"They tell me she was lonely."

Her head tilted at the man, just-so, the detailed focus on the business at hand giving way to a crooked smile. The amusement in the moment had just been too much for Gwendalyn Vance to ignore. It was all Gwendalyn could do not to snicker at the man speaking on the subject of the woman that was still affecting them all, even beyond the torpor. "I'd ask who you heard that from, but..."

"...but it's bullshit, so why bother?"

Gwendalyn considered the question, her eyes arching skyward for a seconds of consideration. A long sip of the wine brought in just for her allowed her to decide the best way in which she should answer that follow up. "Hard to say. The only one who knew her that far back is Yanci." 

The third person at the square table perked from his Baja Firecracker sushi roll. Soon as the sushi roll was placed before that third person, Samual Graham, the young man went to work on it. It was, to Gwendalyn, a rather darling site. She even had to ask if it was the man's first time to Nobi's, even though in all likelihood it had to be. Nobi's was too exclusive for a newbie actor like Samual Graham, and she would've known if anyone else had taken him to Nobi's. 

That's just how Hollywood worked. Samual knew it, too, from the way he had kept to the safety of silence, seated adjacent to Rich Lord, the super agent, and the woman he knew simply as 'Gwen.' The super agent was a half-second from swallowing a quick sip of his own wine glass before Samual took the opportunity to ask the question he probably shouldn't have asked. Curiosity could kill way more than your favorite cat. 

"Yanci? Is she the other one?"

Rich Lord near choked the last bit of his wine down, trying to force laughter, his eyes darting between Gwendalyn and Samual, "Jesus, Sammy, `the other one`?" 

Samual Graham didn't look very sheepish or embarassed to Gwendalyn. The mistake was made, but it was a mistake born from the unknown, not lack of tact. The actor owned it, and shrugged at Rich. The exchange was quite the show for the tall blonde main attraction, prompting both a chuckle and a sigh as she shifted in her chair to sit a little taller in the dark wood stained chair with it's thick blood red cushion. "The short answer is yes. Yanci is `the other one.` She manages the non-Hollywood affairs of Eva's estate, and I handle the Hollywood ventures." 

There was a noise only Gwendalyn heard, prompting her to switch her attention to the super agent, "Fifth time your phone went off."

Rich's face twisted, incredulous, "My phone is powered off. I wouldn't come into this dinner meeting with a phone on."

Then the super agent snickered at the suggestion. Gwendalyn stared, "I meant the one buzzing in your jacket pocket." 

Rich grimaced, nodding, looking down at the spring rolls he never touched. She caught him red handed. Then again, Gwendalyn always caught Rich Lord's phone antics. The man was addicted to cellular technology in a way Gwendalyn hadn't seen since Rachel. That time a werewolf stole Rachel's phone? Probably the longest Gwendalyn had ever seen the Ventrue woman go without her phone. It was a sad statement. A sentiment of her's that, Gwendalyn knew, meant she was old. A thought that never sat well with the Kindred, prompting another sip of her specialty wine, big green eyes watching the super agent walk out of the private dining room in the back of Nobi's. 

"So you're the big deal?"

It was so abrupt, Gwendalyn thought she was just hearing things for half of his heartbeat. But certain as the sun, Samual Graham was looking right at her. The sleeve of the white silk button up unbuttoned just enough to tease cleavage rode up on her forearm when she placed her glass back upon the tableclothed surface of their table. "What exactly do you mean?"

His smile was big, and bright, and came to him easier than a Santa Ana wind found Venice Beach. Samual Graham was, as any young potential actor, a good looking guy. Gorgeous, in actuality, but when being drop dead gorgeous was the status quo it was hard to find separation. The saying that beauty was in the eye of the beholder? Never was more profound, or apt, than it was for Hollywood. The right patron meant the difference between a career, and not a career. 

"I'm not trying to be rude, or inappropriate, I think it's pretty clear I don't know the unwritten rules here."

Finally Gwendalyn smiled. "Yeah. In Hollywood, right now, I'm the big deal."

"Why is that?" He asked with eyes narrowed in the focus of his unbridled curiosity. 

She answered the way she knew she shouldn't. "Because the real `big deal` is preoccupied. Hollywood was a large part of her life, and in her absence I'm taking it up."

"...I understood that. I'm wondering what made her such a big deal?" He leaned back in his chair, beautiful brown eyes widening as he expressed words and sentiments with hand motions, "Like, okay. You're," he said, motioning to her, "a `big deal`." Quotations he illustrated with both hands near his head. "Why? Is it just a money thing? Know all the right people? This may be the closest I get to my Hollywood dream."

"Make the best of it and live it with no fear?"

His pretty smile widened. 

"I can respect that. Even reminds me a little of me, when I first showed up. So why are we the `big deal` where others are not? Or rather, why is she the big deal? She secretly founded San Diego, Los Angeles, and a number of other cities. Secretly turned Los Angeles into the city it is. She secretly began Hollywood, and ran it from behind the scenes ever since. All the decisions you attribute to super agents, studio heads, producers...all her at Hollywood's start. When we lost the rigid structure of the studio system, that was her doing, too. She decided more humans needed the chance to take artistic chances. So she let go of a lot of her direct control, and moved to a different approach where she comes in and out of projects as she pleases, usually to make just the right change or tweak; acting change, directing change, story tweak, even just a single line of dialogue."

He was staring, and hard, now. "You're telling me there's a small group of immortal insiders that run Hollywood from the shadows."

"We're not immortal. Just undead." Gwendalyn stirred in her seat, reaching across the small space between their bodies, and pressing her fingertips to the bottom of his chin delicately, the gentlest little push up. His jaw had dropped. 

The touch was ice cold. 

"Now...you have to kill me? Bite me? Suck my blood? Why tell me?"

She shrugged, casually. "I could get into a lot of trouble for that. We're not supposed to reveal ourselves. `The Masquerade` it's called. We've had a lot to do with it, too. Why do you think Twilight got made into a movie?"

Samual Graham snickered at the mere mention. "Book sales."

"She ever write anything else worthwhile? No. Kinda like someone planted in her mind a story about vampires that sparkle. So that maybe it could get made into a movie."

"...please tell me you don't sparkle."

Gwendalyn Vance gave her brightest, biggest, smile. "Only my personality."

Her wine glass quickly emptied of it's small remains, her body pushed back her chair, and stood. "C'mon, Sam. There's someone I want you to meet."