by Alison Bond
If she had thought that her first Oscar win would cement her Hollywood standing she was wrong. It was still hard work, she still struggled with disappointment sometimes. Maybe a second Oscar would help. Surely there had to come a point where life became easier? For all her success Ruby remained anxious about every career move. Without Dante she might make mistakes.
She heard a scream coming from the direction of the house but paid it no attention. It wasn’t a scream of pain; it was just one of the bland models who had latched on to the gathering getting excited about something. Maybe a new shade of nail polish, Ruby thought, and then giggled at her own sourness. They were all the same, these scrawny girls. They thought that if they befriended someone with clout, they would eventually be cast in a big film and emerge as fully fledged stars. Ruby hadn’t the heart to tell them there was only room in their circle for one star. The truth was that Dante kept a selection of pretty young things around for window-dressing, in case one of his male friends required an undemanding playmate. Privately he would tell Ruby how little respect he had for their type. ‘They may have been made beautiful,’ he’d say, ‘but they expect too much in return for God’s grace.’
Ruby expected nothing. She thanked God every morning for making her beautiful and then she went to work.
When Ruby returned to the house things had started to slow down. Dante was lying back on their leather couch watching his new director friend kissing one of the scrawnies on the rug in front of the empty fireplace. Over by the record player three more people were poring over their extensive music collection. She couldn’t quite remember how many people there had been before, but if there’d been more then they had disappeared. Dante saw her come in and backoned her to him.
‘My love,’ he said. She watched his eyes fire in the morning sun before going to sit beside him and nestling deep into his waiting arm. He continued casually to observe the kissing couple.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.
He shrugged.
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘You should get some rest,’ he said. ‘You start work in a couple of weeks.’
She was flattered by his concern.
‘You need to look your best’, he added.
She thought about the coming months when her movie would keep them apart. She lived for the days when she was next to him; without him she felt lost. Food was more nourishing when Dante was around, music and art more rewarding, thoughts and feelings were worthwhile. Apart, it was just a matter of counting the grey days until she could be with him.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said. She gazed up at him until he dragged his eyes away from the sex show on the rug. She knew what came next, she wanted it. He took her hand, they stood up and they walked upstairs.
Of all of her treasured beach house Ruby loved the bedroom most of all, with its view of the ocean, cool airy space, crisp white sheets and luxurious en-suite bathroom. But mostly she loved it because the bedroom was where Dante always made her feel like the most powerful woman in the entire world. She pushed him on to the bed and he tore off his clothes impatiently. Quickly now, then they’d rejoin their guests and come back in a few hours’ time, then again a few hours after that, and when their guests finally left they’d spend some time together in unhurried exploration.
Sex with Dante was more intoxicating than any drug Ruby had yet to try. In those times with him she felt as though she accessed the perfect version of herself. She was his goddess. It was impossible for her to imagine that anyone on earth could generate the same intense passion as they did. Nobody else could touch them. They were the best. If everybody had sex this good, nobody would ever get any work done and the planet would grind to a halt. It got better and better.
Ruby would give up everything to spend all her time in bed with him but Dante forced them to be strict. Ruby contained herself as best she could and faithfully promised him that she would never masturbate without him. They spent hours in the bedroom shutting out the world, days if they could, yet it was never enough. As long as they made love like they were doing right now Ruby believed they would be together for ever. It was meant to be.
Dante was close to orgasm. She knew from the sound of his breathing and the movement of his enjoyably familiar body. She slowed her pace and pulled away, teasing him, enjoying the thrill of being in control. Dante was the most stubborn and headstrong man she had ever known but at this moment she could have asked for anything she wanted and he would comply. But the only thing she wanted was for him to explode inside her. She adored watching his beloved face as he came, to know that she was responsible for such total euphoria and watch him in that tiny pocket of time when he was aware of nothing except ecstasy. She always felt closest to him then.
She started to rock back and forth more forcibly. She was sitting on his lap, facing him. He grabbed hold of her shoulder and pulled her deeper on to him. She could feel the force of his orgasm building inside her and knew he was beyond the point of no return, lost to her, a moment of total oblivion, a little death.
She pulled her head up to look at him. He was clutching a handful of her hair and pulling it painfully, but she hardly noticed. She squeezed her magic muscles the way he had taught her to. A thousand hours of pelvic exercises to make his pleasure more exquisite. He was almost there. Almost.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ he cried. ‘Carla!’
Who the fuck was Carla?
20
If Ruby chose never to challenge Dante about calling out another woman’s name did that make her weak? Or did it simply prove that she trusted him beyond doubt? Yes, another wife might be throwing his possessions out of the second-storey window and demanding a lifetime of alimony but she was better than that. She was strong.
It was possible that he had been fantasizing; that was acceptable. As far as she knew, in five years together they had never met anyone called Carla. It was also possible that she had misheard him completely and constructed this threat from her subconscious, a manifestation of her own insecurity. She reassured herself with this theory. It sounded like something Dante himself might say.
Why would he cheat on her? She had done nothing wrong. Or had she? She thought back over her behaviour these last few months. As far as she could tell she hadn’t done anything to upset him or drive him away. The one thing Dante always prized above all was freedom. She had given him this. She had also given him two beautiful children he adored. It was an awkward package to wrap correctly but she had achieved it. The children were still small enough to accept life the way it was presented to them: a lot of time with the nurse, plenty of Ruby and just a dash of Daddy to add flavour. If he was in the mood, Dante would happily amuse himself with the children for hours at a time – he came alive in their company – but he was easily distracted and someone was always there to take over from him when he suddenly got bored. Was he worried about what would happen now the children were growing up? Was he starting to feel trapped? It wasn’t possible. Dante lived fiercely in the moment and scorned those who spent time worrying about things that hadn’t happened yet. And he was happy. She made him happy. She must. She had organized their entire life around his desires. She was attentive but independent and she never refused sex. What was not to love?
What would you do,’ she asked one evening, ‘if I slept with another man?’
‘I would fight him.’
The thought of being fought over by two men was thrilling. She imagined a bare-knuckle fight that ended in bloodshed. She would look on in feigned horror, clutching a handkerchief and begging them to stop, but secretly loving every second. Dante would win of course, and she would tend to his bruises and treat him like a hero.
‘Would you leave me?’
‘That would depend.’
‘On what?’
‘On how you made it up to me.’
‘I would never do anything to risk losing you,’ she said. She wanted him to echo her sentiment, she needed to hear him say that she was the only woman in
his life and that she always would be.
‘You could lose me without trying,’ he said. ‘Nothing is for ever.’
She buried her face in his broad chest to hide the anguish that his words caused. It was like a stab through the heart.
The only way she could think to protect herself was to strive to be better. A better wife, a better lover, a better movie star. The strain of constantly clamouring to be perfect grew exhausting. She had achieved so much, but her relentless push towards the next goal distracted her from her achievements.
At the pinnacle of her career Ruby slowly started to feel like a failure.
She tried to bring everything to her next role but it wasn’t to be. Her portrayal was lacklustre and she spent too much time thinking about what Dante was doing and who he was with instead of giving herself over to her character. The role which could easily have won Ruby a second Oscar was instead one of her most awkward performances. She was a disappointment to the men who had hired her and people started to whisper: maybe she’s lost it; maybe she would never be as good again. She didn’t listen to them. She got through the shoot by thinking that every day of work was one day closer to Dante.
When the movie finally wrapped she didn’t stick around to lift a glass with the crew, a decision which made her even more unpopular. Instead, she was on the very first plane back to Los Angeles and in Dante’s arms within hours. When she was with him she felt in control. As long as she could reach out and hold him, he couldn’t go far.
Then one night a gorgeous new girl showed up at one of their parties and Ruby felt as if her world might end.
As soon as the girl entered the house Ruby’s hackles rose like a hissing cat’s and she was disproportionately aware of her fresh face. She was at least six feet tall and walked in with long, loping strides. Her hair was thick and sun-bleached and her skin was the colour of pale caramel, against which her wide, sexy smile stood out. Even in the physically obsessive city of Los Angeles Ruby was used to being the most beautiful woman at any party but this leonine blonde drew everyone’s attention and for once Ruby felt overshadowed. No tits though, noted Ruby, I’ve still got the best breasts in the room.
Dante made his way over to the new girl and kissed her on the cheek. Ruby watched as she lifted up her hand to conceal a whisper into Dante’s ear, a waterfall of silver bracelets cascading down to the crook of her elbow. She was all long limbs and laughter, this girl, more charming than the usual models, and she seemed to know an awful lot of Ruby’s friends. Ruby turned away and engaged in light-hearted conversation with another guest. She could feel seeds of jealousy sprouting in her hot belly and she knew that if left unchecked they would destroy her evening and cause an argument before they went to bed.
‘Ruby? I want you to meet someone.’ They were coming towards her, Dante and this girl who suddenly made Ruby feel like the oldest woman in the room. She was so young, no more than twenty, with a lifetime ahead of her. In the moment right before he introduced her, Ruby already knew who she was. She could tell they were sleeping together simply by the way Dante led her across the floor and the way she let herself be led. So relaxed, so tactile.
‘This is Carla,’ he said.
Ruby gathered her into a hug to hide the devastation on her face. Carla’s hair carried the scent of sun-ripened oranges. By the time Ruby pulled away she was composed. ‘Welcome,’ she said. ‘If you need anything, just ask either of us. What are you drinking?’
‘Something cold? A beer if you have one,’ said Carla.
‘Dante? Would you find a beer for Carla?’ Do you dare to leave me alone with her?
Apparently he did. He went off in search of Carla’s beer. Since when did Dante like a woman who drank a man’s drink?
‘Have you been here before?’ asked Ruby. Tell me the truth. Have you been here with Dante? Have you walked naked across my landing to use the bathroom while I took the children shopping for clothes’? Have you sat at my dressing table and tried on my perfume? Have you had sex in my bed?
‘No,’ said Carla. ‘I love it.’
‘So do we.’
There was a flicker of understanding in Carla’s ridiculously wide-set eyes. They looked at each other for a moment and it was all Ruby could do to stop herself from grabbing this whore by her bony shoulders and begging her to leave them alone. Pleading with her not to destroy everything she had ever wanted. But she did not. Later, Carla thought she must have imagined the momentary chill that descended in that moment because Ruby’s open smile was back in place and she offered Caria a pull on the joint that was circulating.
It took a superhuman effort for Ruby to remain relaxed for the rest of the evening and she pretended she was playing a part in a film. She could hear an imaginary voice in her head giving her direction – okay, Ruby, in this scene you are totally unaware, than right, oblivious, nothing is wrong, you’ve got it, great work – and was confident that nobody would see through her witty banter to the nervous wreck inside. It was some of her finest work.
She was extremely tired. The party was winding down and normally she would have made her excuses some time ago but tonight she didn’t want to leave Dante alone with Carla. She forced her eyes to stay open, even though fatigue was drawing deep, unflattering lines in her face. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t keep watching him for the rest of her life and never sleep again. She must learn to trust him. She must at least try.
‘Dante?’ With her eyes she told him she was going to bed. With his eyes he replied that he would stay up a little longer.
Carla was still there.
Ruby said goodnight and went upstairs to her room where she lay on the bed and strained to hear the muted mumbles through the floor. She started to imagine that every laugh was a laugh about her. Did everybody know?
What did she do now? Her desire had soared to another level; the fear of losing Dante had snapped her devotion into razor-sharp focus. There was no doubt in her mind, he was sleeping with the girl. The question was, could she live with it?
If she asked him to end his affair it would be as good as asking him to move out. He would not stand for demands. So what then? Continue to act oblivious? The idea of performing for the rest of her life, through a thousand more evenings like tonight, was exhausting. It would feel like a defeat if she was forced to pretend that nothing had happened. Dante admired strength and resilience. Would he respect her more if she threatened to leave him? No, because a threat was merely a veiled demand. He would leave her.
She heard the front door slam and a minute later the sound of a car pulling out of the driveway. Somebody was leaving. Had that left just Dante and Carla? Would they do it here while she was upstairs? She imagined them falling on each other insistently, delighted to be finally alone, Dante’s hands curling into all that blonde hair as she ripped off his shirt. She saw him pushing her to her knees as he snapped open his fly. The vile pictures in her head became more and more graphic until to her horror she felt unmistakably aroused. Then the front door slammed again, another car pulled away, and she heard Dante’s footsteps on the staircase. She knew what to do.
‘All gone?’ she said.
She watched him undress and thought about losing that body next to hers, and it strengthened her resolve. ‘Darling,’ she said. ‘Who’s Carla? I’ve never seen her before.’
‘Harry found her behind the bar in a strip club in Nevada. Gave her a little part in his next film.’
‘She’s amazingly beautiful.’
A modern beauty, I think. Of its time. Won’t work on film.’
‘I love her body,’ said Ruby. She reached out for Dante and began to stroke his chest, slowly letting her trailing fingers drift south. ‘Her legs, her little breasts, everything.’
Dante exhaled deeply and gave a murmur of agreement and pleasure.
Ruby continued to caress him, speaking softly as if casting a spell. ‘I wonder how a woman that beautiful would be in bed. Do you think she’s wild? Do you think she likes it like I
do? I think she wants it fast, and a bit dirty. Lots of sweat, lots of panting. I bet she screams like an animal when she comes.’
She climbed on top of Dante and they started to move slowly. He tried to increase the pace but she was in control. She whispered in his ear, ‘If you fuck her will you tell me?’
So Dante’s affairs became an ingredient in their life. Given the choice between sharing them with him and being closed off from that part of him, she preferred to be involved.
It wasn’t difficult to endure his bedtime stories of illicit romance. Within a few months it became obvious that Carla was not the first, nor was she the only one. The affairs were not frequent and none of them seemed to last very long. Ruby swallowed her jealousy, but the dread remained. What would happen if one day he met someone who gave him all the freedom she did but in a prettier package? Already she could see the signs of time on her face: fine lines that were invisible to everyone else, but which she could tell were warnings of what was to come. And even though she knew that alcohol aged the skin, it helped to go through the evening with a bourbon buzz, so her consumption rose steadily until one morning it occurred to her that a bourbon buzz might soothe her days too, days that rarely went by without the choking sensation which overcame her when she thought of a life on her own.
If only she had someone to talk to, but she didn’t; all her comfort came in liquid form. Sometimes she thought of Ella, left alone raising a son Dante did not know. She was determined that she would never have to face that kind of loneliness.
She made a lunch date with Max and told him that she didn’t want to take any more out-of-town jobs. At least, for the time being. She wanted to be constantly near Dante and provide him with everything he needed.
