Chapter 12: The Elusive Mister X

"Oh god," Ruby moaned to herself. "How in hell did mama have more than one baby? I'm only a few months along and I feel like..." she could not finish one complaint before the next one poured from her lips. "It's so hot and I feel like I want to die. I feel cranky and miserable. I feel like shit." She carried the baby low and had at last begun to show she was pregnant.

"Sweet Jesus, won't this damned heat ever let up?" On hot humid days in late spring and early summer the old swamp cooler on the roof did little or no good. Sometimes it made matters worse as it blew warm, moist air down through the vent. She lay on the couch with a bowl of ice cubes to chew on balanced on her stomach. "I feel like shit," she complained to herself again.

The telephone rang. "Maybe if I don't answer it they will go away." She glared at the noisy, jangling instrument, then remembered what happened the last time she refused to answer the telephone. When she didn't answer, Jimmy panicked and drove home like a madman to find out what was wrong. On the sixth ring, she decided to answer it.

She pushed herself up off the sofa and shuffled across the room. "Hello," she said irritably.

"Is this Ruby Skye?" a man's voice asked.

"No," she answered, "This is Ruby Haggard."

"But I thought Ruby Skye was your stage name," the voice said.

"No, that was my maiden name. I am married and pregnant and the air conditioner does not work the way it should. Mister, I am miserable. What do you want?"

"I called to inquire the name of your agent. I would like to speak with whomever represents you concerning a regular booking here at Radio WLYV Live Radio if you are interested."

"Is your radio station air conditioned?" she asked as a way to express her discomfort.

The voice laughed, "Some of the people here complain it is too cold."

"Mister, this had better not be a joke because I am going to call Greta Green to drive me over right now. She has been complaining she is bored."

"Do you mean Missus Stanley Green, wife of the newspaper publisher?" All at once, the voice took on a new quality of respect.

"That's the only Greta Green I know of. When do you want me there?" She spread her legs apart and fanned her skirts with the hand not holding the phone to her ear.

"Actually, as soon as you can make it. We need someone right this moment. The Tyson Twins walked out of the studio and we have no one to replace them."

He cleared his throat. "For the present, what we need is a filler program to take their place. We will offer you a one-week booking to see how you go over with our listeners. After that, we might perhaps talk about a contract if you click. We must speak to your agent."

"I am my own agent," she answered. "If we can't come to an agreement, I'll have my husband Jimmy come over and deal with you."

"Ah yes." His nervous laughter said he was not certain whether he believed her or not. "When can I expect you?"

"I'll call Greta and be right over," she answered. You make certain that air conditioner is turned way down to the coldest setting. I'll call Greta as soon as I hang up."

Greta had married Stanley when they got back from Boston. She gloried in her pregnancy. Stanley bought her a new Cadillac to drive around town and hired three colored maids to wait on her every whim.

She played gin rummy with the maids, learned to cook kosher and settled down to become, as she told Stanley, "Jewish but not shrewish." Stanley was thankful she took to Judaism and embraced his faith as her own.

She fit right in with the other members because of her earthy sense of humor and unaffected ways. In addition, once the novelty of their mismatched marriage wore off, she became popular with the other wives in the synagogue because she liked people.

"This here is the Green's residence," a maid answered the phone.

"This is Ruby Haggard, I would like to speak to Greta, please."

"I see if she is in," came the fast answer. There was a pause and Ruby heard the maid ask, "Is you in? It some lady named Ruby."

"Ruby!" Greta yelled into the phone. I miss you."

"You want to be my chauffeur? Some guy over at that radio station Stanley owns a part of wants me to come over and sing for him. I need a ride to get there."

"I'll be right there!" Greta shouted into the phone. Ruby heard a click and the line went dead. Ten minutes later, a new white Cadillac sedan screeched to a stop in the driveway.

"Come in," Ruby called as soon as Greta bounded up on the front porch. "If I did not need you to be my taxi service so bad, I would hate you for being so damn' perky," Ruby groused at her friend.

Although Stanley and Jimmy would never become close, their two wives had become fast friends. "Oh, don't be such a shiksa, Greta laughed.

"I'm learning to speak Yiddish. We Jews have more ways to say kiss my ass than any old Pentecostal religion ever did. Stanley says my Okie hillbilly accented Yiddish will set the Jewish culture back a thousand years. He thinks it's sweet."

"Girl, you and Stanley are the most unlikely pair I ever saw, even more than me and Jimmy. Yet somehow the two of you fit just right together, just like two peas in a pod. I am glad for you."

"Let me fetch my guitar and we'll get out of this oven." Ruby pushed herself up off the couch. She took her seven-string Spanish guitar from the closet. Jimmy had brought it home as a surprise. "The man said it was the most expensive one in the store." She smiled at the fond memory. It amazed her how otherwise sensible Jimmy Ray Haggard was so naïve when it came to buying things, especially presents for her.

Ruby eased herself down the front steps, careful to hold onto the railing. The humid heat seemed to sap all of her strength. "Oh god I hope that place has cold air."

Once in the car, Greta opened all the windows and drove at a fast clip. Ruby leaned back and let the breeze circulating through the car wash over her face. When they pulled up in front of the radio station, Greta opened her door and bounced out.

Ruby took her time as she worked her way out of the car and pulled her guitar out of the back seat. She decided if it was not cool in that radio station, she was going to kill someone. Heat had never bothered her until she got pregnant. Now, with a baby on the way, she was miserable. She tried to not be a bother to Jimmy with complaints he could do nothing about.

The cool air blasted her in the face as she entered the lobby. She drew in a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh. "Tell Jimmy we will move in here till after the baby is born. This is pure dee heaven."

The receptionist asked them, "May I help you ladies?"

"Some man called and said the twins quit and he wanted to talk to me about replacing them."

"May I have the name of the person who called you?" she asked.

"He did not give out a name. He just said he had heard me sing and wanted me to try it for a week and see how the listeners liked me."

The self-important receptionist stared at Ruby. "Well, without a name, I cannot direct you to anyone." She started to turn away.

Ruby became annoyed. "Listen here," she said. "This big, good looking and knocked up blond standing here beside me is the wife of Stanley Green who owns half of this radio station. He will get very irritated at anyone who does not respect his wife and treat her right. My name is Ruby Haggard. Jimmy Ray Haggard is my husband. If I tell him you disrespected me, he will come down here and pull this whole damned place down around your ears. Get someone out here who knows what is going on."

Just as the receptionist almost made the error of calling the police, a harried looking man somewhere in his forties came out into the lobby. He gave Ruby and Greta a hopeful look. "Are one of you ladies Ruby?"

"That's me, all right. You want to hear me sing?" She made a face at the flustered receptionist.

"Come right this way." He led them to a small studio and opened the door. "Sit in there on that stool and sing five songs," he told her. "By then someone will come in and read a commercial or two and then you sing some more. You can sing for thirty minutes from memory, can't you?"

Ruby became indignant. "Of course I can," she answered. "What do you want, cowboy, hillbilly, love songs, folk songs or hymns? I know all of Patsy Cline's and Jimmy Wakely's songs by heart."

Just as she sat on the stool, a red light came on. The man jumped to the microphone and began to talk, "Good afternoon to all our friends in radio land. It is our great and distinct pleasure to bring you Ruby Skye, the Oklahoma Nightingale. What will be your first song, Ruby?" He looked hopefully at her.

"Isn't that just like a man? My name is Ruby Haggard. Jimmy is my husband. That's his last name too you know, Haggard that is." All the time she talked, she undid the locks on her guitar case and pulled out the beautiful instrument. She strummed and hit a chord, made an adjustment and strummed again.

"My love is like a red, red rose," she began. She recited the whole poem while chording and making runs. Without a pause she faded into "I Love You Truly," followed by "Old Dan Came A' Courtin," a song about a bashful, love struck hillbilly who sought a new wife. The man who had led them into the studio stood open mouthed.

A stranger rushed into the studio, grabbed the mike and began to read a commercial. Two commercials later he placed the microphone back in front of Ruby and asked, "What is next on your agenda?"

Greta watched and listened in awe. This was the first time she ever heard Ruby sing.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow..." Ruby began. She sang three more songs and another commercial was read from the engineer's booth.

The requested thirty minutes stretched into an hour. Finally, the voice of Lorenzo Jones came over the speakers. The soap opera had begun.

"My name is Dan Potts and I am the station manager," the man who first escorted them to the studio said. "Shall we go into my office and talk about a contract?"

"Dan, like I told you on the phone, I am pregnant and I am miserable. As long as you keep it cool like this, I will sing my heart out for you. You furnish cool and I furnish music. The Doc says I have five more months of this misery. This means you got me for five months."

"But, but we have to talk money. How much do you usually receive when singing?" he asked.

"More than you can afford," she told him. "Make it fair and we will get along fine. You know what is right." She turned to go.

Jimmy came flying through the double doors from the front of the building. "Ruby, what are you doing singing? You are pregnant." He looked around for someone to hit.

"Jimmy, honey pot, singing won't hurt the baby. I bet he will like to hear his mama's nice voice. Besides, it gives me a chance to get cool. That house is like a steam bath. Our old swamp cooler don't do the job."

"Well, why don't you just call up and order a new air conditioner then? It's not like we can't afford one. We can get one of those new dehumidifiers too, if you like." He frowned and added, "I don't want any wife of mine to have to work or be miserable, even a little bit."

"Well, Jimmy Haggard, you are making this wife of yours miserable a whole lot arguing with her in front of everybody like this." She stuck her chin out, "Sweetie, I am not gaited to sit around on my tail end and do nothing all day. I like to sing and they like my singing."

Then she added, "Besides, it's cool in here." Ruby loved the idea she would get to play and sing on the radio.

Jimmy realized he was defeated and gave up. She reminded him of a little red headed pixy. He never knew what she was going to come up with next. "I'll stop by the plumber's and get one of those small home units installed at the back of the house. They ought to have it done some time tomorrow. I better call the electric company and get a second power line strung from the transformer down by the road."