Page 11 of Just Like in the Movies

‘I suppose, but they’ll be pissed off they missed him.’

‘They’ll get over it.’ Her top priority had to be ensuring Devlin survived his first night at The Royale without any lasting trauma – so they got a second chance to impress him at a later date.

Judy Garland launched into her signature tune on screen, but her rich contralto voice was soon drowned out by the audience. The Royale’s vintage movie nuts belted out ‘Over the Rainbow’ as if their lives depended on it, just as they had at Matty’s funeral.

Emotion clogged Ruby’s throat and she joined in the chorus with Jacie.

Devlin wasn’t singing, she noticed. But he was still watching. He’d stayed, when he could have done a runner. That had to count for something.

She lifted her drinks, ready to join him on their sofa.

‘One other thing, Jacie,’ she said as she passed her friend. ‘You need to delete the photos you took of him. And make sure if anyone else took any they delete them, too. And tell everyone they must not under any circumstances post anything about him being here online or on social media.’ She hadn’t seen anyone else taking photos, because they’d all been way too busy harassing Devlin, but she needed to be sure.

‘You’re kidding?’ Jacie said, having to raise her voice over the singing. ‘Nothing at all, but …?’

‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘The Royale’s future may depend on it.’

‘I thought you said we were okay?’

‘We are …’ Or at least she hoped they were. Matty had always handled the books, and somehow found a way to keep them in the black each month. But she knew they couldn’t have been making much of a profit, or Matty would have found money to pay for all the repairs which had built up over the years. The Royale had always been Matty’s dream but she’d realised in the last week, once she’d started functioning again, that Matty hadn’t spent any money on the cinema’s infrastructure in well over a decade. His flat, which she’d moved into this week, was just as dilapidated and he’d stopped going on his ‘marvellous adventures’ years ago, too – which could only mean one thing. Matty had been broke, which meant The Royale had to be struggling as well. She hoped the stress of keeping the place running on limited funds hadn’t contributed to his heart attack, or she’d be absolutely gutted with guilt as well as grief. ‘I’m sure we’re okay,’ she said, taking another sip of her Emerald-arita. ‘But if we could get Devlin to invest in the cinema’s future we could finally get the thousand and one things done that Matty and I have been talking about doing for ages.’ Such as repainting the foyer, sorting out the dodgy plaster near the stage, buying a new sound system, and that was just for starters. ‘Devlin owns half The Royale now, and he’s loaded.’ Which she knew because she’d done some Internet research over the last eight days, in between killing herself and everyone else to turn The Royale into the Merry Merry Land of Oz. ‘Which means schmoozing him to within an inch of his life, and not pissing him off. He’s a private guy, let’s respect his privacy, okay?’

Jacie’s mutinous look dissolved as the final bars of the song faded. But then she shrugged as Miss Gulch arrived on her bike to snatch Toto.

‘Fine,’ Jacie whispered. ‘I suppose I can forego five million likes on Instagram, if schmoozing Devlin means getting carpeting in the lobby that doesn’t smell like my armpits after V Festival weekend.’

Ruby gave Jacie a kiss on the nose. ‘Thank you, Jace, you’re awesome.’

‘I know, now go schmooze him into a new carpet, Dorothy,’ her friend said.

‘No problem, Dorothy.’ Ruby took another fortifying sip of her cocktail and headed towards Devlin’s sofa with their drinks just as the real Dorothy and her little dog escaped through a window.

I do believe I can schmooze Devlin into investing in The Royale. I do. I do. I do.

***

Two hours later, Ruby wasn’t even convincing herself anymore.

Devlin had sat through the whole movie, drunk his beer, declined another. And said nothing. Not one thing. He hadn’t even moved much. And there had certainly been no singing, of any description – even during the many renditions of ‘We’re Off to See the Wizard’, which was the catchiest song known to man. The constant stream of people heading past them to the toilet, then back to their seats during the screening probably hadn’t amused him much. Because he must have figured out that either The Royale’s clientele had some serious bladder issues or he was still the night’s star attraction.

It hadn’t amused her much either.

Obvious much, guys?

That said, Devlin hadn’t shown any signs of distress from the constant eyeballing, either, and he’d survived the flying monkey scenes without f

linching, so she’d taken that as a positive. Maybe Matty’s movie favourite had started to grow on him, a teeny tiny bit? Even if the nosey parkers in The Royale’s audience hadn’t.

He hadn’t objected when she’d suggested they head up to the flat so he could avoid the crowd once the film finished.

But as she entered the flat’s living room behind him, she couldn’t shake the thought that tonight’s schmooze offensive had been a bigger disaster than the tornado.

Thank god she’d cleaned the fallout from the Glastonbury wake off the carpet.

Devlin would have looked out of place in Matty’s front room – decorated in Matty’s flamboyant shabby-chic style to disguise the twenty-year-old paint job and the aging furniture – but for the giant framed poster from Boy Blue, Rafael Falcone’s debut film, that hung above the fireplace.

Falcone’s image – all brooding angst and dramatic cheekbones – in tones of blue and black stared down at them both. The resemblance was striking, and would probably have freaked Ruby out more, if she hadn’t bypassed the Toto-en-route-to-the-abattoir stage of anxiety an hour ago.

She took a moment to observe Devlin with his hands stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans, but instead of noticing the similarities between the two men, she noticed the differences.

---