3. Ruby
Icaught a glimpse of the new bodyguard when he took his luggage out of the trunk. It really was nothing more than a glimpse, because all I saw was a massive body and what I think was short brown hair. Before I could make out more, my father turned around and looked up at my window. I took that as a sign to stop lurking.
When I heard how my father told him that he had to leave again, it felt as if a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. This house is huge and while it is easy to avoid running into each other, I still prefer to stay in my room whenever my father is around. This time, I had to hide for an entire week because he fired the last bodyguard and wouldn’t let me stay here unsupervised.
I need to get out of here.
Out of this house, and then I’ll think about the rest.
I would love to get out of this country, or better, out of this life. My last escape attempt ended in a screaming match with one of his men at the airport. But if I have to spend another hour in this room, I’m going to go insane.
I can only hope that the new bodyguard is as disinterested in his actual task as the others have been. Most of them were as attentive as human-sized plushies and came with a physical appearance that made it tempting to have them keep me company whenever I felt lonely.
Right now, not even my favorite show is enough to distract me, so I grab my phone and message Sarah while I get up and walk over to my closet. She leaves me on read, like most of the time. Since the big fight with my father and my breakup with Brian, she has been acting weird.
Over the past few months, I realized that she never deserved an award for being the most caring friend in the world, but the way things are now is outright humiliating.
Maybe my lack of real friends is part of the reason I prefer the company of men who get paid to spend time with me. They don’t leave me on read and a contract keeps them from going anywhere. Until my father fires them and I never hear from them again.
Not that I expect, let alone want it. I dug myself a pretty little misery hole that feels way too comfortable to leave. While my misery hole may be cozy, my misery room isn’t, so I text Dom that I need him to drive me to my favorite spot. Just a few hours will be enough to shut my head off. At least for tonight.
Something about the new guy seems different though, and I don’t want him to look at me all pitiful when he finds out that I sneak out of this house to sit by a lake and feed ducks like a grandma. I haven’t been to the park for more than a week. Harry and Sally surely miss me already.
Jesus, how did I go from someone who had their own VIP booth at The Red Room to someone who’s attached to ducks at the park?
As I look through my dresses, I’m not entirely sure who I want to fool with this act. Maybe the new guy, maybe myself, maybe a bit of both.
The dress I pick out is one I bought a few years ago, back when I still had a social life. Dark red satin, barely long enough to cover my ass. I know I have earrings that match the rhinestone straps somewhere.
Brian hated my, as he called them, whorish dresses. Whenever a guy looked my way when we were out partying, he threw a fit. On bad nights, he yelled at me until I agreed to go home just so that he would calm down. At least I don’t have to worry about his fragile ego anymore.
Three pairs of high heels land behind me on the wooden floor with a thud before I decide that even an act has limits. I’m not going to walk down an unpaved road in goddamn stilettos. I pull a pair of boots out of my closet when I’m suddenly interrupted by a knock on my door.
Hastily, I put on a bathrobe and kick the three discarded pairs of heels under my couch before I open the door.
I’m greeted by a black shirt and I have to take a step back to see the face of who I assume is my new bodyguard. All this hassle, only to see a black balaclava where his face should be.
Ridiculous.
It would be kind of hot in other circumstances, but right now, it’s just ridiculous. I wonder if that’s his personal shtick or if my father instructed him to do this.
“Where did he find you? Did the men in black reject you?”
“You must be Ruby,” he says, and it’s impressive how judgmental someone can look at you when the only thing you can see are eyes.
The disdain that drips from his voice is mutual. Something about him pisses me off. I don’t know if it’s the mask or the way he’s looking at me, as if I’m a cockroach that ran over his dinner. My mood hadn’t been the best the past few days, and so far, he’s not improving it.
I take a step back from the door, raising my eyebrows as I look him up and down. I take my time, eye him like he’s a fucking horse I contemplate buying, and he apparently doesn’t like this at all.
He makes himself even bigger until the whole doorway seems to be filled with his broad body. If he wants to appear intimidating, he needs to try harder.
“Don’t even try to start with this attitude. Behave, don’t get on my nerves, and we won’t have a problem.”
I scoff and slam the door shut right in front of his face.
“Don’t even start with this attitude,” I repeat mockingly as I wait for him to leave. He keeps on standing in front of my door, but as I turn my TV back on, I hear his footsteps in the hallway, followed by the sound of a door that’s being closed.
I don’t like it when people try to tell me what to do. Maybe because I spent most of my life as a marionette for my father, and then for Brian, until I decided I had enough. And I won’t start being all nice and quiet and compliant for the gorilla next door.
Half an hour later, I deem it safe enough to start my escape. I fill a bit of corn and seeds into a ziplock bag that I put in my purse. I can’t come to the park empty handed.
The boots were the right decision, even though the dress doesn’t make the descent from the second floor any easier. It’s still manageable because of the dumb design elements my father picked out. He shouldn’t have decided on stuff that could be used as a makeshift ladder if he didn’t want me to sneak out.
The headlights of Dom’s car lighten up behind the gate as he sees me walking towards him. He knows the code, but I told him not to drive onto the property tonight. I don’t know how attentive the new bodyguard is, and I don’t want to alarm him when he hears a car in the driveway.
With the sun already setting, it is beautiful out here. Quiet and green, and I love this side of Eden Hills. It makes for a pretty prison yard. I feel like I’m finally able to breathe again after a week of being in constant fight-or-flight mode.
But a huge hand on the back of my neck ruins my mood in a matter of seconds. Whoever it is, is squeezing slightly, not enough to hurt me, but hard enough to clarify that bolting off isn’t an option.
“You’re fired.” I try to remember some self-defense moves, but the only thing I can think of is smashing my elbow into the figure behind me. The result is nothing but an annoyed groan from my captor.
“You can’t fire me. And you’re not allowed to leave the house,” he says while he shoves me back towards the house.
I can’t understand how he caught me so quickly, because my method of running off usually works without fail. Either that or the other bodyguards just didn’t give a shit.
He must have watched me from his own window. Who the hell takes their job this seriously? I bet he’d like to watch me sleep and attach an ankle monitor to my leg. Fucking nutcase.
“I have rights, you can’t force me to stay in there.” My tone is more whiny than I’d like it to be. The last few days were hard on my nerves and I’m unable to hide it.
“Your rights end where my orders begin and your father explicitly stated that you are not permitted to leave the house, so you will stay the fuck in there.”
Something about him makes me so angry it is impressive. I slam my elbow into his stomach once more, harder this time. A barely audible groan comes from behind me and for a fraction of a second, I grin. As quickly as the grin came, it’s wiped off of my face again.
He grabs my wrist and turns the arm I smacked him with on my back. It stings, a disgusting feeling that spreads up to my shoulder blade, but I’d rather bite my tongue off than admit that it hurts.
“Stupid asshole, stop acting like a fucking Navy SEAL and just let me go.”
“What did you just call me?” he growls, pulling my arm higher until the pain that shoots through my shoulder is so bad that I whimper.
We’re back at the house and he shoves me through the front door as if I’m his hostage. He is too calm and collected. This isn’t the first time he’s done this.
“Stupid asshole,” I repeat myself. “Bet you like shoving me around like this. Makes you feel better about your pathetic life, am I right? Fucking loser.” His grip on my arm tightens even more, and it feels like he’s close to ripping it off.
He stills for a second and I wonder if I crossed a line. Somehow, I hope I did. A huge fight would be almost as satisfying as feeding my ducks.
“You think you’re a tough little shit, huh? Let me tell you something, Ruby.” He spits out my name as if it’s a moldy piece of bread he wants to get out of his mouth as quickly as possible. With force, he continues to push me up the stairs.
“You’re a deplorable, spoiled kid who doesn’t have a fucking clue about how the world works. You live off of your daddy’s money, getting all snotty-nosed whenever something doesn’t go your way, am I right?”
I don’t bother answering his stupid rhetorical question, which is nothing more than an insult either way.
“Is there anything you can do apart from being annoying and partying? Because I sincerely doubt it.”
At least he bought my act.
His grip on my wrist loosens for the first time this evening as we arrive at my room. I roll my shoulders and rub over my reddened wrist, knowing that my arm will be goddamn sore tomorrow.
I’m used to people thinking about me like this. That’s why I’m confused about why his words hurt me, even if it’s just a little. There was an undertone in his voice that I couldn’t read. It wasn’t like my father”s obvious hatred or the jealous aggression I knew from Brian. It was robotic in a way.
Just weird, like the rest of him.
He’s already walking towards his own room when I lean out of my door frame.
“Hey, asshole,” I yell. “What’s your name? I want to know who’s trying to insult me like that.”
Silence. He must be a bit dense. Usually, it doesn’t take people longer than a few moments to remember their name.
“James,” he yells back and then he slams his door shut. He seems to be secure about the fact that I won’t try to run off again and I hate to admit that he’s right.
I switch my dress for pajamas and snuggle up in my bed. In a moment of weakness, I send Sarah another message even though the last five are still on read.
Just when I want to put my phone away, Dom texts me. He asks me if everything is alright and if he should wait for me. I tell him to drive home, that I suddenly got sick, hoping that he didn’t witness the embarrassing scene in the driveway.