Page 50 of Just Like in the Movies

Luke could feel his break – which had already gotten more confusing than he would have liked – turning into the massive fuck-mageddon he’d been trying to avoid.

‘You’re not visiting The Royale, or meeting Ruby.’

‘But I wanted to talk to you both about …’ she began again.

‘You’re not listening to me, mom, I’m not kidding, if you show up at the movie theatre, I will cut you out of my life for good.’ It was extreme, but then extreme was the only language his mom understood.

His palms were starting to sweat, his heart punching his rib cage. He wasn’t even sure why he was so dead set against Ruby and his mom getting together. He just knew it would not be good. For all of her self-absorption, his mom could be pretty damn intuitive, and he didn’t want her intuiting anything about his friendship with Ruby.

‘Luke, you don’t sound well, are the anxiety attacks back?’

‘Not yet,’ he growled. But they soon would be if she didn’t listen to him. He didn’t want her here. He could feel the box he’d spent his childhood trying to escape folding in around him.

Holding his hand over the mouthpiece he forced himself to breathe. And count. The way the CBT therapist had trained him to do as a fourteen-year-old when these dumb attacks had started.

In. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three.

‘If you really don’t want me coming to The Royale, I won’t come,’ she said.

‘Good.’ In. One, two, three. ‘Don’t.’ Out. One, two, three …

‘But I wanted to tell you about something. You and Ruby. It’s about Matty. And me. And your father.’

In. One, two, three. ‘You’re not meeting Ruby.’ She doesn’t need this shit any more than I do. Out. One, two, three …

Whatever nonsense his mother had to impart, he was not dragging Ruby into the drama. She had enough drama in her life already.

‘Okay, just you then. I suppose you can tell Ruby. Perhaps you could come to my hotel for lunch next Friday …’ She paused then added. ‘Assuming you’re sure you don’t want me to pop into The Royale, instead?’

The counted breathing had slowed his pulse down to frigid. ‘That’s blackmail, Mom.’

‘I know, dear,’ his mother said without an ounce of remorse. ‘But how else am I supposed to get you to come see me?’

Chapter 10

The following Friday at noon, Luke walked into the lobby of the Mayfair Grand, London’s most prestigious and exclusive six-star hotel. The old-world elegance of marble, mahogany, gilt-edged mirrors and expensive flower arrangements were a reminder of the thousand and one similar high-end hotels all over the globe he’d stayed in as a kid when his mom’s career had hit the heights. The latent anxiety of running herd on his daredevil brother and kid sister – and attempting to stop them wrecking the joint – while his mom was either ‘resting’ or ‘doing lines’ added to the low level hum of anxiety which had been sitting in his stomach since the week before.

He didn’t have time for this. He needed to get back to The Royale. He had some more detail work he wanted to finish on the moulding before the matinee kicked off at four.

His mom was getting exactly thirty minutes for her heart-to-heart.

He approached the concierge desk and tugged the ball cap he was wearing lower. ‘Hi, I’m here to see Helena Devlin in The Queen’s Suite.’ How appropriate. ‘Could you tell me how to get there?’

‘Of course. Who shall I say is calling?’ The distinguished older man asked picking up the house phone.

‘She’s expecting me, could you just give me the directions.’ He wasn’t giving a name. It was bad enough his mom was making him show his face in the West End at a hotel renowned for its VIP and celebrity clientele. As it was he’d turned up a half hour ahead of schedule in case she’d arranged a reception committee.

‘Certainly, sir, once I’ve informed Ms Devlin of your visit. I’m afraid it’s hotel policy,’ the man replied, his eyes widening a fraction as Luke met his gaze. Apparently, there was no need to give the guy his name, but the man was obviously well trained enough not to comment.

After dialling his mother’s suite, and informing her ‘her guest’ had arrived, the concierge covered the receiver. ‘Ms Devlin has suggested you meet her in The Salon Grill for lunch.’

‘Tell Ms Devlin, I’ll meet her in her suite or not at all.’

If you think you’

re getting another viral meme from this visit, Mom, you’re on crack.

The concierge conferred with his mother, and then gave him directions to the suite. Finally.

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