Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ruby
“I am not going to one of your bullshit awards ceremonies,” I inform Jem as I pull my boots on.
He laughs at me as I search around for my leather jacket. “Ruby Riot will be going to them one day, best get used to them.”
“Screw that. I’m already over all the ‘Jem Jones’s girlfriend’ crap and the insinuation I’m f-ucking you to get a recording contract.”
The man who completes me sits on the bottom stair in his house, watching with increasing amusement. “Now, now, everyone in the industry knows that’s bullshit; don’t get all high and mighty.”
“Plus, they don’t like the foul-mouthed rock chick who throws things at them.”
“I’ll keep anything away from you that could be used as a projectile missile. I’m not paying off another photographer for minor head injuries from flying phones.”
I switch tactics and pull an exaggerated pout. “Jem, please…”
“Nope. You’re coming.”
Sulkily, I stomp out of the house with Jem in tow, as we head to our favourite coffee haunt. The autumn sun hovers behind clouds and the chill of the air heralds winter. Winter. That means it’s only a few months until the tour.
“Naw, c’mon, stop it.” Jem slides a hand around my shoulder and kisses me fiercely on the head, his hair brushing my cheek. “I want the world to see us, to see the changed Jem Jones and the foul-mouthed rock chick who kicked his backside into line.”
I humph but smile as he traces a heart shape across the back of my hand. We still won’t say the words, as if what we have is greater than everyone else’s lesser description. Ours is honest and open, scary but getting easier. Jem slides his hand into mine and squeezes, the simple gesture flooding calm over my growing anxiety. Two months ago, we took our lives, shook them up, and watched as the pieces settled into a crazy, mixed-up Jem and Ruby world. What other place could we live in?
“Fine, I’ll go, but I don’t think I fit in with the other Blue Phoenix girlfriends.”
“Talk to Bryn’s then.”
“He doesn’t have one, does he?”
“Exactly. So you won’t be able to piss her off.”
I smack his arm. “Ha f-ucking ha.”
****
Jem neglected to tell me the awards ceremony is in Germany, which doubly pisses me off. Bad enough when English-speaking paparazzi mob me, now I don’t understand what they’re saying. They seem to understand the English swear words I throw at them though.
My sulking intensifies when a Blue Phoenix PR girl suggests I dress up, indicating I could get paid for kitting myself out in some up-and-coming designer’s creation. I pretend to comply by accepting a dress, and then deliberately leave the expensive item on the bed in Jem’s house. Hence, I’m sitting around a table, in the star-studded venue amongst the overdressed in my black dress covered in skulls and unicorns. Jem comments that at least I match his black shirt even if I do fail at looking like a normal person. I stomp on his foot with the heel of my matching green and black shoes.
“No, look, I put a sparkly clip in my hair,” I say as he pours me a glass of water.
“Right. A sparkly skull shaped clip.”
Jem in a suit amuses me, the PR girl’s magic works better on him. I’m not into men in suits, but I can look forward to removing his designer clothes later. He’s already dispensed with the jacket and hung it over the back of the dining chair. Yes, I’m definitely unbuttoning his shirt and getting my hands on the taut muscles barely hidden by the cut of his shirt as soon as I can. Jem spots my scrutiny and arches an eyebrow. When I smile, he bends closer and kisses my cheek. I run a hand along his arm, hoping his stressed aura over the last few days is about coming to the ceremonies he dislikes, and nothing to do with us.
A woman – an actress I vaguely recognise - sashays past our table. Perfectly primped in a sparkling silver designer dress I can only describe as unique, her disdain for me is obvious. I lift my glass in a toast and she looks away.
Liam and his fiancée, Cerys, sit across the white-clothed table. I haven’t seen them since they came to a Ruby Riot gig a few months back, and they’re a nausea-inducing, lovey-dovey, holding hands under the table couple. Cerys has also foregone the designer clothes trap, opting for a simple black dress and an inexpensive-looking necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. Liam’s arm is across Cerys’s shoulders, as he rubs her neck with his thumb. She’s what I’d call down-to-earth; and not the kind of girl I’d imagine falling in love with a longhaired rocker. But what do I know? Nothing about these people, Jem barely discusses them.
Despite the fact Jem forced me to come to this, his stiffened shoulders and fingers tapping on the table reinforces he doesn’t want to be here either. Why make us come?
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. You having a drink?”
I shake my head. “How many times? I don’t drink around you, Jem.”
“Everyone else is, it doesn’t bother me,” he says tersely.
“Water’s fine.” I pick up my glass and drink to reinforce the point.
Dylan appears with Sky who looks as happy about being here as I am. The venue is filled to the brim with star power; musicians from all genres rub shoulders, and in some cases, clash egos. Jem always has an energy humming around that sets him apart from others, and Dylan shares that. More eyes follow Dylan than anyone else I’ve seen arrive today. Perhaps his natural comfort in his own skin, an assured poise, is what eclipses Jem slightly. Not to me, but to those around.
Sky grips his hand, dressed in a short blue dress that matches her eyes, hair loose and curling to her shoulders. She wears little make-up, doesn’t need to. Dylan rubs a hand along her arm and whispers something that breaks her look of concern into a smile. They sit and he takes her hand.
I’ve not met either Sky or Dylan before, and he scrutinises me before glancing at Jem.
Jem shifts in his seat. “This is Ruby,” he says with a half-hearted hand gesture. His under-enthusiasm prickles.
“I know,” says Dylan. “Hey, Ruby.”
“Hello.”
“Did you want a drink?” Dylan asks, taking the champagne from the ice bucket.
“No. Thanks.”
“Sky?” Dylan hovers the bottle over her glass
Sky places her hand over the top of the flute glass. “No, I’m not feeling well.”
“Still?” Dylan’s face creases with concern.
“I’ll be okay, feeling sick, just gastro I think, but coming here doesn’t help,” she mutters and picks up the water jug to pour herself a glass.
“Yeah, I’m with you on that one,” I say.
“I can imagine. Nice to finally meet you.” Sky gives me a small smile before turning to Cerys. My stomach sinks, my reputation obviously precedes me because, despite her words, something in her expression is distrust. Of course, any chick with Jem is going to be far too obnoxious to join their gang. Like I give a shit.
I jump as Jem squeezes my knee under the table. “You okay?” he whispers and when he closes his warm hand around mine, I place the other on top. Who cares what they think?
Liam and Dylan chat, too. Are they deliberately ignoring us? I know Jem’s usually pretty closed off from people, but they could involve him. Perspiration begins along my back. Is it me? Do they not approve of Jem being with me?
Fortunately, Bryn appears and distracts everyone. He looks as fucked off as I feel. A girl is with him and the rest of the group switches their attention to her. She’s as skinny as me, and taller with dark brown hair shining in the light like she’s stepped out of a shampoo commercial. Maybe she has, she looks model material. This girl is perfectly made-up; and I don’t know much about dresses, but what she’s wearing looks like the kind you see reported in magazines when awards night chicks have their clothing rated out of ten. I’m fairly sure I can guess my score; the looks I was given as we paused for the inevitable pictures when we arrived said it all. As the girl approaches, I try to gauge her age. Teenage? Older? Her layers of make-up make my thick kohl and bright red lips look minimal.
Bryn sits, ignoring her.
“Who’s your new friend?” asks Jem.
Bryn gestures at the girl who perches on the seat next to him. “Mia. Mia this is… well, the guys.”
Mia smiles broadly. “Hey, everyone! How awesome is this?”
Young…
Mia’s oblivious to the surprised looks the other table occupants are giving Bryn and her. Bryn pours himself a drink and slumps back. Interesting date if they’re not talking.
“Can I take pictures?” she asks Bryn.
Bryn snaps his head around. “Pictures of what?”
“You guys. Everyone.” She leans in. “Kelly Holland is at the table behind. If I take a selfie, then she’ll be in the picture too.” Mia giggles.
I don’t know Bryn well, but I thought I knew him well enough never to pin him as a guy interested in someone like Mia. Her fingers and neck are covered in expensive jewellery and the red dress is one I’d label ‘barely decent’. I hazard a guess at spoilt, rich girl.
“Do what you like, but don’t piss anyone off,” mutters Bryn.
Mia kisses his cheek. “You’re so awesome!”
As Bryn shakes his hair from his face and rubs his cheek. Jem laughs. “Don’t worry, Ruby will have the pissing people off part covered.
“Yeah, I’m just awesome too,” I say snidely.
Mia purses her lips for a moment then tips her head at Jem. “Bryn told me about you guys, so cute that Jem Jones finally fell in love.”
Jem chokes on his water before turning a sour face to Bryn’s companion. “I don’t fall in love, sweetheart.”
“Oh, okay, well, you guys are so cute together. Ruby and Jem. Precious. Gems? Rubies? Get it?” She smiles at her obvious joke.
So cute. Awesome. How old is she? But all I can hear is Jem’s words about not falling in love. I thought we were over this; that we had what he termed our own version of love. We have mismatched ideas still it appears. This doesn’t help the insecurity caused by his recent whispered phone calls, which he claims are from the guys we’re sitting with now.
“Sorry,” says Bryn, “she has no internal filter. She’s a bit of a pain in the ass.”
“You love me really,” says Mia and pinches his cheek.
By this point, Liam and Dylan have joined in the stunned, silent staring at Bryn and Mia. If the Phoenix guys have no idea who she is then the media will get a story that happily pushes me off the radar.
“Quit it, Mia,” says Bryn.
Pulling her hair over a shoulder, Mia picks up a glass of champagne and surreptitiously looks around at the other guests as she drinks, mouth open goldfish-style between sips.
“Where do you know Bryn from?” asks Sky. “I didn’t know he’d started dating.” Dylan digs her in the ribs. “What? I’m only asking what everyone else is thinking.”
Mia sips her champagne. “Oh, we’re not dating. Not yet anyway.” Bryn crosses his arms. “He’s keeping an eye on me.”
“Ah, Bryn, the Babysitter!” says Jem.
“f-uck off,” he replies. “Do you seriously think an eighteen year old princess is my type?”
“Princess?” says Dylan.
“Eighteen?” splutters Jem.
“Not a real princess, jeez. You know what I mean, look at her!”
I cringe for Mia who appears to think the insult is hilarious. Is she stupid?
“He’s always so rude to me,” she says, “but I know he loves me really, otherwise why would I be here?”
“You just said why! I’m keeping an eye on you,” snaps Bryn.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she says with a smirk then catches the looks from Jem and Liam. “Oh, I’m winding him up! He’s used to it.”
“Weird,” mutters Jem too loudly, echoing what I’m sure are the thoughts of those around.
Following an excruciating evening of back-slapping amongst the music industry darlings and the fact only the obvious people win awards, including Blue Phoenix, and Jem decides we should go to the after party. I protest again; but Jem says there’s people he wants to chat to.
In the semi-darkened function room filled with the A Listers, I sit with the band on a plush sofa and stare at the contents of the low metal table in front of me. I give up on the water and start on the champagne. I don’t normally drink wine; but it’s closest and flowing the most. Jem disappears and I sit awkwardly with Liam and Cerys. Sky and Dylan have the right idea; they don’t hang around and leave straight after the ceremony. Skulking in the darkened corner, I’m not interesting to anyone around so I wait for Jem to return. This is a side of Jem’s life I’ve not seen before and hope it’s not one he indulges in too often. I wish the Ruby Riot boys had been invited too.
“Jem hates these too, but he wanted the press to see him sober,” Liam remarks as if reading my mind. “And calm; he’s calm when you’re around which is why he wanted you here.”
Calm? They haven’t heard us when we disagree over something. Hell, sometimes one wrong word, and we don’t talk for half a day. Jem’s been edgier over the last week too and my fear that our three months of Jem and Ruby’s happy place is on the wane increases.
“He said that?”
“In not so many words.”
Cerys reappears from the Ladies and tugs Liam’s arm. “I’m tired, can we go yet?”
“Having as much fun as me?” I ask, twisting my glass in my hand.
“It’s overwhelming,” replies Cerys. “But I guess you’ll get used to it once you’re up there getting the awards.”
I smile at her taking time to talk to me. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Oh, you will,” says Liam, “otherwise Jem’s going to kick some ass until you get recognised.”
If Jem doesn’t come back soon, he’s going to be the one getting his ass kicked.
Once Liam and Cerys go, I decide it’s time me and Jem left, too. If this was a normal party, I’d keep going but this fakery… no thanks.
Unable to find Jem in this room, I head to the hallway outside, past the bouncers. I hope they take a good look and allow me back in because they already stare as if I crashed the place.
Kristie heads down the hotel hallway toward me, her assets spilling out of her tight white dress, unsteady on her sky-high heels. She pauses when she reaches me, attempting to focus on my face.
“You looking for Jem?” she asks.
“Hi, Kristie. How are you?”
“Pretty good.” She rubs the pink lipstick at the corner of her mouth with a finger. “He’s back there. I just finished with him.”
However hard I try, I know my reaction to her words isn’t hidden on my face. “Right. Okay.”
“Interesting that he’s chosen you,” she continues “But then he’s always trying to put back together the broken little girls.”
“Rather than f-ucking ageing rock widows?”
“How do you know he’s not doing both?” For emphasis, Kristie adjusts the front of her dress.
f-ucking bitch. “Right. Sure.”
Kristie cocks a brow. “You know what me and Jem have in common?”
“I’m too polite to say,” I snap, my distrust of Jem morphing into anger. He said he wouldn’t f-uck anyone else. He promised.
“More than he does with you.”
“Mm hmm.” I look past her, hoping Jem appears from the nearby bathrooms, but praying he doesn’t at the same time.
Kristie bends toward me. “Silly girl. Why would a man who cares about nothing care about you?”
“Then you don’t know Jem,” I retort.
“And you do?”
“Yes.”
“Ask yourself that question again.”
Jem appears from a doorway down the hall and stops dead as he sees me talking to Kristie. She’s saying something else, but I’m not listening. Kristie practically said he’d just fucked her and now here he is appearing from a room in the direction she came from. Catching site of someone behind me, Kristie air kisses a false goodbye and teeters away. I step to one side and rest against the wall waiting for Jem to reach me.
“You okay?” he asks warily as he approaches.
I check out his clothes for disarray and step closer. Jem’s clothes are intact but he smells the same as the woman who stood in the same spot a minute ago.
“You f-ucking, asshole!” I yell and shove him hard in the chest before he tries to touch me.
“What the f-uck? What the hell have I done now?”
“You mean who have you done!” I shout.
Jem grabs my arm and steers me to a quieter part of the hallway. “What the f-uck are you talking about?”
“How dumb do you think I am?” I hiss, trembling. “You disappear for ages and then her!”
“What?” Realisation dawns in his eyes. “No! Jesus, Ruby.”
“You smell of her! You f-ucking bastard! Why bring me here at all if you were going to spend the evening with your f-uck buddy!”
Before he can answer, I stomp off to the elevators. “And don’t f-ucking follow me!”
Jem makes the wise choice, and I’m alone in the elevator when I head up to our suite.