Ruby Rooms

She had expected the apartment to be small. But not this small. The advertisement had said it was a 'comfortable space.' She scoffed at the thought of ever being comfortable here. Then she scoffed again at her own pessimism---it wasn't like she had a lot to move in anyway.

Two boxes and a suitcase later, she was unpacked. Having rearranged the furniture to how she wanted it, she resigned herself to the thought that actually, the apartment wasn't half bad. Except for the heat. She couldn't get used to the heat.

Being a Minnesota girl she was used to being knee deep in snow in the middle of December. But here she was, strolling around in shorts and a vest, with no coat or a sweater in sight.

'Fucking backwards assed state,' she murmured to herself as she flung open the French doors that gave way to the most defining feature of the apartment, the balcony. As the soft wind drifted into her apartment she felt like she could finally breathe again.

Moving to Los Angeles wasn't her choice. It would never have been her choice. And if she didn't love her job so much then she would have laughed in her boss' face when he told her she would be relocating.

"Shit, Paul. No way!" she had cried when she first got the news. "I've worked my ass off for the last five years to get where I am today. I literally put everything I had on the line for this job, and now you want me to move out there to start all over again. No way."

"Yes---you and I both know that it was thanks to your writing that Ruby Rooms managed to climb out of the shit. And I'll never be able to thank you for everything you've given up for this job. But you're too good for this place now."

"Don't give me that bull, Paul!"

"You know, and I know that what I'm saying is true. You've hit the ceiling. You've interviewed all the bands that need to be interviewed. You've reviewed all the gigs that need to be reviewed. You've promoted every album that needs to be promoted. There is nothing for you here. It's because I don't want you to get bored that I'm doing this. Now you can argue all you want---but we both know that you're going to take this opportunity. The job means too much to you for you to turn it down---"

She hated the fact that she was so transparent. But she was an open book when it came to her work. Music brought reason and shape into her life, and without it she knew she would cease to be. So when her boss held out the plane ticket, she uttered not a single word as she nodded decisively and took it from his hand.

Fast forward just one week, and here she was. All alone in a new apartment, in a new state, with the same old thought rattling round her head. 'Which gig shall I go to tonight?'