He's the One (24 page)

Flynn rolled his eyes, while Harry asked if she’d had a chef in LA. ‘I think having a chef must be the sign you’ve really made it. And when I’ve reached that stage, I either want a chef or to have all my food delivered.’

Brooke had to admit that they’d had a housekeeper who cooked, a gardener and a chauffeur, and a stylist for when they needed outfits for one of Zac’s film industry parties, and a personal trainer … She had intended to sound flippant but mentioning Rosa almost made her eyes fill with tears – Brooke missed her so much. She had tried to keep in touch, sending Rosa texts and pictures, but she wasn’t the best correspondent and her replies were always frustratingly brief. Brooke guessed she was busy with work and her own family. She picked up her phone and found a picture of Rosa and herself, holding it up for the others to see.

‘This is Rosa, she was our housekeeper and my unofficial nanny. I’ve known her all my life.’

‘She looks nice,’ Flynn commented, giving her a sympathetic look. ‘You must really miss her.’

Shit! Brooke actually had a lump in her throat as she nodded then looked away, not wanting him to see how upset she was.

‘Poor you, leaving all that behind. But I’m sure you’ll have it all again,’ Harry told her.

‘No one could ever replace Rosa,’ she said quietly.

Mila and Flynn had to leave after lunch as they had an extra shift at the restaurant so Brooke was left alone with Harry, something she was very happy about. He was dreamily good-looking, with such perfect skin, golden-brown as if he had been hanging out on Venice Beach, and lovely long eyelashes. She
had
to find out if he had a girlfriend. She really hoped not, though maybe even if he did, he might realise that she, Brooke, was a much better option … She didn’t like girls who went after other girls’ boyfriends – that slut Taylor, for example – but this was something of an emergency. She was currently in Dullsville and badly needed to get out. Fingers crossed, Harry was going to be her exit pass.

However, the topic didn’t come up. Instead he wanted to know everything about her life in LA, and Brooke found herself talking to him about her favourite stores and restaurants, what her house had been like, her friend Kelly, her acting ambitions. It was lovely at first chatting about those things, but eventually it added to her feelings of homesickness. And while Harry had been very attentive, and interested in every single thing she had to say, hanging on her words in fact, she wasn’t sure she could detect any chemistry between them. She couldn’t, hand on heart, say that he had flirted with her. Sure, he called her sweetie and darling and princess and angel, but she had heard him call Mila those things too. Maybe he
was a slow burn … But then he asked Brooke what she was doing on Sunday night.

‘There’s a new Julia Roberts film out … I just love her, don’t you? And we could get some dinner somewhere afterwards. There’s a divine sushi restaurant I know. Okay, it won’t be up to LA standards, but sushi is so good for you, isn’t it? So healthy. I never feel bloated after I’ve had it.’

He was obviously asking her out on a date! Brooke gave him her most dazzling megawatt smile, one that Julia Roberts herself would have been proud of.

‘I would love to! Thank you!’

And as if to seal the deal he kissed her on both cheeks when they said goodbye. ‘You smell delicious!’ he exclaimed. ‘What’s that perfume?’

‘It’s a Tom Ford private blend. Santal Blush.’

‘You’re a goddess, Brooke! I’m so glad you’ve moved here. You can transform our humdrum lives. We need your LA glamour sprinkled over us like fairy dust. You’re like a dream come true!’

The image seemed a little over the top … All the same, she couldn’t wait to see Harry again. At last some excitement and flirtation to brighten up her tedious dead-end life.

Brooke was still smiling when she arrived home, and spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking her clothes and tidying her room without Liberty having to nag her for once. And when her mom returned from London they actually had a conversation where they spoke politely to each other, Brooke didn’t resort to shouting and swearing and Liberty didn’t look upset. No, instead they ate supper together, and Brooke didn’t feel like throwing her plate of grilled salmon and steamed vegetables on the floor and storming
upstairs in a huff. It made a pleasant change. Being so angry all the time was exhausting and boring.

‘I’m so glad you seem a little happier, honey. I know this move is a big deal for you,’ Liberty said, when they settled down in the living room together to watch an episode of
Dexter
.

‘I wouldn’t go so far as saying happier …’ Brooke muttered. ‘But I’m trying to make the best of it. Anyway, it won’t be for ever. Once I’ve been to college and drama school, I’ll go straight back to LA. It’s where I need to be to fulfil my potential, I just know it. You understand how important contacts are, and hopefully by then Zac won’t be so angry with you and will consider hiring me.’

The expression on Liberty’s face said that she didn’t share her daughter’s optimistic view, but she tactfully changed the subject.

‘And we should start thinking about your eighteenth birthday party. I want you to have something special. Eighteen is a real milestone birthday.’

It was only six weeks away and Brooke supposed her mom was right. She couldn’t get too excited about it, though, not now she lived here. In LA there had been talk of Zac hiring a room at the legendary Chateau Marmont … Oh my God! She would have absolutely loved that! It would have been the most talked about party
ever
. But she was willing to bet Brighton didn’t offer the equivalent, and her mom wouldn’t have Zac’s budget.

‘Would you like to have it here at the house or I could hire a club? Or maybe we could have a themed marquee in the grounds of a hotel somewhere?’ Liberty looked so pleased at the prospect of organising something for her. Only a day ago Brooke would instantly have wanted to rain on her parade, but now she had Harry
to cheer her up. And a party would be an ideal way of letting Brighton know that she had arrived … and a great way to impress her new classmates, especially Harry.

‘I think here would be good – everyone’s really interested in seeing the house. Maybe I could have a fancy dress party? The twenties theme is hot right now, isn’t it?’ Already she was imagining herself in a beautiful, gold sequined dress and headdress, stunning all her guests as she sauntered down the impressive staircase after pausing for maximum effect. And Harry would look incredible in a tuxedo … They would easily be the most glamorous couple in the room. Everyone would be looking at them as they danced together …

‘Whatever you want, honey, you know I only want you to be happy.’

Brooke was tempted to reply that if her mom
really
wanted that, then they would never have left LA, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment.

Chapter 26

As the week went on Brooke was actually thinking that things were beginning to look up for her. She was enjoying college and loving her drama course. She had made some friends, she had an actual date and she was getting on better with Liberty. That was until Saturday when she had to go to work. As she had predicted the restaurant was packed with a constant stream of diners. She began her shift at five o’clock and worked practically non-stop until her break at nine. By then she was exhausted, and still had two more hours to go. Customers were so demanding! So rude! She’d had to bite her tongue so many times when they didn’t even bother to say thank you after she put their food down in front of them. And even in her conservative white shirt and black trousers she had still noticed a few of the men leering at her. Men with wives and children, who definitely should have known better. She suddenly saw exactly why Marco hadn’t wanted her to wear shorts.

She leaned against the wall outside the restaurant and sipped her Diet Coke. Big Bruno the chef (she didn’t know why he was called that as he was beanpole skinny, maybe it was the Brits with their ironic sense
of humour) had offered her a bowl of spaghetti bolognese and some garlic bread, which Brooke had politely turned down. She was regretting that decision now, as she was starving and must have burned up, like, hundreds of calories racing round the restaurant. It was more tiring than going on the StairMaster at the gym or doing a kick boxing class. Her arms ached from lugging the heavy plates around, and her legs ached from rushing from table to table, her feet hurt from standing up all the time, and she was even wearing flat shoes!

‘How’s it going?’ Flynn asked, joining her outside for his break.

‘Honestly? I had no idea how exhausting it was,’ Brooke confessed. He had been kind to her during the night, helped her out with a couple of tables when she couldn’t carry everything. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

‘Bet you’re glad you’re not wearing your pointy boots?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah.’ She didn’t know if she would ever be able to wear her pointy boots again, which was a shame because she knew that Harry liked them and she wanted to wear something impressive for their date. Maybe her crystal-encrusted Louboutins? Or was that a bit much for Brighton on a Sunday night? She had no idea. She wished she had a girlfriend like Kelly over here to advise her, but Mila didn’t exactly look as if she knew anything about fashion.

‘So what other plans have you got for the weekend?’ Flynn asked.

‘Chilling out tomorrow in the day and then I’m meeting Harry. We’re seeing a movie together.’ Brooke lowered her eyes, not wanting to let on how thrilled she was. ‘So, I was wondering … does he
have a girlfriend?’ It seemed incredible that someone as eligible as Harry could be single. She crossed her fingers behind her back.

Flynn shook his head. ‘Nope.’ He paused. ‘Why, have you got your eye on him?’

‘No, I just wondered.’ She knew she was blushing – she was such a bad liar. Liberty always knew when she wasn’t telling the truth. Brooke just couldn’t seem to use her acting ability when it came to her own life; apparently it was something she had in common with her mom.

‘I suppose he would be your type,’ Flynn mused. ‘All those designer clothes, the spray tan, the bleached teeth, the obsession with his looks. Man, he’s vain! He can’t pass a mirror or a window without checking out his appearance.’ He didn’t actually say ‘shallow’ but Brooke was pretty sure it was included in the list.

‘I thought you were meant to be his friend?’

‘I am, but he is really vain. We went camping one year at secondary school and he spent ages doing his hair. Every single morning he’d get up extra early so he could style it, which was pointless because we would then spend the entire day canoeing, or wading through streams, or doing obstacle courses in mud. I swear if he was drowning, his first thought would be about the state of his hair. Justin Bieber has nothing on him.’

Hmm, that didn’t exactly sound sexy, or especially manly, but Brooke could sympathise. She too spent ages doing her hair every morning. And a bad hair day could seriously interfere with her mood.

‘There’s nothing wrong in wanting to look good,’ she muttered, once again feeling that Flynn was criticising her.

‘Sure, but it doesn’t have to take over your entire life.’

Mila wandered out at that point, which was a relief as Brooke didn’t want any more judgmental comments from Flynn, thank you very much. As soon as Mila saw her she smiled warmly. ‘First shift is always full on, isn’t it? You’ll soon get used to it. You looked like you were doing really well.’

‘I don’t mind the hard work but it’s the way hardly anyone says thank you. I mean,
hello
, I’m a person too, I do have feelings.’

‘I know, it used to drive me mad. Now I don’t even notice – in fact, it’s almost a shock if someone is polite back to me.’

‘Maybe you should look at how you welcome people, Brooke,’ Flynn commented. ‘I saw that you looked a bit moody. If you smile, you get a better response.’

There he went again!

‘I’m perfectly polite! I’m working in a low-key Italian, not fucking Nobu!’

‘It shouldn’t matter where you are, you should treat everyone the same.’ Flynn again.

Ahhhhh! Enough! She clapped her hands over her ears. ‘Oh my God, Flynn, you sound like my mom. Change the fucking record, can’t you? I get enough abuse at home.’

She waited for him to come back with yet another put down. Instead he spoke to Mila. ‘Brooke’s going on a date with Harry tomorrow night.’

‘Really?’ She seemed surprised. ‘A date date?’

‘Yeah. Brooke wanted to know if Harry had a girlfriend, but I told her he doesn’t. Does he?’

‘I don’t want to piss anyone off,’ Brooke added. She glared at Flynn. ‘I’ll save that for work.’ Every time she thought they might actually be getting on, he went and blew it with some dig at her. Honestly, he was infuriating.

‘No, Harry definitely hasn’t got a girlfriend,’ Mila replied, looking slightly awkward. ‘But—’

Flynn interrupted her, ‘I’m sure he and Brooke will have a great time. They have so much in common. They can talk LA all night for a start. You’ll be in your element, Brooke.’

Mila still looked awkward, but Brooke put that down to Flynn being a general pain in the ass. And then her pathetically short break was over and she was back in the restaurant, once more at everyone else’s beck and call.

‘Enjoy your date with Harry,’ Flynn told her at the end of the night as she was wearily getting into a taxi – her mom was paying otherwise she would have been eating into her wages and might as well not have bothered to work her butt off for the last six and a half hours.

Did his comment sound ironic or was it Brooke’s imagination? It was impossible for her to tell from Flynn’s English accent. The people around her might be speaking English, but sometimes it didn’t seem like the same language to her.

‘Thanks. I will,’ she replied.

Brooke spent most of Sunday afternoon getting ready, giving herself a face mask, a hair treatment, painting her finger and toe nails – usually she’d have had a trip to the beauty salon to get it all done, but that was in her other life. She sucked at painting her own nails. She got most of the red varnish on her toes –
so
not a good look. It took her a good two hours to decide what to wear, as she tried on outfit after outfit and then rejected it. In the end she went for her Roberto Cavalli mini dress, with its striking exotic flower print, worn with a shocking blue biker jacket. And she couldn’t resist wearing her Louboutins – fortunately they had
been unscathed by their collision with her bedroom wall … that was quality for you … they really were an investment piece.