Deconstructed(53)

She was so fierce, my Ruby. And I truly claimed her as my own. I didn’t know what providence had led her to Printemps or when she had stopped being the scurrying mouse seeking to please, but this young warrior was exactly what I needed in my life. “You’re goddamned right.”

Ruby snorted and I started laughing.

Time to do some rocking . . .





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


RUBY

So this was Glitz and Gritz? Or was it Gritz and Glitz? I kept switching the name up, but that didn’t change the fact that the event was terribly bougie with crappy cocktails and a band that played covers of Spandau Ballet and Bruno Mars. I studied the guitarist, who looked as if he were in a trance, strumming out of habit more than any emotion. I guess I would, too, if I had to watch tipsy white women shimmy to Sister Sledge.

“You wanna dance?” Cricket asked me, slurping down her third vodka Sprite with a twist of lime.

“To ‘We Are Family’? No, thanks.”

Cricket grinned at me, her eyes a little glassy. “You don’t know this song.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Well, I’m feeling like I should be dancing so I look exactly like what Scott says I am—not a threat.” She set her empty glass on a nearby table. “But I am. I most certainly am.”

My mouth twitched at that last remark as she sashayed out onto the dance floor. Obviously she knew some of the women dancing, because several of them smiled and opened their little circle. I could hear them complimenting her dress, and something that might have been pride bloomed inside me.

People liked my dresses.

Putting my gown on that afternoon, I’d had reservations. For one thing, I had torn off the oversize bow, electing instead to add a raspberry panel to the bodice that extended up, creating an asymmetrical wave of fabric that stood out from the bodice. I loved the edgier look, as bows weren’t really my thing. The alteration had given the dress an eighties vibe that I loved while maintaining the classic silhouette. So far the number of times I had been asked where I had gotten the dress had risen to eight. Of course, I had no true answer, so I changed the subject or vaguely said that I had happened upon it. Cricket had suggested to her friend Chris that the designer would be revealed at her store later this spring. She’d glanced at me as if to silently ask . . . or maybe she was waiting on me to out myself.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do about this new opportunity, but so far my experiment in tearing apart what was and refashioning into what could be had proven successful.

People liked both dresses, and that felt like enough for now.

I turned around to find the table Ty had pointed out to me earlier and nearly knocked the scotch out of Scott Crosby’s hand. “Oh, sorry.”

Cricket’s butthole of a husband smiled at me. “No worries. I’m quicker than I look. Ruby, right?”

We had met too many times for a man like Scott to forget my name or who I was. Cricket had bragged more than once on how Scott prided himself on remembering names and faces because that’s what made him successful—building connections in order to drum up business. But perhaps I wasn’t worth remembering since I had little money to deposit into his bank. “That’s right. I’ve worked for your wife for three months now.”

“That long? Seems like only yesterday she was telling me about you. So are you enjoying the party?”

He asked it like I should be thrilled to listen to bad music and smile at small-minded people. Okay, not all of them were small minded. That was my insecurity talking. I just didn’t know anyone here and truly didn’t belong with people who chatted about vacationing in Cabo, private chefs, and personal trainers. “It’s, uh, interesting.”

“I’m sure it is for a girl like you,” he said, sipping his drink.

“What does that mean?”

He looked confused. “I meant, you don’t usually come to things like this, right?”

“How would you know?”

He looked uncomfortable. Finally. “Look, I meant no offense. Cricket just told me that you . . . uh, forget what I said. That sounded—”

“Elitist?” I filled in for him, liking him less by the second. And that was remarkable, considering I had never actually liked him to begin with.

“I meant no offense.” He held up a hand, giving me what I presumed he thought was a charming smile.

“But still you gave it,” I said, moving away from him.

I felt no compunction to make nice with Cricket’s husband, even if she weren’t divorcing him in the future. He meant nothing to me and wasn’t anyone worth spending any amount of time with.

Walking toward the table where I had last seen my date, I saw Ty in conversation with a pretty blonde, who might have been a young Cricket. She was touching his shoulder in an overfamiliar way, which pissed me off. Or maybe it was delayed irritation at Scott. At any rate, I glided over and curved my arm around my date’s waist, looking up at him with a smile.

“Hey, there you are,” Ty said, pulling me to him with a squeeze. He looked relieved to see me.

“Hello,” I said to the woman, who had dropped her hand and was now studying me with a mixture of amusement and something I call Shreveport prissiness. I stuck out my hand and gave her my own faux smile. “I’m Ruby, Ty’s date.”