“I tried on the shirt before I bought it,” I tell him. “Just to make sure it looked okay on a real person instead of a fake mannequin, you know?”
He nods.
“Well, in the fitting room there was some rich yuppie girl there trying on a bunch of different clothes. She kept complimenting me on my style. Because I was wearing this scarf I had already had on—I had made it, you know?—and some earrings that matched it and she kept saying that my look was just right and how did I know so much about fashion when I clearly didn’t have much money…”
“Ouch,” Cameron interjects.
“I know,” I tell him. “She was a really rude bitch. At first I thought she was just paying me compliments but then I realized she really actually wanted this shirt. It was the last one in the store.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah. She followed me to the cash register and told the store owner she’d pay more for it than was on the price tag. The price on the tag was all I had. After saving up for months. And she was buying a whole armful of clothes in addition to that one shirt I had saved up to get.”
“What a complete bitch,” he says, and I smile at him even though the thought of this chick still makes me so mad.
“Exactly.”
“So, what did you do?” he asks.
“At first, nothing,” I tell him. “I just stood there open-mouthed while she paid and left the store. But then I decided I wasn’t going to put up with it.”
“Yeah!” Cameron cheers me on. “Good for you!”
That reaction was not one that I was expecting. I’m glad he understands. I suppose his own upbringing gives us more in common than I thought.
“I ran after the girl and told her that I had found it and it was only right that she give it back. Of course, she refused.”
“Of course.”
“I was young and dumb and really mad. To this day it still makes me mad.”
“Of course! I’m mad just hearing this story.”
I smile at him. It’s amazing how supportive he is, even though I know in hindsight that I could have done things better.
“I tried to take it from the girl and the girl called the cops on me. Just for that.”
“Just for trying to take it from her?”
“Yeah, I tried to grab the bag out of her hands and my hand kind of grabbed hers a little in the process. Just my luck, her dad was some police chief or otherwise connected and they came super fast. And charged me with assault and battery and attempted theft.”
“Bullshit,” Cameron almost yells.
We both look around the restaurant sheepishly to see if anyone is disturbed by his outburst. No one seems to care. And now I have to tell him the part of the story that is really quite indefensible.
“Those were strikes one and two,” I tell him. “I got sent to juvie for a little while and then I got out and I had to be on my best behavior or I’d get in much more trouble.”
“Sounds easy enough I guess,” he says.
“You’d think so,” I tell him.
I gulp. Here it comes. The whole story.
“But I think the whole experience made me crazy. Being in juvie really sucked. I made some bad influences. But at the same time I know I’m my own person and I made my own choices. I just wasn’t thinking very straight. I didn’t realize how much it would fuck up my future.”
“Yeah,” he says. “If any of us knew that we’d never do any of the stupid things we’d done when we were younger.”
“Exactly. This was definitely a stupid thing to do. I was as mad at the store owner as I was at that yuppie chick. And I couldn’t go after the yuppie chick anymore you know? I’d tried that and failed. So, I felt powerless and decided to do something about it.”
“What was it?” he asks, nearly on the edge of his seat.
“Well, a week later I went back, intending to say some shit to the owner— give her a piece of my mind and maybe have it out with her verbally, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe even physically. I was a punk back then. I wasn’t really thinking ahead, just trying to see what happened. But when I got to the store there was another shirt there. I thought the store had obviously had another one but just didn’t want me to have it.”
“Seriously? That’s fucking bullshit,” Cameron explodes.
“I know. And I’m not sure if they had already had another one or just gotten that one in. I probably took everything too personally and assumed the worst because I was so mad. But I wanted justice. I still felt that shirt belonged to me. To my mom, actually, even though her birthday had already passed. So…”
I take a deep breath. I look into his eyes and I’m not sure I can tell him. I don’t want him to think I’m so bad he can never love me the way he thought he loved me.
“It’s okay, Ruby,” he says, reaching across the table and holding my hand. “Whatever it is, I know you’ve changed. We’ll be just fine.”
“Okay.” I sigh, grateful that he’s reassuring me. Maybe I just needed to tell my story to someone— to him. To purge myself of my guilt and truly forgive myself and move on.
“I stole it,” I tell him. “I just put it in my purse and tried to walk right out, like I’d heard of some real life girl doing in some autobiography she wrote. It worked for the girl in the book all the time, until she stopped. But it didn’t work for me, not only that once. I got arrested. It was my third strike.”
“Oh no. Ruby. That sucks.”
He looks genuinely crushed for me. And I’m so glad I have his support.
“Yeah, I was sentenced as an adult and had to go to jail.”
“That’s awful. You don’t even seem like someone who has been to jail.”
“I know,” I laugh. “That changed me in a way that my juvie experience didn’t, for whatever reason. I was determined to turn my life around. Sure, I couldn’t buy my mom a shirt as a birthday gift so I freaked out and committed crimes. But what good was I doing her in prison? It paled in comparison to not being able to get that shirt.”
“Yeah. It’s good that you did recognize that, eventually.”
“I had always liked computers so I taught myself to code. I wanted to go to a coding school. But there were none that would take me with my history. Especially ones that received Federal funding and couldn’t give it to students like me who had a criminal record. Not to mention, there were no jobs that wanted to hire me. Randi Messer was screwed.”
“Randi Messer,” he says, his mouth dropping open. “That’s your real name?”
“It was.”
I shrug.
“I was never that fond of it though.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, I decided I would do what it takes to get to coding school. And in the process, I learned so much about coding and computers that I don’t even need to go. I’m completely self- taught. But I had to change everything about myself so that I could be given a chance.”
“Yeah, I doubt our law firm would have hired someone with a record,” Cameron agrees. “It sucks, but it’s true.”
“I didn’t hack your toy company client,” I tell him. “And I hope they still want to work with you because it sounds like a really good opportunity.”
“And Damien Hudson and his companies are rich as fuck,” he adds.
“Exactly. But I did hack a lot of places to make my resume look legit.”
“Well, you fooled us,” Cameron says. “Good job.”
“Not really, though,” I tell him. “You saw through me. You found out who the real me really is.”
“And I love her,” he says. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Oh, and there’s one other thing,” I tell him.
“What’s that?”
“My app got bought. I’m really rich now too. Not as rich as you. But pretty friggin’ rich.”
“That’s awesome!” Cameron says, holding his glass up to mine. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you.”
We toast and I can’t stop smiling.
“I guess you don’t need your job back,” he says. “Although I was going to offer it to you.”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “It was kind of exciting to be your secretary. And maybe I could help you out with computer stuff because you’re a little behind the times.”
He laughs.
“Your friend Katie told me the same thing when it came to vape pens,” he says.
“Oh, my god. Katie confessed?”
“Yes, she did,” he says. “I’m sorry I blamed you.”
I shrug.
“That’s okay. It’s not like I was coming clean. I wasn’t going to throw her under the bus. So, you had to think I was guilty. And act accordingly. I never blamed you for that.”
“Well, please forgive me anyway,” he says.
“Only if you forgive me for lying my way into your firm.”
“I have to,” he says. “Because otherwise I never would have gotten to know you.”