Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

by A. L. Michael

  Evie looked at him, amused. ‘The chairs sound excellent.’

  ‘Too good for ale that makes your eyes water?’ he grinned, leaning against the ladder.

  ‘Me? No, count me in for eye-watering alcoholic deliciousness. Just we want our visitors to actually remember the evening. So they can tell people about it.’

  ‘Ah,’ he pointed at her and nodded, ‘that’s why you’re in charge.’

  She shook her head, ‘Nah, I’m in charge ‘cause I’m bossy and make things happen through sheer force of will.’

  ‘So that’s a yes to the chairs?’

  ‘Yes, chairs are important,’ Evie nodded, ‘and if you happen to magically make a chair that I can curl up in and make art without falling asleep and shit going everywhere, let me know, because I woke up with buttons in my hair this morning.’

  ‘Don’t doubt that for a second,’ he smiled. ‘So about our date…’

  ‘The date that I did not actually agree to?’ She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, that one,’ he nodded.

  Evie frowned, sticking a pencil back into her hair, ‘You know, it’s a very fine line between being forcefully charming and a complete butthead.’

  ‘Yes, but I absolutely trust that you will not miss an opportunity to call me a butthead,’ Killian grinned, flashing his teeth, ‘which means we must be left with terribly charming and eager, right?’

  ‘You said Saturday, right?’ Evie said, trying to stop herself from smiling.

  ‘Yeah, I thought I’d just remind you that today is Saturday.’ He chuckled, and Evie peered over at the calendar stuck above the whiteboard. Sure enough, it was a Saturday.

  ‘Wow, I’ve really got the scatty artist cliché down to a T, haven’t I?’ She shook her head, ‘Did we ever get to the part about why you want to go on a date?’

  He shrugged, still grinning impishly, ‘I like food, I like conversation. Sometimes you’re not terribly difficult to be around.’

  ‘Oh gee, thanks,’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘See, that, right there. The total disregard for me, very entertaining. Would be even more enjoyable over a decent steak.’

  Evie pursed her lips, then grinned anyway. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Oh such enthusiasm, be still my heart.’

  ‘What time you picking me up?’ she shrugged, ticking a few things off the whiteboard list.

  ‘How’d you know we’re not meeting at the restaurant?’ he challenged, leaning in, his eyes twinkling.

  ‘Because you spend about ninety percent of your time here?’ she offered casually, ‘Plus I get the feeling that you, Killian, are an old-fashioned gent.’

  He laughed, ‘What gives you that idea? And don’t say because I’m old.’

  She pressed her lips together and considered him, ‘No, not old…. because you’re… experienced?’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?’ His voice softened to a teasing lilt, and she could smell the tang of his aftershave, something subtle but addictive.

  ‘Auntie Evie!’ Esme yelled from the kitchen, watching the two of them with her hands on her hips. ‘We’ve got lots of work to do! Stop farting with Killian and help us with the food!’ She turned back to the kitchen briefly, as Mollie corrected her, and then back to them, ‘Flirting! Stop flirting!’ Nodding firmly, she disappeared.

  Evie sniggered, looking up at Killian to see his eyebrows raised, lip bitten to stop himself from laughing. He caught her eye and it came out as a snort, chuckling and holding his stomach.

  ‘And with that, mood ruined.’ She waved and gestured towards the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll pick you up at seven,’ he smiled and shrugged. ‘I am terribly old-fashioned.’

  ‘Knew it!’ she said as she walked off, her hips swaying a little more than they normally would, waving over her shoulder as she walked off. She seemed cool, casual. Chilled. Except in her head, Evie Rodriguez was making a list of all the things she had to do to get ready for this date, and she was pretty sure it rivalled the one on the whiteboard.

  After a day of whitewashing the walls with Esme and Mollie, feeling her stomach twitch every time Killian walked past with a cup of tea, or a wink, or a comment about how great the place was looking, eventually, Evie was forced to get ready for her date. Killian had left an hour or so before to ‘go make myself gorgeous… or dye my grey hairs so you can’t make fun of me’, and she was stuck looking at a wardrobe full of things that were falling apart, covered in paint, or yoga pants.

  ‘You’re sure I can’t wear this?’ She looked imploringly at Mollie, who stood with Esme by her side, their arms crossed and heads tilted slightly to the right. It was eerie.

  ‘No,’ Esme said stubbornly, ‘you have to look pretty!’

  ‘Oh, well thanks, Ez.’ She rolled her eyes and turned to Mollie, ‘Could you please teach your daughter the main principles of feminism? Or failing that, basic etiquette?’

  ‘Honesty is the best policy,’ Esme said sternly, but walked closer and patted Evie on the arm, ‘but you’re always pretty. You should just be more pretty. So there can be a “wow” moment, like in the movies.’

  ‘What movies are you watching?’ Evie groaned.

  ‘Any movie!’ the little girl huffed, clearly tired of her godmother’s sassiness. ‘Look, I can fix this!’

  She disappeared, and they heard her rustling about next door.

  ‘If she comes back with loo roll to make me a toilet paper dress… well, that may be our best option.’

  Mollie nodded, looking at Evie’s current outfit, which was a paint-splattered black stretchy top with a small rip under the arm, and some saggy leggings. ‘Didn’t you used to be the stylish one?’

  Evie raised an eyebrow, ‘No… I was the one who nicked the make-up, and learnt to pluck everyone’s eyebrows so that they looked surprised constantly.’

  ‘You mean there’s no fishnet crop tops hiding in that cupboard?’ Mollie teased, watching as Esme waddled back into the room, dresses on hangers held high above her head and still trailing.

  ‘Here!’ She threw them on the bed.

  ‘Hey missus! They’re mine! How did you reach them?’ Mollie was in ‘mum’ mode.

  Esme shrugged nonchalantly, looking away, ‘May have tipped over the bedside table to stand on it?’

  Mollie’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing, instead pointing at a dark blue wrap dress on the bed. ‘That one.’

  Evie considered the draping navy fabric, ‘How do I… wear this?’

  ‘You put it over your head,’ Mollie rolled her eyes.

  ‘No, Mum!’ Esme was irritated, ‘You wear your rock-chick boots with the buckles, and the cool tights with the line down the back. And big, big earrings, and your hair clip with the blue stones!’

  Mollie and Evie wore matching expressions as they looked at the little girl and then each other.

  ‘Should I be worried about that?’ Mollie asked, and Evie turned to her goddaughter.

  ‘Honey, I need you to answer some important questions, okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ Esme shrugged.

  ‘Are nice clothes the most important thing?’

  ‘No, but it’s nice to have pretty things.’

  Evie nodded, ‘And can you only be friends with people who wear the “right” clothes?’

  Esme frowned, ‘What’s “right”?’

  Mollie smiled, and Evie nodded again, ‘Right, final question: do you want to be a Kardashian?’

  ‘I… don’t know what that is,’ the little girl huffed. ‘Did I pick stuff that went together or what?’

  Mollie cuddled her suddenly, ‘You picked great stuff. Maybe you could be a fashion designer?’

  ‘No! I want to be a marine biologist!’ Esme said with infinite patience, her favourite people confirming yet again that adults just didn’t get it. ‘But maybe I could design fish costumes. That would be cool.’

  Evie really wanted to ask if that was costumes for people who wanted to dress like fish, or
for fish who wanted to dress like other things, but time was moving too quickly, and she had to get dressed. In the outfit picked out for her by a ten-year-old. Which was far better than anything she would have picked, and was a pretty decent representation of her style. The kid had it, whatever it was. That thing that Evelyn had, that made people stare at her face instead of her photos. The thing that made them listen when this eloquent child with the massive hair and thick glasses told them they were wrong. Man, she loved that kid.

  Mollie did her make-up, using all her ‘actor-y magic’ as Esme called it. Mollie mouthed ‘contouring’ and Evie nodded. It was all magic to her. She wasn’t helpless, obviously she’d wielded the dark lipstick and eyeliner in her younger years, but when you’d put down the ‘violent rose’ and ‘black death metal’ shades, it was hard to know what to pick up again. At uni she’d gone for the natural approach, which fitted the whole ‘eat vegan, drink beer, let’s see how many things I can make out of hemp’ vibe she’d been feeling. She supposed she was still waiting to see what the new grown-up version of herself looked like. The one who could do more than just cover up her spots and flick some mascara. One who knew what looked good on her body, and could walk into a meeting knowing they weren’t judging her on her harem pants.

  She saw that version of herself in a mirror thirty minutes later. Her hair was still wild, curling out of control like a softened lion, smooth but boisterous, and she pulled her fingers through it to get it out of her face. Mollie had done great work – she had cheekbones, and her eyes sparkled, the subtle line of green bringing out the golds in her tiger eyes. Her lips pouted but didn’t beg, and her eyebrows were smooth arches that were waiting for her to question someone. She felt… like an adult. Which was lucky, because Killian had a way of making her feel like a kid. It wasn’t the age thing, he could only be about seven years older than her, which wasn’t really a big deal. She thought it might be the way his hand hovered at the small of her back when they talked, and his eyes looked at her with crinkled corners, like she was precious or ridiculous. She couldn’t quite tell, and that made her stomach quiver.

  Esme put both hands to her mouth and gasped when she saw the finished product, which was overly dramatic and clearly rehearsed. She was pretty sure Evelyn had been giving her lessons in the hope of turning her into Shirley Temple. It was starting to seem distinctly possible, too.

  ‘You look wonderful!’ she breathed, ‘There’s definitely going to be a “wow” moment!’

  ‘No more romcoms for you, young lady!’ Evie mocked, to be told very sternly that even Aladdin had a ‘wow’ moment.

  ‘If it’s in a Disney movie, then it matters,’ Mollie agreed, arms crossed to match her mini-me.

  Evie decided, what with the awkwardness of the situation, and the narrowness of the stairs, to go and wait in the studio. She wobbled down the stairs in her very low heels, not used to anything other than her beaten-up trainers, and as she stood assessing their work in progress, breathing in the smell of fresh paint, Evie realised she could use a drink. A quick sip of the whisky in the kitchen, just to steady her nerves before Killian arrived, being his usual confident self, and made her feel on edge.

  She walked into the kitchen, and he was already there. Leaning back against the kitchen unit, eyes closed, a glass of whisky in hand. His lips were mouthing something, as if he was repeating song lyrics to himself.

  Evie took the chance to just look at him, trace the outline of him. He’d shaved a little more closely, so the stubble looked purposeful, neat. She wanted to trace a finger over his jawline and see if it was rough or smooth. His hair had been combed and gelled, and he was wearing a pair of black jeans and a soft-knit grey top that stretched across his arms and chest. No sawdust in sight. His aftershave was as intoxicating as usual, a subtle spice that made her want to nuzzle into his neck. She had to pull herself together. She’d spent the last few weeks being insanely irritated by this man. Just because he turned out to be kind and funny, to care about Esme and smell ridiculously good was no reason to make a fool of herself.

  ‘Ehem,’ she coughed, watching as his dark lashes fluttered open, and his cheeks reddened.

  ‘Hey.’ His eyes took her in, roving over her body in a way that wasn’t unpleasant.

  ‘Apparently, we had the same idea,’ she pointed at the whisky glass, ‘pour me one?’

  ‘Are you nervous?’ he teased, handing her a drink.

  ‘Well, that just confirms that you were,’ she gestured at his glass. ‘Were you praying to the dating gods that I didn’t leave you exhausted, irritated and emasculated?’

  He grinned, ‘Nah, just hoping you’d had a lobotomy so you were easier to impress.’

  ‘Charming.’ She threw back the drink and smiled at him expectantly. ‘So, where are we going?’

  He wiggled his eyebrows, ‘No, no, no, we’re getting this all wrong. First, I’ve missed the chance to say how fucking gorgeous you look.’ He paused, ‘Probably swearing about it wasn’t the best way to set the romantic mood.’

  Evie laughed, ‘Nah, I don’t trust people who don’t swear.’

  He grinned, ‘You sound like Evelyn.’

  ‘She’s a smart woman. So… now we’ve done that, where are we going?’

  Killian pouted, ‘Aren’t you meant to tell me how handsome I look, and how much you’re looking forward to the evening?’

  ‘Have you been reading etiquette handbooks from the fifties or something? I’m pretty sure you’re just doing this to keep me in suspense about where we’re going.’

  He said nothing, arms crossed, and simply raised his eyebrows, waiting.

  She gave in, rolling her eyes, ‘You look very nice, which you well know.’

  He coughed in outrage, ‘Very nice! Nice! You get fucking gorgeous, and I get “very nice”?!’

  Evie put her hands on her hips, ‘Do you really want to push this? If you want, I can unleash so many compliments about your gorgeous arse in those jeans you’ll be left a trembling, embarrassed baby bird, but I was hoping for an evening where you’d be able to still converse.’

  Killian opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, then nodded, ‘Okay, let’s go. After you.’

  They walked to the tube station, Evie continually trying to get him to tell her where they were going.

  ‘You need to not be so in control,’ Killian nugded her, ‘just go with the flow.’

  ‘You know, I was telling Esme the same thing last week. But I’ve realised, I’m a hypocrite. I don’t like the flow. I direct the flow.’

  ‘Just… be surprised. Take the brief moment of not being responsible for everyone else’s happiness.’

  Evie thought about it as they walked. She supposed she was responsible all the time. Dragging Mollie and Esme with her to London, trying to make the gallery work. Bullying Chelsea into being involved. Trying to connect with Evelyn, and do Ruby’s memory justice. She should be exhausted, but it was invigorating, making things happen after so many years of being dormant.

  They reached the tube station, but Killian kept walking, and she looked at him, seeing his smile appear as he tapped the side of his nose and said, ‘Keep going. Still not telling.’

  They reached the Roundhouse, and as much as Evie loved theatre, she wasn’t sure she could bear to sit near to him for hours in silence, pretending to pay attention to something other than his presence in her peripheral vision. It was like going to the cinema with a crush when you were a kid, unable to focus on the film because you didn’t know if they were going to kiss you.

  She needn’t have worried, as he lead her upstairs to the bar and out onto the terrace, which had been transformed into Camden Beach for the summer. A few people were already up there, sipping on fruity cocktails, their toes in the sand as they sat in striped deckchairs.

  ‘I always wanted to come here, and by the time the summer came around I always forgot it existed!’ Evie said, taking in the tiki torches and beach bar hut.

  Killian smiled to hims
elf, the look of a man who was planning to impress, and succeeding.

  They ordered, narrowly made it to a pair of deck chairs that two drunk girls crawled out of, and sat sipping their cold beers companionably. The sound of Camden high street bustled on below them, time slowing as the sky darkened.

  ‘This is really nice,’ she said quietly, looking at him. ‘Thank you.’

  He grinned, revealing dimples, ‘This is just the warm up. Although I had other options if you hated it.’

  ‘If I hated this you should have sent me home alone with a bag of chips and the advice to get better taste,’ she said seriously, and watched his face change, smirking. ‘You brought someone here before and they didn’t like it, did they?’

  His shoulders moved in acknowledgement, ‘She didn’t like that the sand was ruining her heels.’

  Evie blinked, ‘That’s why you take your shoes off.’

  ‘She also didn’t like places that were outside. Or places that served prosecco instead of only having one champagne on the menu,’ Killian leaned back in the deckchair, drinking his beer.

  ‘God, you have awful taste in women!’ she laughed.

  ‘Present company excluded?’

  ‘Nah, I’m right up there, but I’m one of those low maintenance women who only becomes a pain once she’s tied down,’ she smiled, clinking her beer bottle with his, ‘they never see it coming.’

  He looked at her, head tilted to the side as if he couldn’t tell if she was joking. She shrugged, ‘I’m only half kidding.’

  ‘I bet there was a fella back in that crappy village you come from who didn’t think that,’ Killian offered, and she sighed a little, because apparently they were starting the ‘sharing’ portion of the evening early.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Because you’re the type who leaves, you don’t get left,’ Killian said softly.

  ‘Anyone can get hurt,’ she shrugged, ‘doesn’t matter what type you are. He knew I wasn’t right for him. He just didn’t know how to dream any bigger than Badgeley. People who stay there all their lives, well, they never think they can have anything else than what’s right in front of them. Want a better job? Well, that’s all there is. Want to meet someone new? Well, there isn’t anyone, so you make do.’