expression still stiff. "But if you don't mind dining while watching the show, then the truffle cream spaghetti is a good choice. I heard during my shift today that the French black truffles we ordered arrived this morning." Steven lifted his head, only to see Renly's courteous and gentle smile. Evidently, those words were directed at him.

This made Steven feel somewhat awkward. He was a big shot in the industry, but he was being petty and calculative, even falling behind a fledgling actor.

"Furthermore, today's chef's recommendation is red wine-braised lamb chops. Jack told me he's feeling great today." Renly's lively introduction was enough to elicit a grin while setting appetites ablaze.

Tom chuckled lightly, "What do you say, Steven?"

By now, Steven was gradually returning to his usual demeanor. After all, he was experienced enough. "I'll have the truffle cream spaghetti, please." His words were laced with politeness and respect, indirectly conveying an apology to Renly.

"In that case, I'll go with the red wine-braised lamb chops." Tom promptly made his decision and handed the menu over to Renly. "Also, please select a bottle of wine to complement it. Thank you." Seeing Renly pause momentarily, Tom added an explanation, "We trust your choice, after all, your recommendation just decided our dinner menu."

Renly courteously gave a slight bow, "I'll consult the reference guide of the connoisseurs." This quip made Tom laugh heartily, even causing the corners of Steven's mouth to relax.

Soon enough, Renly brought the wine over and handed it to Steven first.

Steven carefully examined the label of the wine. His eyebrow raised slightly. Unexpectedly, Renly's choice was impressive. A Barolo, hailing from Italy, also known as the greatest Italian red wine by many. With its robust tannins, Barolo needed to be paired with equally robust foods, particularly hearty meats and pasta. The alcohol and food would complement each other perfectly, making it a match made in heaven.

In upscale restaurants, choosing the right wine was the ultimate test of one's refinement. The higher the social status, the more importance it held. Different occasions, cuisines, company, and atmosphere all demanded different selections. The wine Renly chose was moderately priced and apt for the occasion – impeccable.

This truly made Steven regard Renly in a new light.

Tom leaned in, scrutinizing the label with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. He looked up at Renly. "Excellent choice."

But Renly felt it was nothing extraordinary. In this life, he had received aristocratic education from childhood, and wine selection was merely a basic aspect. Choosing wine was not a difficult task for him. Still, he accepted the compliment, smiling as he adjusted his chin slightly. "I hope you both enjoy it."

Subsequently, Renly took the bottle of wine again, uncorking it on the spot. After Steven tasted a sip and nodded in approval, Renly refilled their glasses before turning away.

Observing Renly's departing figure, Steven contemplated. Eugene's character was originally from the middle class, or even the elite. This inherent elegance was a vital component of the role. In contrast, Joseph lacked this sophistication.

Turning his head, Steven found Tom sporting a smug grin. "Now? What do you think now?" The unspoken meaning: How does Renly seem to you as Eugene?

Steven rolled his eyes. "I still stand by my original opinion. Who knows if the bartender picked this wine for him?" Tom understood that Steven's words were more about defending his stance. It wasn't just about the wine; it was about the professionalism and composure that Renly displayed throughout the process. However, Tom wisely chose not to press on and merely shrugged it off.

Lifting the wine glass in his hand, Steven couldn't help but take another sip. He had to admit that a bit of alcohol after a busy day truly helped one relax.

The night gradually deepened, and Village Vanguard's occupancy had already reached ninety percent in the blink of an eye. This was remarkably rare for a Thursday night.

The bar's renowned live performances lived up to their reputation. The performers gracing the stage weren't just any bar regulars; they were true music enthusiasts. Their professionalism rivalled that of concerts with audiences in the tens of thousands. Even the opening acts were met with enthusiastic applause. It was no wonder that even a famous singer like Jason was willing to perform here.

The atmosphere in the bar grew increasingly fervent, with the audience becoming enthralled by the performances. As time marched on, anticipation for Jason's appearance swelled. With the passing hours, the night blossomed into a dazzling spectacle.

However, behind the scenes of the bar, chaos ensued. Renly placed a recently used beer glass into the sink, when he heard urgent cries. "Help…!" Turning around, he saw Neil's anxious expression, sweat covering his forehead. "Renly, help! Where were you? We've been searching for you all over the bar." Before Renly could reply, Neil was already pulling him away, continuing to exclaim, "Help! We need you! I mean, right now, this very moment, urgently!"