Fourteen

Crossing the intersection of Norfolk and East Houston Streets, Riley decreased her speed, letting Ben’s long, purposeful strides catch up. He had been walking a few steps behind, giving her privacy while she talked on her phone. “Sorry…”

“Everything okay? You barely said a word.” Ben yanked open the door to a twenty-four-hour diner called Remedy, its name in sizzling red neon above silver double doors accented with round porthole windows. The restaurant was bustling with club kids, smitten couples, and coffee-addled college students. Following Riley, his eyes locked on tiers of cakes and gooey desserts teasing him from inside a glass case.

“Yeah.” Riley fought a yawn and smiled at the harried hostess who waved them toward a vacant booth overlooking East Houston. “My boyfriend gets a bit hyper, can’t sleep.” Her phone lit up again—1:35 A.M. Saturday—a new text from Erika joining others she had sent during Riley’s one-sided phone conversation with Josh.

Wear’d u go? U missed the beast part.

Drunk misspelled texts from Erika were a rare sight. Riley chuckled and sat down, laying her clutch beside her. Beast—probably meant ‘best’…although that purple thong guy was a beast, and as for his ‘part’—

“Why’s he hyper?” Ben slid along his seat, promptly scooting out of his unbuttoned coat and unzipping his hoodie, a black and blue t-shirt for Sting’s old eighties band The Police tucked into the front of his dark jeans.

“Sorry, just have to text Erika. She’s wondering where I am.” Mid-text, Riley did a double take as Ben removed his hat and pawed a hand through his thick dark hair. My God, that hair—slightly wavy permanent bedhead, sexy as hell…If I were a guy with hair like that, I’d never hide it under a cap. She finished her response to Erika, hitting send.

Friend emergency. Sorry! All OK. Chat tomorrow.

“So, your boyfriend…?”

“Josh, yeah. He was calling about the Frozen Four—the NCAA championship final. It’s tomorr—ah, it’s Saturday now, right?” She set her phone on the table. “It’s tonight, and I’m going.”

“You’re going? You’re flying to North Dakota—in a few hours?”

“No, it’s in Saint Paul, Minnesota.”

His eyes widened. “Mad!”

“Josh’s team won the semi-final on Thursday, so tonight’s the final. He’s paying for me to go. It’s definitely a flying visit. I’m back Sunday, so I won’t miss classes or anything.”

“Wow. You’re his number one fan, then.”

“Well, it’s the biggest game of Josh’s collegiate hockey career. Tons of media will be there, NHL scouts. It’s a big deal—over 18,000 tickets have been sold.”

Ben lifted his elbows off the table as the server swiped a damp cloth over its surface and set down two menus before toddling away to the kitchen. “All this for a college game?”

“Oh, college sports are massive here. Games are on TV, athletes get treated like celebrities—it’s kinda crazy. Anyway…” Riley removed her jacket and steered the conversation away from the minefield that was her relationship with Josh. “How do you like New York so far?”

“It’s bloody brilliant! Skyscrapers, yellow taxis—I feel like I’ve walked onto a movie set.”

“Are you settled in at your Airbnb?”

The server delivered two glasses of water to their table. Ben waited for her to leave before continuing. “Yeah, I’m staying at Hunter’s place. He’s the purple thong guy, the Aubergine?” He chuckled. “Fuck, sorry…British brain. He’s the Eggplant.”

The emoji sign from the club flashed through Riley’s mind. “Oh! Right.” The beast part. She giggled, lifting the bridesmaid sash over her head.

“I needed cash and Hunter hooked me up with the dancing gig. Being skint with zero connections, I didn’t have much choice. Desperate times and all that, right?”

Riley picked at the glitter on the sash. “Right…”

“I thought it would be easy, but it was hard and I hated it!” Ben’s attention followed a burger being whisked toward the next table. “Hunter said tips were amazing, but all I got were pity tips—one dollar here and there.” He exhaled. “So, now I’m back where I started—unemployed and broke.”

Riley checked out the menu. “Well, I couldn’t believe it when I saw you onstage. You don’t seem like the stripper type.”

“There’s a type?”

She laughed, hoping she could lighten his mood. Alone in New York without a job, without much money—she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. She peeked over the oversized menu. “You know what I mean.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” He scowled, but the playfulness in his eyes suggested it was for effect. “I’m not hot enough to be a stripper.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure you’re attractive enough under that hoodie, baseball cap, jumper…”

They both burst out laughing.

Ben stretched back in the booth, a smile growing. “They were desperate, someone quit…”

“You looked good up there…” Riley felt her cheeks heat up as Ben raised a cheeky eyebrow. “But no offense, Ben—those guys have muscles on top of muscles.”

“No offense taken.” He winced. “All those hours in the gym? I kept thinking of all the hours I’d miss in the pub.”

The server returned. “Ready to order?”

Riley looked at Ben, waiting for him to peruse the menu.

“Go for it.” He ran his hand through his hair, but it sprung back and flirted with his eyes again.

“Oh, okay. I’ll have…hmmm, I’ll have the California Wrap and…fries. I’m famous for eating my weight in potatoes, especially smiley ones…”

“What are smiley potatoes?” asked Ben.

“Oh, they’re these frozen potato thingies in the shape of a smiley face. You pop them in the oven, make ’em all crispy. Mom made them when I was little.” She hesitated, buying more time so Ben could read the menu. “Fries or onion rings…? Hmm, no, I’ll just have the wrap. Oh, and something to drink…” She glanced up at Ben, but he was staring at her. “Actually, water’s fine.”

Ben slid the menu to the server without looking at it. “Do you have chicken nuggets, but shaped like dinosaurs?”

Riley chuckled.

The server narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

He stifled a laugh. “Never mind. A burger and fries, thanks. Ooh, do you have milkshakes here?”

“Vanilla, chocolate—”

“Chocolate! Cheers.” As the server turned, Ben winked at Riley. “I’m so going to have cake for dessert, too. Gotta put back all those calories I lost on stage tonight.”

“Yeah, about that…were you freestyling up there? Your moves, Ben—my God.”

“Oi, they weren’t that bad! I’ll have you know, I learned two routines.”

“Two? Wow. So…” She toyed with the fork lying on her paper napkin. “What have we learned in the short time we’ve known each other? I’m a crappy WAG and you’re a crappy stripper.”

“Ahh, I’m also a crappy actor, so I’m one up on you. Sometimes you don’t know until you try and fail miserably, right?”

Riley’s face softened. “Ben, I’m sure you can act.”

He scrunched his nose and scratched his stubble. “So, your friends at the club…WAGs?”

“Yeah. Did the huge rocks on their fingers give them away?”

“Kinda. They looked quite posh. You meet them through your boyfriend?”

“No. Erika, the future bride, was a year ahead of me in high school. We worked together on the yearbook and became good friends. Leia, the redhead—”

“Her name’s Leia?”

“Yeah, like the Star Wars character. We don’t get along.”

“Oh.” Ben’s eyes lit up as his milkshake arrived.

“Nothing major happened, we just don’t gel.”

“Right. Well, it happens.”

“I’m only friends with her because of Erika.”

Ben tore the paper off his straw and plunged it into the bubbly chocolate froth crowning the tall glass of his shake. “So, three of you there tonight?”

“Some of Erika’s work friends came, too. I don’t really know them. When I hang with Eri, it’s usually just us, sometimes Leia and the guys, too.”

“All hockey players?”

“Yep.”

Ben took a long sip of his shake, his eyes rolling back in exaggerated bliss then returning to Riley. “So, you said your boyfriend got drafted—what does that mean for you?”

Riley hugged her waist. “I’m moving to Minnesota—next hockey season, this fall.”

“This fall? Why would you have to move?” His eyes fell to her arms wrapped around her stomach. “You weren’t drinking earlier…jeez, he knocked you up?”

“No!”

“Well, why move? It’s not like you’re married or any—oh!” His gaze roamed to her hands, but they were still hidden behind her waist. “Shit, are you engaged?”

Eyes glazing over, Riley opened her mouth. “Y-Yeah,” fell from her lips along with a soft exhale.

“Really?”

She answered with a business-like nod.

“Well, congratulations.” His raised eyebrows contorted with confusion and concern. “You don’t look very thrilled about—”

“I am thrilled!” Her face lit up with a defiant smile as she dragged her left hand through her hair.

Ben watched its progress through her locks and along her neck, where it paused to stroke her collarbone. “Where’s your ring? Didn’t he give you one? Is that why you’re not all sparkles and rainbows?”

“I don’t care about the ring.”

“Isn’t that what girls say when they receive a shite one?”

“No!”

He scoffed, playing with his straw. “What a naff proposal. No ring—”

“There was a ring! A toy one, something to have until he bought the real thing.”

“But you’re not wearing it.” Ben leaned forward. “Blimey O’Riley, you don’t wanna marry this bloke, do you?”

“I do!” Riley glared.

“No, you don’t—not if you’re keeping your engagement a secret, not wearing a ring…”

“It’s not a secret!” The loudness of her sharp retort caught the attention of a couple waiting for takeout. Riley hunched over the table’s edge, lowering her voice. “For your information, I lost the ring…on the bus, with YOU.”

“How old are you?”

“What does that have to do—” She huffed. “Twenty-two.”

Ben’s eyes widened.

“What? Lots of people get married young.”

“Yeah, if they’re religious types, saving themselves until marriage. Oh, shit, sorry—are you like a Mormon or something?”

“I’m not saving myself. Jeez, Ben!” She scowled, watching two old men at the counter eating donuts. “It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“You’re right, it’s not, but if you’re not keen—”

“I am. He’s great—we’re great.”

The server appeared with her wrap and Ben’s burger. “Do you need anything else? Mayo, hot sauce…”

“Malt vinegar, please?” Ben flashed a smile. The woman nodded and strolled away.

“Josh and I have been together three years.” Riley leaned over her plate, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m really proud of him and I can’t wait for us to be together as a couple, okay?”

He smirked, flipping the bun off his burger. “If you say so.”

“Ben, you don’t know me. You have no clue what I want.” She caught herself. Why was she getting so annoyed at him? He was just being curious, and perhaps concerned. She knew in her heart it wasn’t his questions raising her blood pressure; it was the answers rolling off her tongue—the pretending, faking, lying, acting like all was well. It’s a miracle my nose hasn’t grown five inches. Ben’s right, about all of it.

The server set a bottle of white vinegar on their table. Ben frowned but grabbed it anyway. “Okay, so tell me—what do you want, Riley? Because it sounds to me like you’re following Josh’s dream, not your own.” He drowned his burger in a shower of vinegar, its smell prickling Riley’s nose as he tipped the bottle farther.

Yuck, he’s ruining his meal.

He set down the almost empty bottle and tucked the tablespoon sitting on his napkin into his hoodie pocket like it belonged to him. “Come on, be honest…”

Honest? What? She did a double take. “You—you just stole a spoon.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Needs must.”

“What’s that mean?” asked Riley.

“It means necessity compels. Hunter owns forks and knives—no spoons. Mad, eh? How do I put sugar in my tea without a bloody spoon? I hate stealing, but I need one so—”

“But you can’t just take it.”

“Oh, they won’t miss it.” He picked up his burger, but the soaked bun disintegrated into mush, spilling its contents on the plate. “Bugger!”

Riley chuckled. “That’s karma for swiping the spoon.”

He curled his lip, but a carefree glint shone in his eyes as he plucked the knife and fork from the table. “Fuck the spoon. I remember you saying you wanted to go to California, work your way into directing or casting…”

Riley was taken aback that he remembered. “Yeah. Someday…I’d like to work on sitcoms or dramas, happily ever after stories. I think there’s enough sadness in the news and everyday life, so I want to make entertainment that’s an escape, that helps people forget their worries for a while.”

“Happily ever after like…” He stabbed a chunk of burger. “You and Josh—in Minnesota.”

Riley scowled, stuffing a piece of chicken in her mouth. “Oh, forget it.”

“C’mon, I’m just taking the piss. I’m sorry. It’s great you want to use your creative talents in a compassionate way, to help people. It’s admirable, really. Not a lot of people care like that. And I totally get the escape from reality thing.”

“Yeah, I guess, being an actor.” Riley’s face softened. “Have you always known it was what you wanted to do?”

“No. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronomer. I loved stars and planets.”

“Ah, that explains your tattoo.”

“This one?” Ben stretched the neck of his t-shirt, revealing two hollow stars, one larger than the other, beneath the curve of his left collarbone.

“I spotted it earlier. It’s cool.”

“Thanks. Shame a passion for something can’t make up for shit grades.”

“Because of your dyslexia?”

“Maybe…probably.” He raised his fork to his mouth, chewing a bite-sized piece of burger quickly. “God, I hated school.” He spun his plate around so his fries were facing Riley. “Help yourself, ’kay?”

She nodded with a smile.

“The teachers said I had a learning disability, behavioral issues, and you know what kids are like. They called me a div.”

“A div?”

“Stupid person, a moron.”

“Aw, that’s awful!”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to win any academic awards. I did okay in drama class, though, so I thought, why not? I aced my auditions for drama school, received bursaries to help pay for it, got my BA, and here I am.”

“But how do you learn lines?” Riley peered into her wrap. “What do you see when you read?”

“Depends. Sometimes letters get mixed up or they move…it’s weird. If I’m relaxed or have time to partially recognize the words, I’m pretty good. It takes me a while, but I get there. I love books and reading, so I invest the time, but when I’m learning lines, I record myself reading aloud on my phone. Then I listen to it over and over, imaging a mini movie in my head, relating the actions to the words.”

“That’s a lot of work.” Her eyes fell to his plate. “No wonder the Netflix audition threw you—no prep time.”

“Cold read auditions are the death of me. It’s like reading aloud in school all over again.” He pulled the straw out of his shake. “I want to make something of myself, make my mum proud, but I’ve lost out on a dozen or more acting gigs on the trot, so I’m taking the hint.” He tilted his head, contemplating the chocolate dripping back into the glass. “I’m gonna quit.”

“Quit? How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“You’ve been out of drama school for…?” She picked up her phone and tapped at the screen.

He squinted at her flying fingers. “Almost three years.”

“And you’re quitting? Already? Imagine if J.K. Rowling gave up after her first rejection letters! You gotta keep chasing your dream, Ben. That’s what they’re there for—to keep you going.” She turned her phone around. “Look, these actors are all dyslexic: Kiera Knightley, Tom Cruise, Orlando Bloom. If they can do it…”

“Wow, you’re great.” His eyes brightened. “Care to follow me around and give me a kick in the arse when I need it?”

Her fingers scrolled the screen. “And it says here dyslexia doesn’t signify low intelligence. Ben, those kids at school were ignorant assholes. In a way, you’ll be letting them win if you quit—”

“How can you say all this to me but let your own dream die?”

“I’m…I’m not letting it die.” Aren’t I? Riley looked down at the bridesmaid sash, returning her gaze to Ben with a stiff smile. “I’m just…putting it on hold for a while.”

“Okay, then make me a promise, here and now.” He sucked on the straw, savoring the chocolate bubbles. “If you promise to hold on to your dream of working in TV, I’ll do the same with acting.”

“Ben—”

“C’mon, you can’t urge me to keep going and then ignore your own advice. Swear on that California wrappy thing.”

She set her phone on the table. “So, you’re going to stick with it?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Los Angeles…I’m envious. Riley’s eyes crinkled in the corners, visions of swimming, sunshine—freedom—flashing through her mind. “Will you head back to LA?”

Ben scratched his eyebrow. “I think I’ll stay in New York for a while. Someone’s gotta say yes at some point. One good audition could change everything, right?”

Yes! He’s staying… She nodded enthusiastically.

“So, come on, Hope—pinky swear you’ll not give up on your dream either?” He offered his small finger expectantly. “Don’t leave me hanging here.”

Riley’s shoulders slumped as she gave in to his demand, briefly locking her pinky finger with his. “Erghh, fine!”

They shared a smile and dug into their meals.

Come 2:30 A.M., both were slipping into carb comas. Ben insisted on paying for Riley’s dinner as an apology for his behavior at the club.

BUZZZZZZZ. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his brows furrowing farther with each passing second. “Shiiiit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hunter. He brought two—” He blinked. “No, three girls back from the club—perks of the job, I guess—and he’s asked me to make myself scarce.” He exhaled heavily. “I sleep on his sofa, so I’d have a front row seat…”

“Yikes!” Riley squeezed the takeout box containing half her wrap, tomorrow’s lunch.

Ben slouched back, running his finger along the edge of his plate, dotted with cake crumbs. “I’ll hang here, have another slice. Bet their breakfast is good.”

Putting on her jacket, Riley toyed with what to do. Should I offer? A pack of drunk teens harassed a neighboring table for change, making fun of the man’s accent and refusing to take no for an answer.

Ben looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Kids, eh?”

I can’t leave him here—alone. “You could crash on my sofa? It’s not very big—well, my whole place is claustrophobic, but at least you won’t be bugged non-stop.”

“You sure? Your fiancé won’t like it.”

“Ben, it’s sleep, not an invitation for sex.”

“But aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your spoons…eat all those peanut butter things you love so much?”

“I don’t have any peanut butter cups or valuables worth stealing, and don’t think you can try anything because I can taekwondo your ass with one hand tied behind my back.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Okay, so get a move on, Benjamin. It’s a one-time offer.”

“Riley, what can I say? You’re a real mate—thanks a lot.”

She smirked and picked up her leftovers. They both rolled out of the diner, sleepy and uncomfortably full.