Ruby’s face was still a picture as she tried to clamber over her awkwardness.
However, Ruby’s flushed cheeks and stuttering had helped to ease Fran’s funk about the car. It wasn’t helping either of them. Plus, as she kept reminding herself, the whole point of this trip was to thaw the relationship with Ruby. Being snarly wasn’t going to win Fran any popularity points. Perhaps sharing something of herself would make Ruby feel more at home. Who knows, they might even become friends.
“My Malaysian curry was a favourite of my ex.”
Ruby stretched her legs at that. “You see, I told you it would lead to a sure thing.” She smiled. “My ex was a fan of my pasta bake, too. Although she did constantly tell me I might die an early death if I kept eating it. Either from heart failure or obesity due to the amount of cheese and cream.”
Fran glanced her way. “Seeing as your stomach is impossibly flat, the obesity dilemma seems sorted.”
“You never know about heart failure, though, do you? You hear all the time about people who run marathons and drop dead.”
“Don’t run marathons. They bugger your knees and then you keel over and die.”
“Good point.” Ruby paused. “Are you cooking your curry for anyone at the moment?”
Fran shook her head. “I’m not. I broke up with my ex two years ago. I’m done with women.” She snagged Ruby’s gaze with her own. “What about you?”
“Confirmed singleton, too. Meal deals for one.”
“Sounds like we both need to start a supper club. Or at least a meal exchange.”
“Or just get laid.” Ruby blushed again. She was cute when she blushed.
“Nah, I’m off that, too. After Delilah…” Fran stopped. Shit. She hadn’t meant to blurt that name out. They’d never been out publicly, which was one of the reasons they’d broken up.
But Ruby was already staring at the mention of the name, her forehead furrowed as she pieced Fran’s history together. “It was Delilah who ate your curry?” Astonishment tinted her words.
Fran bristled. “Is it that improbable?” She’d always worried she was punching above her weight. She didn’t need it confirmed by Ruby.
Ruby shook her head. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m just surprised she’s actually gay. I’d heard rumours she was seeing someone, but we hardly run in the same circles. Now I find out it was you.”
“It was me.” There had been something there from the first moment they met. “I don’t normally date musicians. Not because it’s unethical — it happens all the time — but rather because I know it’s a difficult road, with touring, fans throwing themselves at you, all of that.”
“I don’t get nearly as much of it as she would.” Ruby twisted her mouth one way, then the other. “I never saw you with her, though. How long were you together?”
“Nine months.” They’d been split for a while now, and Fran was over it. But saying Delilah’s name still cloaked her heart in sadness. She’d wanted it to work, but it hadn’t.
“My dads knew, and my colleague, Damian. But apart from that, I was sworn to secrecy. It couldn’t get out while she was trying to make it big, so we had to be super careful everywhere we went.” Fran shook her head, remembering. “It was more than tiresome. Plus, I’ve been out and proud since I was 17. When you have two gay dads, you don’t have to hide who you are. Going back into the closet was hard. My parents hated it as much as me. Plus, they could see that despite us getting along, it was never going to work. But I had to learn the hard way.”
“I bet.” Ruby paused. “No wonder you snapped off her music earlier.”
Fran took a deep breath, then shrugged. “When we broke up, I asked to be taken off her team, and she endorsed it. But she’s off on tour now, and things are really hitting the big time. I’m pleased for her, but she needs to be who she is. Come out as queer.”
“Why wouldn’t she, though? It’s hardly taboo anymore. Maybe in the film or TV industry. But in music, people have always been able to be way more themselves.”
“That’s the irony, isn’t it?” Fran was quiet for a moment. “Does whatever I tell you in this car stay right here?”
Ruby nodded. “Of course. You have my word.”
Fran hoped she could trust Ruby. She was in the business, too, and she didn’t strike Fran as the gossipy type.
“For Delilah, it’s her parents. She might be the woman of the moment with chart-topping hits, but her parents are crazy-religious and she’s not out to them. Until she does that, she can’t be who she truly is.” Fran shrugged. “Pop stars have hang-ups, too.”
“More than most from the ones I’ve met,” Ruby replied. “Wow, I can’t believe you were with Delilah.” She waved her hands at Fran. “Again, not in that way. I just thought she’d want a bit more of a starry girlfriend. Someone she could share the spotlight with.”
“Nope. Delilah wants someone who she can keep in the closet. I did it for a while because she said she was going to come out eventually. But as time went on, it became apparent she was lying. That’s when I realised it was never going to work. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though.” It had hurt plenty. Still did sometimes.
“Makes my tale of woe about my ex being a different person to me pale into the background.” Ruby paused. “Still, you’ve slept with a chart-topping artist. And she loved your curry.”
“She did. She just didn’t love me all that much. Or herself.” Fran glanced in her rear-view mirror. No sign of a recovery truck. She wished it’d hurry up. Her stomach gurgled loudly.
Ruby twisted around, rummaged in one of her bags, then produced a neatly wrapped gift. She tore the paper without hesitation. “My sister won’t miss these, and your stomach needs attending to.” Ruby held up a yellow biscuit tin. “It’s even your colour, so it’s your Christmas present now. Just a month early.” She grinned, giving it to Fran. “Happy Christmas. Have some vanilla and coconut whirls.”
Fran took the tin. “Don’t mind if I do.”
They sat munching their whirls for a few moments. Then Fran’s phone flashed. She picked it up.
“The AA man is 15 minutes away.”
“It might be a woman,” Ruby countered.
Fran gave her a pained look. “I don’t know many women called Mike. Whatever, home should be within reach soon.” She glanced out her window. “The traffic’s moving faster now, too.”
“We’ll be in Mistletoe before you know it.” Ruby grabbed another biscuit. “Are you still in touch with Delilah?”
“We still talk occasionally, but like I said, she’s touring her new album now. She vowed she would keep in touch more, but she’s busy. I get it. I’ve watched plenty of relationships between music execs and artists explode. I know the drill. You just never think it’s going to happen to you. But musicians are single-minded. They have to be to succeed. They’re all about themselves and their careers.” She glanced at Ruby, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.
Fran sat forward, shaking her head. “Which I totally get, by the way. My job is important to me, too.” She took a breath, trying to reframe her argument. “My point is, you can be career-focused, but also consider other people. Perhaps even have a relationship.” Fran sat back. “I know I’m sworn off women, and that still stands. But in ten years’ time when I’m ready again, maybe I’ll go for a woman who’s not even a music fan.”
“You wouldn’t last five minutes,” Ruby replied. “You love music. It’s in your bones, just like mine. It must be, or you wouldn’t do the job you do.”
“True. But right now, after Delilah, I am so done. So long as my next girlfriend eats my curry, I’d be happy if she works in a bank. Or a fishmonger. I’ve never dated a fishmonger.”
Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Really? A fishmonger?”
“Think of all the cheap salmon and how healthy my skin would look.” Fran could just imagine the glow. “Have you ever gone out with a musician? Or someone in the industry like me, come to that?” Fran’s eyes widened. Shit. “Not that I’m suggesting…”
“A musician, yes.” Ruby gave her an amused smirk. “Someone in the industry, no. Not really my scene. No offence.”
“You know when someone says ‘no offence’, it means they’re about to offend you, right?”
“You know what I mean. Music execs in general are just in it for themselves. Out to boost their careers. They’re not interested in artistic integrity or in the artist’s voice.” She glanced at Fran. “In my experience,” Ruby added hastily.
Wow. Ruby didn’t hold back, did she? “You really don’t have a high opinion of me, do you? At least I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I could have lumped you in with all other musicians, saying you’re all as bad as each other. But I didn’t.” She glanced at Ruby. “Maybe I should have.” She grabbed another biscuit from the tin. “Why are you so down on the music industry?”
Ruby rolled her shoulders and was silent for a few moments before she spoke. “Because I had a bad experience. I signed to a label when I was 21, and I thought that was it, that I had the dream ticket. But then they wanted to change my sound and make me more pop, more ‘radio-friendly’. I went along with it because I was 21, but it wasn’t me and I think listeners could tell. The music didn’t sell. The label also wanted me to change my look, ‘show more cleavage’ I believe was the term used.”
Fran winced. “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not.” She’d heard that story too many times. “It’s one of the things I’m most proud of with our new project, Fast Forward. They’re a girl group, but a new style of girl group. No cleavage required.”
“That should have been their band name.”
Fran gave her a wry smile. “I did consider it.”
Ruby shrugged. “But anyway, I didn’t show more cleavage. It wasn’t me. Then they tried to tour me, but they ended up putting me in the wrong venues and it was a disaster. My worst night was playing a rock club. I was pelted with beer cans and booed off stage. It’s why I don’t like playing venues bigger than around 100 people any more. Crowds behave better when they’re not so anonymous. They’re more my people.”
Fran glanced in Ruby’s direction. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but we’re not all the same.”
Ruby shrugged. “But money talks, doesn’t it? When I stopped selling, the label dropped me, and every person I encountered was all about the bottom line and how it could work for them. I was never in the equation. It was a wasted couple of years and I had to start again from scratch.”
“Have you ever taken the time to talk to music people, though? Really understand why they’re doing their job?”
Even in the low lighting of the car, Fran saw Ruby’s cheeks colour pink. “Nothing in depth,” Ruby said, “but I know the type.”
“Really.” Fran turned her body towards Ruby, every fibre of her truly pissed. Maybe she shouldn’t have offered her a lift, neighbour or not. “That type is me? Because I can tell you, I love music. My job is to get good music out into the world. The role I play is balancing the artist with what the label can offer, and it’s all part of the creative process. Just like you making music is, too. But I care about my artists and I’m good at the business side.” Was Ruby not listening to what she was saying on purpose, or had she just convinced herself that her beliefs were the absolute truth?
Ruby tucked her chin into her neck. The car was silent for a good few moments.
Fran cleared her throat as annoyance and frustration rumbled through her.
Ruby still didn’t say anything.
Had Fran gone too far? She thought about it for a few moments, then decided she hadn’t. Ruby had made assumptions about Fran and her career. She was wrong.
“It’s the reason I tried to sign you. Because I think you’re talented. Because I think your music deserves to be listened to on a much larger scale. I get that you want to help out your family at Christmas, but it’s a big thing to put your career on hold for six weeks every year. Most people wouldn’t do it, and if you want my professional advice, it’s not the smartest career move. Wouldn’t you rather be playing a gig that might get your music out there and open doors, rather than selling Christmas trees? If it’s money you’re worried about, you could help your family out far more when your sales go through the roof.”
Fran wasn’t done. “If you want my professional opinion, it sounds like you’re making excuses to thwart yourself. Your family is a great excuse, and nobody is ever going to call you on it. But I see what you’re doing. You’re scared of trying, but even more scared of being a success.” Fran winced. She hadn’t meant to go into a rant, but Ruby had riled her.
She held up a palm. “I’m sorry, but I don’t like being misrepresented.” She held Ruby’s gaze. “Also, I don’t like wasted talent. It’s part of my job to spot it.”
Silence settled on the car. Seconds ticked by.
Ruby took a deep breath, then sat up in her seat. “Listen, Fran...”
But just then, the bright lights of the AA truck lit them up as it pulled in behind.
Both Fran and Ruby turned into the light, then squinted.
“Saved by the bell.” Fran yanked open her door and got out, then flicked up the hood of her coat against the swirling snow. Only another few hours to survive with Ruby. She wasn’t sure her plan of buttering Ruby up had gone that well. But frankly, when Ruby thought so little of her, did Fran really want to work with her anyway?
Mike couldn’t fix Fran’s car. “More than the exhaust,” was his not-so-helpful assessment. He loaded it onto his recovery truck, with Fran and Ruby riding in his cab up-front.
When they arrived in Mistletoe an hour and a half later, the snow was still falling at a steady rate, and the village was picture-postcard pretty. The journey had been quiet, and luckily the traffic had eased. Fran kept her eyes on the road and her thoughts to herself. She’d avoided looking at Ruby too much. When she had, Ruby’s eyes had been closed. Whether she was asleep or just attempting damage limitation, Fran wasn’t sure.
As they both lived so close, the drop-off point was the same. Mike gave Fran a number to call to arrange a replacement rental while hers was being fixed. “Although,” he said, looking into the sky, “if this keeps up, you might not be able to get it.” The snow swirled around his face, like someone up there was grating the sky.
Fran shook her head. “I don’t really need a car while I’m here. I’ll follow up with the garage to see when they can get it back to me.”
He nodded, then drove off.
Ruby stood as the snow fell, her numerous gift bags at her feet.
“You want a hand in?” Fran might still be annoyed, but she was polite.
Ruby shook her head, grabbing all the handles in her fingers. “I can manage.” She took two steps, then a third.
Fran kept a narrowed eye on Ruby. She didn’t look steady on the snowy ground.
On her fourth step, Ruby wobbled. On the fifth, she lost her footing, and almost in slow motion her right foot slid forward as her body jerked back. She landed with a dull thud on the pavement. Her gift bags scattered across the pavement, presents skidding out. A squashed “Fuuuuck!” escaped Ruby’s mouth.
Fran stood still for a moment, biting down a laugh. Then she clicked into gear, rushing over to her fallen neighbour. She gathered the gifts back into the bags, stood them up, then offered Ruby her hand.
Ruby looked up, grimaced, then took it reluctantly.
When their hands connected, a sudden boom ripped through Fran’s core. It wasn’t subtle. It was seismic, shaking her from the inside out. It almost knocked her sideways. She squeezed her toes together and managed to stay upright. She clung on to Ruby’s hand, willing her racing heart to slow down.
“After three,” Fran said, ignoring the ricochets in her body. They couldn’t be trusted. “One, two, three.”
Ruby held onto Fran tight and heaved herself off the pavement.
When she made it to her full height, they stood facing each other. Ruby a few inches higher, her lips almost at Fran’s eye level.
Fran hadn’t considered Ruby’s lips once in the car. At least, she didn’t think she had. Ruby was attractive, but so were many women Fran came into contact with. She was used to attractive singers in her orbit. It was her world.
However, none of them had ever caused a mini-earthquake in her with a touch of their hand. Damn it, Fran really didn’t need the one person who did to be Ruby. Not after the way their breakdown chat had turned so sour.
There must be something faulty in her wiring in Mistletoe. Something off. Maybe it was the snow.
She wasn’t used to snow.
That was probably it.
“If it’s any consolation, you went down with the grace of a top ballet dancer.” Fran paused. “Will you accept some help to your front door, now? I promise, as soon as we get there, I’ll leave and you’ll be shot of this music exec.”
Ruby grabbed some bags, letting Fran take some. She gave her a weak smile. “Thanks.” Ruby began walking, limping slightly. She glanced across at Fran, looking like she was about to say something, then didn’t.
Fran let it go. “What are your plans for this weekend?”
It was still snowing, and every word Fran uttered was topped with wet snow. It settled all around her in thick layers.
“It’s going to be a busy one,” Ruby replied. “The start of December means the annual Christmas Tree Contest and Treasure Hunt, so this weekend is big news in Mistletoe.” She flipped her head to the sky. “I just hope this snow, pretty as it is, doesn’t cause an issue. Otherwise, there might be many furrowed brows in the village. Still, it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”
They walked down the drive to the farm in silence, battling the growing snow storm, Fran swallowing down many flakes by the time they arrived. She didn’t have a hat or gloves. Her fingers were numb and her hair wet. She was sure she had a nose like Rudolph, too.
Ruby was just fishing in her bag for her key when the door swung open. Mary appeared on the other side, her cheeks flushed with warmth. It was in stark contrast to the pair of them. Chipper ran circles around them, jumping up at Ruby.
“Oh my goodness! Get in! Get in! You both look frozen!” Mary said.
“Hello, Chipper! Good boy!” Ruby flicked a worried gaze to Fran.
She didn’t need to panic. Fran was happy to get as far away from Ruby at the fastest speed possible. “Thanks, but I was just giving Ruby a hand with her bags. Turns out she buys a whole lot of presents.”
“That’s our Ruby!” Mary took the bags from Fran’s hands. “You sure I can’t offer you a coffee or a hot chocolate at least?”
Fran shook her head. “No thanks. My dads are waiting for me. I better get home.” She gave Ruby a tight smile. “See you soon.”
Ruby dipped her head. “Thanks for the lift.”