Just Married? Read online

  Emily was contrite. ‘Sorry. I suppose I was hoping to avoid telling you why I’m here.’

  ‘Then I won’t push’ Ruby said quickly. ‘Hey, we’re running a bit low on fizz, shall we get another bo-’

  ‘My fiancée left me’ Emily said quietly. But Ruby heard her.

  ‘Christ. When?’ Ruby asked.

  Emily checked her watch. ‘Hard to say with the time difference but I think it was about fourteen hours ago.’

  Ruby’s mouth fell open. ‘So you got on a flight right after?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s quite a reaction.’

  ‘I know’ Emily said. ‘I think it was because of the way she broke up with me. She left me for someone else because she said I wasn’t spontaneous. So I suppose I was trying to prove her wrong.’

  ‘I think you managed that’ Ruby said. ‘So she cheated on you?’

  ‘For six months. And I didn’t have a clue’ Emily said, tipping back her glass to drain it in one gulp.

  ‘How long were you together?’

  ‘Three and a half years - engaged for two’ Emily told her.

  ‘Who proposed?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘She did.’

  ‘Oh. That’s bad’ Ruby said.

  ‘Yes. Bad. Quite.’

  Ruby was floored. She’d never gone through anything like that. She was never serious enough with anyone to get even close to an engagement so when things ended, whether by her choice or the other party’s, it was never a real catastrophe. It was usually a relief.

  But Emily had actually lost something real. Ruby suddenly wondered what Emily wanted from this night. What purpose was she serving to Emily? A rebound? Maybe. Would that be so bad? Maybe not.

  Because where did attachments get you? Flying across the world to sit in a stripper’s booth with some random actress, if Emily was anything to go by. She’d hate to be that tied up with someone, that vulnerable to ruin. It was bad enough being under her mother’s thumb. To give herself willingly to someone? It was a terrifying concept.

  So whatever this evening was, it was just for tonight. Ruby wouldn’t know what to do with anything bigger.

  The waitress popped her head in. ‘Hey, if you want to stay in here, you need to keep ordering drinks.’

  ‘Jesus, you people are relentless’ Ruby replied and said, ‘Yeah, fine, bring more champagne.’

  ‘How about vodka instead?’ the waitress asked.

  ‘And the upselling continues. How much for a bottle?’ Ruby asked.

  The waitress’s reply stole Emily’s breath. But Ruby didn’t care. She had money. What else was there to spend it on but fun? That was the whole point of being carefree and single. Your money was yours to waste on overpriced liquor if you so pleased. ‘Relax, it’s on me’ she told Emily, before turning to the waitress and smiling, ‘Go ahead and bring the bottle.’

  After the waitress ducked back out of the room, Emily was wide-eyed with panic. ‘You cannot buy that bottle. That’s insane.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. We’re having a good time, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes’ Emily quickly agreed.

  ‘Then let’s keep it going. With stupidly priced vodka.’

  Emily breathed in through her nose. ‘Alright. If you insist.’

  The vodka showed up a minute later and the waitress poured two shots and left. Ruby picked up a glass and said, ‘To your ex. May she be cursed with a terrible STI that gives her a hellish itch she will never be free of.’

  Emily laughed and picked up her own glass. ‘I’ll drink to that!’

  They threw them back and Emily made a little ‘Wuh’ noise. Ruby loved it. ‘Another?’

  ‘You trying to get me drunk?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Would that be a problem?’ Ruby countered.

  ‘Nope. Just wanted to know.’

  ‘Well, I am. And when you’re good and liquored up, I’m gonna make my move.’

  Emily’s mouth went up at both corners. ‘You already did.’

  ‘Oh, that was not my move. That was more like a trailer for my move’ Ruby told her.

  Emily picked up the glass and necked it. ‘Then I’d better hurry up and get hammered.’

  Ruby felt a deep pleasure. They were on the same page. Mindless fun was the order of the night. And the promise of nudity lay at the end of it. She picked up her own glass and necked it. This was exactly what Ruby needed. She felt far from home, far from Hollywood, far from her mother.

  ***

  Ruby sat bolt upright and the pain in her head was immediate. She needed Tylenol, stat. But as she looked around her, she realised her medicine cabinet wasn’t going to be easy to locate. Because she wasn’t in her apartment. She was in a hotel room. In Vegas. And there was someone asleep next to her.

  Emily.

  The name came quickly, she wasn’t some stranger met after too many drinks. They’d spent an evening together, mostly sober. It was only after the club that things got a little burry. A haze of vodka was draped over the remainder of the night.

  Ruby climbed out of bed and looked down at Emily. She looked pretty nice asleep. And Ruby had liked their time together. But this couldn’t go anywhere, could it? They lived on different continents, and moreover, in different worlds. Emily was a serious person who cared about shit. That wasn’t Ruby. She was no novel, after all. She was an actress who would be lucky to do brainless blockbusters. She was popcorn. Eaten and forgotten.

  Ruby got dressed, careful to be quiet. She knew it wasn’t very nice to leave like this, but she felt that anything she could say would only ruin things. One night. One good night. Leave it at that.

  She leaned down and kissed Emily gently on the hair. Emily didn’t stir. Ruby crept out. She didn’t see the piece of paper on top of the hotel fridge, she was in too big of a hurry. If she had, she would have been quite surprised to find it was a document that had her name on it as well as Emily’s.

  It was a marriage certificate.

  Seven

  Emily, deep in dreamland, thought she heard a click, like a door closing. She dragged herself up from sleep, into the waking world. She was alone. She was disappointed about that without understanding why for a moment. But then she remembered what had happened with Katie and she thought that was it. She was heartbroken.

  No, wait, there was something else, some other reason she shouldn’t have been alone. There was… Ruby. She’d met Ruby and they’d gone crazy together. Blackjack, strip club, vodka… That’s where it got a bit stickier. What had happened then? Had they come back here? Had anything happened in the naked sense? Emily wasn’t at all sure. Slowly, it dribbled back. Yes, Ruby had been here. In the bed. They’d talked, Emily thought, for a long time. Maybe some other things. Her lips felt rather… Used. But she still had her underwear on. Nothing was certain.

  But Ruby wasn’t here now so she’d definitely ditched her, she was surer and surer. It was a hurtful realisation. She’d thought they’d clicked. She’d thought Ruby liked her as much as she liked Ruby. But apparently not. Ruby had gotten bored and not even stopped to say bye. Another rejection, another kick in the teeth.

  Emily sat up and went to the mini fridge. She needed fluids immediately. She took out a bottle of water that cost five dollars and drank it down.

  And then she saw it, sat atop the fridge. The certificate. Emily’s eyes were barely in focus as she lifted the embossed sheet up to her eyes to read her name sat next to Ruby’s.

  Emily frowned at the paper, in denial at first. This couldn’t be… Oh. No. Wait. There it was, in the back of her memories. A flash of a chapel. Her and Ruby staggering in giggling. The words, ‘I do.’ Said and repeated. Emily’s mind unwrapped the horror for her in full and said, Yes. You did this.

  Emily still didn’t want to believe it, despite the memories that were creeping back. Despite the fact it was here in black and white. It was ludicrous. Emily had certainly taken herself off some kind of leash last night, but with the intent that the craziest thing she
might do was have sex with Ruby. But she’d taken it quite a bit further than casual sex.

  It was madness. Three years of engagement to Katie and they’d never even set a date. Was she to understand that she’d come to this absurd place and married someone the same night she had met them?

  It was too much for Emily to take. She wanted to throw up. Oh, hang on, yes, she really did need to vomit. She ran to the toilet, slipped to her knees and threw up things she didn’t remember eating, colours she couldn’t begin to explain. When it was over, she took her head from the bowl to see her hand still clutching the marriage certificate. It had a little bit of yellow liquid on it now, splashed across one corner.

  She sat down on the floor, looking at the vomit-soaked sheet of paper. She could flush it down the loo right now and that would be that. The offending item would be gone. But Emily knew that what would be left behind was a legal record of a marriage. You couldn’t flush that quite so easily.

  What did it mean though? That she was married in the US? Did that matter? She didn’t live here. She didn’t pay taxes here. She didn’t have any reason to declare her marriage to anyone, for any reason.

  But in the pit of Emily’s stomach, something told her that she couldn’t simply let this stand. She had to find Ruby and get this sorted. What was the term? Annulled. Yes. Not a divorce, but a simple annulment, on the grounds of a drunken mistake.

  So that meant the next step was laid out. She needed to find Ruby. Maybe they’d swapped numbers? Emily checked her phone. No Ruby’s of any sort.

  But a phone number wasn’t the only way to find someone. Social media was a thing. Emily wasn’t on anything (she didn’t care if someone she went to school with had a baby or a French bulldog or got married in the Seychelles), but she was aware of the existence of Twitter and Facebook. She opened her phone, deciding to try Twitter first, and tapped in the name RUBY. And then stopped. What was Ruby’s last name? She was sure she’d been told it. But Emily’s brain was not in tip top shape right now, it was still a booze-soaked mess.

  Emily realised she didn’t know her wife’s full name. She would have laughed but she thought it might turn into tears.

  Then it occurred to her. The certificate! It had the answer. But when Emily checked it, the unfortunate splotch of bile had dribbled over Ruby’s name. She could just make out ‘RUBY ...IGHT.’ Ruby Wright? Was that it? She typed it in and scanned the results. None of the Ruby’s were her Ruby.

  Hold it. Ruby was an actress. She had her own show. IMDb would hold the key. If Emily could just remember what the bloody programme was called. It was something with teenagers, she was certain of that. It was patently ludicrous for Ruby to be playing a seventeen-year-old (if Emily remembered anything from last night, it was that Ruby was nothing if not a grown woman) but that was apparently what she did for a living. And the show was called… It was the name of some fake small town on the east coast of America… Wolf something… Wolfwater Cove!

  Emily tapped it into IMDb and there she was, top billed. Ruby Knight. Well, close enough. She went back to Twitter. Ruby had an account with a little blue tick next to it. Emily quickly set up her own account (with a generic picture of a sunset as her profile pic) and DM’d Ruby.

  Hi. Remember me? If you’re struggling to recall, we accidentally got married last night. Please message me back urgently so we can sort it out. Thanks.

  She sat back to wait. All she could do now was hope and pray and try not to vomit again.

  Eight

  Ruby was on the road, headed home. She was wondering if she’d made a mistake leaving Emily like that. There was something about last night, something about Emily. She had been… What was the word? Invigorating. That was it. Ruby felt revitalised from her time with Emily. But that was exactly why she’d had to leave. Given time, whatever quality Emily had would no doubt pall, like it all did. Everything turned to stale boredom in the end. Her acting career, her love life, all of it.

  She’d always suspected that she wasn’t wired for happiness. Her mother certainly didn’t seem to be. And her dad… Well, that was another story. But her mom was always in a bad mood. Even good news didn’t ever really seem to please her. When Ruby had landed the lead on the show, Denise hadn’t taken a moment to celebrate. She’d stated immediately that a big percentage of shows didn’t go past the pilot. Then Denise began to worry that Ruby’s agent would lose valuable time while she was making the pilot (that would definitely not go to series) by slacking off, not working as hard for her. Then she decided that Ruby needed a manager, someone who looked out for her interests, someone with no other clients. And once the show got picked up for a full fifteen episodes, Denise decided that person should be her, that she’d give up her job as an investment banker to work ‘For’ Ruby full time.

  Ruby wasn’t at all sure she wanted her mother to do that. In fact, she was sure she was going to ruin her career before it even got off the ground. But lo and behold, Denise Knight was suited to the Hollywood machine, securing a better contract with the show, increasing her fee and negotiating points on the backend. And she made sure Ruby’s agent got her plenty of extra work when she was on hiatus, whatever small role in a dumbass action flick (she always died before the first act was over) would give her profile a minor boost. Ruby should have known she would be good at this. Narcissism was practically an asset in this town.

  But that was the trouble. Whatever Denise was, she had raised Ruby. She had been Ruby’s model for what an adult should look like before Ruby understood she shouldn’t be. Ruby worried that at least some of her mother’s darker shades were in her pallet. That she couldn’t be content either.

  So was the problem that she was like her mother? Or was the problem only that she worried she was like her mother? Ruby didn’t know. But Emily was yet another casualty of this issue. Someone who had intrigued her, someone who had spoken to something in Ruby that she didn’t really understand. Ruby would never get to the core of what that thing was because she was too scared to try. Too scared to find out where her limitations lay.

  As Ruby pulled into her drive, she concluded that her actions were for the best. She’d never have the chance to ruin anything with Emily. It would always be safe in its unspent potential. They might have been anything, everything or nothing. Ruby would never know. That was the best she could hope for.

  She unlocked the main door in her apartment building and took the elevator to the third floor, where her modest one bed was. Her mother said it was better to hedge her bets when it came to property, not to take on big outlays before she was established. Ruby knew that meant, ‘In case you get fired and never find anything else.’ But the place was nice and comfortable, so Ruby supposed that she should just feel lucky to have her own place. Some of her fellow actors had to share, sometimes four or five to a tiny place. Ruby prized privacy above all else.

  At the door, she remembered that she’d switched off her phone yesterday. She’d better turn the fucking thing on and face whatever bullshit was stored in there.

  But when she looked at her phone, she was surprised to find it was already on, set to silent. And she had a lot of notifications. A staggering amount. From her Instagram. Which was weird because she barely ever posted anything. The last thing she posted had been a week ago, an on-set pic, her mother’s idea.

  Ruby opened Instagram and checked the messages and they were all along the lines of one thing. She was being congratulated on something. Her first thought was that she had gotten the movie and it had gotten out before she could find out about it. That wasn’t out of bounds. Her mother tended to leave her out of things, forgetting to tell her when she was negotiating some endorsement or work offer. Ruby came out of Instagram and went to her phone, checking her voicemail. Her mother was old school. If she did have some news for her, that’s where Ruby would find it.

  There was indeed a message from her mother. But it didn’t sound like good news.

  ‘Ruby! What the fuck is this? Why would you do somethi
ng like this and not tell me? And you put it on social media? You’re such a little asshole!’ The message ended there.

  Ruby had never been so confused in all of her life. She went back to Instagram and checked on her posts, something she should have done right away. Because there it was, the answer to the riddle, a picture, posted at two-thirty-five last night. It was her and Emily, standing in front of some building (a chapel?) holding up their hands to the camera, showing small silver bands on their wedding fingers. They were grinning like fools and clearly drunk. The caption read, ‘Me and Emily, just married!’

  Ruby swallowed a lump in her throat the size of a clementine and stared at the photograph. She then looked down at her finger to see what had been there all along, unnoticed ‘til now. A cheap silver band.