Limelight (Ruby Rose fan fic)

Four

Things work for me during the rest of the week and on Saturday we go out of the city to spend two days taking measurements for the hunting lodge that one of our best clients wants to redecorate. On Monday morning I stay at home, where we have a little office, trying to put some order in this chaos of documents and electric bills that Liz has created in her filing cabinet. I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel made of folders when my phone rings.

- Are you at home? I need you to do me a favour – my boss' voice can be heard at the other end of the line.

- Yes, of course. Tell me.

- Ruby has called me. She's in the middle of a very important photoshoot but she forgot a bag with clothes and I don't know what else at home and she needs it. I can't bring it to her since I'm on the other side of the city. I need you to go to her house, take the bag and bring it to the photoshoot. I'm texting you the address and also the access code of Ruby's door. The black duffel bag is in the hall. Thank you, you're a darling.

She's let out her speech in less than 30 seconds and I didn't have time to even think to complain. While heaving a resigned sigh, I hear the sound of my phone that informs me of an incoming message with the address. Why is this happening to me?

Following the instructions I arrived to a warehouse area in the suburbs, I parked the car and I came into the warehouse I assumed that was being used for the modelling job since there were lot of people running around with hangers full of clothes, bags and spotlights. I identified myself to one of the security staff members, there were a dozen, and he let me in after frisking me and checking my bag. I'm not surprised since this is a photoshoot for one of the most famous jewellery brands of the whole world.

So here I am, with the bag in my hand and shocked by the madness around me: the photographer is yelling orders, make-up artists are running to obey him, assistants are moving spotlights from here to there, more security boys are keeping an eye on a table full of boxes... How do they manage to get the work done with this mess?

Ruby's on the other side of the room; behind her there's a dirty window, a wall with a colourful graffiti and a burgundy velvet couch very shabby. She's wearing black leather shorts, a matching bra, a black tuxedo jacket, ankle boots with stratospheric high heels and an artistic make-up with a gothic vibe that really brings out her eyes. She's straddling a black Harley bike with silver chroming that shines as much as the diamonds she's modelling: earrings, necklace, bracelets, watch and rings. My mouth is watering at the sight of so many things that I love all together.

- This is not working at all – I can hear the photographer yelling in the middle of the chaos – What a mess!

Ruby has turn her body slightly on the bike to make eye contact with me and then she points at a door behind me, it leads to another room I assume it's a private dressing room since there's a vanity and a chair with a pile of clothes. Before I can move, an assistant takes my duffle bag and carries it to the chair.

- You! – I hear the photographer yelling again; seriously, this man needs to relax – Are you a model? You look like one...

When I turn around I realize he's looking in my direction, I mean, he's looking at me. "What the fuck?" I think shaking my head. Me? A model? No way! Okay, I'm tall and my therapist is a fanatic of exercise as a method to get over depression: "mens sana in corpore sano" and all that shit, so my muscles are toned after years of gym sessions. But, to be honest, my body shape is more along the lines of a Pin-up, with curves where a woman should have them and not like those slim almost skinny bones women that are a trend right now. I could never be a Victoria's Secret angel simply because I have genuine boobs, and a good size... Seriously, I know they're supposed to sell bras but they don't fit me even in one ear.