Page 15 of I Hate You More

“Caleb?” her mom asked in the least nonchalant voice possible. She turned the key and pulled open the storage door to reveal a treasure trove of pageant paraphernalia. Every color of the rainbow glittered and gleamed; it was like peering up a unicorn’s ass. “Is that the man who…?”

Ruby shook her head, grateful that she’d worn her hair down so the curls fell over her face. The last thing she needed was for her mother to realize just how deeply Spencer had affected her. All those things she’d said about him were true—hehadtried to keep her out of the competition, hewasgood-looking, and hedidseem to think there was no way Ruby could be a doctor—but those qualities didn’t turn her off. On the contrary, she found herself able to think of little else.

“Caleb is the dog trainer. A nice enough guy, but not my type.” Ruby lifted a finger in warning. “Before you tell me that it never hurts to try something new, I should also point out that he lives with his brother and doesn’t have a bathroom. I don’t think dog-show trainers make very much money.”

“He doesn’t have abathroom?”

“Don’t ask. It only gets weirder from there.” Ruby hoisted herself into the pod, her cell phone on flashlight mode as she searched for the equipment in question. The hula hoops and baton kit were easy enough to find, but the handmade stage was larger than the rest of the gear. It was shoved all the way in the back, buried behind racks of dresses and more shoes than any human being should own. She’d once pointed out to her mother, on a day when both of their bank accounts were running low, that they could sell their hoard and clear five figures, but she might as well have suggested they sell their internal organs.

“I hope you haven’t hit the gym yet today,” Ruby said as she appraised the monumental task before them. “Because we’re about to get a workout.”

A workout was precisely what they got. Unfortunately, her mother was in such phenomenal shape that the exercise barely winded her. She whiled away the time with questions that Ruby, trapped inside a storage pod with no exits, had no choice but to answer.

“What’s the name of the man you like?” her mom asked as they wheeled out the third rack of bagged and tagged gowns. They were organized by color and cut, each rack growing heavier as the number of beaded crystals increased.

“His name is Spencer, and I don’t like him. I’mattractedto him, but there’s definitely no liking.”

“I felt the same way about Stepfather Trois. What a pain in my ass that man was. Amazing in bed, though.”

“Mom!”

“What do you get if this dog wins the show?” her mom asked as soon as they managed to wrangle the platform out of the pod. “Is there a cash prize?”

“It’s not about money. It’s about the glory.”

“You can’t live off glory, honey. Believe me—I’ve tried.”

The final question came as they were securing the platform to the roof of Ruby’s car. It had taken some doing to get it up there. This entire enterprise would have been easier if they’d had help, but Ruby would rather die under a cascade of her old gowns than ask Spencer, and Caleb had been strangely loath to accompany her.

Which was just as she figured. A man who peed in a sink and lied about who he was to pick up a woman wasn’t the type you could count on to help you move.

“What happens if the dog loses the show?” her mom asked. This question was so unlike her that Ruby almost lost her grip on the edge of the wooden platform she was holding up. “Don’t look at me like that… I’m just curious. If you’re putting all this time and work into the competition, it’s important to have a backup plan in case things don’t go the way you want. I always did.”

This was news to Ruby. For years, the wordlosehad been banned from her vocabulary. Runner-up was synonymous with failure, and second runner-up was practically a death sentence.

“Don’t you remember that year I took you to Disneyland after you lost the Little Miss Missy Pageant to that redhead with the gap tooth? You were so devastated, you wouldn’t even take a picture with Mickey Mouse.”

Ruby could only stare at her mother as she secured the final rope.

“I had to bribe you with churros to leave the hotel,” her mom added with a shudder. “Nothing but carbs and sugar in every bite.”

“That wasn’t Disneyland, Mom. It was a roadside carnival that later got shut down for reckless endangerment. And the churros made me sick for three days.”

“A carnival, Disneyland… What does it matter? You were too young to know the difference.”

“I was old enough to know better than to ride that death trap of a roller coaster.”

Her mother’s signature laugh rang out. “You always were a smart little thing.”

The introduction of ye olde pageant days was as good a signal as any that it was time for Ruby to head out. With her mother, short doses were always best.

“I’m just saying that you might want to book yourself a spa vacation where you can take this Spencer character in case you and the dog don’t win,” her mother said as she accepted Ruby’s parting kiss. “You’ll need the distraction. You never did take losing well.”

Ruby wasn’t sure whether it was the insinuation that she could afford a spa vacation after paying her mother’s electric bill or the idea of whisking Spencer Wilson away for a romantic weekend that upset her most, but there was no denying her sudden swell of annoyance.

“I have no problem with losing,” she said. She whistled for Wheezy, knowing full well that the animal wouldn’t come but determined to try anyway. “I lose things all the time. Control, my keys, promotions…”

Her mom only smiled. It was such a typical mom expression—that worldly, matronly knowing—that Ruby almost forgave her for it.Almost.