Ruby Parker Hits the Small Time

by Rowan Coleman

  I slurped my hot chocolate. “He won’t love me when he’s got loads of new kids,” I said. “He’ll probably just forget about me then.”

  Mum shook her head and kissed the top of mine. “He won’t, Ruby—even if one day he does have another family. He won’t forget about you.”

  I rested my head on her shoulder. “How do you know?” I asked her.

  “Because I still know your dad better than anyone. I know you mean the world to him. It’s breaking his heart to see you like this, Ruby.”

  I shut my eyes and suddenly I felt terribly, terribly tired. “I’m sorry, Mum,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t you be sorry, darling,” Mum said softly. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Iwatched Brett’s profile, her face tipped back under the glare of the huge makeup light that was angled directly above her. Her personal makeup artist, Claire, was applying her foundation. It took a long time. Brett had once told me that over their professional relationship, she and Claire had developed a lengthy routine that minimized shadows, reduced lines, and made her look ten years younger than the thirty-nine she actually was. Mind you, Brett told me that about two years ago and she’s still thirty-nine according to the Sunday Express magazine, so I’m not exactly sure how she works it out. Maybe it’s like dog years. Maybe there are five human years to every Brett year. It was probably the journalist’s fault. They are always printing lies about Brett.

  Claire looked annoyed. Claire always looks annoyed, and I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate enough what Brett has done for her. I often heard her swearing loudly in complaint about something Brett has done or said, as if it wasn’t Brett who paid her wages. And once I caught Claire doing an impression of Brett that made her look like a wicked old witch! That was unfair because, after all, without Brett, Claire wouldn’t have a job. In fact, Brett could make it so that Claire never worked in this industry again if she wanted to. Claire is very lucky that Brett is so kind to her.

  You see, a lot of people don’t see the real Brett. The touchy, hard, nasty Brett isn’t her at all. Deep down, she’s very kind and vulnerable. I saw her say that on a talk show once. And when she’s being Angel’s mum, you just know it’s true. Sometimes I’ve even wished Brett was my mum.

  “Oh, hurry up, Claire!” Brett demanded. “I feel like I’ve been here for hours!”

  Claire rolled her eyes and winked at me. “You have been here for hours,” she said. “It takes hours to get you looking exactly the way you want to, Brett. It’d be quicker to have a face-lift. Another one.”

  I was surprised that Claire hadn’t read Brett’s autobiography, where she says once and for all that she’s never had any plastic surgery. I was also surprised that Brett didn’t sack her right on the spot. Instead she just looked sideways at me and pursed her lips.

  “You don’t know how lucky you are,” she said, as if she might be quite angry with me. She had every right to be, as ever since I found out I was still on the show, I hadn’t had a chance to thank her for her help. That was why I’d hung around after my own makeup had been done, waiting for the right moment to talk to her.

  “I know,” I said, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. “Mind you, it doesn’t take long to get some spots glued on and a bit of grease sprayed in your hair.”

  I sighed and picked up one of my newly lank strands of hair. Liz said it was so that when I shot my transformation scenes next week, the contrast between the old Angel and the new Angel would be even more dramatic. Which was fair enough, I supposed; it was just that I’d got used to being told I wasn’t beautiful enough. It was a bit of a shock to be told now I wasn’t ugly enough. And, what’s more, I had to go around like this in front of Justin, who never had to look ugly—who, even with all the special ugly makeup in the world, could never look ugly because his inner beauty just shines through.

  Anyway, I made myself concentrate on what I wanted to say to Brett, and not on Justin’s inner beauty. I watched as Claire began to stick Brett’s false eyelashes on with tweezers and some glue.

  “Brett, I’ve been meaning to say, I know it was all because of you that Liz let me stay on the show and—”

  “Ouch!” Brett shot up in her chair as Claire, who had suddenly started choking, accidentally poked her in the eye with the tweezers.

  “Sorry, Brett,” Claire said between coughs. “Must be my asthma.” She took a deep breath and sort of shook herself. “Just lie back and relax.” Brett scowled but still didn’t fire her.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “I wanted to say thank you. Thank you so much because, well, things have been really difficult recently at home. The last thing I needed was to be thrown off the show too. This is all that’s keeping me going.”

  “I know, darling, I know,” Brett said. “Which is exactly why I fixed for—ow!” Brett covered one eye with her hand and the other one glowered at Claire. “I swear, Claire, you are this far from getting the sack.”

  Claire just shrugged. “I’m always ‘this far’ from getting the sack,” she said. “But you and I both know that I’m the last person in the industry who’ll put up with you—and that’s only because you pay three times as much as anyone else.”

  I almost said something to Claire then. I couldn’t believe that Brett was letting her get away with being so rude. But the thing about Brett is she’s too kind. She lets people take advantage of her. I read that in her autobiography too. She’s really too nice for her own good, which is why she’s been married so many times. She just can’t say no.

  “Um, Brett?” I asked her. “What did you mean that you already know?”

  “I knew you were worried about leaving the show, darling,” Brett said.

  “You didn’t know that Mum and Dad have split up, then? Because I didn’t tell anyone except my friend Nydia.”

  Brett’s face remained expressionless as Claire plucked a stray hair from her eyebrows.

  “Your mum and dad have split up?” Claire asked me. She put down her tweezers and gave me a big, impulsive hug. “Oh, Ruby, you poor thing,” she said. “My mum and dad split up when I was about your age. I really thought it was the end of the world. It was horrible, but I got through it in the end. I think the important thing to remember is—”

  “Oh, shut up, Claire. Ruby is talking to me, not you,” Brett said shortly. Claire pressed her lips together as if she were trying to stop something really bad from getting out of her mouth.

  “Yes, darling,” Brett said to me sweetly. “Of course I did. Well, I mean, I knew that something was wrong, even if I didn’t know exactly what. How many times have I said it, Ruby? You’re like a daughter to me, after all.”

  Brett brushed Claire away and beckoned for me to go to her side. She slid her arm around my waist and squeezed me tightly. “But I wish you had told me, darling, and Liz too. Because I’m worried about you. With all this going on at home, will you be able to concentrate on your work? Should you even be trying to?”

  Brett squeezed me again and I felt some of my bones crack. Then she lowered her voice the way Angel’s mum does when she’s giving Angel some really good advice. “Maybe a break from work is what you need after all. If you’d like, I could talk to Liz again …”

  Her smile was kind, but I shook my head quickly. “No! No, I mean, thanks, but no,” I said, finding myself wishing she’d stop squeezing me. “I need to work. I need something else to think about. But thank you, Brett. I really mean it.”

  Brett let go of me at last and I let out a deep breath. “Brett!” one of the runners called through the door. “On the set in two minutes!”

  “OK, OK!” Brett growled back. “These little people,” she said. “They have no respect for talent. Claire, sort out my lips. Pronto!”

  I looked at my watch as I left makeup and decided to try to fit in a cup of tea before I was needed on the set. But just as I was leaving, Liz grabbed me.

  “Ah, Ruby, good. Glad I’ve foun
d you.” She beamed at me. “I was wondering if you’d do a last-minute run-through with Danny. I think he’s feeling rather nervous, it being his first day of filming. I thought a familiar face might calm him down a bit and help him get into the swing of things. We’ve got two scenes with Brett before we need you, so you’ll have plenty of time. Do you mind?”

  I thought about being shut away with miserable Danny, who hates me so much he can barely talk to me, and I sighed on the inside. I did mind, but I’d get over it.

  “Not at all,” I said, and I trotted off obediently behind her. Liz took me to one of the small rehearsal rooms where Danny was sitting on a table, waiting, and chewing his thumb.

  “OK, I’ll leave you to it and give you a shout when you’re on,” she said with a smile, and shut the door behind her.

  I went and opened the window looking out onto the lot below, where someone was choreographing the extras for a street scene. You wouldn’t think it took so much practicing, would you? Walking around, that is.

  “Are you OK?” Danny asked, sounding strangely nice and concerned. “You look terrible!”

  My heart sank. “It’s makeup,” I explained with an embarrassed smile. “At least, mostly.”

  Danny, on the other hand, didn’t look terrible. The makeup department had spiked up his black hair and put their special boys’ makeup on him, which made him look like he didn’t have any makeup on at all—and which really made his blue eyes stand out. I wondered if he had mascara on, but thought it probably wasn’t a good idea to ask. He wasn’t the sort of boy who shared information like that—or any information at all, in fact.

  I decided I’d better start things off. “So, Liz says you’re feeling a bit nervous. Don’t worry, I was really nervous to begin with,” I told him sympathetically before realizing that that wasn’t strictly true. “Actually, I wasn’t—not to begin with—because I was only little and I didn’t really get it. When I was about eleven, then I started to get nervous. But I’m back to being fine with it now.” Then I remembered my forthcoming kiss scene. “Well, mostly. I do get a bit nervous still, though. Terrified sometimes!” I laughed, but Danny didn’t even smile.

  “I’m not nervous,” he said shortly. “It’s …well, it’s not how I expected it to be. They film all the scenes out of sync and the scripts come at you like they’re rolling off a production line. You never get a chance to really get into a scene—to really get into your character. I mean, what does my character really think and feel ? What’s my motivation?”

  He looked at me with those intense blue eyes and I felt like a rabbit must when it’s caught in the glare of car headlights—like I knew I was going to get run over, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to get out of the way.

  “Um,” I said. “Well, I know what you mean, but that’s just how it is in TV …” I trailed off. After all, I had grown up on the show; it was the only job I’d done outside school. I didn’t even know there was another way to work. It had never occurred to me that the shooting schedule was interfering with my motivation. Angel was like a second skin. I just slipped her on when I needed to, and I knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling, and how she’d react to a scene, because I knew her inside out. We were like two sides of the same coin. Maybe Danny just had to get to know his character better.

  “After a while it gets easier,” I said. “It’s like learning to ride a bicycle, really!”

  Danny glared at me and I got the feeling that if I had been a rabbit, I’d be a squashed one by now. “Acting is a craft, Ruby,” he said. “It’s nothing like ‘riding a bicycle.’ I thought you of all people would understand that!”

  I was shocked. “You did?” I asked him. I would never have guessed that Danny had ever thought anything about me at all.

  “Yes, I did. I thought you weren’t like the other girls, more worried about being famous and what they look like than about doing good work and really getting into a character. I must have been wrong.”

  I scowled at him. “So if all this,” I gestured around me, “is so terrible, then why are you doing it? Why are you lowering yourself to my level? Why did you audition at all?”

  For some reason Danny suddenly blushed, and a deep red tide spread across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks.

  “Um, well, I …” He looked at his feet. “Because I know that if I get TV work, it will open up doors for me,” he said quickly. “Because I have to—for my career.”

  “Well,” I said haughtily, “I’m sorry you have to put yourself through the trauma of working with lowlifes like me. But, if you can manage it, we might as well rehearse this scene since we’re here. It might help you find your ‘motivation.’ ”

  And we read through the scene—which was about Angel making Marcus a cup of tea—as if we were archenemies plotting each other’s violent demise.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Iwas still fuming about Danny as I dried my hair after filming had finished. I was thinking to myself, Just who does Danny Harvey think he is anyway? I flicked back my hair, only to see Justin leaning against the door frame, all casual, as if he walked into my dressing room every day. I dropped the hair dryer. Then I picked it up and turned it off.

  “Oh, Justin,” I said. “Hi.”

  “Hi, babe,” Justin said. (He called me babe!) “Great work on the set today. I thought you managed to pull off Angel’s instant dislike for Marcus really well. Even just making him a cup of tea, you managed to show that you hated him.”

  I felt that this would be a good time to flutter my eyelashes, but the only time I’d ever tried before, Nydia said I looked like I had a nervous twitch.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said. “It was nothing really.” I tried to sound nonchalant, as if the love of my life wasn’t talking to me on my own for practically the first time ever. And I was doing pretty well, if nonchalant meant sounding like a million volts of electricity had passed through my body.

  “So, listen …” Justin came into my tiny dressing room and stood really close to me. For one terrifying and amazing moment I thought he might kiss me then and there and I wouldn’t have to worry about going over to Anne-Marie’s tonight after all.

  But he didn’t. “I read our new scenes together. They’re great, aren’t they? It looks like your character’s really going places. I think Liz has got big plans for you.”

  I couldn’t actually say anything, so I tried raising an eyebrow mysteriously. I don’t think Justin noticed.

  “And I was thinking, well, we don’t hang out that much, do we?” Justin continued. “Off the set, I mean.”

  I shook my head. If I could have spoken, I’d have said that we don’t hang out that much on the set, except for when we have a scene together, but I couldn’t make my mouth work.

  Justin smiled. “So I was thinking we should spend some time together. After all, this is a big deal for you. I want you to feel completely comfortable with me.”

  Of course, I could never feel comfortable with Justin. He makes me feel like fizzing and exploding and looping the loop.

  “What about lunch? Just you and me. Tomorrow?” Justin said, as if he asked me out every night of the week. “Will your mum let you go?”

  “Oh, yeah, no problem,” I finally managed to say. There was no way in the world my mum would let me go out on my own with an older boy without an adult accompanying me, but I’d worry about that later.

  “Great.” Justin’s eyes burned into mine, and I thought there was a serious chance I might burst into flames. “We’ll sort the details out later, then, OK?”

  As he left, it was as if the oxygen flooded back into the room and I was able to breathe again. Justin had asked me out! On a date! More or less. I squealed and hopped around in a tiny circle of joy, which was all I could manage in my dressing room.

  “Liz told him to take you out,” Danny said, appearing like the angel of gloom at my doorway.

  I froze mid-hop and straightened myself out, hoping to salvage some dignity.

  “It
was her idea; she thought you might be nervous about the big kiss scene. She thought that if you spent some time with him you’d be less intimidated.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head to one side. “Looks like she didn’t have anything to worry about. The last thing you seem to be is nervous.”

  “I am nervous actually!” I said crossly, just managing not to add “So there!” to the end of my sentence.

  “Anyway, even if Liz did tell him to ask me, I don’t care, because …well, because I don’t care. It’s just work.”

  Danny smirked at me.

  “Oh, Danny, go away!” I blurted out. “I’ve got enough going on right now without you being all sulky around me. Go and be miserable on your own.” I clapped my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “That’s not like me at all. I don’t know what—”

  “Don’t worry,” Danny said. He stepped inside the room and pushed the door closed. “I came to say I’m sorry to you, anyway. I heard today about your mum and dad. You’re right—the last thing you need is hassle from me. I didn’t even mean what I said anyway; I was just …nervous.” He smiled ruefully (and kind of sweetly, to be honest). But I was still trying to work out what he’d just said.

  “You heard about Mum and Dad?” I asked him. “But I haven’t told anyone except for Brett and …oh, it must have been Claire. She must have told everyone.” My shoulders sank. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Does everyone know?”