by Alison Bond
She never got a chance to show him the red high heels. Ruby never saw Dante again. That night he never came home. At dawn two uniformed policemen came to the door to tell her that her husband had been found in a hotel room in Santa Monica with a blonde in one arm and a needle in the other.
23
Kelly was having trouble adjusting to the Beverly Hills lifestyle but she couldn’t deny that it had considerable advantage over her usual routine. In 90210 she woke up without an alarm clock, had a brief shower and then went straight for a swim in the outdoor pool. She liked to stand under the tropical waterfall and pretend she was in Belize or somewhere, trying to ignore the hollow sound the rocks made when she tapped them. She used the changing room to dry off. Then she walked inside for another shower, a proper one this time, using all the yummy toiletries that the cosmetics firm Zyma had sent over in a ‘Welcome to LA’ basket.
Honestly, people were being so nice! She felt like landed gentry, famous by virtue of birth alone. Famous without even trying. She’d received ‘Welcome to LA’ gifts from people she’d never heard of, and she had been sent so many flowers that she’d exhausted Octavia’s considerable supply of vases. Word of this got out somehow and a ceramics café sent over more vases.
People who hadn’t even met her wanted to be her friend. She was invited to everything. She couldn’t help but feel that people would be disappointed when they saw who she really was, a nice middle-class girl from Wales who had less glamour in her whole body than Ruby had in her smile.
She knew that this was her wave, she should try to enjoy it, see if she could squeeze a lifetime’s worth of being a celebrity kid into this one brief moment in the sun. This was everything that Ruby had denied her. She deserved it. But she had never felt more undeserving in her life. All she had done was show up.
She wandered into the main kitchen for breakfast. If Carmen wasn’t there, she was happy to make breakfast herself, but today the maid was there, and what’s more she was fixing some thick pancakes with ribbons of fried bacon that Kelly would have previously called ‘streaky’ but now just called ‘bacon’. She drowned her plate in real maple syrup, bacon included, and was still surprised how good the salty-sweet combination tasted. This is great,’ she said. Carmen smiled and indicated that she should wipe her chin.
Kelly wiped a smear of syrup from her face and felt a bit slovenly. It was hard not to in a place like this. Everything was white and spotless and if you left a few crumbs and an empty cup next to your book while you went to the loo you would come back to find the crumbs swept away and the cup removed. It was impossible to say thank you for everything Carmen did. Sofia had noticed Kelly trying and said that she usually found it easier to say one big, all-encompassing thank you at the end of the night when Carmen went home. Unless she was out on the town, obviously, because then she couldn’t. But Kelly thanked Carmen for everything and eventually Carmen herself had taken Kelly aside and told her it wasn’t necessary. ‘It’s my job,’ she had said. And I like to do it.’
Kelly tried to imagine how that would feel.
*
Tonight was Ruby Valentine’s Hollywood Tribute (fanfare!) and Kelly had neither a date nor an outfit for the occasion. She had received her personal, nontransferable invitation, which would be valid only if presented with corresponding ID, the day before by special delivery. It was a much sought-after, hugely publicized event and every day the guest list was added to with more luminaries who’d made time for Ruby in their busy schedules. Kelly’s invitation was for plus-one and she had failed to provide organizers with a name twenty-four hours in advance. She had toyed with the idea of selling her plus-one on e-bay to the highest bidder. She didn’t know anyone in Los Angeles and had planned to go alone. Sofia was scandalized: All eyes will be on you,’ she’d said. ‘We’ll go together. And how can you not know what you’re wearing?’
Kelly wasn’t too bothered. She could easily buy a dress, she had all day. A date wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t such a big deal. Or so she told herself.
She hadn’t called Jez and he hadn’t called her. She missed him, but not enough to pick up the phone. Something stopped her. She didn’t want to be reminded of her old life while she was getting used to this new one. She wanted to be herself, not one half of a pair, for just a little while longer. The truth was that she wanted to be something better than herself. She wanted to be as special as the people of Los Angeles thought she was.
She liked being somebody. She knew it wouldn’t last, so why not enjoy it while she could? After tonight, after the tribute, things would calm down. The spotlight would move from Ruby to the next person, the wave would break, and Kelly might be able to breathe again. Then she would be able to think about going home and picking up the threads of her life, try to weave them into something that she felt good in. She would be able to see things more clearly, she hoped. Right now she needed to concentrate on sharing the only part of her mother’s life that she ever would. The big finish.
Octavia came into the kitchen and gave Kelly a cold smile. Since the reading of the will Octavia had been friendly, and hadn’t said a word about her moving out, but Kelly sensed her half-sister’s envious eyes on her as she went around the house.
‘Good morning,’ said Kelly pleasantly. ‘Have you had breakfast? These pancakes are delicious.’
‘I’ve been up since six-thirty,’ said Octavia, ‘I ate some time ago.’ She went to the fridge and poured a glass of Swedish mineral water from the bottle there.
Kelly munched her breakfast and wondered why a woman like Octavia, with no discernible employment and one fully grown child, needed to get up so early.
‘Sofia forgot to set the security alarm,’ said Octavia. ‘If the pair of you are going to continue coming home in the middle of the night then I’d be grateful if you didn’t put the rest of the family at risk.’
‘Sorry,’ said Kelly.
Since she was reborn as Ruby’s long-lost daughter Kelly’s social life had been totally transformed. Sofia took her out to some mind-blowing places. At least three different stop-offs per night, no matter how good a time they were having. Los Angeles was fantastic if you knew all the best places to go. And Kelly had to admit there was something very satisfying about bypassing the long queues and slipping straight into the VIP area. And since she’d had her hair done at Art Luna – ‘My treat,’ said Sofia, ‘I absolutely insist. I cannot be seen out with you looking like that’ – she was happier having her picture taken. She looked almost fabulous with her new cascades of shiny black tresses.
Last night at least six different guys had tried to get her number. None had succeeded. They didn’t want to date Kelly Coltrane, they wanted to date Kelly Valentine and would be disillusioned when they found out that she didn’t exist.
There was only one person she knew of who genuinely wanted Kelly Coltrane – Jez, and she had no idea why. She wasn’t anything special. It worried her that Jez was so sure he was in love with her, when she felt she didn’t even know who she was yet. She was still growing. What if she wanted to change? She poured extra syrup on her last pancake.
Octavia picked up the newspaper from the counter-top and started flicking through. With satisfaction she noted that Ruby’s tribute was previewed on the front page of the Life supplement. Despite the facts that CMG were paying for it, Dolores Murillo was planning it and Octavia had merely been invited like 400 other people, she considered herself to be the hostess.
‘Excellent coverage for the tribute,’ said Octavia. ‘Did you see?’
Kelly had only glanced at the newspaper. She’d noted the picture of the President on the front cover, and something about the rising cost of policing in the greater Los Angeles area. It looked like hard news so she’d given it a miss. Who could know there was a glossy entertainment supplement hiding within?
She looked at the picture of Ruby. It was one of the last pictures taken of her before she died, the caption said. Did she look like a woman on the edge? Not really.<
br />
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ said Kelly. About Ruby’s money’
‘What about it?’ Octavia’s voice was razor-sharp. Her dark eyes flicked around Kelly’s face suspiciously.
‘You’re right. There should be more. Obviously’
‘I’m often right,’ said Octavia. ‘People just don’t listen to me and they should.’
Kelly wondered what Octavia’s life was really like. It couldn’t be easy living with Sofia. Kelly had yet to see them fight but Sofia had told her that when they did they were ferocious.
‘You said you were going to have Max investigated,’ said Kelly. Are you?’
‘Certainly’
‘Have you spoken to anyone about it?’
‘Like who?’
‘Well, I don’t know, like an investigator?’ She had no idea how one would go about something like that; she’d been hoping that Octavia might have it all sorted out and then the nagging voice of her conscience would let her be. It didn’t matter how hard Kelly tried to dismiss what her dad had said, she was still obsessing over it. What if somebody was ripping Ruby off, right in front of her family’s nose? What if that somebody was Max?
‘To be frank, with finances the way they are, it will have to wait.’ It pained Octavia to say these words. Especially to the jewel thief. ‘Of course, if you wanted to sell a necklace or an earbob or something and contribute…?’
‘I could do that,’ said Kelly. ‘If you’d like me to help.’
Octavia’s glass of water stopped half-way to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to be serious, just sarcastic. Why should Kelly care that she and Vincent had been left penniless? And if another damn person tried to persuade her that one point seven million dollars was a decent amount of money she would scream. Even Sofia had joined in. It was all very well for Sofia, she had business investments worth nearly that amount and she was only twenty-two.
‘Why would you want to be involved?’ asked Octavia cautiously. She didn’t want to scare Kelly away from the idea.
‘I think if somebody – and hey, it might not be Max, remember? – has stolen money from Ruby then they should be punished.’
And we get the money back?’
‘It might not work like that,’ said Kelly. ‘The money might be gone.’
‘Then why bother?’
‘As a favour for someone who can’t speak for herself.’
‘I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself, I’m just having a little cash-flow problem.’
‘I meant Ruby.’
‘Oh,’ said Octavia. ‘Right, of course.’
Kelly felt a sense of loyalty towards Ruby. She wished she didn’t; Ruby had left her and forced her father to hide a secret for life, and it would be so much easier to hate her, but the more she found out about her mother the more she admired her. It was getting harder and harder to understand why a survivor like Ruby would give up after everything she had overcome. And almost impossible to believe that she had died without leaving a substantial fortune.
They were interrupted by the sound of synthetic church bells chiming. Kelly was momentarily confused and then remembered she had bought a new cellphone. The essential accessory for the flavour of the month. ‘Hello?’
Octavia disappeared, taking her water and the newspaper with her. She wasn’t the kind of woman to stand around and wait for people to finish their calls.
It was Sheridan from CMG with a rundown of the latest press enquiries. People had taken to contacting Kelly through Ruby’s agency and so almost by accident Kelly found her fledgling media career handled by one of the best outfits in town. There were a couple of requests for magazine interviews, which she turned down, and a seemingly endless amount of charity appeals. An invitation on to a crappy talk show that Sheridan said they should blow off while they waited for one of the big three. Secretly Kelly was longing for Oprah to call. She thought she was perfect for the show: abandoned, resilient and female. At the same time the thought of revealing herself on national television, or even in print, made her feel uncomfortable.
‘This could be interesting,’ said Sheridan. ‘A reality show. A dating thing, but no, you’ve got a boyfriend, right?’
Had she? So much had happened in such a short time that Jez felt like part of Kelly’s past. Did she want it to be that way?
‘Is it a serious relationship?’ Sheridan continued. ‘Because I think you have to be single for this show. It’s called Desperate to be a Housewife, ten girls, one guy and a prize of two hundred thousand dollars and a luxury starter home in Glendale. They’re looking for ten celebrity singles.’
‘I’m not desperate to be a housewife.’
‘I don’t think that matters. It’s for ten weeks in a mocked-up house on one of the studio lots. Network. You get paid, obviously.’
Kelly considered this half-heartedly for a moment and then respectfully declined. She would hate to become one of those people who pop up on some reality show and make the whole audience say, ‘Who’s that?’ She wasn’t a celebrity.
‘Wanna bet?’ said Sheridan. ‘You know who I had on the phone this morning? Vanity Fair.’
Kelly’s heart skipped a beat. She drew in a deep, steadying breath. The mother of all magazines. If Vanity Fair thought you were special then you must be special.
‘Nothing concrete,’ said Sheridan. ‘It could take months.’
But surely her moment in the spotlight would pass by then? This wasn’t real. Soon she would have to get on with the life that was.
‘Think it over and get back to me,’ said Sheridan. ‘One last thing. Who will you be wearing tonight and what’s your date’s name? They need it for the copy on the early editions.’
‘Huh?’
‘What dress are you wearing? Who’s taking you?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
Sheridan sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll spin that, make it look cute. You know, homey.’
Kelly had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Fine.’
She said goodbye to Sheridan and buzzed Sofia on the intercom. ‘Want to go shopping?’
‘Always,’ said Sofia.
Two hours later Kelly was trussed up in scarlet satin worrying that she looked like a hooker. ‘I can’t wear red to a funeral.’
‘It’s not a funeral, it’s a tribute,’ said Sofia. ‘You can wear what the hell you like. Unless… hmm, do you think there’ll be lots of people wearing red? You know, ruby-red?’ She plucked a scary-looking yellow dress from the extensive selection that the Barney’s personal shopper had selected for them.
‘I’ll go with the red,’ said Kelly. She looked at the price tag. ‘Uh, Sofia? Seven hundred dollars? I can’t afford this.’
‘Damn it, I keep forgetting you’re, like, poor.’
Kelly was certain that any minute now the hole in the wall would stop providing her with ready cash. She had already spent everything that her dad had given her for this trip (a cellphone, sunglasses and other essentials) and was rapidly working her way through her meagre savings. ‘I was offered a job today,’ she said. ‘A reality show.’
‘Are you gonna do it?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s called Desperate and Dateless or something like that.’
‘I wonder why they didn’t ask me?’ said Sofia.
‘They know you’re not that desperate.’
‘I’m serious,’ said Sofia. ‘I need to work on my profile otherwise I’ll be known as Kelly Valentine’s has-been niece.’
‘My name’s Kelly Coltrane.’
‘Sure, on paper maybe but not in people’s minds. You should think about changing it. You’ll get upgraded at the airport and hotels and stuff if people recognize the name on your credit card.’
Interesting. Okay, so maybe people don’t ever truly change but perhaps she could be two people: Kelly Coltrane who lived in Wales and had a nice local boyfriend with whom she could settle down and have a family, and Kelly Valentine who visited Los Angeles and partied with Sofia wear
ing scarlet satin. That way she wouldn’t have to worry that being one was not enough, and being the other was far too much.
‘Put the dress on my charge account,’ said Sofia. ‘Dolce are dressing me for free tonight. Pay me back when you sell some jewellery.’
Everyone seemed to assume that Kelly would be selling off Ruby’s jewels as soon as possible. As if they didn’t mean anything except money.
‘I can’t spend that much money on a dress.’
‘Why not?’ said Sofia.
‘Because it’s just a dress. That’s like two weeks’ wages.’
‘Wages!’ said Sofia. ‘How cute!’ Sometimes Sofia would say something that illustrated clearly just how far away from the real world she actually lived. ‘Give it to me,’ she demanded.
Sofia marched over to the nearest salesperson and asked to speak to the store’s PR manager. Within ten minutes the dress had been wrapped, bagged and given to Kelly on loan.
‘Nice work,’ said Kelly.
‘Sweet-talking’s what I do best,’ said Sofia, giving a little curtsey. ‘You really should try it.’
Kelly knew she wouldn’t be able to. She didn’t have Sofia’s gift and was unlikely to develop it. Kelly had been brought up not to expect something for nothing. Those kinds of values didn’t just disappear overnight, no matter who you suddenly became.
‘What time is it?’ said Kelly.
‘Almost one. Why? Do you wanna head to the fifth floor and grab a salad?’
‘No, I have to meet Max,’ Kelly replied. ‘We’re going to the bank.’ And on the way she might head to a sinful fast-food chain and grab a burger.
Her mouth watered as she waited in line at McDonald’s, a Pavlovian reaction to the familiar smell of gherkins and fries that reminded her of home. Her forefathers would have been upset to know it wasn’t the scent of lava bread or clams that took her thoughts back to her native land but the warm sweetness of a burger chain identical in almost every way to the one in Newport. She was just trying to decide what to order when her cellphone chimed.