12. Rube-A-Licious
CHAPTER TWELVE
RUBE-A-LICIOUS
Ruby
Rubes.
I thought I was going to bust out of my skin or melt into a puddle of tears when he called me that.
Rubes was one of many nicknames Payne pegged me with throughout the years. In addition to that, there were others...
Ruby Tuesday.
Ruby Doobie
Rueben Sandwich.
Rubik’s Cube.
Ruby Lu.
Rubybelle. That’s when I was going through my Beast-inspired romance fascination our freshman year of high school.
Red.
Sparky.
Miss “I know everything” Ruby.
Ruber-diculous, when he thought I was being ridiculous.
Rubezilla.
Ruby Dooby Doo.
Sour Rhubarb.
Roobs McGoobs.
Ruby the Rebel.
The Rubster.
Rube-A-Licious.
Red-Alert Ruby.
Miss “I’m the main character of my life” Ruby.
Ruby The Walking Eye Roll.
And Ru-bitchy.
That last one was when he figured out I was on my period. But I never minded because right after he called me this, he’d kiss me and give me chocolate.
I had them all written down. I was obsessed with writing about Payne when I was young. Some would call it a diary, but I never had the pretty bound books. I couldn’t afford anything like that. I used leftover spirals from school, but I recorded every stupid name Payne bestowed upon me.
Most of them were from our younger years when we were best friends and our mothers forced us to babysit each other.
Later, Payne used them to tease me or try to rile me up, though now I know it was his way of flirting.
I won’t even get into the pet names he’d whisper in my ear when we were sneaking around doing all the things we weren’t supposed to be doing.
I’d wager that few humans on this earth have as many nicknames given to them by one person as Payne gave me.
I loved every single one.
Almost as much as I loved him.
I always tried to come up with names for him, purely for retaliation, but I was never as quick witted. I eventually gave up. It wasn’t worth the effort. I shouldn’t be surprised he became an attorney. The older he got, the more he was like a human boomerang when it came to words.
Our Wednesday rehearsal turned into a planning meeting for Payne’s private show. And just when I thought we were done, Payne suggested I give him my number in case he thought of anything else before Friday.
I couldn’t very well say no. Felicity was a nervous little rabbit during the meeting, and Blake was so stoked about the performance, he didn’t pay Payne or me any attention.
Payne acted like we were old friends rather than me ghosting him, breaking his heart, and ending the most epic young love that Mother Earth has ever seen.
So I did the only thing any overwhelmed woman would do who was frazzled and at the end of her rope hanging onto her sanity for dear life. I was desperate to end the meeting and for Payne to leave the building.
So I gave him my number.
Not a good idea. What was I thinking?
The man has found a way to be in my face at least once a day, every day since I got back to town. I was an idiot to think he wouldn’t do the same, but electronically.
And in the forty-eight hours since, he’s sent me innumerable texts.
Unknown – Hey. FYI, it’s Payne. You didn’t request my digits in return when I asked for yours.
Unknown – I’ve been thinking about the show. I have some songs I’d like to request. Actually, when they come to mind, I’ll shoot them over. I am, after all, full of fucking joy.
Full of fucking joy, my ass. The man’s doing everything he can to get under my skin.
Me – Super.
I can’t think of anything less super.
Just to show him, I add him to my contacts with his own nickname, not that he’ll ever know.
Payne In My Ass – Super-duper, right? Here’s the first one: Since U Been Gone. Always a crowd pleaser.
Oh, no he didn’t.
But I refuse to engage.
Me – I’ll add it to the list.
Payne In My Ass – Thought of another one ... Someone You Loved by that Lewis guy. I can’t remember his name, but that’s your lane.
Well, well, well. Hello, Mr. Passive Aggressive.
How about that? I’m better at nicknames than I thought.
Me – Capaldi. I’ve been thinking about the playlist as well. I have some ideas.
Payne In My Ass – I reserve the right to approve them. It is my private show.
Me – Of course. I think following up Someone You Loved with Mr. Brightside would be a real banger.
Lots of bubbles.
Payne In My Ass – That’s not the vibe I’m going for. If you need a banger, I’d rather hear You Oughta Know. Alanis is the shit.
Me – How very angry nineties girl of you. How about You’re So Vain?
Payne In My Ass – No.
Me – Are you sure? It’s a real crowd-pleaser. You should hear them sing along.
Payne In My Ass – Absolutely not. I want Take A Bow by Rihanna.
Me – Maybe you’re looking for something more like I Will Survive?
Payne In My Ass – Hardly. I want Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac. Iconic.
Me – Blake doesn’t know that song.
Payne In My Ass – Oh, one more. Oops!...I Did It Again. I’d really love to hear you sing that one.
Me – That one does not surprise me. You always were a closet Britney fan. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a Swiftie too. Maybe you’d like I Knew You Were Trouble?
Payne In My Ass – I’m no Swiftie, even though I’m comfortable enough in my masculinity to admit I probably know the words to most of her songs. But who doesn’t?
Me – I’m cutting you off, Deacon. I can’t sing for six hours straight.
Payne In My Ass – Cutting people off ... I won’t comment on that since I’m not an asshole.
Me – I have tables to serve and a grandmother to keep alive. Don’t make me block you.
Payne In My Ass – Block me ... why does that sound familiar?
Payne In My Ass – Not that I’m going there. Again, not an asshole.
Me – Good to know. How about I surprise you with a new and improved set list?
Payne In My Ass – Don’t even think about it. I’m bankrolling this shindig.
Me – Do you actually work or just annoy others through text all day?
Payne In My Ass – You’re not the only one with life-and-death burdens. The set better be good, Ruby.
Just Ruby. No nickname. How I crave those days.
Me – I’ll see you at The Speakeasy.
Payne In My Ass – I can’t fucking wait.