by Heidi Rice
Her lungs squeezed tight, the question suspended in time as she wondered if he was really as clueless about what was going on here as he was making out. Unlike his father on a movie screen, with Luke it was impossible to tell what he was really feeling.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Absolutely.’
Maybe Luke didn’t get it yet. But he would, or she wasn’t the smartest film buff in West London – with a string of classic movies chosen by a maestro to indoctrinate him with.
She took a sip of the lemon-tini, only to find her glass empty. How had she finished that so quickly? ‘I should probably get back to the theatre,’ she said reluctantly.
She needed to start plotting with her co-conspirators how they were going to get him to stay for About a Boy on Saturday night. And then figure out which of Matty’s other Classics might be useful to show Luke the healing power of cinema.
‘Not so fast,’ he said as she got up. ‘There is one other thing.’
‘Yes?’
Anything, anything you want.
‘It can’t get out, that I’m working at the theatre,’ he said. ‘Gwen has already briefed our press team, they’re putting out the story to anyone who wants to know that I’m in Alaska on a fishing trip. Luckily for us, the press in the UK don’t put reporters at Hendon Magistrates’ Court, so we’re good there. And when I’m working I’ll make sure I stay as low-key as possible while the place is open. I’ve got a lot of experience at being invisible so that shouldn’t be a problem.’ His brows lowered again and she realised this was another aspect of his life she’d never considered.
Why had it never occurred to her how tough it must have been to keep under the radar with Falcone’s face? But as she looked at him now, she thought again that he didn’t look like Falcone anymore. Not to her. Not at all. He looked like Luke.
‘So the only other possible leak will be you and your staff,’ he continued. ‘I’ll need you to promise me they won’t release the information to anyone. Not to any of their friends and acquaintances. And definitely nothing on social media. No photos, no Instagram, no Facebook, Twitter, TikTok. Nada. Get it?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Even if she had to cut out everyone’s tongue and chop off their fingers, she would make sure no one broke Luke’s cover. The Royale would become a safe haven for him, no matter what, the way it had always been for her.
‘I swear, no one who doesn’t have to will know you’re here.’ She stroked her fingertip over a spot on her left breast.
At The Royale, we look after our own, Luke. And we’re making you one of our own … whether you like it or not.
Chapter 7
‘Once I’ve hacked away the blown plaster I can re-install the damp proofing then replaster and repaint here, too.’ Luke knelt down at the edge of the old theatre’s stage to knock against the wall, getting a series of hollow thuds. He glanced over his shoulder at Ruby. ‘Write this whole area down.’
‘Right.’ She bent over her clipboard, puffing upwards at the curls that had escaped the top knot she’d tied her hair into.
The aggravating and now far too familiar pulse of awareness had Luke concentrating harder on checking the plaster in the auditorium.
The woman was cute and fresh and homely, there was nothing hot about that. Maybe this was the result of his jet-lag. He’d had a quick doze at his rental in Chepstow Villas and ended up oversleeping. Not like him. He was still groggy after the seven-hour flight from JFK, and the texts he’d been fielding all afternoon from his mom, who had already figured out the fishing trip in Alaska story Gwen had given her was a crock.
Not good.
He’d been questioning himself ever since about why exactly he’d spent the last three days handling a whole heap of bullshit so he could make this happen without screwing up his business.
All the answers he’d given himself on Monday at the Magistrate’s Court still held.
The theatre could do with the work.
He owed his uncle … something.
He’d missed working with his hands.
He needed a break from his mom in Greta Garbo mode.
But now he was here, back in the theatre, doing a punch list of all the repairs and decorating needed to bring his uncle’s movie house back to its former glory – or at least back to a place where it could be sold quickly – the answer he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, hadn’t even consciously admitted to himself until now was staring him right in the face.
Ruby Graham – and the weird jolt, not to mention the desire to see her again and check up on her – had also been a factor in his decision to do the community service.
The thought would be funny, if it weren’t so fricking annoying. But it was hard to deny she had snagged his attention.
‘How do you think I should list this area?’ she asked from behind him. ‘West of the stage?’ She gave a nervous chuckle. ‘That sounds like something John Wayne would say.’
‘Nah, it’s better to draw a grid.’ He straightened, walked the two steps towards her, took the clipboard out of her hands – and got a lung full of her fierce, floral scent for his troubles.
He let his gaze glide over the notes she’d been jotting down for two hours as they assessed the work needed together.
‘Ruby? What the heck is this?’
The notes and diagrams she’d drawn on the work sheet – with a smattering of doodles and movie quotes thrown in for good measure – were totally unintelligible.
Her cheeks pinkened and she made a grab for the board. ‘It makes sense to me.’
He whipped the board away. ‘Uh-huh …’ Lifting the list above her grabbing hands, he read one of the barely decipherable squiggles aloud placed next to the list of supplies he’d asked for and what looked like a cartoon robot. ‘Smell. The. Glove?’
‘It’s to remind me to order the eleven litres of primer you asked for.’
She reached to grab the board back. The pulse of awareness became a shudder.
Sweet Jesus, ignore it.
‘What has smelling gloves got to do with primer?’
‘It’s a perfectly obvious reference to This Is Spinal Tap,’ she said. Her face had gotten even pinker. Had she felt that shudder, too?
So not good.
‘Spinal Tap? You mean the movie about a rock band?’ He vaguely remembered watching the old mockumentary in college and laughing his ass off, but he’d been wasted at the time so he wasn’t sure it counted.
‘The numbers all go to eleven,’ she said in a dead-on imitation of one of the British guys in the band. ‘Get it?’
‘Yeah, weirdly.’ The laugh rumbled up his torso but he held it at bay. ‘What’s with the robot guy?’ he asked, pointing at the scribbled drawing next to the quote. This he needed to hear.
‘That’s Optimus Primer, to you,’ she announced. ‘From Transformers. The first film with Shia LaBeouf, not the sequels, obviously.’
The laugh burst out before he could stop it.
It was like breaking a seal, because suddenly his chuckles matched hers. Their spontaneous laughter echoed round the empty auditorium and felt good in a way he hadn’t felt in a while. Not since a couple of years back in Rome, when he’d shared a brew with his kid brother while they both coughed up a lung over the latest random bullshit to befall Jack on his travels.
‘That’s nuts, but yeah, I get it,’ he said as the laughter faded.
She smiled and took the clipboard from him. ‘Precisely,’ she said. ‘Do not mock the method in my madness,’ she added primly as she tucked the board back under her arm.
Her cheeks were still that pretty shade of pink, highlighting the freckles.
‘Do you have a movie reference for everything?’ he asked, genuinely intrigued.
‘Pretty much,’ she said, without an ounce of embarrassment. ‘Movies are like life, if you look hard enough. A good movie can allow you to walk around in someone else’s shoes and also help you escape your problems, at least for a little while. That’s why I love them.’<
br />
It was the sort of naïve woo-woo crap his mom had used to justify the bad decisions she’d made throughout his childhood. But coming from Ruby, her expression bright with sincerity – and not fake sincerity either – it sounded kind of profound.
It was still bullshit, of course. He’d seen the damage that kind of crap could do, especially to those poor suckers left to pick up the pieces when others doggedly invested in the dream and refused to face the reality. He’d seen the man behind the curtain – to borrow a quote from Ruby’s favourite movie – and he knew the guy was a faker, a charlatan, a cheat.
But Ruby believed it. She wasn’t faking her optimism or her wanderlust to manipulate him, the way he suspected his mom had for years. And there was something endearing in that, however crazy.
‘Did you ever want to direct movies? Or be in them?’ he asked, because he was curious. Pretty much every movie fan he’d ever met – and with his face he’d met a lot of them – had a secret ambition to be either the next Tarantino or Bigelow or the next J-Law or RDJ. If you bought into the hype, why not go for the gold star while you were at it?
‘I certainly never wanted to act,’ she said.
‘But you did want to direct?’ he prompted.
‘For a while,’ she said. ‘Matty encouraged me to do some classes in film production at the local adult education institute after I left school. I think he was worried I might be hiding my light under a bushel.’ She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and he could see the sadness at the mention of his uncle’s name. ‘But I was rubbish, every idea I came up with was derivative.’
‘But that’s how the industry works – especially in Hollywood. Every movie is made on the back of another one,’ he said.
‘Perhaps, but the truth was, I also discovered I wasn’t really interested in making my own movies. I was happy just to run this place with Matty. Maybe it lacks ambition but this has been my ideal job since I was twelve and I make no apologies for that.’
An ideal job he was going to do nothing to save. He stifled the pang of guilt.
So so not good.
‘Ruby, can we start letting people in now, we’ve only got twenty minutes before the screening starts?’
He turned to see Ruby’s assistant manager Jacie standing by the door.
‘Yes, thanks, Jacie. Where’s Gerry and the bar staff?’ Ruby asked in a weirdly studied voice, as if she were making a point of asking a question she already knew the answer too.
‘Right here, Ruby.’ Gerry, the bar guy, popped out from behind the assistant manager, then him and his crew filed in and starting prepping behind the bar.
‘That’s my cue to scram,’ Luke said, pulling his ball cap out of his back pocket and slapping it on. He glanced at his watch, they’d been at it for close to two hours. He hadn’t had a chance to look over the lobby yet, but he had more than enough chores to be getting on with. Chores he was actually looking forward to.
He couldn’t save this place for prosperity, but it was a beautiful old building, and maybe if he got back some of its past glory in a couple of months Ruby could get a good price for it. Or better yet, find an angel investor who was as sold on the magic of the movies as she was.
‘You want to translate your notes and email me the list of supplies we talked about?’ he said.
‘Why don’t I do that now?’ she said, clutching the board as if her life depended on it. ‘My office is upstairs in Matty’s flat. I could type it out and maybe we could do some of the ordering online.’ Her gaze flicked backwards and forwards from him to the customers making their way into the auditorium.
‘Just email me the list, I can source the materials and pay for them.’ He had no intention of billing her or the theatre. From the state of the place he suspected the cost of materials would bankrupt them.
‘You’re going to pay for the supplies?’ Ruby said, misting up like she had when he’d revealed he was renting a house nearby. ‘Even though you already paid for all those surveys?’
‘I got the surveys done through a company account. And I can write off the expense against my tax liability when we sell the place,’ he said, hoping to direct her back to the big picture.
The hope in her eyes didn’t even falter.
He figured he’d done his best. Ruby was an optimist, no question about it. All he could do was keep giving it to her straight. If she chose not to believe it, that was her issue.
People were starting to line up at the bar to order drinks. He recognized some of the folks from the last movie night. A lot of the audience were wearing nerdy knitted beanies like the kid on the movie poster in the lobby and the kind of twenty-year-old gear he guessed went with the theme.
He resisted the urge to shudder. People around here must really love dress-up.
‘I’ll see you Monday,’ he said. ‘I’ll start early so I can pack up before the first screening.’
Ruby nodded, enthusiastically. ‘As early as you want to come is good with me.’
‘If you want to get some keys cut, I won’t need to disturb you,’ he said.
They’d already had a discussion about how best to fit the work round the theatre’s schedule. Luckily, The Royale only did matinee screenings twice during the week, so he could work until five on the other days. One thing he did not want to do was impact on their revenue. He also wanted to keep his contact with Ruby to a minimum. She was too cute for her own good. And while cute had never attracted him in the past, those weird jolts and pulses whenever he was around her meant he wasn’t going to push his luck.
‘Will do, although you won’t disturb me at all.’ She beamed those misty green eyes at him again then glanced round at the dimly lit auditorium. ‘I cannot wait to see this place get the love and attention it deserves. At last. And from a Devlin no less.’
Love was way too strong a word, but he let it go. Why piss on her parade when he didn’t have to?
‘Can I head out that way?’ he asked pointing to the exit door at the side of the stage.
He wasn’t concerned about getting harassed again, everyone was keeping a respectable distance as they made their way to their seats – give or take a few curious stares. Ruby had assured him The Royale community wouldn’t break his cover. And he believed her, because while Ruby looked like a pushover in a lot of respects – with her misty eyes and her freckled nose and her movie-mad philosophy of life – he knew how fierce she could be too, after having her ream him out over his refusal to scatter his uncle’s ashes.
‘Actually, it’s alarmed,’ Ruby said, but her gaze flicked away when she said it. Was she lying? Why?
‘Okay, I’ll head through the lobby, see you around.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, ducked his head and prepared to make his way through the crowd.
But then her fingers landed on his arm. ‘Luke, wait.’
He shot a look at her hand, annoyed by the ripple of awareness that shot up his arm.
She lifted her fingers immediately, making him regret giving her the death stare.
‘Would you … would you let us pay you back for the materials, and everything else you’re doing?’ she said, so earnestly he was forced to stand still and listen.
‘I told you, Ruby this is business, I can …’
‘Not in money,’ she butted into his explanation. ‘We’d love to have you as our guest of honour again, for tonight’s Matty’s Classic. And for the other Matty’s Classics screenings while you’re in London. You know, so we can thank you for helping us out. When you really didn’t have to.’
‘I got ordered to by a magistrate’s court,’ he pointed out, but she rode roughshod over the comment.
‘It would mean so much to us all to have a Devlin in The Royale again.’
***
Please say yes, please say yes, please please please say yes.
Ruby watched the muscle jump in Luke’s cheek.
He wanted to say no. That much was blatantly obvious. And she was pretty sure he’d figured out her little ruse to
trap him here until the show started.
But he didn’t say no straight away. He simply levelled that inscrutable stare at her, as if he were trying to gauge what was really going on.
She attempted to look as guileless as she could – not easy when her heart was beating so hard she was surprised she hadn’t passed out.
Luke was a cynical man. He didn’t believe in the magic of the movies, or their power to transform lives and people.
But Luke was also the man who had sung a show tune and gotten arrested for an uncle he’d never met. And the man who had relocated to London for a month or more to help fix a dilapidated cinema he planned to sell. He had also laughed at her Optimus Primer joke. Which meant Luke Devlin was not a completely lost cause.
Just like Hugh Grant’s Will Freeman.
If an egocentric dick like Will could discover his warm and fuzzy side with a little help from a nerdy kid and his hippie mum, then Luke could discover his warm and fuzzy side, too.
She held her breath waiting for his answer, not entirely sure anymore that getting Luke to discover his warm and fuzzy side so she could get him to help save The Royale was the only thing at stake.
‘What’s the movie tonight?’ he asked.
Ruby’s breath gushed out so fast she felt dizzy.
Of course saving The Royale was the only thing at stake here. This wasn’t about getting to sit next to him again for the duration of another movie, it couldn’t be. She refused to be that desperate.
‘About a Boy,’ she said. ‘Matty loved it. He always said Hugh Grant was at his hottest playing complete and utter bastards.’
‘Never heard of it,’ he said, but the muscle in his cheek had unclenched.
It was enough for Ruby to start feeling light-headed again. ‘Well then, you’re in for a massive treat.’
‘Do I have to sing? In the Talent Show?’
So he’d noticed the posters in the foyer announcing the after show entertainment? She had a moment of panic, how to reassure him that was not a requirement?