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Ruby stood in her steam-clouded bathroom, staring through the mist at her watery reflection. The lines beneath her puffy eyes looked like theyd been stitched in place by an industrial sewing machine.
It wouldnt do to look this old, not in Hollywood. She wanted people to think of her as young and hip and defiant, not as a woman whod wasted her youth in nightclubs and had nothing to show for it except early-onset wrinkles.
She used makeup to take off the years. Enough “heroin-chic” black eyeliner and people would assume she was young and stupid. Sort of the way gorgeous celebrities wore godawful hairdos to the Academy Awards; their message had to be, looks dont matter to me.
As if.
Only a beautiful woman would even consider making that ridiculous statement.
Ruby dressed carefully--V-necked cashmere sweater; black leather miniskirt, and black tights. She hadnt had time to run to the store for temporary hair dye, but a lot of gel had made her hair poke out everywhere instead. She layered fourteen cheap plastic Mardi Gras necklaces around her neck and painted her stubby, bitten-off fingernails a glittery shade of midnight blue. Finally, she put on a pair of clunky black sunglasses--Rite Aid knockoffs of the newest designer fashion.
Then she took a deep breath, grabbed her handbag, and headed outside.
The sleek black limousine was already parked at the curb. Ruby couldnt help wishing that Max were here right now. Shed just love to shove past him and drive away.
A uniformed driver stood beside the car. “Miss Bridge?”
She grinned. No one ever called her that. “Thats me. Im going to-”
“I know, miss. The Paramount lot. Ill be waiting to take you home after the taping. ”
The driver came around and opened the door for her. Ruby peered into the dark interior and saw a dozen white roses in a sheath of opalescent tissue paper lying on the backseat. An i
ce bucket held a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon.
Ruby slid into the seat, heard the satisfying thud of the closing door; and plucked the card from the flowers.
People as talented as you dont need luck. They need a chance, and this is yours. Love, Val.
God, it felt good. As if those tarnished dreams of hers were finally coming true. She had never meant to need it all so much. It had begun as a lark--something she did well without a lot of effort. Ruby the class clown, always making people laugh. But after her mother abandoned them, everything had changed. Ruby had changed. From that moment on, nothing and no one had been quite enough for her. Shed come to need the unconditional acceptance that only fame could provide.
She scooted closer to the window, grinning as the limo pulled up to the security booth at the entrance to Paramount. The twin white arches, trimmed in golden metallic scrollwork, announced to the world that through these gates was a special world, open only to a lucky few.
Ruby hit the button to lower the privacy shield just in time to hear the driver say, “I have Miss Bridge for Uproar. ”
The guard stepped back into his booth, consulted a clipboard, then waved them through. Ruby plastered herself close to the window, looking for celebrities, but all she saw were regular people milling about. The closest she came to seeing a movie star was a red Sports car parked in a stall marked JULIA ROBERTS.
At the visitors lot, the driver parked the car and came around, opening Rubys door. “Theres your ride,” he said, pointing to a vehicle that looked like a stretched-out golf cart. A man in tan-colored shorts and a matching polo shirt was standing beside it.
“Theyll zip you up to the studio. Ill be right here whenever you get back. ”
Ruby tried to look blase, as if she did this all the time. To tell the truth, if her blood pressure bumped up another notch, she was probably going to stroke out.
She took a deep breath and headed toward the cart. Once she got in, the driver settled behind the wheel and started the soundless engine. The cart moved jerkily between the huge sound stages. There were people everywhere, walking, riding bicycles. They passed a battalion of aliens-" that Patrick Stewart-and veered around a gathering of cowboys. Finally, they pulled up to sound stage nine, a hulking, flesh-colored building. Above the door was a neon sign that read UPROAR! A NEW KIND OF TALK SHOW WITH JOE COCHRAN.
Ruby jumped off the cart and crossed the street. She paused a minute, then opened the door. Inside was a kaleidoscope of colored lights, darkened seating, and people. Thats what she noticed most of all –there were people everywhere, scurrying around like ants with clipboards, checking and rechecking, nodding and cursing and laughing.
“Youre Ruby Bridge?”
Ruby jumped. She hadnt even noticed the small, platinum blonde who now stood beside her; peering up at Ruby through the ugliest pair of brown-framed glasses shed ever seen. “Im Ruby. ”
“Good. ” The woman grabbed Rubys arm and led her through the swarming people, down a quieter hallway and into a small waiting room. On the beside a brown sofa were a bowl of fruit and a bottle of Perrier on ice. “Do you need makeup?”
Ruby laughed. “Are you thinking of an intervention?”
The woman frowned, cocked her head, birdlike. “Excuse me?”
Ruby nodded stiffly. “My makeups fine. Thanks. ”
