Page 10 of One Hollywood Sunset

‘Yes, I come to Carlton every three or four months. I try to eat here as often as I can when I’m in town. They do fantastic pasta.’

‘You eat pasta! I have to tell you, Jonny, I’m finding this transformation of yours a little difficult to take in. The smart clothes. The businessman’s car. The change in diet. The goatee. Next you’ll be telling me you have a mansion in Beverley Hills,’ Freya said.

‘Just off of Santa Monica Boulevard, actually.’

4

‘You live in America?’ Freya questioned.

She put the menu down and stared across at him. Ordering food could wait. She wanted to hear his story.

‘Some of the time. I travel,’ he answered. He poured some bottled water into Freya’s glass.

‘So, what’s your business? What do you do?’

‘Businesses. My main occupation – I’m a developer. I see things with potential and I try to bring that out,’ he stated.

‘Please tell me you aren’t one of those people who evicts, demolishes and builds office towers,’ Freya begged. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Well, perhaps someone who was paid to bang on about eating five-a-day.

‘I try not to do that too often. But sometimes, it’s unavoidable.’

‘Oh my God, you are. Well, now I know why you have bullet-proof glass on that car.’

‘I head up corporations, Freya. Corporations with shareholders that want returns for their investment. They’re my priority and, like I said, building office towers on residential areas really isn’t my bag. Hotels and inns are more my specialty. Have you heard of the Recuperation Inns?’ he asked.

‘Yes, of course, they have billboards everywhere with a really cheesy slogan. Something like “the ultimate sleep sensation begins at a Recuperation”. If that’s your company, I would shoot your ad man,’ she replied.

‘But you remembered it, so he’s done his job. That is one of my companies and it’s my aim to have a Recuperation Inn in every major city in the US by the time I retire. I’m hopeful for forty, so I’ve got just under ten years,’ he said. He smiled. It looked smug-arsed.

‘My, my, what happened? Did you enter The Apprentice or something? If I remember right, you were studying mechanics at college,’ Freya said.

‘I can still change a tyre but I also learnt how to run a multi-million pound organisation.’

‘Well good for you. I hope you and your hotels will be very happy together. I’ll have garlic bread, a pizza with everything on it and tell them not to hold back on those olives,’ Freya told him. She pushed the menu away.

‘Fine and how about some banoffee pie for dessert?’ he suggested.

‘Whatever.’

She was cross. Why was she cross? Why didn’t she want him to be successful? Because he had left her and humiliated her and taken money from her father. But that was years ago and she had a great life now and a wonderful partner to share it with. Why did she want to think of Jonny back on that council estate amounting to nothing? When had she got so cruel?

Frank returned with the wine and Jonathan gave their order.

‘You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?’ Jonathan said after Frank left.

‘And why would I be angry with you, Jonny?’

‘Freya, I have to say, it makes me feel seventeen again, you calling me that. No one calls me that anymore,’ he admitted. He laughed, then smiled, the brown eyes crinkling at the edges.

‘Well, what would you rather I call you? Money-grabbing weasel? Two-faced hypocrite?’

Her temper rose in her gut, her face flamed. She stared him down.

‘I’m not either of those things,’ he insisted. He took a sip of his wine. He looked cool and collected, unfazed by her name-calling.

‘No? Well, what would you call someone who did what you did to me? If there’s another name for it then hit me with it.’

‘You don’t know the full story.’

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