The Redstone family's quarterly dinner.
It's one of those mandatory things everybody shows up for, even if half the room would rather be anywhere else. They do it out of respect for the old man. Sumner Redstone's word is still law in the family, at Paramount, and pretty much all of Hollywood.
Hughes slipped in a couple minutes late. The second he stepped into the glittering dining hall, every head turned. He flashed the table that polished, boarding-school smile and tossed out an easy, "Good evening, everyone. Enjoy your dinner."
Then he slid into his seat like he didn't notice the side-eye he was getting.
Except one pair of eyes wasn't side-eye. Sumner Redstone (Paramount's boss, the family's backbone, and Hughes's grandfather) was staring at him with that heavy, quiet intensity that could make a grown man sweat.
After a long, silent beat, Sumner finally spoke. "Hughes. A word."
Grace, Hughes's mom, instantly went on high alert. She nudged her son under the table. "Go. And whatever you do, don't piss him off. Come straight back and tell me what he said. Do not talk back to him."
Hughes ignored her, stood up, straightened his collar, and followed Sumner into the side parlor like it was no big deal.
The second the door shut, Sumner rounded on him. "Drop the smart-ass attitude."
Hughes gave a helpless little shrug. "Grandfather, this is just me. You can't ask me to be somebody else."
Sumner snorted. Truth was, he actually liked this grandson (maybe more than the others). The kid was sharp, ruthless when he needed to be, and had the exact kind of instincts you need to survive at the top of this town. The only thing Sumner couldn't stand was Hughes's taste in women.
He dropped into a leather armchair. "Word is you've been working real close with Joey lately. You're even attached to her new movie."
Hughes leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, totally casual. "Yeah. She's a great partner."
Sumner's tone went ice-cold. "Cut it off. All of it. I don't care how talented you think she is."
Hughes tilted his head, that handsome half-smile playing on his lips. "What's got you so worked up, Grandfather?"
"Don't play dumb with me." Sumner's eyes narrowed. "I told you I'm done with you having anything to do with that woman. The Redstones have been humiliated enough because of her. You two are finished, so stay finished. Or else…"
"Or else what?" Hughes asked, one eyebrow raised, almost daring him.
Sumner leaned forward. "Or else what I already told you: you go near her again, you're out of Paramount."
Hughes pulled a cigar from his jacket, lit it, and blew out a lazy smoke ring with the faintest smirk. "Same old song. You're getting predictable in your old age."
Sumner's glare could've frozen fire. "Oh? You got something new to say?"
"I'm not stopping the collaboration," Hughes said, flicking ash onto the carpet like he owned the place. "No matter what you think."
"You little—" Sumner slammed a fist on the armrest. "Fine. Don't listen to me? Then get the hell out of my company. You think you got where you are because of who? Me?"
Hughes took a slow drag, studying the glowing tip of the cigar. "Actually, everything I have, I built myself. And honestly? I couldn't care less whether I'm your grandson or just some producer who clawed his way up. Doesn't change a thing."
He'd never leaned on the Redstone name (not once). Every deal, every greenlight, every win was his own. He'd always known the name alone wouldn't make him bulletproof in this town, so he never used it. Real power came from what he could do, not whose blood he shared.
So Sumner's threat? It bounced right off him.
Sumner knew it too. That's exactly why he valued the kid. But the fact that Hughes kept defying him (especially over her) lit the old man's fuse.
"Fine," Sumner spat. "You don't give a damn about this family? Then pack your office today and go make movies with that woman."
Even if she had some talent these days, she still wasn't good enough for a Redstone. And as far as Sumner was concerned, his opinion of her was set in stone.
Hughes gave a polite little bow, smile never wavering. "Will do. I'll have my resignation on your desk this afternoon."
Before Sumner could explode, Hughes added a cheerful, "Take care, Grandfather," and strolled out.
He walked back through the dining hall whistling, hands in his pockets, looking like a guy who'd just won the lottery instead of torching his legacy. Every eye followed him.
He paused at the doorway, turned, and gave the room another courteous nod. "Y'all enjoy dinner. I'm heading out."
Leaving Paramount? No sweat. He never really needed the name anyway.
But leaving Joey? That wasn't happening.
He'd never been more sure of anything.
––––––––
Joey was leaving for Oregon with the crew in a couple days to start shooting.
Before she left, she met up with Hughes one last time (in her office at the studio).
She was venting. "The set decorator just showed me photos of the green-screen stage he built. Jesus, I almost lost it on the guy!"
Hughes rested his chin on his hand, watching her with that half-amused look. "So… you're telling me this because you want me to go yell at him for you?"
Joey planted her hands on her hips. "Of course not. You catch more flies with honey. Once I'm in Oregon, I'll sweetly brainwash him till he fixes it."
She turned to stare out the window, lost in thought for a second. She looked so calm with her head tilted up like that, and something about it made Hughes blurt out, "I quit Paramount."
Joey blinked, then whipped around. "Wait, what? They can fire family?"
"I quit," he corrected, eyebrows raised. "There's a difference."
"Why would you quit?" She was genuinely confused.
Hughes gave her a soft, lopsided smile. "Because of you."
"…" Joey had no idea what he was talking about and zero interest in digging deeper.
"You're not gonna ask?" he pressed.
She stretched her arms over her head. "Nah. You'll handle your own stuff. You always do."
Hughes stepped closer, one hand in his pocket, the other braced on her desk so he was looking down at her. "You really don't seem to care much about what happens to me, huh?"
Joey gave him a "duh" look. "Caring would be weird at this point, wouldn't it?"
He leaned in, hands gripping the back of her chair, caging her in. His brown eyes had this cool, almost accusing edge. "Sometimes I honestly wonder how you do it."
His breath brushed her ear; the look on his face was impossible to read. Those eyes were locked on hers like he was trying to see straight through her.
Joey thought, Okay, he looks kinda pissed.
"Do what?" she asked.
"I'm standing right in front of you," he said, voice low, "and somehow it feels like you don't even see me."
He licked his bottom lip, the corner of his mouth curling into a reckless, icy smile.
He was mad (actually mad) that she could be this unaffected.
Joey had no clue what his deal was. What, was she supposed to act like some lovesick teenager with hearts in her eyes? Was he seriously accusing her of being cold after everything?
Hughes Redstone, the ego on this guy.
I loved you once. Past tense.
You're the one who walked away. Now you've got the nerve to call me heartless?
Yeah, back then she'd been naive, way too dependent, but her love had been real. It just burned out (after all the tears, the sleepless nights, the slow, brutal realization). He left. She didn't cling. That's not "unable to be put back together"; that's one person choosing to end it.
In her last life, she'd been terrified of abandonment. It took her years to finally let go.
She'd lived that saying: "If you haven't cried yourself to sleep, you don't know life."
Now she was building a new one, and Hughes Redstone wasn't part of the blueprint.
He was being moody and contradictory, so she just stared right back, a little fire in her eyes.
Then she decided to hit him with it. "You know what I'm curious about? How you could throw away seven years like it was nothing."
Hughes didn't get mad. He just smiled (kind of sad, kind of knowing). There were things he wasn't going to tell her, things that would only bruise her pride.
"Sounds like you're the one who's not over it," he said softly.
Joey laughed, cold and short. "Doesn't matter if I am or not. You're the one who ended it with a single sentence."
She kept going. "Let's not do this. It's over. New chapter, new life."
Heartless is a tricky word.
Between the two of them… who was the heartless one, really?
read my new story and vote :
American TV Series: Young Sheldon mike edition