by Alison Bond
‘I’m sorry,’ she said to the harassed makeup assistant who had been sent down to the beach to fetch her. ‘My hair’s getting messed up, I know.’
The girl looked confused, as if nobody had ever apologized to her before and she wasn’t sure how to respond. ‘They need you back on set.’
‘It’s so beautiful here,’ said Ruby.
The assistant glanced out at the infinite blue ocean, shrugged and said, ‘I guess’ before immediately setting to work on Ruby’s hairpiece.
Two people for her hair, two more for her makeup. What would happen, she wondered, if she ever became a big star like Andrew?
From the moment that her plane landed on the Los Angeles tarmac Max had completely taken over Ruby’s life.
‘Leave everything to me,’ he said. ‘All I ask is that you do what I tell you. If you do, this should be reasonably straightforward.’
She threw herself into her new career with relentless dedication. This was what she wanted, to succeed far beyond everybody’s expectations. To be extraordinary.
For some people burning ambition came from deep inside, but Ruby was never like that. She wasn’t chasing a sense of personal satisfaction; she badly wanted to impress others, Dante in particular, and anyone who had ever thought she wouldn’t amount to much. She wanted to prove a point. She was fabulous, okay?
Max set her up in a small one-bedroom apartment. At first his plan for her had seemed outrageously ambitious but day by day she realized that it wasn’t as ambitious as all that. With a decent strategy and plenty of hard work most things are possible.
The first thing Max did was arrange to have two days’ worth of photographs taken in two different locations – ‘to see how the light affects that face’. When the contact sheets were ready and it was time to pick out the ones she liked, Ruby struggled.
‘Stop right there,’ said Max. ‘False modesty will slow us down. Ruby, I know you know you’re gorgeous. You’ve got to stop thinking that people won’t like you if you admit it.’
‘I don’t want to seem arrogant.’
‘You don’t have to worry about that any more. Arrogance is a currency here. If you don’t think you’re hot, then why should anyone give you a job? When there’s a thousand other actresses who’d swear they’re God’s gift to this earth?’
‘Okay.’
Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Who?’
Max scowled. ‘One more time. Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?’
‘Um, me?’
‘You got that right.’
So why had Dante left her? Ruby spent too much time thinking about him. She replayed their relationship endlessly in her head, hoping to find a mistake that she’d made somewhere, something she could torture herself with further. What if she had played harder to get? What if she’d refused to share him? What if she’d been more adventurous from the start, not only in bed but in her life too? It was only when she was facing a camera, pretending to be something she was not, that she was able to forget about him at all.
Max signed Ruby up for acting classes and paid the bill. ‘I’ll take it out of your first paycheck,’ he said, and he did.
She lost what remained of her puppy fat by running up and down the stairs in her apartment building and surviving on apples and black coffee. Two months after that Max pronounced her ready.
At the audition for her first job she knew she would get the part as soon as she saw the senior producer shuffle in his seat to hide his growing excitement.
‘We need to talk about the casting couch,’ said Max afterwards.
Ruby had heard about actresses who traded sex for breaks. She was wondering if it was a job requirement.
‘If I ever hear you slept your way into a part I will fire you,’ said Max. ‘A good actress shouldn’t have to do that.’
Ruby was relieved.
‘But if you genuinely find the guy attractive, then what the hell, it can only help.’
She thought back to the producer she had just seen. The thought of sleeping with him made her shudder.
‘Just be careful,’ said Max. ‘Try not to break any hearts before they’ve signed a contract, preferably after you’ve been paid.’
‘And then?’
‘Then you can break as many hearts as you like.’
Despite what the tabloid papers said later in her life, Ruby got that first job on her feet, not her back. A couple more commercials followed, then a small part on a TV show, and then, in less than a year, a contract with Celestial Studios to play a badly written part in this honest-to-God movie. Her career was shaping up exactly the way that Max had predicted.
Everything was different in Los Angeles. London had been a carnival of music and fashion and film and art all partying in the same decade. Here, the movie business prevailed and, from what Ruby could fathom, appeared to be in the hands of several men who were old enough to be her grandfather, while beneath these upper echelons of power the next generation was making small earthquakes. Max was watching carefully. He knew that these cheesy studio movies couldn’t last much longer, they were failing to pull in the crowds. Some people blamed television but Max saw the lines for the Hoffman kid in The Graduate and that downbeat gangster tale with Warren Beatty which was surprising everyone. He knew that there was always serious money to be made in the movie game. This was the transition period, things that failed were simply making space for the next generation. He spent a lot of time infiltrating the directors studying at UCLA, making friends for the future. He saw Ruby as the new Elizabeth Taylor, a less threatening Faye Dunaway, Katherine Ross with more sex appeal. She had star quality, everybody agreed on that.
When Ruby first read the script for this picture, Viva Romance, she had wrinkled her nose and said she hated it. She was required to wear scanty clothes and flirt, and that was about it. But Max had persuaded her to take the job for the decent-sized fee so that she could relax a little bit and be more discerning in her future choices. Ruby did whatever Max said. Why shouldn’t she? He hadn’t let her down yet.
Who wouldn’t want to go to work on a paradise beach, with colleagues who catered to her every whim? If she wanted a margarita right this second she could have one instantly, just by waving to one of the crew. And she was nobody. This was an Andrew Steele picture, everyone knew that. He pursued a number of women in the film. He had a bigger trailer, a massive entourage, and if he asked for that margarita at the same time as she did, she’d have to admit that he’d get his first, probably in a diamond-studded goblet. She couldn’t wait until she was as powerful as that.
She liked her job. It was permission to put on an act all day long and, what’s more, get paid to do so. Faking it for money. It would take her months back home to earn as much as she would for these few short weeks on the beach. Today she would be standing in a red bikini reciting witty, uncomplicated lines that had taken her a few minutes to learn. The hardest thing she’d had to do so far was ride a horse into the sunset.
‘Can any of you ladies handle a mount?’ they’d been asked on day one, the horse in question standing right in front of them, foaming at the mouth in the hot Mexican sun, bucking like a wild stallion.
‘I can,’ said Ruby, before anyone else had the chance. Many of the actresses looked relieved that someone else had stepped forward.
Given some of the nags she’d ridden over damp Welsh hills in her time, the scene had been an absolute pleasure. When they had finished that day she’d been swaddled in a warm coat – as if one really needed a warm coat in the tropics.
Everyone was lovely. And everyone genuinely seemed to like her. Not just the casting directors and studio executives on whom her career now depended but Andrew and the rest of the cast, and everyone on the crew of Viva Romance. Mainly because Ruby never did ask for a margarita in the middle of the day. She turned up when they told her to, read her lines, and was no trouble at all. Disappearing for a walk during lun
ch was her first small act of rebellion.
Back on set they were ready for her. A significant portion of the paradise beach had been cordoned off. Dump trucks full of silver sand were unloading, covering the clumps of ground vegetation which somebody had decided spoilt the perspective of this particular shot. Two lesser crew members were brushing away the truck’s tyre marks with their heels, shuffling around like enthusiastic cripples.
The star, Andrew Steele, waited. He was deep in consultation with the director, and (if she strained her ears in that direction) their conversation was loud enough for Ruby to overhear.
The two men had antagonized each other from day one. They’d both been in the business too long to consider themselves in need of any advice. Ruby was pleased that the director was distracted and didn’t notice her fractionally late arrival on set.
‘But what’s my motivation?’ said Andrew.
The director pointed at Ruby as she took off her robe and the makeup artist retouched her crimson pout. ‘That is,’ he said.
Andrew Steele looked at Ruby, really looked at her, for the first time. She gave him a sassy wink that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. The scene between them was electric.
Ruby would spend a lifetime refining her talent but she would always be remembered for that scene, the girl in the red bikini.
It was the last shot of the day. Andrew and Ruby sparked off each other and both felt good when they thought it was over. But the director, Albert, had other ideas. He insisted that they tried it another way, less humour, more sex. Four more takes followed and the crew started to murmur. This was unnecessary; they had some great stuff in the can. At the beginning of the sixth take Albert covered Ruby’s bikinied body with an unflattering sundress and told her to tone it down.
Andrew whispered in her ear as they set up the shot, ‘So tell me, can you be less sexy?’
‘I can try,’ said Ruby. ‘But it might be hard.’
‘I’ll tell you something else that might be hard.’ He pressed himself up against her side and Ruby gasped. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see.’
The weary voice of the assistant director interrupted their flirtation. ‘And action.’
The scene was stale and everyone knew it. Andrew was furious. He stormed off set and Ruby heard him mutter something ominous about quitting.
When she got back to her room she placed a call to Max. ‘I’m worried,’ she said. ‘If Andrew quits then the whole thing could fall apart.’
‘I’ll be right there,’ said Max, and he was.
*
He arrived the very next day, hiding seriously tired eyes behind aviator shades. Ruby was shaping up to be one of his top clients so he didn’t want her to be nervous about anything. He had a feeling that a little hand-holding on her first movie would be a good investment for the future.
‘Hey, star!’ he greeted her. ‘I spoke to Celestial and they’re pleased with you. Asking if maybe you want to do a bit-part in the new Elvis movie.’ Ruby screwed up her nose. ‘You have to stop doing that,’ said Max. ‘You’ll get wrinkles.’
Ruby was pleased to see him. He was the closest thing she had to a friend. They went for dinner in the restaurant of Ruby’s hotel. The tables were set up on a thatched veranda overlooking the sea.
‘I’m trying to arrange a viewing tomorrow for some rushes,’ said Max. ‘You should come with me. You can learn a lot from the rough footage. See what you’re doing right, what you’re doing wrong.’
‘They won’t let you,’ said Ruby. ‘Something’s up, they’re being very protective about this film.’
It was true. Each day the director, Albert, was growing increasingly isolated and refused to let anyone, not even his editor, take a look at the footage. His paranoid approach was becoming untenable and there was a buzz floating around that the studio bosses were ready to fly down for crisis talks, possibly firing Albert mid-shoot and replacing him with a younger, more malleable director. Ruby asked Max what he thought about these rumours.
‘It’s the same on every picture,’ said Max. ‘Nobody knows nothing right now. Just keep your head down and don’t do anything they could pull you up on later. I sewed up your contract real tight, they might fire Albert but you’re safe, they can’t fire you.’
‘What if the film stops production?’
‘They’re not about to shut the whole thing down, they’ve spent too much money already.’
Ruby picked listlessly at her food.
Are you having fun?’ said Max.
Fun? It wasn’t the right word. She was coasting through the experience and focusing on the fee she would receive at the end of it. ‘I suppose,’ she said.
‘Maybe these will cheer you up.’ He pushed a small bundle of envelopes tied with brown string across the table.
‘What are they?’
‘Fan mail.’
Ruby laughed. ‘I have fans?’
‘Yep,’ said Max, with considerable pride. ‘From the TV show, I guess.’
Ruby flicked through the pile, thinking that it was vaguely ridiculous to have these strangers contact her just because they’d seen her on television. She opened one at random: You are beautiful, it said, what are you doing next? Can you send me a signed photograph? She pushed the letter back inside the envelope. ‘This feels strange.’
‘But good, right?’
She mumbled non-committally. It was unsettling. It reminded her of the feeling at UFO, a sense of herself as public property. But this time it would be different, this time it was on her terms. She shook her head from side to side, as if trying to physically shake off the insecurity that always gnawed at her insides. She was an actress now, on her way to becoming a star, that’s what Dante wanted her to be, she would have to get used to it.
She continued looking through the letters until she came across one with a London postmark. She looked at the familiar British stamps with a twinge of homesickness. There was something familiar about the scrawling penmanship too. She ripped it open and instantly felt happier than she had in weeks. ‘It’s from a friend,’ she said with delight. ‘Sean!’
Max watched her devour the contents, her eyes flicking rapidly over the words, smiling occasionally. Then suddenly she stopped.
What is it?’ said Max.
‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘Just some people I used to know, friends, they had a baby.’
‘Happy news.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I suppose.’
It was very sweet of Sean to write to her and she could tell by his careful choice of words that he knew mentioning Dante and Ella might upset her, but to have omitted them entirely from his update would have been equally painful. Her imagination would have conjured up horrible pictures of all the people she had left behind getting together every night to laugh about her and that the whole Rome thing was just a ruse to chase her away. But they had gone to Rome as planned and were married there, returning for a brief visit to show off their new baby boy, just before Dante started making his Italian language debut for a respectable film company back in Rome. They looked well, said Sean – not happy, Ruby noted, just well – though they were both very tired and their visit was a bit of a fucking rush. She smiled at his colourful language but searched between the lines for something more she could take from his words.
Was that it? What had she expected? That the moment she left, Dante would miss her frantically, un-impregnate his girlfriend and chase after her? That Ella would have to apologize and say that she’d been wrong? Maybe. Was that too much to ask? Life moved on. She still loved him. She felt a burn at the back of her throat, her throat swelled and to her absolute horror a big fat tear dropped from her left eye.
‘What’s wrong?’ said Max.
‘Nothing,’ replied Ruby, but the teardrops multiplied and fell. She pulled her mouth into a smile yet the tears continued. ‘I’m sorry.’
She didn’t want Max to think she was pathetic. Since arriving in Los Angeles she had presented herself just as she would to any pote
ntial employer. She wanted him to think that she was capable and professional and the best girl for the job. She was still ashamed to think of the fuss she had made in front of him at the UFO club in London, and since then she had refused to let him see her vulnerable. She had shown Dante and Ella her secret self and they had both rejected her. But she missed Dante so much.
She looked down at the tablecloth, concentrating hard on the weave of the ivory fabric and trying not to think of wedding dresses. She drew in the deepest breath she could and tasted the sea salt in the air. She used the napkin on her lap to pat her face and was thankful that she had shown restraint with her eye makeup. She willed herself to calm down and the awkward seconds ticked by until eventually it worked.
Ruby was sure that Max wouldn’t mind if she checked her face in her compact mirror; he knew where the money was. Not too much damage.
‘Are you okay?’ He reached for her hand across the table.
She nodded. She still didn’t trust her voice, or trust herself to look Max in the eye. He was the only person that cared about her and his concern might trigger her tears again. He was stroking her hand gently, caressing her index finger with his.
‘How would it be if I stayed over tonight?’ he asked. ‘I could visit the set tomorrow, catch a late flight. What would you think of that?’
Finally she had to meet his gaze. Was this the long-awaited pass? Apart from his hefty 20 per cent Max had asked for nothing. She didn’t find him attractive but it had been a long time since she’d met a man who hadn’t at least tried it on with her. Maybe this was Max’s style and he pounced when women were vulnerable. She owed him big. The temptation to let him deeper into her life was intense. She was lonely. Since London she hadn’t let anyone close.
