Ruby's Misadventures With Reality Page 11

  Tooling down the road, Ruby glanced at the clock: 2:45. She was still half an hour from Emerald.

  Shit!

  She was going to be late to the funeral as it was and would be even later if she dropped the dogs off at home first. Skipping the funeral wasn’t an option. Ruby really wanted to say good-bye to Estelle. She settled on leaving the dogs in the car, reasoning that people do that all the time.

  Only fifteen minutes late, she pulled up to the church and unrolled the windows a little. Debbie and Charmaine tried to squeeze out the door with her, but she held them back with her knee and a few false kicks. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than chasing an unleashed dog down the street at someone’s funeral.

  “You two be good. I’ll be back in a little bit.” She said this as if they understood.

  Ruby smoothed her dress, tried to brush a little dog hair off (luckily she had worn an animal print), and reapplied her lipstick using her reflection in the window while the dogs panted, their noses pressed up against the glass. She blew them a little kiss through the window and tried to compose herself for Estelle’s funeral. She had never been to Emerald Baptist Church before, a white building with peeling paint sandwiched between homes in Estelle’s neighborhood. The church was probably well on its way to being purchased and redone as a trendy home with glass tile bathrooms and recycled quartz countertops, but for now, it was a church. The congregation was largely minority and less affluent than the shopping district. Those who had hung onto their houses worked at the Biomall, but they didn’t shop there.

  She tried to sneak into the back of the church and slide discretely into the last pew, but the click-clacking of her heels sounded her arrival clearly in the cavernous space of the church. Her leopard-print dress and four-inch heels didn’t help. She had intended to go home and change into something more funeral-like until she ran out of time. Why she thought it was a good idea to pick up dogs in rural Kansas wearing heels and leopard print was another matter. Several women shook their heads as if to say, “Help her, God, because that woman cannot help herself.” Ruby gave a demure half smile and sat down.

  Two prayers and one “Amazing Grace” later, Estelle’s funeral was over. The preacher directed all the mourners to follow the hearse to the cemetery where Estelle was to be buried.

  Ruby joined the procession right behind a rusting Oldsmobile Cutlass, a car that went down even before Detroit and immediately in front of a low-slung pimpmobile with flashy rims and neon lights on the undercarriage. She drove along sedately in her red convertible, letting the cockers (still wearing Hermes) catch a breeze out the back window. She felt a little out of place, but not nearly as much as she should have.

  The mix of people at Estelle’s funeral was odd: Trudi stuffed into a black spandex number weeping a few crocodile tears, Jermaine in a zip-up track suit, along with the Wednesday-night Bingo crowd. Ruby started to revise her opinion on whether or not Estelle truly had her head in the sand. From the looks of sadness and respect Estelle was getting from this crowd, Ruby half wondered if she was the kingpin of whatever drama was afoot.

  Ruby admired Trudi’s funeral attire. “I love that necklace, Trudi!” For the occasion, Trudi had layered five or so cross necklaces. Ruby particularly liked a pink lacquer cross covered in black lace. It dangled from a goth glam rosary. “Betsy Johnson does God better than anyone. That’s Betsy, right?”

  Trudi shrugged. “Estelle bought it for me.”

  This made both of them tear up.

  “I’m gonna miss Estelle so hard,” said Trudi as she fingered one of the crosses.

  Ruby gave her a hug and revised her previous opinion. Maybe Trudi wasn’t so bad.

  Lingering near the back of the crowd and not speaking to anyone, Ruby recognized Estelle’s handsome mailman. He wore what was probably his best suit and had been for the better part of forty years. He carried a bouquet of daisies. Estelle would have loved them. If Ruby knew Estelle, she probably refused to date the poor man because of her busy schedule cooking for her grandson’s Giddyup crew.

  After the prayers and burial, she ran into Jermaine, who she had never met before. He was her age and pretty hot, if you went for prison tats. He certainly didn’t look like the boy scout Estelle described and Ruby wondered why he was at the funeral instead of in jail. Because it was Estelle’s funeral, she tried to cultivate all of her sympathy. With real feeling she said, “I’m so sorry, Jermaine. Your grandma was a saint on earth.”

  Jermaine didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her. Not used to being ignored, Ruby answered for him as if she was reading two parts in a play. “You must be so sad. You’re going to miss everything about her. How could you not?”

  “Uh huh, that’s right,” he said, giving her leopard-print wrap dress and yellow rhinestone earrings a once over.

  “By the way, how did you get out for the day? I thought that was against the rules, even for family deaths.”

  He gave her an affronted look. “What, do you think that’s where all the black men belong?”

  “No! Of course not. I’m just surprised. I mean you were in jail. Now you’re not.” Ruby looked around for someone else to talk to. She didn’t know what to say. He stared at her intensely, seemingly demanding an answer. Vaguely, she commented, “Structural racism. It’s a bitch. I know.” She flipped her hair.

  A tall, slim, golden mustachioed man appeared from seemingly out of nowhere to rescue Ruby from herself. Coincidentally, he had also rescued Jermaine from jail that day. With great pomp, he announced, “I bailed the boy out. No sense having him sit in jail when he has a strong back for work and the spirit of the lord filling his soul.” Ruby’s jaw slackened as she stared up at the stranger. She felt as if she had just met…Brad Pitt.

  “I’m Pastor Rick,” said Brad Pitt in a throaty, masculine voice.

  “I’m Ruby. I’m so glad to meet you.” She was so going to church on Sunday. As with most celebrity encounters, she said too much. “I’ve only seen you on the cover of Kansas Monthly up until now. I thought I was behind you in line at IKEA once, but I wasn’t sure. The guy I thought was you bought purple throw pillows and a spatula.”

  Pastor Rick tilted his head slightly and looked at her as if this was the most interesting thing he had ever heard, as if he deeply wished they had once been in line at IKEA together. “Wonderful to meet you, my lamb.”

  Ruby nodded and smiled. “Why did you bail out Jermaine again?” It seemed preposterous.

  “I take care of my flock, especially gems like Trudi and Jermaine.”

  Jermaine, who’d probably never heard himself described as a “gem,” grinned from behind his gold grill.

  “When did you find religion, Jermaine?” Ruby was guessing yesterday.

  Rick confirmed her suspicion. “I introduce many a lost soul to Jesus while they are in jail.”

  Ruby smiled and nodded, because what do you say to that? While smiling, she noticed a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Her car was parked twenty yards away in a line with the rest of the vehicles. One of the dogs was doing her best to squeeze out the window. She had one leg and her head hanging out the eight-inch gap Ruby had left in the window. Eight inches? The dog wouldn’t be able to squeeze out. There was no way.

  As she stood by Estelle’s grave she watched as the dog wriggled all the way out and dropped to the ground. Ruby gasped, worried the dog might have broken a leg.

  Rick asked, “Are you okay?”

  She smiled like nothing had happened. “Of course. I think I better be off, though. Nice to meet you, Pastor Rick.” She wished Trudi and Jermaine a final condolence, while letting her eyes linger on Trudi’s cross. The fabulous cross wasn’t just a fashion statement. Jermaine and Trudi had found God, or at the very least, a purveyor of fabulous accessories.

  She hurried to the car as fast as she could in her heels and watched her dog. Nose to the ground, it was weaving between headstones and running like crazy. Instead of chasing the animal around right
in front of the crowd of mourners like a lunatic, she picked up her phone and pulled up the tracker app. It worked great. She picked up the dog on the way home. Easy peasy. That was the last time she was bringing dogs to a funeral, though.

  …

  When she pulled up to the house, Ming met her at the door.

  “Ruby, whose dogs are these?” asked Ming.

  “Mine. I’m sure our lease said dogs are okay.” If it didn’t, she was sleeping with the landlord. She could always pull that card. “You know I’ve always talked about getting a dog.”

  Ming shook her head. “I hate dogs. These things aren’t even non-shed. And what are they doing? Are they always like this?”

  Ruby certainly hoped not. They were running through the house sniffing every surface frantically and panting like a pair of brainless hairballs. “Oh, they’re going to be really good. And they are non-shed. They’re OzDogs. Debbie said they’re very well behaved.”

  “Who the fuck is Debbie?”

  Ruby just stared.

  “Whatever. You’re in charge of these things. If they get in my way I’m skinning them and making a shrug to go with my new fawn-colored sheath.”

  “You’re gonna love ’em. By the way, you’re coming to dinner with me at my parents tomorrow, right?”

  “Of course not. I don’t even hang out with my own parents.”

  “I still don’t get that. Your mom seems so nice.”

  “Nice to you. Plus, hanging out with my mother is about as fun as staring at my reflection in a fun-house mirror. No, I take it back. It’s worse. I don’t want to know what my thighs are going to look like in thirty years.”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “So, you’re coming, right?”

  “I guess it depends on how bored I am.”

  “Yes! It’ll be so much better with you there.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ruby’s Family Dinner

  The morning after the funeral, Ruby could barely squeeze into any of her regular clothes. Luckily, she’d bought a pair of black leather pants a size too big. Score! she thought, zipping herself into her first pair of “maternity” pants. As long as she stood up straight, they practically felt loose. So she grabbed a piece of toast and left the house with unusually good posture. Her first stop of the morning was the police department. When she walked in, she found Eric casually draped across the reception desk. If you traded out the desk for a car, he would look ready for a photo shoot for Hot Rod Magazine. Ruby shook her head. “Do you ever work?”

  He winked. “I was just charging up before heading out for some police business.”

  In a it’s-time-to-get-to-work-mister tone of voice, she said, “Well, I’m here to see you. About Estelle.”

  With obvious regret he pried himself up from his hot-rod pose. “Walk with me and I’ll tell ya what I know.” As they started walking back toward the front door, he said, “You’re not gonna like it, though.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “The medical examiner confirmed that Estelle had a heart attack.”

  Ruby exhaled loudly and drew her brows together. “That doesn’t make sense. There was something strange going on with her property. I just have a feeling. I wish you would just look into it anyway.”

  He nodded noncommittally. “I can mention something, but I don’t think your hunch is going to inspire the department to reopen the case.” Either in an attempt to change the conversation or because he was truly distracted, he nodded appreciatively and said, “Nice pants.” Because he had to take everything to the next level, he placed his hand on her right butt cheek and gave it a nice squeeze. With his hand thus occupied, he gave her a sideways look and raised an eyebrow.

  She rolled her eyes and leaned in. With a quiet authority she didn’t exercise all that often, she said, “Eric, kindly remove your hand from my ass.”

  Holding up his hand in mock surrender, he said, “I get it. We’re at work.”

  “Yeah, and there’s a photographer. I’d prefer not to have this documented.” Not that anyone would care.

  By the time she got to her car, she’d already forgotten Eric’s ass grabbing, but she was still confused about Estelle’s case. She supposed she should be glad that Estelle was killed by her one true love: butter, but it just didn’t sit right and she’d watched enough CSI: Miami to expect more from investigators. If only David Caruso would come in and explain in that husky, arrogant tone: “It only looks like a heart attack. It was actually blankety, blank, blank.” She couldn’t think of anyone to call or even how to phrase her suspicions intelligently.

  With no sensible ideas about Estelle’s death, but distracted to no end, she reviewed an embarrassingly small number of documents, Facebooked half-heartedly, and called doggie daycare to check in on Charmaine and Debbie, who were fine. (They had just been out for exercise time and were enjoying chewies.) Finally, she made a desperate call to Debbie.

  “Debbie, this is Ruby. I’m just wondering how you got a job Facebooking? It sounds like a dream job, so I just had to ask.”

  “Um. I have a degree in programming. I actually write script for them, plus some others. Ozcorp, Delta Airlines, lots of places. I don’t even have a Facebook account.”

  “Oh.” And that’s when her bottom dropped out. Even Debbie/Charmaine with a muffin-top and a yard full of goats had more sense than her.

  “How’re the dogs?” Debbie asked.

  “They’re doing great. I left them at doggie daycare today.” Ruby had almost wanted to stay herself. It looked like the kind of place she wanted to get her hair cut, but couldn’t afford.

  Debbie laughed. “You’re shittin’ me? What’s that costin’ ya?”

  “I know it’s expensive, but the dogs just love it. It’s like a dog spa or something.” Ruby just figured this is what people with dogs did. What else would your dogs do during the day? She had never taken an active role in caring for her childhood Bernese Mountain Dog, Barker.

  “Uh huh. Well, you have fun with that. Good luck with the job search and the doggie daycare.”

  …

  By the end of the day, Ruby was feeling the exhaustion of the pregnant and the despair of the disenfranchised. Hell, she didn’t even vote for American Idol anymore. She dropped onto the couch dramatically and reached half-heartedly for the remote, but Todd had fallen asleep on top of it. When she reached for it, he shifted and turned up the volume. To top it all off, her pants were too tight. She popped the top button and slumped into the couch. “Ugh, Ming. I hate my life.”

  Ming ignored her and asked, “When are we going to dinner? That’s tonight, right? I’m out of food. By the way, where are Shizzle and Nizzle?”

  Ruby shot out of her chair. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  “What is it?” asked Ming.

  “I forgot them at doggie daycare! Can we run down there on the way to my parents?”

  Ming shot green tea through her nose at this statement. “I’m not going to say anything. It’s just too easy.” After wiping off her face, she said, “But seriously, I’ll still drive you to the abortion clinic if you want.”

  “Just get in the car fast. Let’s pick them up on the way to my parents’ house.”

  Ruby drove to daycare in a state of complete panic, a full two hours past her scheduled pick-up time on Debbie and Charmaine’s first day. She rushed in and said, “So sorry I got stuck in a meeting with clients.” She thought it sounded better than, “I forgot I had dogs.” Sure, she forgot about the cats pretty often, but cats took care of themselves. She couldn’t even remember the last time she bought cat food and they looked fine. Hopefully Noel was more responsible than she was. Of course, he didn’t even know about the baby. It would be a bit premature to start relying on him to do daycare pick-ups and midnight feedings.

  Luckily, half the other dog owners must have been late, too. Ruby recognized a sleek Doberman in a hot-pink collar as Destinee’s prized show dog, Karma. Once, Karma had snarled at Ruby, a nasty, tooth-baring snarl
. Destinee had smiled and said, “Watch out. Karma bites,” as if Ruby would be responsible for any injuries sustained while provoking Karma.

  The doggie daycare lady said, “No problem. These two are sweeties. We’re all excited to have them here.” Her tone almost sounded reverent.

  “Why?” Sure, Ruby thought they were cute, but why the tone?

  “They’re the first Enzo puppies we’ve had here.”

  Ming snickered.

  “How do you know that?” asked Ruby.

  “Enzo puppies are the only ones that come out with naturally platinum fur like this.” In a hushed tone she said, “Some people actually have us dye their dog’s fur.” She shuddered. “You wouldn’t believe the upkeep!”

  Ming started laughing and choked on her spit, but Ruby smiled with pride at being the lucky owner of naturally blond dogs. “Well, I’m so sorry I’m late. It won’t happen again.”

  “Don’t worry. You aren’t that late. However, if you can’t get here before seven, we board them overnight and you have to pick them up the next day.”

  Under her breath Ming asked, “I wonder if they’ll do that with your kid, too? That’d be convenient.”

  Debbie and Charmaine wiggled their behinds in excitement when they saw Ruby, who felt completely undeserving and humbled at their display of love and trust. She reunited with them as would a mother whose kid had been lost in a mineshaft for three days, crying and blubbering, and carrying on about how much she “lubbed dem.” She told herself that she would never be so self-absorbed as to forget her dogs again.

  Or her kid.

  …

  The O’Deares had earned just enough money to appear richer than they actually were. When they came into money, they’d moved out of their trailer into a two-story manufactured home delivered on a truck from Denver. They’d ordered the model with two and a half baths and decorative columns (foam core) like your average strip-mall bank. The next owners could just trade out the columns for an open concept patio if they wanted. Inside, the home was encrusted with crystal chandeliers, gilding, and outrageously formal portraits of the family—portraits that made them look like trailer trash pretending to be rich. In that way, they were accurate.