Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

by A. L. Michael

  ‘That’s depressing.’

  ‘That’s small town life,’ she sighed. ‘People aren’t brave enough to leave just because they’re not happy. They have to be desperately unhappy, or they have to find something better.’

  He paused, nodding as his lips stayed on the beer bottle. ‘Or they’re just killing time.’

  ‘Is that what you do?’ she asked him, tilting her head, ‘What type are you, the one who leaves or the one who gets left?’

  ‘Very deep all of a sudden,’ Killian took a swig of his beer, but she knew he was playing for time.

  ‘You’re the one who brought it up,’ she shrugged, ‘who sees the world split into two types of people. That says something, you know.’

  ‘Yeah, it says I got fucked over along the way and it’s ruined my world view, right?’ He grinned tightly and shook his head.

  ‘I was just going to say you’re probably a Taurus,’ she shrugged, grinning around her beer bottle.

  Killian laughed, looking at her in surprise. ‘You’re pretty funny.’

  ‘You’re missing an “and” in that sentence,’ She stuck out her tongue.

  Her face felt like it was starting to hurt from smiling, whilst in the pit of her stomach she felt relief that they’d swerved one of those moments of opening up. Sure, it had to happen, but a few drinks beforehand and some light conversation wouldn’t hurt. Before all the brokenness came out into the open.

  ‘Yes, I guess I am,’ he smiled at her, bright blue eyes holding hers for a fraction of a second too long, before looking away and changing the subject. ‘So… you’d never go back?’

  ‘To Badgeley?’ she snorted, ‘Not unless I’m kicking and screaming.’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘There’s just nothing there for me, it’s like a time suck. The minute I went back, time stopped. I aged, but nothing changed. The job, the friends, the relationship. The only decent thing I did in those years after uni was become Esme’s godmother and build a relationship back up with Mollie.’

  ‘You were making jewellery, weren’t you?’

  ‘After a whole day of dealing with customer complaints, people screaming at you down the phone for something you had no control over, well… it was hard to stay inspired. I did a little.’

  ‘And now you’re here.’

  The words were gentle, just something to say to fill in a space, and yet they had gravity, felt important.

  ‘Yes, now I’m here.’

  They sat grinning at each other in the dim light, and Evie watched as his hand crept nearer to hers, the back of his hand parallel to hers, each resting on their deck chairs. She thought he’d reach out, but he stopped just shy of touching her. Evie held her breath for a moment, but the tension passed, and Killian checked his watch and turned to her, ‘Onto the next stop?’

  The next stop was a little walk down the high street and through the park to the zoo.

  ‘You’re taking me to the zoo?’ Evie asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, what part of wandering round looking at strange animals with a cocktail in your hand is a bad thing?’

  She looked up, ‘There’s cocktails?’

  ‘What zoos do you know that are open on a Saturday night?’ Killian laughed, and handed over the tickets, and they wandered through looking at different animals. Evie could feel herself becoming more and more childlike. Squeaking at the penguins, standing up on the bars to look at the tigers. When she saw the giraffes, she grabbed Killian’s hand and dragged him over to look. They stood in front of the enclosure, his thumb rubbing back and forth across her fingers, and she tried not to tense up. It was embarrassing enough that she’d grabbed hold of him like an excited child.

  ‘So… we’ve seen animals, got increasingly drunk in different locations,’ he said, keeping hold of her hand even when she started to wriggle with embarrassment. ‘How about some food?’

  Evie’s stomach growled in agreement, and they walked down the high street again, Evie retrieving her hand and holding onto the strap of her bag so that it didn’t try anything funny again. Once she stopped worrying about all that, the evening went smoothly enough.

  When they were seated upstairs at the Jazz Cafe, perusing menus, Evie just looked at him.

  ‘You’re very good at this.’

  He looked up, head tilted.

  ‘This whole wining and dining thing,’ she elaborated, ‘I mean. You booked tickets to an event! You organised times and sorted things out…’

  He shrugged, ‘I’m a grown arse man, and it’s London on a Saturday night. What did you think I was going to do, wing it?’

  ‘Um… yeah,’ She sipped her red wine and smiled at him. ‘I’d expect that of anyone. Not just you.’

  ‘Here we go, there’s a joke about my years of experience dating lurking somewhere here, isn’t there?’ The dimples reappeared, and he wiggled his eyebrows over his menu. ‘Maybe you should just get higher standards.’

  ‘Well, the bar has been raised. I am now a fan of the old-fashioned approach to dating.’

  ‘I took you to a beach on a rooftop, and cocktails with giraffes. What part of this has been old-fashioned?’

  ‘The part where you’re making an effort, I’m wearing a dress and we didn’t drunkenly meet at a bar, only to have disappointing sex and try dating just because we both felt guilty.’ Evie pursed her lips, twitching her mouth with the inevitability of it all.

  Killian pretended to look shocked, ‘Is that how the kids are doing it these days?’

  ‘Oh shut up Granddad’

  The meal passed gently enough, talking about travel, art and London life. Killian talked about how he got into carpentry, having withstood the pressure from his parents to become a lawyer.

  ‘They must have come around by now?’

  ‘Oh, they’re fine with the work. It’s the being taken for a mug by a cheating wife that they hold onto now.’ He snorted into his wine, then looked up suddenly, ‘Um… so apparently I may have had more to drink than I thought. Sorry.’

  ‘Do you want to ignore that I just heard that?’ Evie looked at him head-on, daring him to retreat.

  He paused, then leant back and held up his glass of wine, ‘Okay, well here’s me ruining our date with my sad, sad story.’ He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, flipping it open to show a picture of a cherubic, chubby-cheeked baby with wispy brown hair.

  Evie looked at the picture, then back to him.

  ‘Isabel,’ He smiled at the photo, his thumb rubbing briefly over the picture before he put his wallet away.

  ‘Where is she?’ Evie asked. Please don’t be dead, please, please don’t be dead.

  ‘I… don’t know,’ he shrugged, ‘my ex-wife took her to be with her real dad.’

  ‘You were her stepdad?’

  He shook his head, ‘Not that I knew. Told me on her first birthday.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yup,’ he nodded.

  ‘And you don’t get to see her? Don’t you have some rights there?’ Evie was trying not to seem too interested, but she leant forward, chin resting on her hands.

  Killian breathed out slowly, ‘She took her to live with her real father. Didn’t want me muddying the waters, it would be too confusing for her. By now, she won’t remember who I am anyway.’

  ‘But you remember.’

  He shrugged, ‘It’s just easier that way.’

  ‘And your parents are still on your case about that?’

  ‘It’s not so bad now my brother had a kid, they’ve got a new grandkid to fawn over. Don’t suppose it much matters any more. He can live that life for me.’

  ‘I always wanted a sibling,’ Evie offered hesitantly. ‘My mum wanted more kids too, but I think even she knew how bad a bet my dad was. She lets him come back every time, still loves him, but… she just couldn’t put another kid through all that bullshit.’

  ‘That’s a really powerful choice, though,’ Killian said. ‘It takes a lot of guts to sacrifice your own dreams like
that.’

  Evie shrugged, ‘That’s parenthood, isn’t it? Real parenting, I mean. Like what Mollie does.’

  Killian nodded, sitting back in his chair as if deciding whether to forge on with a serious conversation, or let it go and return to the lightness they had before.

  ‘I wanted to be a parent like that. Sacrifice everything. And I had that, for one glorious year.’

  She smiled at him softly, ‘Bet you were a great dad.’

  ‘Oh yeah? What makes a good dad?’

  ‘Damned if I know, haven’t met one. They’re like mythical creatures,’ she snorted, sipping her wine.

  ‘Oh good, we can move onto your issues.’ He held up his glass to clink it against hers, ‘Here’s to ya.’

  ‘Okay, fine,’ she settled back. ‘I think maybe a good dad doesn’t walk all over your mother, making her cook three different meals and throwing each one on the floor, bellowing that it tastes like shit.

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t sell your artwork from uni at a loss and use the money to buy… wait for it… an alpaca farm.’

  Killian’s jaw dropped, ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘Oh, we’re not even halfway there – there’s sleeping with my babysitter, pawning the gold cross my mum had saved up for when I was a baby and last, but by no means least… drum roll please…’

  Killian obliged, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table swiftly.

  ‘… running off for the hundredth time to London, and taking a seventeen-year-old Ruby Tuesday with him.’

  ‘He kidnapped her?’

  Evie raised an eyebrow, ‘You knew Ruby, you think anyone took her anywhere she didn’t want to go?’

  Killian nodded slowly. ‘So, they had a thing?’

  She shook her head, ‘She probably let him think they would, you know how she was. She used whatever tactics got her what she wanted.’

  ‘And what did she want?’

  ‘What we all wanted –’ Evie shrugged ‘– an escape.’

  Killian leaned in, reaching for her hand on the table. He caught her eye and whispered, ‘You know what I think we need right now? I think we need to dance.’

  Evie grinned, ‘You know what? I couldn’t agree more.’

  They moved downstairs as the band started, a soft jazzy quartet that set a smoky atmosphere.

  ‘Another drink?’ Killian asked, but Evie wasn’t sure if her head could take it. Between the nerves and the drinking, and the fact that her stomach had been in knots so that even her delicious chicken dish had been left half-eaten, well, she felt pretty damn drunk. She shook her head.

  ‘Okay, so onto the final portion of the evening then,’ he smiled at her, too close suddenly, his voice tickling her skin as he leaned in. He held out a hand, and she tentatively took it, letting him lead her to the dance floor.

  ‘Seriously?’ She let him move her about, his hand resting on her lower back, hers on his shoulder, ‘This kind of dancing? You gonna waltz me around the ballroom?’

  He squeezed her a little closer to him, ‘I’m just fulfilling the “old-fashioned” portion of the date, as requested.’

  ‘Expected, not requested.’

  ‘Oh shut up,’ he said softly, smiling at her, ‘you don’t scare me. Just enjoy something without the need for a sarky comeback for once, would you?’

  Evie looked up at him, their faces close together as he grinned at her, waiting for a spiky response. Instead she just smiled, shrugged, and rested her head against his shoulder as they swayed, breathing in the scent of his aftershave, and revelling in the feeling of his arms around her, the warmth of his chest against hers. She was in trouble. Big bad Evie Rodriguez was slow dancing and didn’t care how stupid she looked. This could only end badly. But at that precise moment, with the sound of strings and smooth saxophone floating through the dim blue room, all she felt was safe and warm and special. And even though she knew the nature of these things was that they didn’t last, she really didn’t care.

  They walked back to the studio, the cool air of the summer night waking her up. Killian took her hand as they walked, and she ignored the little spark, dipping her head in embarrassment. She had all the sarcastic words, all the quick comebacks and put downs, and yet this man holding her hand made her whole body flush.

  ‘Are you going to your workshop?’ she asked at the front door, fumbling with the key, ‘I could make tea?’

  ‘I think I’m going to leave this as a lovely night and head home,’ he shrugged, and she tensed as he moved closer, somehow disappointed. He stroked her arm, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She held her breath as he lingered, so they were cheek-to-cheek for a moment. He pulled back and her eyes met his in confusion. Had it been a bad date? Had he decided she wasn’t worth the effort after all? Not even one measly goodnight kiss on the lips? Even a peck, or one of those awkward corner-of-the-mouth kisses would have been something. But no, she was left feeling like the grandma at a wedding.

  Killian seemed to sense her thoughts, and smiled softly, ‘I’m old-fashioned, remember?’ He squeezed her arm briefly and walked away. ‘Night.’

  ‘Night,’ Evie said faintly, scrabbling to get through the front door and close it behind her. Old-fashioned? Positively monk-like, more like. Evie Rodriguez had broken good boys before, and she decided she’d be using Killian’s halo to decorate her bedroom wall soon enough. The thought made her laugh at herself, and she slipped off her shoes and ran up the stairs, where she hoped that the promise of gossip might have Mollie up and waiting for her with tea and biscuits.

  Chapter Eleven

  Okay, yes, it was a hot summer day, the doors were open and fans were on to cool down the space and dilute the smell of paint. But that really didn’t give Killian any excuse to paint topless, Evie thought with irritation, taking herself to the kitchen to drink lemonade and stick her head in the freezer.

  ‘I think that’s for your benefit,’ Mollie said as she entered the kitchen, her eyebrows indicating the topless man on the ladder.

  ‘I don’t care whose benefit it’s for, I think we should all be enjoying it,’ Petunia winked as she walked through from the conservatory, hands rough with dried clay. They heard her sigh as she walked through to her studio space.

  ‘It’s always the quiet ones,’ Mollie grinned. ‘Do you think it’s a tactic? Have a lovely time, refuse to kiss you, and then parade his half-naked body around until you crack from sheer desperation and jump him?’

  ‘I don’t jump men in desperation,’ Evie frowned.

  ‘Not now… give it three days.’

  Evie really had no comeback from that. The man was driving her crazy. He’d been friendly but aloof, smiling like he knew what he was doing. And no one needed to take off their top in slow motion like that. She’d actually imagined what it would be like to lick the beads of sweat off his chest, that was how far gone she was. The tanned abs didn’t hurt either, for someone who spent most of their time in a workshop and not in a gym.

  ‘Evie?’ his voice called from the other room, ‘You mind grabbing me a glass of water whilst you’re in there?’

  ‘Sure!’ she called back, and then muttered to Mollie, ‘No doubt he wants to pour it all over himself in front of me.’

  Mollie tapped her arm half-heartedly, ‘You’re cranky when you don’t get kissed.’

  ‘I’m cranky because we’ve got to turn this place into somewhere worth being and we’ve only got weeks,’ she scowled, pouring out a glass of water.

  ‘It’s painted now. We’ve got furniture, artwork, catering is sorted, and Chelsea’s got the press releases out. We’re in the local paper already! It’s going well. Now if you would just get laid, maybe you could see that.’

  Mollie flounced off, taking the water out to Killian, and then poking her head back round, ‘I’m going to collect Ez from Evelyn’s, plus she was going to talk to me about her contacts – apparently she’s on the board at some of the smaller theatres.’

  ‘She’s ridiculously well connected.’ Ev
ie shrugged, ‘Yeah I’ll come. I could do with the fresh air, I think.’

  ‘Don’t worry, in this heat I’m sure we’ll encounter lots of shirtless men that you can get angry at for being shirtless.’ Mollie stuck out her tongue and gestured for her to follow. Evie stamped her foot a little, and then headed out behind her.

  Later that afternoon, when Killian was safely squared away in his workshop with a top on, and Esme had returned to the Ruby Rooms, they sat cross-legged on the floor and looked at the massive list.

  ‘I feel like there’s a hundred things I haven’t put on this list,’ Evie sighed, pulling at her curls, ‘but I can’t remember any of them.’

  ‘You’ve got to relax,’ Mollie patted her hand, ‘it’s all going to be fine.’

  ‘I just feel aimless. We’re here, we’re turning it into the arts centre like Ruby said – we’ve got a nice home, things are happening, but… it’s like… what about long term? Are we really going to stay here and run a gallery? What do we even know about doing this?’

  Mollie rolled her eyes, and swivelled so she was facing her friend, ‘You want to know about my long term? I’m going to bake cakes and do the catering for this place so well that people will want parties, and afternoon teas. And soon we’ll be so busy that I’ll have to quit my job at Greggs. And I can bake things for the school fetes, and be at Esme’s school plays, and sports days and any damn things she wants me to be at.’

  Evie nodded, almost tearful at Mollie’s determination. ‘And I’m going to write a cookbook for kids, because every time I think of those mouldy sandwiches and cold tins of ravioli my mother fed me, I want to scream. And it’s going to be a success. Because I believe in it.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Evie tried for playful, but felt a little lost. Mollie had a plan. All these years working away, living with her mum with no sign of escape, and now her time was here and she wasn’t going to waste it. It was like London had energised her, like Badgeley was a cocoon and now here she was and she was ready.