Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

by A. L. Michael

  ‘Yes.’ Mollie nodded, ‘One day, a long time from now, when I stop being so scared and I stop needing to be alone, I’m going to find someone who looks at me like Killian looks at you. Find someone who loves Esme, who wants to be my partner and have a family.’

  Evie tilted her head at her friend, ‘This isn’t about me.’

  ‘This is totally about you. I was just being long-winded so we could sneak into it,’ Mollie rolled her eyes. ‘This isn’t about the gallery, or what Ruby wanted. You know how to do this, no problem. You have more ideas and drive than anyone I know. This is about wanting something, and needing to be vulnerable to get it.’

  Evie pointed towards Killian’s door, tilting her head again to ask the question.

  Mollie nodded.

  ‘I was vulnerable! I was honest, I shared things, and it left me kissless at the end of the night, with no further invitations!’ Evie hissed, ‘It’s the daddy issues, it was too cliché. I was a terrible date.’

  ‘You weren’t a terrible date. Stop being boring.’

  Evie looked at Mollie, ‘You’re the one who started this line of inquiry.’

  ‘Yes, and he’s the one who’s been doing the chasing, whilst you’ve been your snarky mocking self. Has it occurred to you that a man who was lied to by his wife, lost his child and had to rebuild his life from scratch might be a bit scared?’

  ‘Well, I’m scared too!’

  ‘Good!’ Mollie huffed, pointing at the door, ‘Now go over there and kiss him, so we can get on with our work!’

  Evie looked at the door, then back at her friend, her blonde hair ruffled making her look like an irritated angel.

  ‘You’re a pain in the arse you know,’ Evie stood, putting out a hand to help Mollie up.

  ‘That’s why you need me in your life.’

  Evie rolled her eyes, ‘I thought it was just that you happened to give birth to my favourite person.’

  ‘That too,’ Mollie laughed, squeezing Evie’s shoulder. ‘Go. I’m going to find Ez and make some thank-you cakes for Evelyn.’

  She disappeared upstairs, leaving Evie to stand and take a few deep breaths outside Killian’s door. Mollie was right: she had to stop being so defensive. She lifted her hand to knock, just as he pulled the door open.

  ‘Oh! Hey!’ he laughed, ‘I was just coming to find you!’

  Evie felt her breathing speed up, suddenly hopeful, ‘You were?’

  ‘Yeah! I wanted to show you some of the seating options for the gallery,’ He held the door open wide, ‘Come in.’

  Okay, wasn’t quite what she’d been hoping for, but sure, okay. Chairs. They could talk about chairs for a bit first.

  The workshop was a lot bigger than she’d thought – a huge expansive space, all neatly arranged, with things stacked everywhere. The walls were covered, mostly with tools, but some wooden wall hangings, the occasional piece of artwork. In the corner, there was a dark wooden desk, with a planner, a laptop and all the office basics. Against the wall above it was a child’s painting, blurred colours smudged by chubby fingers. Evie looked away.

  ‘Follow me,’ Killian said, and they walked down the rows of his creations, some boxed and ready to be shipped, others half finished. At the end of the row was something under a red blanket, and her fingertips skimmed it.

  ‘No! It’s not finished yet!’ Killian yelped, reaching for her hand.

  ‘Neither are those over there, and they’re not covered in a very special red blanket,’ she smiled, dropping her hand, ‘I love a good mystery! Please?’

  ‘It’ll be ready by the opening, you can see it then,’ he said simply, gesturing towards the other pieces. ‘Now – I was thinking you don’t want too much seating, but if Evelyn’s arty lot are going to be coming, they’ll need something to sit down on. So originally, I was thinking these?’

  He pointed out a mismatch of beautifully-made chairs. Some looked like part of a dining set, others were curved, low to the floor, almost like he’d followed the shape of a tree root to create them.

  ‘I love this,’ Evie pointed at the chair made entirely within a tree stump, ‘but I don’t know how we’d get it through the door.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got a different exit, out the back over there,’ he nodded, ‘for loading stuff. But that one might be a bit strange with the rest of the decor.’ He walked across the room to another row, ‘However Evelyn mentioned how much Esme loved the love seat she has in the library, so maybe you could use this? I haven’t finished varnishing it yet, but it’ll be done by next week. Add some red cushions and I think it’ll look great.’

  He was right, it would look great. A mini replica of Evelyn’s, the seat curved round, so that two people could sit almost back to back, facing opposite ways. It seemed like something you’d share secrets on, and the dark wood seemed to glisten with a ruby hue in the first layer of vanish.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she said, letting her eyes move from the seat to him. He was leaning in, watching her intently. Something about standing in silence with this man was overwhelming, like all the air left the room.

  ‘Good,’ he nodded, ‘do you want to try it?’

  She slipped into one of the seats, her fingers tracing the varnish but feeling no stickiness. She felt Killian sit in the other seat, saw him in her peripheral vision, sensed him.

  ‘So people just sat and talked like this?’ she whispered, not sure why being so close made her feel like she had to soften her voice.

  ‘Yeah,’ he whispered back. ‘I always picture it like in those old movies, that secret lovers would sit and whisper, sitting right in front of everyone at social engagements. Trying to look as if they weren’t even talking, weren’t even looking at each other, but spilling secrets under their breath.’

  ‘You don’t think everyone just looked at them and knew?’ Evie whispered back, watching how he moved as he breathed, noticing each of the delicate hairs on the back of his neck.

  ‘I don’t think people are looking as often as we think they are,’ he breathed.

  They sat in silence for a moment, and she longed to turn to look at him, to say something to stop things being weird. But somehow, she thought screaming ‘why won’t you kiss me?’ might not make things less weird.

  ‘So, the other night,’ Killian started, turning to face her, leaning his arm across her part of the chair. He paused for too long, so she turned as well, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Yes…?’

  ‘I’m kind of an awkward old man when it comes to dating,’ his voice was low, and he looked up to meet her eyes.

  ‘That’s not true at all – a date with three different stops? You’re a master. But I would have been happy with a pint in the pub,’ she shrugged. ‘There’s no need to be conventional.’

  He smiled softly at her, ‘You just do what you like, don’t you? Don’t try to meet expectations, force yourself to be a certain way…’

  ‘It’s all good until the consequences come back to bite you in the arse,’ she smiled, ‘I’m not so good with the consequences.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said meaningfully, ‘I think it would be nice to do something on instinct, just seeing what happens.’

  ‘You should try it sometime,’ she breathed, looking at his lips.

  ‘Yeah, maybe I will…’ He looked at the floor, and they were silent again, Evie flexing her feet out in front of her. She looked over and Killian was grimacing, his teeth clenching a little more as each second passed.

  Enough of this. Evie shook her head. ‘You know, if you were planning on kissing me, that would have been the perfect moment.’

  ‘I know! I missed it!’ he groaned, throwing his hands up, ‘I’ve been out of the game too long. My timing’s all off.’ He stood up, pacing a little, and she turned around to face him.

  ‘Your timing is fine, old man,’ Evie grinned, ‘there’ll be other chances.’

  ‘Or you could make the first move. Seems like your style, running in like a bulldozer…’

&
nbsp; ‘Breezing in like a breath of fresh air?’ she teased, standing up and starting to walk towards the door, calling over her shoulder, ‘Nope! Besides I’m quite enjoying this old-fashioned man-makes-the-move bullshit. It’s very quaint.’

  She reached the door, and turned back to face him, eyebrow raised, hand on hip. He followed, stopping just a little too close. His voice was husky and playful.

  ‘Oh quaint is it?’ That smirk as he took another step, closing in on her with intention. She felt her pulse jump as his hands were on her hips, his thumb tracing a bare patch of skin between her jeans and t-shirt. He dipped his head, capturing her lips and she felt herself sigh against his mouth, her arms around his neck. His hands caressed her back, his lips demanding more from her as he backed her up against the door, body pressed to hers. Killian kissed like a bad boy, Evie thought when she finally got her senses back. A bad boy with something to prove.

  He pulled back, his forehead leaning against hers, his breathing erratic.

  ‘No more using the word “quaint”, right?’ he breathed, those bright blue eyes uncomfortably close.

  ‘No need,’ she grinned, placing one more quick kiss on his lips before opening the door and slipping back out into the studio.

  ***

  Evie was bored. It was a Saturday night house party at Ian’s and it was the same every time. People sat around on the living room floor licking each other’s tonsils and drinking warm lager. A joint was passed around but Evie turned up her nose.

  Mollie and Jamie were curled up on the sofa, giggling to themselves in that way they had, where no one else seemed to exist. Something about it made Evie’s stomach hurt, the way she could so easily see their future, the house and kids and picket fence. Mollie just seemed to glow a little brighter when he looked at her, with his look of constant wonder like he didn’t know how he got so lucky.

  Chelsea, across the room was engaged in an epic battle of tonsil tennis with Darren Grainger, your typical grimy pretty boy, one who had an earring, pimpled skin and a Nike tick shaved into the back of his head. His eyebrow had double lines shaved into it, which had always irritated Evie to no end. Plus, he called everyone ‘bruv’. But Chelsea insisted all these boys were just practice runs, so she may as well have fun with them. Which was a great attitude, because it seemed to be how every teenage boy felt too.

  Ruby, in her typical style, was sat out on the garden step with someone’s big brother. You could tell the boys in their twenties, because their skin seemed clearer and they’d stopped dowsing themselves in Lynx body spray. The guy was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette, his hair flopping over his face, and he kept running his hand through it as Ruby talked. Of course, Ruby found the one person of interest at the stupid party. Evie decided that being the so-called ‘goth girl’ was a good thing, because when you looked moody, people just thought it was a style thing. Her deep purple lipstick and heavily made-up eyes tended to intimidate people. Her hair was pulled back into two pigtails, the purple flicks at the ends starting to curl again as her twenty-quid straighteners just couldn’t deal with her hair. She sat on the stairs, nursing a can of Strongbow and wondering why nothing was like it was in the movies. There would never be an intriguing older man wondering who she was, there would never be a perfect kiss at the end of a perfect night, no dancing and being held. No one who looked at her like Jamie looked at Mollie. Maybe that wasn’t her destiny. The boys she knew seemed to think a ‘date’ was buying you a bag of chips after trying to stick their hands down your knickers with no warning, and then getting grumbly when you point out it was October round the back of the school bins, and also would they fucking stop it. Maybe that big important love thing wasn’t in the cards for her, and that was okay.

  Across the hallway, she saw Nigel sitting by himself, looking as uncomfortable as ever at social events. He only really got invited because his brother was popular, and because he was pretty good at getting hold of beer. He was steadily improving though, Evie thought, taking in the new thinner-framed glasses, and the cropped hair. And he didn’t call her ‘goth girl’ and had heard of The Clash, so at least they had things to talk about. It was a nice way to pass an hour, chatting with Nigel, but all of it felt vaguely familiar, like every party had been this way, and would always be this way. Boring Badgeley, with only Ruby’s adventures, Chelsea’s drama and Mollie’s kindness to make it bearable. She pulled herself up from the stairs and crossed the room to talk to Nigel. She wasn’t going to stay long anyway.

  Chapter Twelve

  Things were going well. Too well, if Evie was honest. The place was starting to look bright, full of energy and excitement. New artwork was appearing on the walls, and it was good, really good. The kitchen constantly had the smell of fresh baked goods, and every now and then she’d find arms around her, secret, desperate kisses against the kitchen counter, near the stairs by his workshop, in the dark of the conservatory at night. It was exciting, like those beginnings when you were a teenager, sweaty palms, giggling against each other’s lips, hiding whenever Jack or Petunia suddenly appeared out of their studios. Evie was happy. Painfully happy. Chelsea was joining them for dinner at the flat that week, she was seeing Evelyn for tea, the studio was working, Killian was making her smile more than she had in a long time… this could work. Their new beginning. Started by Ruby, but the path was forged by them. It was only two days until the opening, and everything seemed like it was going to work.

  Her phone rang, and she saw Chelsea’s name appear. Please don’t be cancelling on us, please. She rolled her eyes, sure that Chelsea was going to take the easy way out, push them out again.

  ‘Have you seen the paper today?’ Chelsea’s voice was clipped and she could sense the stress, imagining her talking whilst walking on a treadmill in a glass office.

  ‘No… hi by the way…’

  ‘No time Evie, check the paper. I’d like to say all publicity is good… but we’ve got some attention we might not like…’ Chelsea growled a little. ‘Get a paper and call me back.’

  Evie grabbed her purse, and marched to the front door, stopping to pick up a letter and put it on the side table. It was handwritten, addressed to her. Delivered to the studio. No time for that now. She marched down to the corner shop and scanned the papers, suddenly not sure which one Chelsea had mentioned. And then it became abundantly clear.

  Manager denied access to Ruby Tuesday Memorial Gallery.

  The famous Ruby Tuesday, the musical performer and burlesque star who died earlier this year, is having a gallery dedicated to her. Her childhood friends are setting up the gallery where Ruby wrote some of her most famous hits. Sounds good so far right? But why won’t they let her manager and long-time family friend get involved?

  ‘I brought Ruby to London, got her connected and started her on this path,’ said her manager, Bill Davis. ‘I don’t know why they won’t give me access to the space. I knew Ruby better than anyone.’

  Davis brought Ruby to London in the early 2000s, setting her up in burlesque bars and creating her image. Later, as she was catapulted to stardom, he was cut out because he knew too much about her destructive behaviour and terrible choices.

  ‘She was a mentally damaged young woman,’ Davis told our reporter, ‘too many years in the care system, becoming dependent on drugs, alcohol and random sexual liaisons. I loved Ruby, but I don’t think they should be enshrining her memory like this, not in a local area with schools and children. She wasn’t a good role model.’

  The worst part of it all? The childhood friends who are denying Davis access? One of them is his own daughter!

  Evie blinked, feeling her hands start to shake as she stared at the words. His daughter. Bill Davis was running another con, and once again, she was the target. He was using Ruby to get to her. She threw down the money for the paper and marched back to the gallery, clutching the paper so tightly that her fingernails cut grooves into her palm.

  She slammed the door behind her, standing in the middle of the r
oom, not entirely sure what she should do.

  Killian poked his head out, ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Nope. Nope, nope, nope.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  She shook her head, refusing to even look at him. ‘No. This is something for me and my family to deal with.’

  Killian frowned slightly, rubbing a hand through his hair, and then shrugged. ‘Fine. Call if you need me.’ The door slammed a little too aggressively, but Evie couldn’t bring herself to care.

  She called Chelsea back.

  ‘Have you seen it?’ she asked immediately.

  ‘That bastard. That absolute bastard.’

  ‘Do you think it’s true?’ Chelsea asked, ‘I mean, I know it’s all media bullshit. He hasn’t even been in contact with you since you were here. But the bit about bringing Ruby to London?’

  Evie took a deep breath, collapsing into the chair. It was not something she’d ever wanted to mention, that note Ruby left her, apologising, the fact that she was gone when Bill disappeared in the morning. ‘It’s… complicated. Could be a play, knowing enough about the situation to exploit it. Or…’

  ‘Or he could be another in the long line of older men Ruby got on board with in the hopes of getting something out of it.’ Chelsea sighed, sounding miserable. ‘This isn’t good for us Eves. I can tell how they’re going to push this. Give it another week and it’ll be “Den of Sin Opening in Camden for Ruby Tuesday Sexploits”.’

  ‘Not good?’

  ‘Not good.’ Chelsea sighed, ‘At least, not for the clientele we want. What does he want?’

  ‘Money from the tabloids? It used to be an old play of his. He’d weasel in, get people to talk to him, find out enough to have a fragment of truth, and get paid for his trouble.’ Evie felt anxiety clutching at her chest. They came this far. They had two weeks. Two weeks until the money was up. If he ruined this, they’d have to go home.

  She could feel herself hyperventilating.

  ‘He hasn’t tried to contact you? Hasn’t asked you for anything?’