Sumner Redstone was one of the guys who basically ran Hollywood, so naturally anything his grandson Hughes Redstone did ended up as gossip-column bait.
Word that Hughes had dumped Joey started circulating—who knows where it leaked from.
Hughes's mom, Grace (one of the top execs at Paramount), had just heard the news and rushed straight home. She walked in and found him slouched on the couch, flipping through a film magazine.
Grace didn't come right out and ask. She never does. Instead she circled like a shark and said, "So… that party I made you go to last night. Have fun?"
Hughes glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "You're fishing, Mom."
He always thought it was funny—around him she wanted to roar like a lion but ended up sounding like a sneaky house cat.
He respected her, loved her even, but her whole worldview? Hard pass.
He gave her an amused look. Grace took a deep breath—she knew she couldn't strong-arm this kid—and tried again. "I just meant… any nice girls there?"
Hughes calmly turned a page, a little smirk playing on his lips. "At the party?"
Grace pressed on. "You know I've never approved of that woman. If you met someone decent, someone with class, I'd be thrilled."
Hughes paused like he was picturing the room, eyes half-closed in mock bliss. "Let's see… lots of trust-fund princesses with perfect blonde curls, doe eyes, dripping sweetness. A swarm of loud, desperate mothers hunting for eligible bachelors. And those tight-faced society ladies who love playing matchmaker."
He grinned wider. "Nope. Not a single one I was into."
Grace's face fell, then hardened. "Did you break up with her?"
Hughes leaned back in the carved wooden chair, ankles crossed, totally relaxed. He shot her a sideways glance, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Mom, you love asking questions you already know the answer to."
Grace wasn't having it. "So you finally came to your senses?"
Hughes played dumb. "Senses about what?"
She smacked the glass coffee table with her knuckles. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
He toyed with an old pocket watch (click open, snap shut, click open, snap shut), looking bored out of his mind. "Wow, the world's gone crazy. A guy ends things with his girlfriend and his mother practically throws a party."
Grace wanted to slap that smirk off his face, but she also adored the little bastard. "If you stayed with her, it would be the biggest joke in Hollywood. Who is she? Some orphan with zero pedigree. How could she ever be good enough for our family? We thought she had talent at first (big deal), but a couple years in this town and she shows her true colors. Fell apart the second someone offered her a good time. I can't have a talentless failure as a daughter-in-law. The Redstone name doesn't do trash."
Hughes kept clicking the watch. "So what you're saying is you're just an old-school racist."
Grace snorted. "Fine. So your next girlfriend's gonna be another one just to piss me off?"
Hughes leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling, and let out a long, tired sigh—like dealing with her was exhausting but inevitable. "I don't surrender to outdated garbage like that."
He'd been swimming in the Hollywood ocean since the day he was born. Thirty-three years of watching every kind of man and woman put on an act. Skin color, looks, race—he stopped caring about that stuff a long time ago.
Everyone in this town wears a mask. Always.
What he fell for was talent. Fire. That fearless, all-in energy—like Joey had seven years ago when he first saw her.
He really thought she was different. Thought she'd hold on to that dream no matter what. He wanted her to.
In the end, she let him down.
Grace knew her son had always marched to his own beat. She laughed, but it was angry. "I knew it. You've got ice water in your veins, you cold-hearted brat. No sense of family, no sense of duty. You want to embarrass all of us."
Hughes just shrugged, clearly enjoying getting under her skin. "Mom, you know I always have my reasons. Including why I ended things with Joey." He stood up, slipped on his jacket, and headed for the door. "As for what you think, or Dad thinks, or Grandpa thinks—honestly couldn't care less."
Grace stepped in front of him. "So you really did it? I thought only celebrities pulled the disappearing-act breakup."
He gently patted her shoulder. "Mom, stop calling Joey 'that woman.' She's barely more than a kid."
Grace actually cracked a smile. "Still protecting her? Come on. A girl with no agenda couldn't keep you on the hook for seven years. Not the way she is now."
Hughes gave a lazy whistle, like the whole conversation was mildly entertaining background noise. "Yeah, we're done. You're getting older—don't work yourself up over this stuff. She's in a bad spot right now. No need to kick her while she's down."
That finally satisfied Grace. She smiled for real. "I'm not wasting energy on someone that insignificant. Without you propping her up, she's finished in this town anyway. What does she have? One decent debut and then a pile of garbage. Washed up, reckless, completely out of ideas—that's her brand now."
Then her eyes narrowed. "Wait. Do you still have feelings for her? Why exactly did you end it?"
Hughes rubbed his temple. Mom was getting more paranoid every year—the tougher she was at the studio, the crazier she got at home.
He flashed that same careless grin, like nothing ever really touched him. "I've always got my reasons, Mom. And I'm never gonna tell you what they are. You know that by now."
Grace snapped, "You don't even know what love is. I'm worried you got played."
Hughes smirked, thin lips curling. "You've been married—what—thirty years? You really think you're the expert on love?"
Grace opened her mouth, but he was already walking out.
"Women always think they've got love all figured out," he tossed over his shoulder. "You just mistake the fantasy in your head for the real thing and call the ashes a bonfire."
Then he laughed and shut the door behind him.