Chapter 2
TWO
“I’ll be there.”
Jude said goodbye and ended his call with Nally, a zip of excitement swirling through his gut.
He put his phone down, leaned back in his desk chair, and hurried through the last of the editing he’d been working on for his latest social media post. His brand was to comment on celebrity gossip, and his persona was that of a slightly barmy nouveau-aristo who didn’t quite grasp the modern world.
It wasn’t exactly who he was, but since he and Nally both had been bullied so badly throughout school by people who assumed that was who they were, it felt only right to spoof that and make a lot of money as he did.
It wasn’t money or branding that excited him about rushing to Nally’s rescue on the red carpet that night. Any opportunity to spend time with his best friend was excellent, as far as he was concerned. The fact that he would get to do it on a red carpet with cameras flashing was even better.
He put the almost finished post aside and stood, whirling around to assess his bedroom.
Well, it was more of a bed-suite, if he was honest. Aside from his desk, filing cabinets, and computer equipment in what had once been the viscountess’s dressing room, his suite included the boudoir, which housed his large, neatly arranged bed, the standard wardrobe, an ornate bureau, and a bathroom.
The boudoir was staged to reflect the person he pretended to be online.
And if ever there was a good time to be that person, it was now.
Jude hurried into the other room and attached his phone to the tall stand with a ring light that was a permanent fixture in the corner of his room.
He then headed to the wardrobe to figure out what he wanted to wear to the premiere.
Once he’d decided and had everything arranged so that his movements would look as seamless and spur-of-the moment as possible, he moved to his phone stand, navigated to his primary social media channel, and started a live video.
“Hello, chaps,” he said in his affected accent.
“So!” he went on, clapping his hands together, “I’ve just received a smashing, last-minute invitation to attend the premiere of To Serve Him this evening.
Can you believe it? And so, we now embark upon the most important and sacred task I’ve been handed for the last fortnight.
Come with me on a journey of sartorial elegance as I dress to impress. ”
He launched into action, pretending to pore through his wardrobe as he chose the outfit he’d already planned.
He played up to the camera, no qualms at all with undressing as much as he knew he could get away with while not having his account deleted for indecency.
He knew exactly what his fans wanted, and he gave it to them in spades as he talked about the various items of clothing he was contemplating, all while hiding and revealing just the right amount of skin.
With lightning speed, the number of people watching his live broadcast climbed up and up, past the hundreds and just over a thousand. With the floating hearts and likes that mounted up came more than a few comments.
“Choose the blue one.”
“What time does the premiere start?”
“Who is your date for the premiere?”
“When are you going to create an OnlyFans account?”
Jude got that last comment all the time, and there had been a few sad, drunken evenings, after break-ups or when the latest man of his dreams had turned him down, when he’d seriously considered it.
He was intrigued by the idea of crossing the line between attention-seeking and exhibitionism.
Nally always talked him out of it, though, and it was probably for the best.
“Sorry I don’t have time to answer all your questions, lads,” he said once he was dressed, stepping straight up to his phone so he could fill the entire screen with his face. “Time’s a’wasting. But don’t worry, I’ll document the entire evening for you. Cheers!”
He ended the video, quickly checked through the comments to see if there was anything he needed to address, and when there wasn’t, he tucked his phone into the interior pocket of his suit jacket and dashed into his en suite bathroom to style his hair and add just a touch of powder, blush, and eyeliner to his look.
One never knew when one might end up on Page Six, after all.
He tucked a few extra items of make-up into his jacket pocket, knowing Nally wouldn’t think about the cameras when he prepped for the night.
He then grabbed his wallet and headed downstairs, checking Nally’s location on his phone.
It looked like he was just entering the city.
“And just where are you going at this odd hour?”
Jude winced as he sped past the doorway to the kitchen on his way to the back of the house, where his family had a small courtyard where they parked their cars.
He didn’t need one of the cars just to drive to Leicester Square, of course, but he was rather fond of his SYM Joymax maxi scooter, even though Nally said it looked like the love child of a Vespa and a proper motorcycle.
He stopped and took a few steps backwards to glance into the kitchen at his mum and dad, who looked like they were just finishing supper preparations.
“I’m, er, going out for the night,” he told them.
Not that he needed to run everything past his parents before he went anywhere.
They would pester him with their worry if he didn’t, though.
“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 dad was teasing, 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. “He should find himself a proper job, and he shouldn’t leave 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.”
“An influencer,” 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.