“Dressed like that?” his dad said with a disapproving frown.
“I’m dressed very nicely, thank you very much,” Jude defended himself.
“He means the make-up, dear,” his mum said, carrying her plate to the table with a slightly sour look, as if she still couldn’t understand why someone of her pedigree enjoyed cooking as much as she did.
“We all know you’re a pouf, son,” his father said with a different version of the exaggerated aristocrat that Jude used for social media, “but you don’t have to make yourself look like one every time you leave the house.”
“You don’t think I’m a dashing aesthete?” Jude teased his father right back. His dadwasteasing, after all. He didn’t care one way or another who Jude fancied or what sort of mischief he got up to in his spare time. When Jude had come out to him at the age of fifteen, his dad had shrugged, said he already knew, and reminded him of the long and storied history of bent British aristocrats. He’d hinted about a crush on a fellow boarding school classmate, too, though Jude had never been able to pry more about that out of him.
“I think you’re a leech and a wastrel who should have attended a proper university and secured a real job,” his father said in a banal voice, barely looking up from his meal as he took a seat across from Jude’s mum.
“Don’t encourage him, George,” Jude’s mum hissed, rolling her eyes. “Heshouldfind himself a proper job, and heshouldn’tleave the house looking like a tart.”
Jude wanted to tut, but instead he stared at his dad, asking for help. As much as his father didn’t care what or who he did with his time, his mother would have much preferred a normal son who married a horsey-faced woman of their sort and had at least two rosy-faced, English children.
“I do have a proper job, Mum,” Jude told her, fidgeting in the doorway, caught between defending himself and his choices and running off to stand by Nally’s side. “I’m an influencer.”
“Aninfluencer,” his mum scoffed. “There’s no such thing. All you do is spend too much time on your phone, indulging in vanity.”
Jude had lost track of the number of times they’d had that argument. He’d long since given up explaining to his mum that an influencer was a real thing and that he’d actually done surprisingly well at it. It wasn’t just about vanity either, it was about marketing, branding, and acting, all wrapped up in top-notch video production skills. But since the concept was as foreign to his parents as television would have been to his great-great-grandparents, he didn’t bother trying to explain anymore.
“Nally just called, asking me very last-minute to go with him to his film premiere tonight,” he said instead.
The effect was instant.
“Oh! Ronald invited you to his film premiere?” His mum brightened considerably.
“Yep. So I need to get a wiggle on.” Jude checked his watch. “I have about twenty minutes tops to get there.”
“You should spend more time with Ronald Hawthorne,” Jude’s mum went on. As if Jude didn’t spend the majority of his time with his best friend anyhow. “That young man is going places. I’m quite certain of it. He’s a good influence on you.”
“Yes, Nally is the best,” Jude said briskly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?—”
“Should we invite Robert and Janice over to supper?” Jude’s mum asked his dad.
“Heavens, no,” his dad replied. “Those two are as mad as a box of frogs. Bohemians, you know.”
“Yes, but Robert is the thirteenth Earl of Felcourt, after all.”
“Goodbye, Mum, Dad,” Jude said, pushing away from the doorway, grabbing his keys and overcoat from the tiny closet by the back door, and hurrying out into the courtyard. He wasn’t in the mood to contend with his mum’s snobbery or his dad’s teasing.
What he was in the mood for was joining Nally at a huge event that definitely marked the beginning of what would be a long and thriving career. Nally was brilliant. Jude had known it from the first moment they’d met. He had a rare talent that just sort of sprung up out of him like living water. There were few things Jude liked better than lying under the grand piano in Nally’s studio at Hawthorne House, listening to his latest composition while reading a book or just napping.
He was blessed beyond telling to have Nally for a ride-or-die friend. As he sped through London, exercising every bit of restraint he had not to break a thousand traffic rules to get to the Odeon faster, he told himself that he would make certain to promote Nally andTo Serve Himon all of his platforms. The red carpet would be a great way to bring Nally the attention that he’d always deserved. Jude had been trying to convince Nally to up his social media game for ages. Maybe that would actually happen now.
He was lucky to find a garage to park his scooter in, and as soon as it was secured and paid for, he made his way up to Leicester Square with bubbling excitement. Leicester Square was always crowded, but it had an extra vibrant feeling to itthat night, and Jude recognized the media and entourages of big celebrities when he saw them.
But nothing prepared him for how good Nally looked when he finally spotted his friend around the corner from the start of the red carpet. Nally had always been attractive, but it hit Jude entirely differently than usual to see him decked out in a tailored suit with his hair combed back.
Nally smiled as soon as he spotted Jude, but almost at once, Jude sensed something a little off about that smile. It might have had something to do with the guy who had him all but cornered against the side of the building.
“There you are,” he called out, half to signal to Nally and half to let the guy, whoever he was, know that someone was watching. “You look absolutely stunning as usual,” he said, striding casually up to his friend.
He reached Nally and leaned in close, pretending to be French and kissing both his cheeks. He paused after kiss two and murmured, “This guy bothering you?”
Nally hummed and shook his head ever so slightly, but kept his smile in place. “If you’ll excuse me,” he told the man, who looked at Jude with narrowed eyes. “Apparently, I’m wanted on the red carpet now. How exciting.”
“Goodbye and enjoy the show,” Jude said to the man, waving as charmingly as he could. Once he and Nally had turned the corner, he asked, “Who was that?”
