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“Thank you, baby,” Ruby pants, adjusting herself on the narrow stool.
Her chest is still heaving, having been on stage for more than two hours without respite. The vibrations of bass strings thrum at the base of her skull as she hums along to the melody.
“Sure thing,” the bartender grins.
She watches the way his hips sway to the smooth rhythm as he sets the empty bottle behind him.
“You keep turning out the room like that, and I’ll make sure you’re never thirsty again.”
She snorts into her glass, emptying it in two large gulps. Of all the lines she'd had thrown her way, that wasn’t the worst.
Singing to a rollicking crowd always leaves her feeling twelve storeys high. Behind her, people continue to sing and dance, some lazily dragging their bodies against each other, whilst others croon their voices into the air. She wipes away the sweat gathering on her brow with a cloth. Her eyes drift back to the bartender, who now has his back to her, but is swaying his hips in a way that she knows is just for her. As if to confirm her suspicions, he looks back at her with a genuine smile.
“A little typical for my taste but I understand the appeal.”
She doesn’t look at Christina, just keeps her eyes trained on the empty glass at her fingertips.
“Get the fuck out.”
Christina steps closer until she is an arm's length away.
“I’m sorry, I had no idea you were in the possession of a Jazz bar.”
The teasing lilt in her voice only serves to rile Ruby up.
“I may not own the place, but I still have a say in who walks through here,” Ruby challenges, setting her glass down and lifting herself from her stool to face her.
“You haven’t been to the house in a while. I-“
“Oh, so now, you care? Now, you give a damn?”
Even now, when her face is riddled with the pain she works so hard to expel, Ruby Baptiste is mesmerizing. It’s unfair really, how Christina can’t help but stand in awe. Her gaze floats from furious brown eyes to striking red lips. She has a terrible habit of directing all her attention to the lower half of Ruby’s face as if she could unravel the universe with a single word.
“I was worried.”
Ruby’s laugh is swallowed by the relentless rhythms behind her. She raises her voice.
“A twelve-year-old boy is butchered for existing and he gets nothing. I leave your sight for a few days and now you’re worried? Suddenly, you care.”
Christina steps closer and feels the wave of Ruby’s anger ripple against her. She revels in it.
“Ruby,” she exhales, fixated on the crinkle at her eyebrow, and for a moment, Ruby’s face softens.
Their faces are so close now that she can feel the heat of Ruby’s defiance permeating her skin. Christina’s about to close the distance when she is interrupted by a deep voice.
“Is there a problem, Miss Baptiste?” the young bartender moves closer to the pair, his face marked with concern. He looks over the two women, leaning slightly between them to shield Ruby. Christina takes an irritated step back, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ve never known Ruby Baptiste to need a man to fight her battles.”
“You’ve never known Ruby Baptiste,” Ruby responds resolutely over his shoulder.
“Have you?”
Ruby balks at the query, unsure if it was addressed to herself or to the bartender. Choosing to ignore Christina entirely, she addresses the bartender.
“It’s okay Darrell, I was just leaving. Tell Willy I’ll be back tomorrow to work out the set.”
“You sure you don’t need me to walk you to your car, Miss Baptiste?” He asks, wary still and hovering over her.
Christina rolls her eyes, yet her jaw clenches when she sees his hand move from the bar top to Ruby’s shoulder. She turns swiftly and walks out of the bar.
“I’m fine, Darrell.” Ruby insists, watching the blonde disappear past the door. She shouldn’t follow her. The fact that she would even show her face here, of all places, is infuriating.
“Quite poetic, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think. And you don’t either,” she huffs, slamming the car shut. “Did you even think about how many people know me here? This is my place of work! Don’t you dare bring your shit where I eat.”
“I think it’s a little too late for that.”
“That was different. Will-…that was different.”
Christina’s laugh echoes through the vehicle.
“I’m sorry,” she bites her lip, trying to stifle the giggles bubbling up her throat. “I’m sorry, but you don’t get it, do you?” She locks eyes with Ruby, arresting her gaze in a way that never fails to make Ruby’s heart stutter. “You and William. Hillary and William. It’s you and me.”
“I know. You’re Will-“
“No. William is dead in the basement under the Manor,” Christina pauses, her voice barely above a whisper, “It’s you and me.”
Ruby still has a scowl on her face when Christina edges to capture her lips. It’s soft and tentative at first but, once Christina tastes the alcohol on Ruby’s lips, her cautiousness gives way to hunger. She sinks her teeth into Ruby’s bottom lip and pulls. Soon enough she is being pulled by the waist, over the gear stick, and into Ruby’s lap.
“It’s been five days since you came to see me. I finally come after you, only to find you eye-fucking a man who is far too...,” she stops herself.
“Far too what?” Ruby mocks, “Young? Handsome?” She finds it gratifying to know Christina, someone who wields power that most men dream about, can still be reduced to a desperate mess by something so ordinary.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Ruby manages to croak out between the kisses that Christina insists on leaving under her jaw.
“What?” Christina sighs against Ruby’s mouth. She’s growing desperate now, willing to let Ruby have her right in front of the bar if it means she could obliterate all possibility of Ruby going home with anyone else.
“Never thought I’d see the day that a white woman was jealous of a black man.” Ruby latches on to the straining tendon in Christina’s neck and doesn’t release it until the skin blotches deep purple.
“He wouldn’t know what to do with you,” Christina affirms. She says it with such sincerity that Ruby can only swallow in response, feeling her whole body begin to throb. “He doesn’t know what you like...” Christina begins to grind down into her lap and the pressure that has been building steadily below her waist, surges. She drags Ruby’s lower lip downward with her thumb. Ruby chases it with her tongue. “What you don’t like...” her nails dig into Ruby’s side forcing out a gasp that she swallows with another heated kiss. It stops as soon as it starts, leaving Ruby breathless and keening. “How to make you beg...” She leans away, keeping her face just out of reach. Then, she glides her hand across Ruby’s chest. Christina toys with the button that is valiantly straining to keep Ruby covered. “And, how to make you scream.” She pops the button open. Her hand works at Ruby’s chest, kneading soft and hard until Ruby’s frustration threatens to uproot them both. “I do.” She punctuates her argument by licking softly into Ruby’s mouth again, silencing whatever retort she was bound to hear.
“Wait,” Ruby groans, pulling her dress together. Christina’s hands still but her mouth nibbles at Ruby’s earlobe distractedly. “Our first time shouldn’t be here,” she says, gesturing around with her free hand.
“Our first time?” Christina echoes, smirking. Her smile grows wider the longer she looks at Ruby. “Are you blushing, Miss Baptiste?”
“Black people don’t blush.”
“Yes, you do.”
“The point is,” Ruby tugs lightly at the blondes hair and watches Christina lean into it. “There isn’t enough space in this fucking car to do all the things I want to do to you. I mean, how much did you pay for this thing?”
Christina laughs, free and open, and Ruby can’t help but laugh too. “I didn’t think I would need the space to do this. An oversight I will be correcting as soon as possible. You can choose,” she offers, nudging the tip of her nose against Ruby’s.
“Okay,” Ruby nods, “Let’s go home.”