"It was a storm!" I cried. "Blew up outta nowhere."
"So an Act of God got you fired by your manager," she said, sounding completely skeptical. "Really?"
"Listen, you can scoff all you want." I was freezing, but under my jacket collar I was burning up. This chick had some kind of nerve. "You stand here and pretend like you already know what I'm going to say because what? You hung out in my house when you were a kid? You read an article about me in the tabloids? You saw something on the internet that made you hate me?" I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I know. Maybe some asshole blogger made you believe I kick puppies for a living, right?" My shoulders sagged. "Or maybe you listened to Claire one too many times."
Ruby pressed her lips together. When she spoke again, the skepticism had drained out of her voice, which I was grateful for, but it had been replaced by resigned disappointment, which only made me more mad. "She wanted to be part of it, you know. Claire did." She shook her head. "You guys never gave her a chance."
I felt my mouth fall open and closed it with a pop. "You think I didn't fight for that?" I demanded. I was shouting on a street corner like a lunatic. And here I'd been so fucking worried about some errant Twitter user being inside the bar. I was putting on quite a show for any local who wanted a lot of retweets.
Deliberately I lowered my voice. "Listen. Claire's the best singer out of all of us. I know this, but they wanted the King Brothers. We were more marketable to little teeny-boppers that way."
She blinked. "Say that again."
"What? Teeny-boppers?"
"No. That Claire is the best singer out of all of you."
I swallowed. "Well she is."
"You ever tell her that?"
"Plenty of times."
She leaned in closer, just a little bit, but enough for me to inhale the sweet smell of her. She smelled like sugar. "I think she could stand to hear it again," Ruby said. "I think you should tell her."
"What's the point of it now, though?" I wondered. "She's not trying to break into the business any more. Hell, I'll be honest with you. I'm not even sure I'm going to be for very much longer. It feels like I'm getting blacklisted and I don't even understand why."
It was the first time I'd said those words aloud. First time I'd even allowed myself to think them. It felt like I was making some kind of priestly confession on a windswept sweet corner to this dark-eyed girl. I looked down at her, feeling like I'd given her some kind of weapon to use against me. I looked down at her, fully expecting her to use it.
A flicker danced across her face, tiny expressions I could barely catch before they were gone and replaced with another one. She seemed to be having some kind of internal debate with herself. Silence stretched out between us for one breath, then two, while I waited for her to stab me with the knife I'd handed her.
But she was still silent.
Unable to stand it any longer I shifted back from her and looked away. I rolled my eyes. "Well whatever. You asked and I answered. I didn't leave and I'm going to be around a while until I find another manager."
The play of expressions on her face slowed and then settled. The debate was over and she'd made a decision. It was written so clearly across her face I felt like I should be able to read her mind and know what she had decided.
"What are you going to do with yourself?" she suddenly asked, all of the hostility gone from her voice.
"No fucking clue." I glanced at her again. "What do you think I should do? Since you know everything about what I am doing with my life?"
"I'm not in charge of you."
"Well I need a manager," I reminded her. It felt imperative that I be able to joke about this. "What do you do with your time? Teach night classes?"
She blinked at me, amused. "I have a life outside of my job, you know."
There was that brand-new feeling again. Suddenly I was burning up to know all about that life. "Yeah? What do you do?"
Was that a blush? She tossed her head, and I got the feeling she was still getting used to the short haircut and how it didn't fall over her shoulders any more. "Very important things," she deadpanned.
I could feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Oh, I don't doubt it."
"Important things that I'm actually very late getting to."
"Oh no, I do apologize," I said, bowing a little. I was starting to enjoy this. "Please enlighten me as to the important activities I have so callously kept you from."
She nodded, looking impressed. "Nice vocabulary!"
"I read a lot on the road. But seriously, where are you headed?"
She licked her lips. "My Stitch and Bitch."
I blinked. "Your what now?
"That's my important activity," she declared loftily. "I knit."
I couldn't hide my laugh. "Knitting? What are you, an old lady?"
She lifted her chin again. "It's something I like and I don't need judgment from a man who actually sang the words 'Party crazy don't be lazy."
This time it was my turn to blush. "Fine," I said. And made a decision of my own. "Then I'll come with you."
She blinked. "What?"
I didn't want this to end. I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to watch her drive away and take all this brand-newness with her. "I need a manager," I said. "You seem to think you know everything about what I have done and what I should be doing, right" I teased, liking the way she ducked her head away from me. I nodded. "So I'll come with you and you tell me what to do, sound good?"
Chapter Ten
Jonah
The Stitch and Bitch, as she called it, was held in a coffee shop that I vaguely remembered as being a bank back when I was a kid. Ruby went to the door and then paused and looked at me with her mittened hand on the handle.
"What?" I asked.
She gave me a half-smile, like she wasn't fully able to commit to a whole one. "You're really coming in? To a knitting circle?"
I shrugged. "Appears that way."
Her voice had this soft quality when she asked, "Why are you doing this again?"
I looked down at her. That feeling was still hovering in the air, an intangible excitement. Ruby was the only thing that had made me feel that way in months. Ruby with her heart shaped face and big dark eyes. Ruby with lips so red they made her name a cliche. She was a hardass but being with her felt like discovering a new country.
"Not sure," I finally said, realizing I was taking way too long to reply to her question. "Maybe I need a new hobby."
Her lopsided, reluctant smile twitched a little. Something passed over her face, making me wonder if I had said the wrong thing. Maybe I should have mentioned how pretty she looked in that bright red hat of hers. "Did you knit that?" I asked, gesturing to the beret on her head.
She nodded.
I leaned in for a closer look. I didn't know shit about knitting, but I could see the care that went into it. It was the same idea as writing a song. No one knows the amount of work that goes in to three minutes of music. "Did it take a long time?"