Summer Island

She took a“ deep breath, then exhaled. Slowly, she reached down for the check and picked it up. The numbers swam before her eyes. ”Okay,“ she said. ”Ill do it. "

Chapter Four

Ruby cranked the Volkswagens radio to full blast. A raucous Metallica song blared through the small black speakers. Her whole body was moving to the beat.

Fifty thousand dollars.

She wanted so badly to share this day with someone. If only she had Maxs new number; shed call him and tell him what hed missed out on. She would have spent a lot of this money on him . . . on them. . .

The thought brought a quick thrust of sadness, and The drive into Beverly Hills. Usually, she didnt pissed her off. Max didnt deserve one cent of this fortune.

She drove into Beverly Hills. Usually she didn’t even drive past this area; it was too depressing to see all the luxuries she couldnt afford. But today, she was flying high. She felt invincible.

When she saw an open spot on Rodeo Drive, she pulled over and parked. Grabbing her purse (with the yellow deposit slip for twenty-five thousand dollars inside), she got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her. For once, she didnt bother locking the car; if someone was desperate enough for transportation to steal this one, they were welcome to it.

She strolled around for a while, passing pods of women dressed in expensive, beautiful clothing. No one made eye contact with her. In this part of the world, a twenty-seven-year-old woman dressed in what could only be called “grunge” simply didnt exist. And fifty thousand dollars wasnt nearly enough to get these womens attention.

Then she looked into a store window and saw a sheer, beaded, silvery blue dress with a plunging V neckline and a split in the side that came up to mid-thigh. It was the most perfect dress shed ever seen, the kind of thing shed never imagined she could own.

She held her handbag close and pushed through the glass doors. A bell tinkled over her head.

Over in the corner, across an ocean of white marble flooring and chrome-topped rounders of clothing, a woman looked up. “Ill be right with you, dear,” she said in one of those cultured, sorority-girl voices.

Ruby felt uncomfortable. She wished she could tape the deposit slip to her forehead.

Finally the saleswoman came over. She was tall and reed-thin, dressed in black from head to foot. Not a hair was out of place. She gave a little sniff when she saw Ruby, but her voice was kind. “May I help you?”

Ruby pointed helplessly toward the window. “I sawa blue dress in the window. ”

“You have excellent taste. Would you like to try it on?”

She nodded.

“Wonderful. ”

The woman led Ruby to a dressing room that was bigger than the average bedroom. "Would you like a glass of champagne?

Ruby laughed. Now, this was shopping. “Id love some. ”

The saleswoman raised her hand; just that, and within a minute, a man in a black tuxedo was handing Ruby a sparkling glass of champagne.

“Thanks,” she said, collapsing onto the cushy seat in the dressing room. The champagnes bubbles seemed to float through her blood, making her instantly giddy. For the first time in years, she felt like somebody.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Come in. ”

The saleslady peeked her head in. "Here you go.

Im Demona. Just holler if you need me. "

Ruby trailed her fingers down the beaded, sheer-as-tissue fabric, then quickly undressed and slipped into the dress.

It was like stepping into another personality . . . a different life. Self-consciously, she peeked out of the dressing room. The coast was clear. She walked over to the wall-size mirrors in the corner.

Her breath caught. Even with her hair too short and her makeup too heavy, and her feet wedged into scuffed old Reeboks, she looked . . . beautiful. The plunging neckline accentuated her small breasts; her waist appeared tiny, and the slit slimmed her fleshy thighs.

This was the woman she had hoped someday to become. How had she veered so far off the path?