Chapter 1
Ruby
The black shapewear looked harmless enough. No snaps, zippers, clips, nothing to tug on my skin or dig into my flesh. I held it up to myself, glad I got the larger size so I could eat at the gala and not starve myself as I had done in the past.
I slipped one foot into the leg opening. The fabric glided up my calf, but then stopped at my knee.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
Wrapping my fingers around the soft material, I yanked it hard up to my thigh. I heard something rip, but I didn’t care enough to inspect.
This will be easier if I get it up both thighs at once.
I put my foot through the other leg hole, and it stopped at my knee again. Slowly, I inch it up higher, over my thighs. I felt a slight sheen of sweat developing on my skin.
No, not now. No time to sweat. Think cool thoughts. Ugh! There’s no way this is going to fit.
I kept at it, hoping I didn’t punch my fingers through the fabric as I tucked my forty-five-year-old body into shrink wrapping. Somehow I got it on. I stop to admire my smooth,shapely figure in the mirror, before pushing my chair under the vent to cool off.
After a few minutes, I apply my moisturizer and primer while saying a silent prayer to the wrinkle gods.
“Blur, blur, blur, please,” I whisper.
“Almost ready?” Oscar peeked his head into my dressing room. “The car should be here any minute now.”
With one hand carefully holding the brush for my gel eyeliner, I stopped applying my makeup and caught Oscar’s gaze in the mirror. His brown eyes met mine, and he raised one eyebrow as he waited for my answer.
Oscar Harding had always been undeniably handsome, but when he wore a suit, as he did tonight, it put him on another level. At least that’s what I always thought. I’d never tell him that, though. I learned a long time ago that there was no point in complimenting him. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t need to hear it, and couldn’t understand why anyone else would. Including his wife.
I turned back to the mirror and tried to push aside the usual insecurities that popped up whenever I had to go to one of these upscale work events. I knew at some point eyes would be on me, the owner’s wife. It was inevitable, and so was the creeping insecurity I was feeling.
Looking back at me was a middle-aged woman with wavy, honey-blonde hair parted on the side. Sometimes when I looked at my reflection, I saw my grandmother with her deep-set brown eyes. Other times, I saw my aunt with her high cheekbones and long face. Tonight I only saw myself, Ruby, and wondered where the time had gone. Seemed like I was twenty just yesterday.
Is that another grey hair?
Sighing, I tucked the grey strand in to hide with the rest of my hair and went back to doing my makeup. I reached for my favorite lipstick and smiled, seeing it perched on a red ceramicleaf Jeremy made for me at camp about ten years ago when he was eight.
My eyes drifted over to the door at the far end of my dressing room. Sadness washed over me when I thought about how Jeremy wouldn’t be popping his head in like he always had over the years. He was in college now, having started his first semester at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn just a couple of months ago. I was proud that he was at my alma mater, but I still missed him.
That door from his bedroom to my dressing room was one of the best things I did when we built this house. Jeremy was barely three at the time and still getting used to sleeping on his own. Having that shortcut made it so much easier in the middle of the night.
“Ruby?” Oscar’s voice pulled me out of my memory.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry. I need seven minutes,” I said, looking back at him again.
At forty-five, Oscar’s hair was still mostly black, but the short beard he kept had a sprinkling of grey in it. Oscar was distinguished, debonair, and he knew how to play it up. He was the kind of man whose presence made men straighten their ties, and women smile at him as he walked past. Years ago I would get jealous over the attention he attracted, but with time I realized I had nothing to worry about. And tonight I would play my part as his wife, or accessory, as I liked to think. Silk tie, expensive watch on his wrist, and me on his arm.
It was hard to believe this was the man I met at a dive bar twenty-three years ago.
He sighed loudly, but his grin told me he wasn’t mad or surprised.
“Seriously,” I said. “Seven minutes. I’m almost done with my makeup, and then I just need to get dressed.” I motioned to the dress hanging in front of the three-way mirror.
“It’s fine. Party won’t start without me,” he said with a grin.
I watched as he walked away, then glanced at the door to Jeremy’s room before I looked around my dressing room. Every so often I was reminded of our wealth. It wasn’t anything I grew up with, Oscar either, but he didn’t have memories of eating government cheese sandwiches like I did.
The deep chime of the doorbell rang. I jolted up from the cushioned silk chair and quickly crossed the room to the three-way mirror on the other side of the room, where my dress hung. I was running behind as usual, but Oscar was right. The party wouldn’t start without us.
