Rites & Desires

by Amanda Cherry

  Which is why it irked her so much that she’d inconveniently forgotten the problem of rotor wash. Ruby had been the one who insisted on traveling to the White House from the airport aboard a helicopter. Spending one more instant in Washington D.C. traffic was absolutely not on her agenda. What she hadn’t bargained on when she’d made this proclamation was that the only helicopter permitted to land at the White House was the Sikorsky Prather had used to visit her in a few months prior. And although the President had agreed to her request to arrive aboard the craft without hesitation, travel aboard a military-grade helicopter owned by the government posed its own set of problems. Unlike with her own aircraft and pilot, she had no control over whether the craft’s engines were running as she approached. She was most dismayed to discover that they were.

  Not normally one to break into a run under any circumstances, Ruby dashed on her platform heels through the rotor wash and into the cabin of the chopper.

  "Damn," she said aloud, when she a glimpse of her reflection in the shaded window beside her seat.

  "What’s the matter?" Jaccob asked as he settled in beside her. Ruby rolled her eyes at him as she worked to un-pin what was left of her up-do and began combing through her tousled mane with her fingers.

  "That’ll teach me to have my hair done for television," she replied tersely. "Or to rely on another person’s helicopter--one or the other."

  Jaccob chuckled as he leaned back and fastened his seatbelt. "You look fine," he told her when she had the last of the pins out.

  She was examining her reflection more closely and her frown surely made it obvious that she felt otherwise. "I do not want to look fine," she snapped. "I wanted to look good. I wanted to look all done up and put together and camera ready. Fine is not going to work for me today. I’m going to have to find one of our stylists backstage and get him to do something about this, only I didn’t build enough time into the schedule to do that. So now it’s leave my hair all loose and slovenly, or risk throwing off a multi-network broadcast schedule to get it fixed."

  "I like it down," he told her then. His tone was unexpected, softer than she thought she’d be able to hear over the cabin noise as the chopper lifted off toward the White House. "It’s unexpected," he added, "refreshing."

  Ruby took a deep breath and turned her attention back to her reflection. She did look nice with her hair down--younger, maybe, although she wouldn’t dare go as far as "youthful." Why hadn’t she noticed before that her long tresses seemed to take some of the heft out of her too-round cheeks? She so rarely looked at herself with her hair loose, but Jaccob saw her like this almost daily. If this was the way he preferred her, she couldn’t blame him. Perhaps it was a bit young and a mite unprofessional, but she decided she liked this look--at least enough not to throw off the whole day’s schedule to change it.

  "If you like it," she said, "then I’ll leave it." There was no reason not to let him think she was doing it for his benefit.

  Jaccob leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  And Ruby started to wonder who the hell she was becoming. Never before in her life had she let anyone she was romantically involved with influence how she presented herself, especially not a man. She’d always dressed, coiffed, and groomed herself by her own preferences alone. The very idea that she’d just agreed to wear her hair loose in public even in the tiniest part because Jaccob Stevens had said he liked it caused her a disturbing amount of consternation. But she had far greater things to concern herself with today then how come she’d suddenly put such stock in someone else’s opinion of how she wore her hair.

  She’d have adequate time for introspection later. For now, she needed to put the self-consciousness and self-examination away and concentrate on the day’s business. She had more than enough on her plate without succumbing to an existential crisis on the way to the White House.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  For the rest of the ride to the White House, Jaccob had insisted on holding Ruby’s hand. Hand holding was an activity she’d heretofore eschewed, but Jaccob had somehow made it palatable. It was yet another piece of this relationship that was puzzling to Ruby; just one more thing to add to the pile of questions she’d have to face once she had the time and the energy for self-reflection. And she had already established that now was not that time.

  She’d let go of him when they’d landed on the South Lawn, to pull out her business phone. She texted Prather in rather firm language to tell his pilot to turn the damned engines off before she got out of the helicopter. She’d managed to comb through her locks well enough after taking her hair down, but there was no way her loose mane was going to survive another bout with winds of that velocity--at least not in a way she’d find acceptable for public consumption.

  She hadn’t told Jaccob what she was doing with her phone out, but rather had just gestured for him to wait before disembarking the craft. When the rotors shut off, she flashed her most self-satisfied grin before standing and heading for the exit.

  Jaccob chuckled. He’d always said he was a fan of her nerve, and she always appreciated it when he seemed impressed. He shook his head in obvious amusement, but followed her off the craft.

  Ruby could tell as they started across the lawn that Jaccob and Prather were purposely avoiding each other. As they made their way across the Ellipse and into the building, they each stood as far to Ruby’s respective sides as they could while still able to converse. Not that it mattered; nobody was saying anything. Ruby honestly figured that was for the best. The two men had a long history of animosity between them, and she honestly wasn’t sure which one was more annoyed at having to be within ten feet of the other.

  Not that she had the bandwidth to mind. She had bigger fish to fry today than the fact that her lover and this politician she was using for her own gain didn’t care to be around each other. She let Prather and his Secret Service bodyguards lead the way, and she held Jaccob’s hand as the two of them followed close behind. She wanted to be sure that, in the conflict between the two men who currently flanked her, everyone knew whose side she was on. They passed through some series of halls and passageways Ruby vaguely recognized from her last visit to the White House before coming to the staging area for performers and crew.

  Ruby was careful not to trip on the yards of electrical cable and television monitor setups that had been crammed into the corridor. It wasn’t so much an ideal setup, but the Secret Service had only been so willing to have the White House cluttered up with her equipment and personnel. At least the crew seemed to be coping. Ruby did her best to ignore the chaos and keep walking out toward the stage. It didn’t so much matter what the backstage was looking like at the moment. She trusted her crew to have things under control. What really mattered was the state of things where the audience and the cameras could see.

  When they exited the building onto the North Lawn, Ruby was plenty pleased at the state of the setup, but a little surprised at the size of the crowd. She’d known that there would be a large audience, but with the stage, lights, camera platforms, and boxes for secure/VIP seating, the number of people they’d invited hardly seemed to fit. The invites had been Prather’s call--or, rather, his issue to manage. She was sure the Secret Service was none too thrilled at the density of the crowd.

  But that wasn’t really Ruby’s problem. If the White House security staff had to deal with inner city children and special invited guests all crammed onto the lawn like sardines behind a fancy fence, she gave not one sliver of a damn. The more the merrier, as far as she was concerned. The larger the crowd of underprivileged youth in front of the stage, the more generous she looked for throwing this concert in the first place. And the footage .... Ruby couldn’t help but to grin at the thought of how magnificent it was going to look on video that the place was packed to overflowing. It was always a risk with an outdoor venue that the audience would have more spreading-out room than was ideal if you really wanted to capture the size of the crowd in a shot from the stage. Having them pack
ed in so tightly meant one less thing she had to worry about.

  But it was also giving Prather a perfectly captive audience.

  Yuck.

  Jaccob spotted Mike in the wings as Prather took the stage to kick off the show. Apparently they’d arrived just in time. Ruby deemed this a best-case scenario; the only thing she hated more than being tardy to this kind of thing was being made to wait. She knew the concert wouldn’t have started without her; the President needed to speak before the music began, and the only way she’d gotten dispensation to ride aboard his helicopter was to agree that he would be waiting on the lawn for her arrival. Technically, the Sikorsky wasn’t supposed to be flying guests of the President without himself aboard as well, but civilian guests aboard the presidential helicopter was hardly the first irregular order of business out of this administration. Executive escorts notwithstanding, she had been prepared to wait backstage for a few minutes before things got started. The fact that everyone had their acts together well enough to have Prather walk on stage all but immediately spoke volumes about the control the stage manager had over the event.

  That fellow would be getting a bonus, and soon.

  "Hey, kid," Jaccob said to his son, pulling out his Starphone to take a selfie with the stage in the background. "Picture with your old man before you go on?"

  "You know," Ruby called as she crossed to where the two of them were standing. "There is veritable legion of photographers and videographers here today. Any one of them would be happy to take your photo."

  "But then I wouldn’t have it in my pocket," Jaccob countered with a wink in her direction.

  Ruby shook her head and held out her hand. "Then at least let me take it," she suggested. "I’ll make sure you’re both in focus."

  Jaccob chuckled but handed the device over.

  As she took hold of it, Ruby couldn’t help but notice the look on Mike’s face; it told her he wasn’t used to his father handing over his phone so readily. That was good to know. Taking a few steps back for framing purposes, she switched the Starphone’s camera out of selfie mode and then pointed it at the two men. "Smile," she instructed. The two of them did as she asked and she snapped the picture. Checking quickly that the captured image was as adorable as she’d hoped it would be, she closed the distance again and returned the phone to its owner. Jaccob checked the picture himself before locking the screen and putting it away.

  "Thanks, sweetheart," he said, leaning in to kiss Ruby on the cheek as he slid his phone into his jacket pocket.

  She smiled back, but much of her attention was still on Mike. She found it odd enough herself when Jaccob insisted on using pet names for her; she was sure it must have sounded completely bizarre to his son. Normally Ruby wouldn’t have given a damn if Mike was shaken by hearing his father use a term of endearment toward a woman who wasn’t his mother, or by seeing him kiss her so unabashedly.

  But today Mike Stevens wasn’t just her lover’s son. He was also an artist in her stable making his international debut, and she was not about to let some eccentricity of their personal situation rattle him right before he took the stage. She did what she could to take charge of the situation and immediately shifted gears.

  "You ready?" she asked Mike, turning to look him in the eye and assuring that her tone was all business. She wasn’t sure how much of the magic of the Eye she was carrying with her today, and she had no idea whether she was able to assert any supernatural influence over him at all. But with or without magic, she was still his employer, and that had to count for something.

  "Yes, ma’am, Ms. Killingsworth," he replied, nodding rapidly as he fidgeted with his guitar.

  "You’re tuned?" she asked, gesturing to the instrument that hung from around his neck by a black and silver leather strap.

  Mike nodded again.

  "Warmed up?" she asked.

  More nodding. "Yes ma’am," he answered again. "I’m ready."

  "Good." Ruby took him by the shoulders then and looked him squarely in the eye. "Now," she said firmly, making sure she had his full attention. "You’re going to go out there, and this is going to feel like nothing else you’ve ever done. There are going to be cameras in your face, videographers moving around all over the place with grips trailing cable behind them. There’ll be lights in your face and crowd noises that make whatever you thought you heard through the monitor during your sound check all but moot. You’ve got your earpiece," she reminded him, gesturing to the tiny monitor he wore in his right ear. "Trust it. The house sound doesn’t matter--all right? What matters is what’s going into the system. And if at any time this starts to feel overwhelming or uncomfortable, just turn your head. I’m stage left for a reason."

  She’d been coming into the studio sporadically over the past few weeks as Mike had been recording the album version of the song he was about to perform. She’d had the vocal booth set up just so, with the engineers through a window off to the singer’s left. "I’m right where I’ve been all week. If you need reassurance, you can look over at me the same as you’ve been doing in the studio. I’ll be right where you expect me to be."

  "Okay." Mike nodded, and Ruby could tell he was processing her words carefully. This was a thing she often did with new artists when she put them in front of a large audience for the first time. She wondered, though, if Mike would take this as his being given some sort of special treatment on account of the fact she was sleeping with his father. That wasn’t a presumption that would inspire confidence, and she needed Mike to have all the confidence he could going into today’s performance.

  "I wouldn’t have you out there today if you weren’t ready," she told him. Now go," she said, gesturing to center stage, where Prather had finished his opening remarks and was waving to the crowd amidst a mass of cheers. "Kick ass."

  "Yes, ma’am." Mike was smiling as he gave her one last nod and then turned to head on stage. The backup band was getting themselves into place as Mike moved toward his mark behind the microphone stand, waving at the crowd as he went.

  Ruby reached out her hand to Jaccob, who took it and followed her to stand in the first wing.

  "That was one hell of a pep talk," he said in her ear as the band began to play.

  "I meant it," she replied. "He’s really good. Listen."

  Mike hadn’t even gotten into the first chorus before Ruby knew for certain she was right to have chosen him as the lead-off artist for this show. And by the time the bridge was ending and the song was modulating, she was sure they had a hit on their hands. She turned her head for a moment to look at Jaccob. He was beaming. She liked that look on him a lot. Smiling almost as widely herself, she leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment.

  Jaccob turned briefly to smile in her direction before looking back to where Mike was performing.

  It was clear to Ruby that the applause when the song was over was more than Mike had been prepared for. He stood for a moment, appearing dumbfounded, before taking his bow. He swung his guitar around behind him to wave to the crowd as he bounded off stage toward where Ruby and his father were waiting just off stage.

  "Incredible job, son!" Jaccob exclaimed, intercepting Mike with a hug as soon as he hit the wings.

  "You could have stayed out there longer," Ruby added. "They’re still cheering for you."

  Mike stepped out of his father’s embrace and shrugged. "The stage manager told me to take one bow and get off stage," he shared.

  Ruby nodded. Good for that stage manager making sure to manage the time they’d be stuck in this political cesspit. And good on Mike for following directions even under such extraordinary circumstances.

  "Well, you were fantastic," she told him. "Now Jaccob," she said, turning her attention to the man she’d come with. "We should get to our seats. We can’t just stand backstage for the whole concert. Mike, you go back to the green room and enjoy yourself. We’ll see you again before the finale."

  Mike nodded and headed off in the direction of the backstage lounge.

/>   Ruby had always made a point to take good care of her artists backstage--she was sure he’d be comfortable there until the finale.

  As for her own seats, the comfort level remained to be seen. But she had made sure going in that the stage left VIP box where hers and Jaccob’s seats were reserved was shared only with celebrity guests and noted philanthropists. So at least she could be assured of her relative social comfort. The politicians were to be seated stage right; Prather and his cronies had a box to themselves, which seemed to suit everyone just fine. Ruby spent the next two performances wondering if she had the power within her to set it on fire.

  Not that she would. No matter how despicable the political detritus sitting on the other side of the venue, she’d never sabotage her own event like that. But still, it was fun to fantasize. For years she’d toyed with the idea of being able to curse liars so their trousers really would combust. Never had she wished for that power more than she had in the time she’d spent dealing with Prather. But today would be the end of it. Unless Loki approached her personally for something having to do with this despicable buffoon of a man, she had no intentions of so much as speaking to him again.

  And today wasn’t about him, anyway. Ruby was sure, though, that he absolutely thought it was. The whole angle she’d taken with him in the first place was that hosting this concert for disadvantaged children would be good for his image and approval rating. But as far as Ruby was concerned, it only mattered that it would be good for her company’s bottom line.

  And the concert was fantastic. There was something about privileged rock stars playing for poor children from rough, inner-city neighborhoods that made the energy of a live show just that little bit better. Maybe it was a "there but for the grace" thing. Ruby didn’t know, but what she did know was that today’s show had been even more spectacular than she’d been expecting. She could practically hear the stock price going up.