by Alison Bond
They hadn’t seen each other properly for a while, although most of Ella’s possessions were still in Ruby’s flat. Ella had decided to apply to art school and was trying desperately to infiltrate that crowd, wearing a ridiculous beret most of the time and namedropping artists, mispronouncing Monet and Chagall. All this just meant more stolen time for Ruby and Dante, and so Ruby vigorously encouraged her friend’s new-found love of art.
‘It’ll be a wild night,’ said Ella. There was a group playing at the club, a homecoming of sorts for one of their favourite bands, and for weeks people had been talking about it. Simply everybody would be there.
‘I hope so,’ said Ruby, thinking that if Ella drank enough beer she would be able to sneak off with Dante for a couple of hours and they wouldn’t even be missed. It was a perfect opportunity. A crowded venue, an attention-grabbing band. They could slip away and be at the Palace within minutes. Underneath her new Biba wrap dress she was wearing the white silk underwear that Dante liked best.
‘Do you want to know a secret?’ asked Ella.
‘Of course,’ said Ruby. Do you? Lately she had been tempted to let slip that she’d been sleeping with Dante, just to see what would happen. What was the point of an affair if nobody found out? It was the logical dramatic progression. If Ella knew, then they could stop stealing moments and be a proper couple.
‘Dante’s going to Rome,’ said Ella. ‘He’s bored, he said. How could anyone be bored of all this?’ She threw her arms out wide to indicate she didn’t just mean the white tabletops and the perpetual smell of onions in their immediate vicinity, she meant the bigger picture. ‘But I think I might go with him.’
‘Really?’
‘He doesn’t know that yet. I have to figure out the best way to tell him.’ She looked wistful. ‘He didn’t ask me.’
Ruby was hiding her shock with a mouthful of spaghetti. Rome? He couldn’t possibly be serious. What about her?
‘Do you think he means it?’ she asked.
‘Dante doesn’t say things that he doesn’t mean.’
Not strictly true, he tells you that he loves you.
‘Do you think I’d like it in Rome?’ mused Ella. ‘Dante says it’s dead romantic.’
Ruby realized with a start that she would miss Ella almost as much as Dante. That was unexpected. She would miss nights like this. Without both of them she was scared that she might be bored too. Perhaps she could go with them, if she was invited. Perhaps in the spirit of the times she should invite herself. She needed to talk to Dante. Maybe he already had a plan. Surely he wouldn’t just leave her?
The pair of them boarded a red bus to take them into the West End. At the back of the bus was a drab-looking girl, around Ruby’s age, sneaking covetous looks at them with their bright clothes and volleys of laughter. That was me, thought Ruby. She didn’t want to have to go back to that again.
The nightclub was a seething mass of exuberance. Tonight, sooner or later, everyone who was out on the town would end up at this legendary venue. The fevered crowd laced the air with an intoxicating sense of anticipation. There were hundreds of people and Ruby had to shout to make herself heard. Ella grabbed her hand and they walked slowly through the club, getting distracted every few steps by friends or by strangers who wanted to become friends. Their progress was slow and Ella looked reasonably content, but Ruby was itching to find Dante, to hear him say out loud that he was leaving so that she might believe it. With hand gestures she managed to convey to Ella over the music that they should look upstairs.
From the balcony Ruby was able to look down on the throng as a whole. She scanned the faces for Dante’s but she was certain that he would be hidden in some dark corner up here, that was more his style. He was crafting a reputation as an artist in this crowd and so it suited him to be enigmatic. But she was caught up in the tableau of a thousand people all having the time of their life. Two green spotlights carved lines of colour into the grey, smoky darkness. Faces turned upward towards her and Ruby looked down on so many smiles that she felt her heart sing with joy that she was one of them. And she hadn’t even taken any drugs yet.
‘There!’ Ella nudged her and pointed. Dante was hidden in a dark corner, having an impassioned conversation with plenty of gesticulation. For a moment Ruby was annoyed that she hadn’t spotted him first but then, thinking of Rome, she softened. She would miss those hands too much.
He kissed them both. When he kissed Ruby he said, ‘I have a surprise for you.’
He’s leaving her. He’s going to ask me to go with him.
When they got to Rome they could be together constantly, no more sneaking around, and Ruby was certain that if she had Dante all to herself then she would be enough for him. This was real, this was love, it had to be. If it wasn’t real then why did her body burn for him just looking across the table, why was sex on her mind every second of every day? Only when they were together did Ruby feel complete.
They didn’t get a chance to be alone for hours. Ruby tried to use her eyes to communicate with him, but Dante’s mind seemed to be elsewhere. Once, he leaped up from his seat and disappeared for almost twenty minutes. Ruby didn’t react quickly enough to follow him. When he came back she searched his face for a sign that he had been waiting for her, but his eyes were dancing with drugs and laughter, not any kind of frustration. She asked him to dance but he said no.
People gradually shuffled round the table, so that Ruby eventually found herself next to him. She relaxed for the first time that night as she felt his strong hand clasp hers under the table.
‘What’s my surprise?’ she said.
‘Patience,’ was all he would say.
There was a lull in the music before the headline band came on. Someone somewhere was singing a Christmas carol, but it was as if every patron of the nightclub were collectively holding their breath waiting for the main attraction. Then, when the opening guitar chords resonated around the space, the crowd went absolutely wild.
‘Come on, beautiful,’ said Dante. ‘It’s time.’
He pulled Ruby to her feet in front of everyone, and just as Ruby was thinking that this was a very public risk, he stretched his other hand out towards Ella. ‘You too,’ he said.
Ruby was confused as he walked them both to the balcony. She looked down at the band. Was she supposed to recognize one of them?
Ella said, ‘I don’t get it. Where’s my surprise?’ and Ruby’s spirits dipped. A surprise for them both wasn’t the same as an invitation to Italy.
Dante pointed past the band, to the large white screen high up on the wall behind them. The screens were always there and Ruby didn’t usually pay much attention to them. They usually featured random images or short films that could entrance some of the heavy trippers for hours. Rumour had it that Andy Warhol always screened there first.
Ruby thought she’d guessed it. Dante was going to screen his film debut – his big surprise was not really about her at all. It was entirely about him.
Then she saw her own face on the screen. Her own body. And Ella. The pair of them entwined, fifty times larger than life.
Her skin looked awful.
And she was kissing a girl.
She felt ill and for a moment she thought she was going to throw up. She grabbed Dante’s shoulder to stop her vision from swimming, so that she could focus on this violating film. It was pornographic. If it was someone else up there maybe she could be okay with it, but it was her. That was her half-naked body up on screen. Her mouth, her breasts, her large thighs.
The camera zoomed in on her closed eyes, and Ruby didn’t notice how striking her bone structure appeared on screen; all she saw was that her eyebrows badly needed shaping and her mascara had smudged beneath one eye. She didn’t think that it was undeniably exciting to be famous for five minutes; she only thought how shameful this was and tried to swallow down a sickening wave of fear. Everyone could see her up there.
Once she got over the initial shock she felt worse. It went on a
nd on. Soft-focus images of every touch. Her thighs spilling out where they weren’t firm enough, her haircut looking like a cheap wig.
She had been high that night, she hadn’t really been aware of what she was doing. These moments were private. She’d thought they even had a quiet beauty of their own and now Dante had ruined her memory of that evening for ever, exposing it to all the people she cared about, as well as hundreds more who were nameless, and reducing the experience to something tawdry and inelegant. She felt wounded.
She whirled blindly towards Dante. What was he thinking? Beyond him Ella was dumbstruck, but didn’t look particularly displeased. Dante was enraptured.
‘How could you?’ she said.
What? Wait, the best bit is coming up, there’s this certain light that bathes you…’
Ruby backed away from him, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Get them to stop the film, please. Please stop it, I can’t bear it.’
‘You don’t like it?’ He scratched his chin, perplexed. ‘But it’s gorgeous.’
‘I hate it,’ she said. ‘I really hate it. Please.’
What’s wrong?’ said Ella. She was smiling, keeping half an eye on the screen.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ruby couldn’t believe she had to explain herself. ‘It’s awful,’ she said. ‘Everybody’s looking at me. It’s bloody degrading, I look like a whore.’
For that moment she wasn’t Ruby, sexy friend of Ella and Dante, the newest face on their little part of the London scene, she was Ruby Norton, only daughter of a small-town businessman, and she hated herself. Her confidence evaporated along with any feelings of sophistication she’d ever felt she had. She wasn’t ready for this. When it came right down to the sharp end, the new Ruby was only skin-deep. She was fake.
‘I think you look beautiful,’ said Dante.
Ruby put her hands to the sides of her face and covered her eyes with her fingers. She couldn’t hold on any more and she started to cry.
A stranger’s voice broke through the sound of her own sobs. ‘I agree.’ Dante placed a restraining hand on the stocky newcomer as he approached Ruby, who shrank back, afraid and paranoid.
The young man was wearing a crisp dark suit and a little shoestring tie and he spoke with an American accent. ‘I say he’s dead right. You sure do look beautiful up there, young lady,’ he said.
‘Leave her alone,’ said Dante. ‘She doesn’t want to talk to you.’
‘Yοu directed this film?’
‘I did.’
‘My name is Max Parker,’ he said. ‘You should call me.’ He drew a business card out of his pocket and pressed it into Dante’s palm, and then he turned his attention back to Ruby. And you,’ he said, ‘you should leave this place and come to dinner with me right now. We have a lot to discuss, you and I.’
‘Excuse me?’ Ruby had no idea what was going on.
‘What’s your name?’ he said.
Dante glanced at his card and stepped between them. ‘Didn’t you hear me? She doesn’t want to talk to you. Can’t you see the lady’s upset?’
Ella chose this moment to speak for the first time. ‘I’m Ella,’ she said, sticking out her hand by way of introduction.
Max glanced at her dismissively. The blonde didn’t interest him, it was the brunette who had captured his attention, as she’d so obviously captured the camera’s attention, dominating every frame. The film was well made. Max didn’t think it was pornographic at all; he thought it was artistic and sensual – back home they’d call it ‘European’ – and he thought that this woman was the most exciting prospect he’d seen since he arrived in London.
‘Forgive me,’ said Max. ‘I’m a lawyer, I work in Hollywood.’
Dante scowled and looked as if he was going to spit on the floor. Max hurried to reassure him. ‘Not that kind of Hollywood, not what you’re thinking. There’s people out there now who think like you and me.’
‘How do you know what I think?’
‘You like Fellini, right? And Truffaut, all those guys?’
Dante shrugged. Of course he did, every European film-maker did. ‘Naturally’
Max grinned. ‘People who think like that,’ he said. ‘I can’t promise you anything but your work has style, no question.’
‘And Ruby?’
Both men focused on Ruby. It was the first time Max had heard her name. It was simply perfect: the most precious and rare of all the jewels, said to open the heart to passion. He felt a sharp buzz of certainty about this girl. Was that how Huston had felt when he’d first seen Marilyn?
‘With Ruby it’s different,’ said Max. ‘I can pretty much promise her anything she wants.’
That was easy. ‘I want this film to stop, right now,’ said Ruby.
‘As you wish.’ Max twisted around and leaned right out over the balcony. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The piercing sound drove another stake of fear into Ruby’s nerves. Max mimed cutting his own throat.
And then the film stopped. There was a palpable sense of disappointment from the crowds below as the erotic images on screen were replaced with a dramatic light show. Max turned back to Ruby to see if she was impressed.
She was. How the hell did he do that? Who was this man making promises, promises that he could obviously deliver?
Ruby grabbed his business card from Dante. ‘You’re a lawyer?’ she said.
‘Moving into personal management. I’m a Hollywood agent. And you, gorgeous, you’re an actress.’ It wasn’t a question.
Ruby shook her head fiercely. ‘No, I’m not. That was supposed to be a private film, we were just having some fun.’
‘You’re an actress,’ he said again. Max Parker was new at this agent game, but he was keen. One day he wanted to have his own company, a powerhouse to rival William Morris and ICM, he wanted to be a player.
‘No, I’m telling you, I’m not an actress,’ she said. ‘And I don’t want to be.’ She pushed backwards, without looking where she was going. She needed some air, she needed to escape. She stumbled against strangers behind her. ‘Excuse me.’
‘Ruby! Wait!’ Max couldn’t bear to lose her. He wanted to take her back to Los Angeles, get her work on a few commercials, maybe a television part for some experience in front of the camera, and then finally a big movie role, a lead, a star-making role. He had it planned out from the moment he saw her on screen. ‘Please?’
Ruby took in his beseeching smile, the look of longing in his face. Here was another man who wanted her. Big fucking deal.
She turned on her heel and vanished into the crowd.
7
Ruby didn’t venture out of her flat for the rest of the week. As a result she was fired from her job. Sort of. She couldn’t be bothered to lie when they called and so she offered two weeks’ notice and they told her not to bother coming back. It wasn’t surprising. She almost felt sorry for them, remembering how she’d arrived with glowing references and her nice tweed suit. She hadn’t turned out to be the good little secretary she’d presented herself as.
Dante didn’t call and neither did Ella.
Ruby had calmed down a bit. It had just been such a shock. She couldn’t help comparing her reaction to Ella’s. Ella didn’t care about the film. She was cool. She’d looked proud of herself, while Ruby stood beside her cringing so hard that it hurt inside. It was clear which girl was more suited to a man like Dante. Ruby couldn’t shake off the part of her that would always be the girl she was trying so hard to leave behind.
Would Dante ever speak to her again? She knew that he didn’t react well to criticism. This was his work, his debut, and she had made a big fuss which detracted the attention away from him. She’d seen the look on his face when she walked away. He’d been furious. She had embarrassed him in front of that man, that Hollywood man, whose business card was buried at the bottom of her wastebasket. And even though Dante had hurt her feelings (betrayed now seemed too strong a word, in bed she had misrepresented herself as someone completely uninhibited)
, even though she might need to change herself more than she could imagine, she missed him. She badly wanted to see him but she fretted that she had ruined her chances for ever.
Ruby was wakened in the middle of a night by a strange sound. It took her a minute to realize that someone was throwing stones up at her open window and they were landing with soft thuds on the linoleum floor. Dante. At last.
She got out of bed as fast as she could, checking the mirror over her dresser and then pinching her cheeks out of habit, forgetting that Dante said she looked better pale – it was more modern, he said, and pale skin complemented her dark hair. ‘Blushing is for virgins,’ he’d said.
This was so beautifully typical of Dante, surprising her in the middle of the night. She looked for something slinky to wear but everything was either dirty or creased, so she settled for pulling the white sheet around her, hoping that she looked more like a Roman goddess than a Halloween ghost.
She leaned out of the window, an expectant and welcoming smile on her face. Whatever he said, she would make him forgive her.
It wasn’t Dante; it was Ella. ‘Ruby?’ she yelled. ‘Is that you?’
What are you doing here?’ Bitter disappointment was tempered with relief. At least she would be able to ask Ella about him, find out how he felt.
‘Let me in,’ said Ella. ‘I have to talk to you.’
Ruby felt a shiver of apprehension. ‘It’s so late.’
‘It’s important, please.’
In the dim streetlights Ruby couldn’t see her expression. She couldn’t tell if Ella was angry or upset or both. She sounded panicked, that much was certain, and she was in danger of waking the neighbours.
‘Stay there,’ she said.
Ruby ran down the stairs and opened the front door. She could see now that Ella was not happy. A thin stress line was rigid between her eyebrows on a face that was usually so eager and open that she made everyone around her feel cherished. She didn’t smile or say hello. Ruby looked at her friend and was afraid of what was to come.
