Chapter Four
According to the GPS on my phone, Starlight Palms was just over three hours away, located on the outskirts of Palm Springs.
The About page on the website explained that the place was once one of the most hopping resorts of the fifties and sixties for young Hollywood weekenders.
Sometime in the late sixties the place shuttered and then sat for a few years before some nostalgic studio exec bought the property and turned it into a retirement community.
While not explicitly so, it had become a favorite among the aging entertainment industry population.
The perfect place for those who weren’t quite wealthy enough to maintain huge estates with full staffs, it was still ostentatious enough to signal status—and it was a solid plan for industry folks who had a pension through the Screen Actors Guild.
Ruby had put her deposit down on her own one-room apartment here when it first opened, but with Mom’s health, she’d deferred her move for over a decade.
The community was heavily gated with a security guard booth. Since I hadn’t actually told Ruby I was coming, she wouldn’t have me on her list, so Marlon and I sat in the car, sharing a cheeseburger and waiting for our moment.
“Here we go,” I whispered as a moving truck pulled up followed by a caravan of cars. It looked like move-in day for a new resident, and with my car packed with stuff, I could easily pass for one of their family members.
I drove past the security booth and let out a squeal once I was in the clear. “Call me Jason fucking Bourne,” I said to Marlon.
The property inside was soothingly crisp and clean with a mid-century modern aesthetic so well done you couldn’t tell the difference between the original buildings and the newer ones.
There were interconnected walkways between bungalows and very fancy-looking golf carts zipping on their own paths running alongside the road.
Blooming cacti, manicured grass, and evenly spaced palm trees lined every bit of pavement.
The buildings were low and sprawling, a true nod to the original resort, which was at the center of the property.
According to the pamphlet Ruby had showed me, those who needed the most assistance resided there, near the offices.
Just before turning down her street, Saguaro Crossing, I passed the stunning rectangle-shaped pool with a huge flamingo fountain at the very center. I could definitely see myself melting into that pool.
Ahead of me, a man who looked to be in his late seventies, dressed in tiny little swimming shorts and an unbuttoned terry cloth shirt, crossed the street, each arm around a lady of a similar age on either side of him.
His hands rested on their hips in a way that seemed more than friendly.
One of the women laughed loudly as he pinched her butt and they disappeared behind a cluster of palm trees.
Well, that was saucy.
I parked in the closest visitor spot across from Ruby’s unit and looked over at Marlon. “Let the impromptu family reunion begin.”
This hadn’t been my only option. I could have gone to Tess’s house. I knew that, but I somehow felt like Ruby owed me this. At the very least. And with the ongoing renovations, Tess didn’t have much of a house for me to go to anyway.
Double-checking the address in my phone as I followed the walkway, I knew I was in the right place as soon as I saw the doormat. In a beautiful elegant cursive font, it read: This isn’t a whorehouse. It’s a whorehome.
I sucked it up like a big girl and scooped Marlon into my arms before knocking on the door. This was temporary, I told myself. A night. Maybe two. Three, tops.
But there was no answer.
“Hello?” I checked the doorknob to find it unlocked. “Ruby?”
“Oh, she’s home,” someone called.
I looked over to find a thin, older man in a denim jumpsuit sitting on an iron bench with his legs crossed, a curling paperback in his hand and bright green readers perched on the tip of his nose.
“Thanks,” I said as I opened the door.
“Just doing the neighborly thing,” the man said before returning to his book.
I was immediately greeted with Ruby’s signature Elizabeth Arden perfume, Red Door. Yup, this was definitely the place.
The living room held the velvet chaise longue and matching sofa she’d kept from Primrose.
Both felt disproportionate and out of place in the way that furniture from a previous dwelling always seemed to.
Some of her favorite art and self-portraits, including a framed photo of me, her, and Mom from a very curated photoshoot Ruby had organized, hung on the wall.
In this particular photo, Ruby had asked that we not smile.
The assigned theme was powerful matriarchs.
(Well, except for Marlon, who sat on my lap wearing a pink silk bow tie.) My grandmother lived for a theme, and it was something I loved about growing up with her too.
She would suddenly declare an average Tuesday dinner floral headpiece or statement sleeves and pearls night.
“Rubes?” I sat Marlon down on the familiar chaise longue, where he was immediately back at home.
The unit was small but efficient with very modern kitchen appliances and an attached breakfast nook. There were only two doors: one to the bathroom, which was open and unoccupied, and the other to what I assumed was the bedroom.
“Ruby, it’s me,” I called more loudly this time.
Maybe she’d gone off to the pool or shopping and had accidentally left her unit unlocked.
I opened the bedroom door, because the same part of my brain that constantly checked to make sure Marlon was still breathing during an exceptionally deep snooze needed to ensure that Ruby wasn’t just dead in her bedroom. Morbid? Sure. Possible? Yes.
The curtains were drawn, and the room was dark, but that didn’t stop my ears from being immediately assaulted with the sound of moaning.
Sensual. Moaning.
I let out a scream that rivaled Ruby’s signature vocals and immediately covered my eyes, even though all I’d seen was a naked back and silk bedding. And legs. Multiple legs. At least five.
Behind me, Marlon yelped.
“Vera!” Ruby gasped as I slammed the door shut.
Okay. Well, that was awful.
Quickly, I went for the front door but doubled back when I realized that I really and truly had nowhere else to go. Marlon tottered back and forth across the chaise longue and occasionally barked in response to my panic.
Ruby had always been very . . . uh . . . active, but thankfully her room at Primrose was downstairs, and I only ran into her suitors a handful of times over an awkward breakfast or a midnight kitchen sojourn.
I sat down like I was in trouble and pulled Marlon into my lap as a shield.
And I waited.
After a few torturously long moments, Ruby exited her bedroom in a red silk robe trimmed in turquoise ostrich feathers.
“I suppose it would have been too much for you to call first,” she said as she whisked into the kitchen and turned on her antique espresso machine that sounded like a Model T shitting its pants.
“I didn’t think I’d catch you fornicating at two in the afternoon on a Wednesday.”
“Espresso?” she asked.
“You know it makes me gassy.”
Ruby sighed and opened a cabinet to pull out what she referred to as my “pedestrian coffee maker.”
“I’ve been looking for that,” I told her even though that wasn’t true. Brody’s pool house coffee machine was basically powered by AI and even included all the fancy flavors and syrups they had at Starbucks.
“I didn’t realize I packed it, but it has come in handy. You’d be surprised how many people don’t appreciate fresh espresso.”
The bedroom door opened again and a woman with a very close-cut silver pixie walked out in one of Ruby’s kimonos.
Wait.
A woman. That was new for Ruby . . . as far as I knew, at least.
“You must be Vera,” the woman said, her voice smooth and husky.
“Vera, this is Hollis,” Ruby told me as she handed Hollis an espresso.
“So nice to meet you finally.” Hollis took a sip and waved to me before stepping back into the bedroom. “Excuse me while I get changed and attempt to retain some sense of dignity.”
Ruby chuckled and just as she said, “So what brings you here?” I also asked, “So a woman, huh?”
Ruby came to sit down beside me and Marlon immediately jumped into her lap.
Four-legged traitor.
“Don’t be such a stiff,” Ruby said.
“I’m not being a stiff. I’m curious if this means you’re gay or bisexual or pansexual or whatever identity speaks to you or if this is a onetime thing.”
She shot back her espresso all at once and set the cup on her end table, which was a gold crane with a glass circle balanced on its wings. “What is it with young people and all these labels and types? Hollis is . . . an old, old friend from another life.”
“And she lives here now?”
Ruby nodded. “In her own apartment.”
“And you two are . . . ?”
She turned to me as she began to stroke Marlon between his ears. “My turn for answers.”
“I need a place to stay,” I blurted as the coffee machine dripped into the pot in the kitchen. “Very temporarily.”
Vera’s tattooed brows furrowed, and her spine straightened. “Well, I’m not technically allowed to have overnight guests here without putting in a request months in advance.”
“You know I hate breaking rules,” I told her.
“Just like Annie,” she whispered, her expression softening at Mom’s name.
I didn’t have the energy for dead-mom feelings right now, so I swallowed back the thought of Mom and powered on.
“But you love breaking the rules, and you know I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t in a seriously tough spot.
” I hated this. It felt too much like begging, and I was a little angry at her for even making me ask.
Wouldn’t literally any other grandmother in the world offer to shelter their own flesh and blood?
She looked down to Marlon, who she’d always had a soft spot for. “Temporarily,” she said, repeating my own word back to me.
Just then Hollis stepped out of the bedroom in cream wide-leg linen trousers and a matching knit tank top with no bra.
Her chest was minimal and nearly flat, but her nipples were still visibly sloped.
The thought of someone simply perceiving the outline of my nipple through my shirt gave me premenopausal hot flashes.
But Hollis looked cooler and more collected than most starlets I’d seen on Brody’s arm.
Her whole Katharine Hepburn vibe was very foxy.
I could see how Ruby might find that hard to resist.
She nodded to me and then to Ruby. “Still on for tonight?”
“I’ll ring you and let you know,” Ruby told her.
Hollis leaned down to give Ruby a kiss on the temple, and I looked away. It felt oddly intimate and like I was twelve years old all over again.
“She won’t tell people that I’m staying here, will she?” I asked.
No sooner had the door shut behind Hollis than another woman and a man shuffled out of Ruby’s room looking disheveled, the man fumbling with the buttons on his silk bowling shirt.
“Thanks for hosting today, Ruby,” the woman said as she led the grinning man out behind her.
I turned to my grandmother, my jaw hanging wide open. “Is your room a fucking clown car?” I asked. “How many more do you have in there?”
Ruby put her arm over my shoulder. “That was just Morty and Willa here for a little afternoon gathering.”
I waited for her to further explain, not even slightly satisfied with that answer.
“Swinging is an evolved lifestyle,” she said simply.
I’d heard of seniors letting loose in retirement communities, and I didn’t want to be judgy, but I was still in a bit of shock. “So does everyone at Starlight Palms . . . swing?” I asked.
“Just because something’s on the menu doesn’t mean everyone’s ordering it, but it’s fair to say that Starlight Palms has a progressive reputation.”
“It seems like a lot for an aging population,” I said. “No offense.”
“Oh, honey.” Vera grinned. “There are cases of Viagra. Cases. And the lube. Did you know they have lube these days for cooling and warming?”
Well, good for them, I supposed. But I could think of no lonelier place on earth than being surrounded by a community of constantly boning elderly. I needed a plan to get back on my feet and I needed it yesterday.
“Now, if you’re going to stay here,” Ruby said, “there are rules. Obviously, lie low since you’re not an approved guest. And second, I’ve waited a long time for this chapter of my life, and while I’m happy to share my home with you again, I would appreciate it if you didn’t get in the way of my .
. . recreational activities. I plan on reaping the rewards of a lifetime of sacrifice and hard work with as many partners as I please. ”
I glanced toward the door, where my grandmother’s three bed partners had just exited.
“Don’t worry. There are lots of snoops and gossips at Starlight Palms, but none of my friends are going to tattle on you. Just be discreet when you’re unpacking your car.”
“Thanks, Rubes,” I said, still mentally recovering from what I’d just witnessed. “I promise not to get in the way of your . . . sexcapades.”
She put Marlon back in my lap and went to pour my cup of coffee. She even pulled out my favorite caramel creamer and the exact right amount of sugar. “All right, now tell me exactly what happened.”