Limelight (Ruby Rose fan fic)

Thirteen

Yes, my boss was right: last weekend was a perfect way to relax and forget the stress of everyday life... unfortunately the feeling of well-being didn't last long. I got an Uber and came directly from the airport to my office on Monday morning after avoiding a group of paparazzi, pulling my suitcase and smiling from ear to ear because there's no sign of compromising photos of Ruby in a Mexican pool on Twitter... Thanks God! My grin vanished when I walked through the door and I heard Liz yelling on the phone.

- Fuck! What the hell is happening now? Why can't I have a normal day in my life, just for a change? – I mumble while my boss is screaming so loud that I can hear her through the wood door.

- No way! You hear me? I've no intention of letting you ruin the good name of my decorating firm forever by associating it with such a disaster. No, no matter how much you're willing to pay: there's no enough money in this world to pay for my convictions and good taste... Well, if the 80's are still a trend for him I'm fine with it but for me they were dead and buried when 1990 started... I can't believe that you're letting a man bossing you around like that... Seriously? That sounds great, I think I'm going to delete your number too. Bye!

Liz hangs up the phone so hard that I'm afraid that she's broken the holder. She hasn't realized yet that I'm standing in the doorway of her office looking at her while she walks back and forth through the room, mumbling curses to herself and pulling her hair till she looks like the Lion King. I clear my throat and finally she stares at me:

- Does any of this seem normal to you?

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- It's about that old movie star – Oh yes, I know who she's talking about: she's one of our best customers – She's a new boyfriend, number four so far this year, a middle-aged man who thinks he's still a hottie that can show off some muscles but he's anchored in the 80's. She wants us to redecorate the blue living room I renovated last year. Now she wants the walls in a dark blue shadow.

- Well, we can do that and the room wouldn't look bad.

- She also wants a yellow couch with white cushions, a white fur rug, glass and bronze tables, several bronze lamps and two massive armchairs with animal print... leopard precisely. Oh! And her poodles' pictures framed on the wall.

- No, we can't do that, definitely not – I get goose bumps thinking about it, the result would be very unfortunate.

- And a disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

- Holy Virgin of the Kitsch Decoration!

Poor Liz, this proposal is an offence against her aesthetical integrity; no wonder she's upset. I hug her tight for a few minutes and I offer her a coffee, this is the perfect opportunity to take out of its secret place the emergency bag of chocolate cookies: sweet and crunchy carbohydrates to alleviate the pain, they should been prescribed by doctors instead of pills. Unfortunately, it would be unseemly here in LA since most of the healthy life fans think that carbs are poison... but strangely everybody takes pills. With an empty cup and after munching two of my homemade cookies, Liz is more relaxed now and feels in peace with the world; we have plenty of customers, it doesn't matter if we lose one or two that are trouble every time they call. She stares at my suitcase frowning and asks:

- Did you have a nice weekend? You two have worked out all your issues? It's about time you make clear that strange relationship you have.

- I had a very nice weekend and no, we haven't talked about our relationship... we haven't really had a chance.

- Seriously? What've you guys been doing then? – I stare at Liz in silence with a knowing glance but she doesn't seem to realize – Don't look at me like that, you know I want the juicy details.