DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Lost Boys, any related merchandise. This is purely for entertainment purposes, and all trademarks of the Lost Boys are owned by Warner Bros.
This was his son?!
Physically, the boy-er, man- was older than him, even though David himself had been eighteen when the unknown conception occurred.
“My mother was Emily Willows,” he said, in a creaky voice. “She died about two months ago.”
Emily. David could remember Emily quite well, as a vibrant young woman with red hair, almost like blood, and green eyes. How often in their short time together had she said, “Smile, David! You look so much brighter when you smile. Like this.” And then she would give him her dazzling smile, and he would crack up with laughter.
That had been eighty years ago. They had lost one another in the chaos and confusion on April 18, 1906. The night of the earthquake.
The hotel lobby of the Santa Carla Riolta hotel was bustling that afternoon, the sixteenth of April. A young blond man pushed his hair out of his eyes. He was not platinum blond then, but he was pale blond. His piercing, ice blue eyes scoured the lobby as his mother and father chatted while checking in. The family was looking at a piece of land, close to the hotel. If they chose to buy it, then they would open a small jewelery store there, a chain his father had toiled to make thrive. It would be the third store of Laurent jewelers.
“Room two-twenty-three is yours, Mr. And Mrs. Laurent.” The clerk said, passing over the key.
“Thank you. Now, darling, let’s go up and settle in. Does that sound alright, David?” His mother asked. She didn’t really want his opinion, he knew, but was just saying it because she felt she had to.
“Yes, mother.” David replied. He hadn’t yet looked at his parents since the entered the room, a fact that had mostly escaped their noticed. He was hungrily scanning the lobby still.
His mother sighed. “David, dear, look at your father and I.” When he grudgingly complied, she shook her head mournfully. “I do wish you would shave daily, like your father. That stubble is most unbecoming.”
David ran a hand over his cheeks and chin. He quite liked the fine stubble that had begun appearing on his face two years before. In fact, to keep the stubble, he only shaved once or twice a week to preserve it.
He returned to visually exploring the lobby, and his mother sighed again. His father had been conversing with the clerk about the best restaurants for their dinner. “I’ll be up to the room later, mother.” David said. “I would like to explore a little.”
“Oh, very well.” She said, clearly displeased. She and her husband left, a bellhop behind them with a cart filled with luggage.
David grinned brightly and crossed to the fountain in the middle of the room, which was spouting crystal water in, the droplets twinkling cheerily. He smiled, dipping his hand under one of the water spouts. The water was cool on his hand.
That was when she walked in.
David’s eyes instantly locked onto her. She had a graceful body, and a happy, expressive face. Loose pieces of deep red hair were half out of the bun at the base of her neck, her green eyes wide from some sort of exertion. Her upper half was ever so slightly crumpled inwards, as if she had just run a long distance. The smile on her plump lips was bright and joyous, her cheekbones with just the barest sheen of sweat.
David stood up. She was, in no uncertain terms, the most amazing woman he had ever seen.
One of the clerks on break approached her and kissed the back of her hand with great pomp and respect. “Good afternoon, Miss Willows. Are you back from your fitness run?”
She nodded and replied, to which the clerk nodded and left. David rose as she walked by, reaching for her wrist.
She stopped, and turned to see the boy who had grasped her wrist-but it was very tenderly, as if she was frail or delicate. His eyes drew her in, and she faltered for a second.
“May-may I help you?” she asked.
David just stood with her wrist in his hand, staring for a moment before shaking himself out of his funk and smiling. It wasn’t a smirk, nor was he cocky. At that point, he was your average man. Ever persuasive and charismatic. “Er, yes. I was wondering if you would need help getting dinner.”
She seemed insulted. “Do I look like I’m needy and desperate?”
“No, I was trying to ask you to dinner with my family.”
“Oh.” The frown lines on her face softened into a smile. “I would like that. What time?”
David thought for a moment. “Knowing my parents around six thirty. Will you be available?”
“I can make myself available, Mr…?” she trailed off.
“David. Please, call me David. And your name is?” David asked. He was pretty sure that the clerk had called her ‘Miss Willows,’ but he couldn’t be sure.
“Emily Willows. My room is one-twelve. Will you pick me up at…. say… quarter after six?”
“Sounds perfect.” Emily turned, and, smiling over her shoulder, left to go to her room.
David had no mood for exploring after that. Instead, he hurried up to his family’s room. He had to look perfect, things had to be perfect, for Emily was perfect. His heart felt like it would burst when he thought of her, and she brought a smile to his lips. He even had half a mind to shave off his stubble.
Quarter after six arrived, and he stood outside her room. A wildflower ‘borrowed’ from the hotel’s gardens was behind his back as he waited for the door to be answered.
A tall, burly man did just that. He scanned David’s appearance, grunted and said, “Don’t hurt my daughter” before turning back into the room. Emily came out from behind him, smiling. “Right on time.”
“Well, we did agree on this time.” He reminded her, holding out the wildflower. She reached out for the blossom, making a small, tender smile appear on her lips. “Let’s go, shall we?”
David nodded and linked elbows with her. “Yes. My parents are down in the lobby, waiting for us. So let’s not keep them waiting.”
His parents, at first, seemed impressed at Emily. But as dinner passed, David could almost feel his mother’s eyes on his guest. And by the look on her face, she did not like Emily too much. His father was indifferent, content on his pasta.
“Will you be ready for the check, sir?” the restaurant’s owner asked. He was a very tall gentleman, with glasses and hair with a slight wave to it. They had seen him bringing all the checks around-perhaps he was a little paranoid about being paid.
Mr. Laurent nodded, and the man bustled away to prepare the check. David stood and held Emily’s chair back for her to sit up.
He dropped her back at her room when they returned to the hotel, lingering outside the open door for a few minutes. “Thank you for tonight,” she said. It was almost nine by the time they had returned-his parents were big chatters. Or rather, his mother was.
“No, thank you.” David replied. “You made it bearable-just, please, ignore my mother.”
Emily nodded, but he could see that she, too, had noticed his mother’s looks. Her eyes were melancholy. “I will. Goodnight.” She slipped inside her room and shut the door softly.
David sighed and returned to their room with great distaste. He could picture his mother’s words already: ‘She is not a suitable match…What about the girl back home, Suzanna, that your father and I suggested…don’t see that local girl any more, David.’
He was not surprised, and muttered an excuse about being tired, before slipping inside his bedroom off the hotel room’s main area.
David could tell that if he had a choice, he wanted Emily. She was sweet, beautiful, and was able to be cheery and polite, even with his mother’s secret death glares. And he was pretty sure that she felt the same way. And if she did, then perhaps they could run away, stay here, away from his parents.
David fell fitfully to his mattress, a headache pounding in his temples. His parents might have wanted to open a store branch in Santa Carla, but he wanted Emily.