This story begins at MiniBar, as so a lot of my Hollywood tales do. Effectively, technically it’s known as Lily’s Bar now, however to me it’s going to all the time be MiniBar — the inconspicuous hole-in-the-wall bar discovered contained in the Greatest Western — no, wait, the Adler a Hollywood Hills Resort on Franklin Avenue.
It’s the form of place the place you may speak to everybody or nobody, and that’s why I like it.
Now it goes with out saying that it’s been a tough begin to the brand new yr for us Angelenos. As if the fixed risk to democracy and local weather change-induced fires weren’t sufficient, I additionally discovered myself deep within the loneliness and existential hopelessness that comes with a breakup, one which was initiated by me however nonetheless stung. My ex is an egomaniacal actor who as soon as mentioned, “I believe I’d such as you extra if you happen to have been repped by a good company like CAA.”
So that you’ll perceive my option to drown my sorrows in a unclean martini and Eve Babitz’s “Intercourse and Rage.”
Regardless of my “speak to nobody” intention on this idle Wednesday, I discovered myself distracted by a person sitting on the fringe of the bar throughout from me, writing feverishly on a serviette. I acknowledge that stream of inspiration, the necessity to get each thought onto any floor doable earlier than it slips away. This fashion drew me in additional than his sharp jaw and glossy hair (he should have an oiling routine), although in hindsight his options have been magnetic, nearly of a distinct period. A Marlon Brando-esque gaze that holds a world of ideas.
I sensed us one another at completely different occasions, he once I was (pretending to be) deeply engrossed in a chapter, and I when he was scribbling down a thought. I wished so badly to ask him what he was writing however would have needed to yell throughout the bar or plop down subsequent to him. Neither choice appeared warranted.
After an hour and a second soiled martini, I made a decision it was time to depart and let this man stay a thriller. Simply as I requested for my verify, he acquired as much as go to the lavatory, and a stroke of inspiration hit me: Why not depart my quantity on a serviette? On the very least he’d respect the vessel by which I selected to put in writing it. In order that’s precisely what I did.
I set it subsequent to his drink, and the bartender gave me a wink, which felt like a great omen. I left with a stroke of vitality. I ought to depart my quantity extra usually, I assumed as I walked throughout the parking zone to my automobile.
Then I heard somebody say, “Kelly!” My identify lower by the spirited air, and I circled to seek out him standing there. He shrugged his shoulders and requested, “Do you need to go to the Frolic Room?”
He may have mentioned Mars, and I might have mentioned sure. Immediately, what lay earlier than me was an evening crammed with countless prospects. I hadn’t felt the electrical energy of spontaneity for a very long time.
It seems the Frolic Room was a fast stroll all the way down to Hollywood Boulevard, most likely one of many solely occasions I’ve walked from one bar to a different in L.A. He mentioned he favored the boldness of leaving my quantity and had wished to do the identical. He instructed me his first identify: Vincent. There was lots of silence, but it surely was snug. And we walked quick.
There have been solely a handful of individuals inside, though the place couldn’t match way more than that anyway, and Vincent guided me straight to the jukebox, hand-in-hand. “Choose a music,” he mentioned.
I don’t know why, however Billy Joel’s “Vienna” got here to thoughts, maybe as a result of it’s all the time embodied a want to seek out journey on this metropolis and soak the marrow out of life. That prompted Vincent to decide on “Piano Man,” and earlier than I knew it we have been doing pictures of whiskey and pretending the bar was a piano itself, miming the notes with our palms. Everybody joined in.
The entire time I used to be pondering, who is that this man? Though I used to be interested by what he did for work, I additionally appreciated that we hadn’t broached this matter, particularly as a result of it’s usually the very first thing folks need to find out about one other individual in L.A. I used to be forming my very own theories — a author, after all, or maybe a musician.
He appeared to be a font of musical information and he was hitting these pretend piano notes with a rhythm I didn’t have! Or maybe he was an artist of many trades, like me, who items collectively completely different passions to make a residing.
Because the place was closing, the bartender mentioned, “You recognize we simply hung your image up on the wall!”
I used to be shocked to see him gesture to a framed picture of Vincent and one other man beaming on the digicam, arms flung over one another’s shoulders in a brotherly method. It was in the midst of a gallery wall crammed with old-timey signed images of celebrities together with Sly Stallone and Lindsay Wagner, Johnny Depp and even Charles Bukowski. Now my wheels have been actually turning.
We stepped onto Hollywood Boulevard and strolled as much as the Pantages Theatre, arm-in-arm, beneath the marquee. “So what do you do?” I lastly requested, and our very stimulating dialog went like this:
Him: “I’m a DJ.”
Me: “Do you like it?”
Him: “I do!”
Me: “That’s … nice!
Him: “Yup. Do you need to come again to my place?”
Me: “Yup!”
In order that was that. Thriller not fairly solved. The escapades that adopted are a narrative for one more day, however let’s simply say the atmosphere was high notch. Assume musky candles, dim lighting, lo-fi jazz and clean whiskey with an enormous dice. Let’s additionally say he was seemingly extra taken with my pleasure than his personal acquire, and that was refreshing.
I awoke the following morning with a pounding headache, a gathering to hurry to in Santa Monica, and a giddiness I hadn’t felt since properly earlier than the brand new yr. In fact, the query remained of who he was precisely, however as I drove on the 101 Freeway, with the solar beating down, the smoke clearing actually and figuratively and the sky a shade of sensible blue, I noticed how little it mattered.
Now, after all, I’d be mendacity if I mentioned I didn’t do the whole lot in my energy to Google him once I acquired residence (although not figuring out his final identify was an actual barrier). I’m a little bit of a sleuth, and at last discovered his Instagram by way of the Lily’s Bar web page. I can affirm he’s, actually, a world-touring DJ, although I had by no means heard his music. So a well-known DJ — or higher but, an enigmatic, dynamic individual named Vincent — made me really feel hopeful once more and reclaim somewhat little bit of the love I had misplaced each with my associate and the sensation of enchantment in L.A. Life had been robust, however there was nonetheless love to seek out. When will you understand, Vienna waits for you?
This creator is an actor and author based mostly between L.A. and Paris. She pens the weekly Substack column A Lady of Leisure (awomanofleisure.substack.com), the place she explores femininity, solitude and the artwork of paying consideration. She’s additionally on Instagram: @kellyrookdaly.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the seek for romantic love in all its superb expressions within the L.A. space, and we need to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a broadcast essay. E mail LAAffairs@latimes.com. You will discover submission tips right here. You will discover previous columns right here.
