The exit from the customs area was where the paparazzi descended upon us. Frank had told us he would put the word out that the two of us were in town. To me, the opening night for Star Academy was nuts. But walking through Heathrow with Rita James was simply insane. I became worried when they spotted us and began to converge and shout questions as we navigated towards our waiting ride. I was relieved when our security showed up—four dangerous-looking men—and boxed us in between them.
When we finally had some breathing room, Rita slowed our walk to a stroll. I caught on quickly that she was using the paparazzi to get the word out that we’d arrived. I pushed my sunglasses up on my head and gave them my million-dollar smile, and Rita slid her arm under mine. When we walked outside, we stopped, and she turned back to the paparazzi.
Frank had given us talking points, and I let the master—or in this case, mistress—do her job. She spoke about the new movie coming out this summer, The Secret Circle. I’d been given permission to let the press know I was there to talk further about my possible Star Wars role. And that the reason we were here was to meet with the director and producer of the movie.
Then they asked if we were ‘together.’ Rita laughed and promptly threw her daughter under the bus.
“David dates my daughter. He wouldn’t be interested in an old woman like me.”
“Is that true, David? Is Rita James too old for you?” one of them asked, which caused them all to smirk.
Even I could imagine the headline: ‘David A. Dawson says Rita James is Old!’ Rita gave me an amused glance.
“I’ve had a crush on her forever. If I hadn’t met her daughter first, I would’ve asked her out,” I said. As soon as it came out, I knew I’d just made the news.
“So, you’d be up for a threesome with Rita and her daughter?” one of the cheeky bastards asked.
Rita gave them all a look that dared them to ask any more questions like that. I just kept a neutral expression on my face as Rita turned to the car and the driver let us in. Caryn couldn’t hear what they’d said.
“It looked like they pissed you off. What did they say?” she asked.
“They wanted to know if we were going to the hotel for a threesome,” I said.
“I told them three’s a crowd,” Rita added with a straight face.
Caryn’s mouth gaped, and she just stared at us until she noticed I was about to break out laughing. Her glare convinced me she’s been taking lessons from my mom.
◊◊◊
Rita had arranged for us to stay in London at the Corinthia Hotel. It was at the corner of Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall Place, on a triangular site between Trafalgar Square and the Thames Embankment. Their brochure said it was a former British government building that was now a luxury hotel. The building itself was an odd shape. At one end, it looked like a triangle with a round point that faced the river.
When we pulled up, there were six doormen, three to a side, stationed to hold back the paparazzi and a small crowd that had gathered. Our driver got out of the car but waited to open the door. Caryn made a move to get out, but I stopped her.
“Hang on. I think they want us to wait,” I told her.
Out of the front entrance came a man dressed in a smart suit, followed by two bellhops.
“Let David and me get out first and wait until we’re in the building before you exit the car. You don’t want them to think you’re with David,” Rita told Caryn.
“What do you mean?” Caryn asked.
I batted my eyes at her.
“Oh. Okay, I’ll wait,” Caryn said, understanding.
When the driver opened the door, I got out first and then helped Rita out. The way she did it took my breath away. All that was missing was a crown on her head. I stepped back and let the paparazzi get their shots of American Hollywood Royalty, Rita James. She waited a moment and then nodded at the man in the suit. He came up and did a little half-bow to her. She motioned me forward.
“David A. Dawson, I would like you to meet Charles Whatley. He is in charge of the Corinthia Hotel.”
We shook hands.
“I’m so glad you both have decided to stay with us. I’ve taken the liberty to put you in the Royal Penthouse. Only the best for our Miss James,” he gushed.
“You always take such good care of me,” Rita praised him.
Once we were inside, Caryn joined us. We were ushered to the ‘lift,’ as he called it, up to our rooms. He opened the door for us, and Rita walked in like she owned the place. Caryn and I gave ourselves away as we gawked at the elegance of the suite.
Mr. Whatley gave us a tour. On the lower level, you entered a double door that put you in a grand vestibule. To the right was a spiral staircase that led to the second floor. In the center of the foyer hung a chandelier that reached from the ceiling of the second level almost to the slate floor of the entry. It looked like an upside-down Christmas tree made of black crystal.
Off to the left was the butler’s pantry where food would be staged and kept warm for serving. That led to a dining room that would seat ten. Next to the pantry was a door to a bedroom where Caryn would stay. Another door close to the entrance was an office that had built-in TVs on the wall tuned to different business channels with the sound off. If you walked down a short hall, it opened to the lower living room.
The suite also had an internal lift you could use to get to the second floor; Rita and Mr. Whatley chose to use it. Caryn and I walked up the staircase to find ourselves in another living area. The master suite had its own spa, complete with a massage table. The walk-in closet was spectacular. If my mom saw it, my dad would be in trouble. There were two large bedrooms off the main suite area. Each had access to a rooftop terrace with a panoramic view of the River Thames, a working gas fire pit, and a separate dining area.
The view was of historic London, and there was a fantastic view of the London Eye, the giant Ferris wheel across the river. We were within walking distance of Buckingham Palace. When Mr. Whatley left, Caryn gave me a dirty look.
“Jesus, David. How much is this costing you?”
“Normally, it’s just under $27,000 a night,” Rita said.
She suddenly got a big smile on her face when she saw I was about to have a stroke.
“They comped me,” she said, letting me off the hook.
“Still,” Caryn said, looking worried.
“Even if David paid for it, it would have been worth it. Tomorrow the Star Wars people are meeting us here, and we must put our best foot forward,” Rita explained.
Uncle John had suggested that we get them away from the studio to give us a psychological advantage when we talked. If Rita wanted to impress them, this setting would do that nicely. For me, it was just fun to see how the über-rich lived.
◊◊◊
Caryn left to go play tourist, and Rita was talking to the staff about tomorrow’s meeting. I put on a jacket and grabbed my tablet so I could take pictures of the view. It was almost eight a.m. back home, so I sent a text to Halle, and she got on video chat with me.
“I see you and my mom are living it up.”
“I never realized what a big deal she is until I watched the Brits fall all over themselves. She’s like a rock star,” I said.
“Wait until they start making up stuff in the tabloids. They’re notorious for the junk they publish.”
“Your mom said I was your boyfriend,” I teased.
“Just great. I thought we’d snuffed out those rumors,” Halle said, referring to when we came back from LA, and the American tabloids had linked us.
It had taken a little while for our classmates to understand that we were just friends. I decided to change the subject.
Before I could say anything, I heard mewing.