Ruby arrived at the Bloomingdale Palace too late to look at the tapestry-festooned hall or its people at all. The man behind her grappled her shawl and purse as she rushed past the crowd to take her position on the stage, catapulting her wet mop of auburn hair at the back.

The hall thronged with life. The low tittering; the clinking of wine glasses; metallic balloons and of course the waves of light music coalesced to mark the reception of the ultrarich newlyweds. All better dressed than Ruby. Her eyes dropped to her feet and she realized just how poor quality and ill-shaped her shoes looked. Phew.

Having shrouded the extreme paucity to buy new shoes by her uneven hemmed gown, she pushed aside her usual dark thoughts and climbed onto the stage.

Music is an expression of inner emotion and a celebration of life in itself. But for Ruby, it was a completely different case. It was her source of income. If asked, Ruby couldn't call back as to how she ended up working for Madame Tào. But the foggiest of memories summarized her life in just two sentences: One, she had been made to practice singing from a very young age. Second, Madame Tào had been rewarding her with the stepmotherly treatment ever since.

She dismissively concluded that the lady's most valuable concern was the money she earned, not her entity by any means.

Madame Tào was a short-heighted, long-tongued Chinese-American; a woman of such ungovernable and fiery spirit that nobody could expect human-to-human small talk. Her love for the red silk fabric and gold had no bounds. She loved adorning herself with thick gold rings and giant-wheel-big earnings. Ruby wondered if she bathed in a tub of gold instead of water. She was their boss, who informed the choir where they have to go for their next gig.

"Oh, God, Ruby, your makeup looks terrible. What will they think?" Emily used crushed tissue paper to wipe off the smeared kohl under her eye and then wet the corner of the same with her spit and cleaned the red ridges flying off her lip. Grooming had been given a high priority since they were standing on the podium, facing the audience. Well, this 'they' neglected Ruby's participation as she was routinely stumped in the center, but behind the big wall of six members acquiring their mics. She always questioned Madame Tào's reason behind cooping her like a worthless novice, who was never allowed to come into the spotlight, despite her voice being so melodious and bright.

"Ugh-okay. It's done. It's done." Unsophistication made its way through her fingers, as she dabbed the tissue paper on her collarbone; sneezing tagged along like a buy-one-get-one-free combination. No matter how professional, independent, and confident she had to appear right now to dispel doubts in others' minds that she was ready to take to the stage, she failed on her part.

"Why does Madame Tào have to call you so abruptly? There is a good time for everything," Emily said, maintaining a straight face.

"Is there ever a good time?" Ruby replied testily, with a nasal voice. "To hell with that fucking bitch with─"

Emily twisted her head, shaking it as though she was repenting to god in place of Ruby. "Language, Ruby!"

"─ass like face, I know, I know," she continued to herself, glancing at her threadbare wet dress and the ugly sewed intersection on the belly portion -- an immediate fissiparous thought of rich and poor reminded her of nothing but sheer bad luck.

In the meantime, Ruby looked up from in between two coifed heads and found Madame Tào's assistant, Horan, a man with cul-de-sac hair and evil character, peering at her with hands in his pockets. Horan shepherded the group to every party. And as per Madame Tào's instructions, his only duty was to curtail the girls from having any sort of interaction with other people. But, what bothered Ruby more --- everywhere they went --- was his inveterate habit of giving her 'that' kind of unpure stare. Nevertheless, her facial expressions grew tougher and abler to shun all of his colorful fantasies at once.

Just for a change, as she turned her head to the left, she found a girl kissing a tall boy with a glut of passionate lip and body movements. She was withering earnestly, and the boy haunched over to give her the best of him. No matter how much she hated watching that feisty girl tugging at his shrunk shirt, her eyes found their way back to them. She too wanted to kiss someone like that, wanted to be taken in a tight embrace of a man. Will I be anyone's girlfriend? came with a bold and direct answer 'not on earth' that had not grown old over time, but was as robust as ever.

Her eyes began to hurt and she annoyingly pulled the skin-tight material of her dress from the sides, muttering incoherent words. "I hate to wear this. I'll have to wear this ick dress for God knows how many more events." Ruby threw her hand back as she felt itchiness creeping on her back, just as she exerted more pressure twisting her body, the material seemingly sewn on her body fell apart at the seams. A straight line in a deep semicircle. The sharp sound as if a pair of scissors ran onto the cloth cocked everyone's ears within the earshot.

"Don't snag it, the material is pretty old. You can't pass it as a fashion state-" Emily implicated that sound to her thought until she realized something was wrong.

The damage was done already. The gash of her dress didn't quite look the modest kind as it reached up to the point where her cheap bra's band was visible. The worn-out linen of her dress slackened. Ruby started to get panicky, while Emily's eyes widened gravelly. "Gosh, Ruby just don't panic."

"Emily, what do I do now?" Ruby's eyes were out on stalks, touching them over and over again to keep them erect. "My shawl."

The other group members passed a variant of glares, that made Ruby look more pinched and flustered. She wanted attention, but not this kind of fiery set of eyes shaming her luck.

"You can't wear it on stage. Besides, it's all wet." Emily closed her eyes and rotated her head to find any suitable person standing near her. She was lucky to spot the lady who had paid them to perform, talking to a permed head man. Without looking anywhere else she jumped off the stage clumsily and went to that lady.

Thankfully, the skinny brunette was ready to help, she went into one of the rooms behind the curtain and Emily instantly turned around to signal Ruby to come down quickly, but it was Horan blocking her vision.

"Where are you going?" His ever-so-blazing tone pierced through her visage.

"H-Her dress needs to be fixed. It's important," Emily stammered and didn't wait for his response as Ruby was merely a few meters away from her, she tugged her close like a shield protecting against volatile rays.

Horan didn't miss a chance to side glance at Ruby, tilting his head to get a better view of her holy skin not only to convince his cognition that she needed dire help but to satisfy his other perfidy.

Ruby wanted to punch the man for this, but Emily's hard grasp on her shoulder and constant implores to let go seemed to work on him. "Let me go─" Ruby sneered only to shut her mouth close, while Horan raised his finger to playfully outline her body shape.

The woman called out from a distance, "Please come inside this room."

Emily looked at him helplessly to get a nod from him. Her tears seemed to form by the time he said, "Okay."

***

"I wonder what was going inside Joseph's head that he decided to show up?" Anshuman mocked in a concerned tone over the bustle around them, clutching his jaw into the curve of his big palm, while his index finger overlapped his brown lips. "Plot twist: you just left the very important ten minutes of a very important meeting with a very important someone in the nearby cafeteria and dropped just in time to save our friendship."

Joseph froze on the spot, exhaling through his nostrils, as he was habitual of his friend's over-voiced behavior.

"Oh, is it not." He reared back his head and solemnly glanced at his shirt. "With all those patches of water on your shirt and dirt on your shoes─ if you will pardon the expression─ since when did this workhorse take up gardening at the mansion? When will you learn to say no to your toxic boss? And if someday she tells you to jump off the Space Needle, you will . . ." Anshuman raised a finger aloft and nodded after receiving an expected word from Joseph.

"Adhere," Joseph breathed. He was in a state of ferment; his intractable eyes were surveying the crowd to find that girl with messy red hair. He wasn't listening to Anshuman's rant anymore. This time it was his heart that had taken control over his office-work-corrupted mind.

He tried to abandon her thoughts reminding himself that she was a total stranger, but it etched on his memory like a leech ─ her not being spectacular in any sense, but still enticing enough to glance and meet her, beneath and beyond the makeup, of course.

"Sorry, I don't excel in reading eye language. Give me words! Do you even consider me as your friend, or we are neighbors in name only?" Anshuman went ballistic, shrugging his shoulders as Joseph didn't acknowledge his acting skills.

But no longer than a moment, Joseph tittered and asked, "Stop creating a drama and tell me where's Sarah tonight?"

Without wasting a single breath, Joseph grabbed a shimmering glass of wine from a roving waiter's tray, he thanked the waiter with a little bow.

With a lithe in his back muscles, Joseph's fitness level always made Anshuman a little conscious of his love handles, which started building from the fat that came from the rich dishes soaked in oil he sneakily ate in the Indian restaurant and dutifully skipped eating Sarah's comparatively spiceless food.

The duo moved toward the minibar and sat on the high chairs at a vantage point.

He continued with lazy eyes, "She is on her girls' night out. Trust me, never date a beautician. She makes six friends in one day. And listen the data analytics goes somewhat like this-"

Joseph nodded, staring downward at him as he bit his smile.

"The other day they multiply into twelve. Then there are friends of friends who have nothing else to do better than backbiting about their husbands and making them the butt of their jokes. A messy, complicated circuit of women forms. And, I have a hard time believing they all are her friends and not Tom Selleck's chest hair: The Marlboro Man!" he spat and went for a drink to get out of his temporary misery. Meanwhile, his eyes surveyed the people around, and suddenly stopped at someone who propelled him to utter a word midst his breakdown, "Storm."

"Who?"

"The girl."

"Every girl," Joseph pulled his leg.

Anshuman's air-tight mouth released the air as he shook his head in dismissal.

"Just adding to your melancholy, brother, I have Sarah's number on fast dial." Joseph burst his bubble at a go. His head hung down as he checked his phone if it was working properly.

"Argh! Since when did finding a woman for a lonely ass friend aka Joseph Holden become a capital crime?" Anshuman barked and nobody bothered to react to it since that room of the hall, they chose, was dominated by drunk carefree bachelors who either didn't have girlfriends, or they did, they were immersed in untangling other issues of the big life.

"Hey, listen. I don't want anybody's interference in my life and I'll be more than just happy to live with my singledom forever. It's peaceful and clean--" Joseph stated obvious, sending a heated gaze, an early sign of warning for Anshuman to put an end to the topic.

"Not like Tom Selleck's chest hair, c'mon?" Anshuman's eyes had all of the world's naughtiness in them. The alcohol almost did its magic and he lost it as he turned Joseph's chair forcefully toward the other direction.

"Look, her body is meant for praise, as much as it is for you. That red linen tightened around her torso disturbingly. Her milky collarbone waiting for your tongue to gloss each bit of it." Anshuman fantasized and cupped Joseph's face, angling it to give a perfect view. "And . . . and there is something about her red luscious lips . . . that you can't help but lick."

Joseph clenched his jaw, and forcibly narrowed his eyes at the tensome occupying the stage, unable to spot her because of his lack of interest, and there were a few of them in red dresses. So . . .

Thankfully, Anshuman did a good thing in that minute, he gave the right direction to Joseph's confused vision, "The one in the center. Red hair. Get the ball rollin' man."

A few moments later of silent staring, Joseph's senses perked up and his instincts told him that she was the same obnoxious girl to whom he had lent his umbrella.

Is she a singer? Is that her occupation? He thought.

Anshuman planned on dragging Joseph out of the chair to lessen the distance between the stage and his friend. "Joseph, go and get her number. Isn't that a swell idea?"

"No way, I'm not." Joseph raised his arms slightly.

Joseph's wingman pushed him forward by catching the curve of his elbow and earned a death glare from the former who settled himself more firmly into the seat. Anshuman later on added in a timid tone, "Fine. Let's take a closer look together. I should know my friend who's in great shape trembles at the thought of meeting a girl . . . alone."



Word count - 2920

a/n; Ruby is a funny gal (just like meee) you will get to hear her lame jokes more often XD

what do you think made Joseph react in this way? Does he know her? Kk, you will find it in the next chapter.

[NOTE- I WILL KEEP THE CHAPTERS SHORT SO DAT I COULD UPLOAD ONE CHAPTER DAILY. ]

Please spread the word about this book. Vote, comment, and follow.
❤