Page 9 of Vera Stein Is Fine
“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.
Awoman. That was new for Ruby... as far as I knew, at least.
“You must be Vera,” the woman said, her voice smooth and husky.
