Thirty-Eight
Radio City Music Hall was almost full by the time Riley, Maggie, Ben, and Piper arrived. Salute-ready in their violet caps and gowns, the best friends waved ’bye to their loved ones and scurried off to join Casey and their fellow graduates backstage.
Ben’s foot tapped nervously on the floor. I don’t usually do well alone with parents. He flipped through the Salute program, hoping the festivities would start soon. “Oh, look! Piper will be chuffed—the opening ceremony includes bagpipes.”
“She’s a proud Scottish lass.” Maggie smiled. “Riley says you were born there, too?”
“Yeah, Edinburgh.”
“Your mom must be so proud, her son acting in America.”
Shit! Guess Riley didn’t tell her I’m just a waiter. His jaw and shoulders tensed. “Actually, I haven’t had much luck so far. LA didn’t work out, and my Broadway gig…” He swallowed and squeezed his phone, avoiding eye contact. “I’m a singing waiter.”
Maggie shook her head and smiled. “Nothing wrong with that, Ben. You’re earning money, practicing your craft. You’ll get there.”
Bless her, she’s sweet. He met her eyes. “I’m barely scraping by, but that’ll change with this bike courier job. No more living off cereal.”
“Cereal! You sound like Riley.” Maggie leaned in. “But I remember those days, starting out, hungry for experiences, fun—a good meal.” She grinned. “It’s a rite of passage.”
No judgment at all. She’s lovely—like her daughter. He shifted in his seat and his shoulders relaxed, but his foot kept jittering out of sight.
“I worry about her, though. The rent she pays for that shoebox…but she needed to be near campus, and I didn’t want her missing out on the social aspects of college. It’s important.” She paused, her smile rising from a memory. “She saved all through high school—every cent she earned babysitting and from her part-time job went into her college apartment fund. She wouldn’t buy clothes or go out. Did she tell you NYU wasn’t her first choice?”
Ben shook his head. “No.”
“California was—UCLA, their school of theater, film, and television. Made sense, too. Working in California post-graduation has been her dream since forever, and she would’ve made great contacts during college. She got accepted, but…” Maggie’s gaze fell to her lap.
You were diagnosed with cancer, and Riley wouldn’t leave you. Ben stopped fidgeting, invested in Maggie’s response.
“She chose NYU instead.” She looked up at the vacant stage. “I told her I’d be fine and she should go to UCLA. She had worked toward it all through high school, but she’s stubborn.”
“You must be really proud of her.”
“So proud my heart’s about to burst. She’s had so much thrown at her, but she never complained, worked hard, and here she is—wearing the gold tassel on her cap, graduating as an Honors Scholar…and she’s still the kind, compassionate person I always hoped she’d be.”
Ben nodded in agreement. His phone glowed with a backstage text from Riley: ‘4 Benjamin’. He tapped it and a new eighties song popped up: “Lucky Star” by Madonna. You know it! A soft grin lingered. “You raised a good one there.”
Maggie smiled. “Did you go to college?”
“I did, yeah—Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London. I was the first one in my family to go to uni. Mum was adopted and they left her some money—she put it aside for my education. She saved like mad, too—with what, I have no clue, because we weren’t exactly rolling in it.” His eyes swept the art deco hall. “She never went out or spoiled herself. I think that’s why she was kinda stuck in the eighties when I was growing up. She made do with what she had, and it’s rubbed off on me—I love eighties stuff. Riley takes the piss. She’s like, ‘You weren’t even born then!’ but it’s just what I like.”
“And it bonds you and your mom. She sounds like a wonderful woman—with great taste in music.” Maggie’s finger looped around her ear as if she was trying to tuck hair behind it, but the only softness she felt was her scarf. Ben stifled a wince as Maggie’s wide smile faded. Her hand dropped to her lap. “Oh! I keep doing that. Old habits—”
“Ladies and gentlemen.” A confident female voice emerged from the speakers. “Welcome to the Tisch School of the Arts Salute. The class of 2018 will enter in a processional, appearing in the order in which their departments were founded.” Underneath her announcement, “Pomp and Circumstance”, the traditional song for graduation ceremonies, filled the hall.
“Where does the time go?” Maggie sighed. “I can’t believe Riley’s graduated…oh! There’s Casey!”
He entered from stage right carrying the purple ‘Film and TV’ banner. Behind him, a single-file procession of happy graduates waved, smiled, and snapped selfies.
“The Maurice Kanbar Institute of Film and Television.” The woman’s announcement was met with applause and cheers from the audience.
“This is pretty cool.” Ben’s eyes searched for his friend.
Maggie lifted a digital camera to her nose. “Oh, there she is!” She blinked back a tear and beamed, snapping a burst of photos as Riley walked behind Piper, the two women waving and laughing until they reached the steps leading down from the stage.
Ben raised his phone and pressed the red record button, following Riley until she disappeared into the darkness of the hall’s orchestra seating.
• • •
A pint of Rolling Rock rose toward the ceiling. “To our class of 2018…” The Scottish brogue of Piper’s father rolled over the long communal table in Hudson Malone, a gastro-pub on East 53rd Street. The watering hole, celebrated for its old New York charm, featured libations favored by Marilyn Monroe, Ernest Hemingway, and Audrey Hepburn. “Long may they keep us entertained!”
“To Casey, Riley, and Piper!” The party of eleven clinked their sodas, beers, and cocktails, their rush upward enticing the rustic table’s candles to bow and flicker.
Riley smiled at Maggie, busy across the table sharing a memory with Piper’s mom. So far, so good. She doesn’t look too tired.
“Ahh, that tastes like heaven.” Ben nodded to Piper’s dad and wiped his lips, sweeping away foam left behind by his perfectly pulled pint of Guinness.
“Born in Scotland, raised in England, loving Irish beer…” Riley nudged his right arm and sipped her water. “Living in New York!”
“He’s an international man of mystery.”
Ben and Riley turned, following the male voice. Casey hovered over their shoulders, an iced tea in his hand. “It’s about time we met, mate. I’m Casey.”
Rising to his feet, Ben caught Piper’s eye roll over Riley’s shoulder. “Hey!” Casey, always wary of shaking germy hands, offered his fist for a bump. Ben complied. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“All good I hope?” Casey chuckled.
“Of course. And congrats—Riles says you’re headed back to NYU to get your master’s.”
“And I hear you just made an indie film in LA—and you’re bezzie mates with Mark Keegan.”
“Er, I wouldn’t call us bezzie mates.” Ben’s eyes dipped to Riley and Piper, who were listening intently. “He’s a good friend. I haven’t seen him in a while, though.”
“Oh, like since uni?”
“Oh no, I last saw him…a year back? April, I think. Yeah, we went for a quick pint in London. He’s never home, the bastard.” He glanced over at Maggie. A smile lit up her face. “His career has exploded, makes staying in touch tricky.”
“Right…” With a barely visible squint, Casey lifted his chin and nodded knowingly.
“I lose track of where he’s filming these days.”
Riley tilted her head. Hmm. Doesn’t sound like they’re close.
Casey played with his straw, plunging the ice in his drink. “I thought I saw something about him joining Full Throttle 3.”
“I saw that, too.” Piper jumped in. “Filming starts in August.”
Ben nodded. “Ah, well, like I said, he’s never in one place for long these days.”
“I hate-watch that franchise. Car chases are so dumb.” Piper chewed her martini’s olive. “But with Keegs? Sign me UP.”
Casey grinned as servers arrived with food for their table. “Ah, better get back to the folks. Just wanted to say hi.”
“Thanks, mate. Good to meet you.” Ben sat down and Casey returned to his parents at the far end of the table.
Okay, now that we’re on the topic—how well does Ben know Mark? Riley smiled. “Have you met Mark’s girlfriend?” If they’re close, you’d think Ben would’ve met her.
“Alice? No, I haven’t, actually.”
Alice? “No, I think her name’s Alex—she’s a playwright? But there were rumors on social media they broke up, so—”
“Oh, nice one!” He leaned away from her, allowing the server to place a smoked turkey panini and fries in front of him. “Thanks. Mmm, this looks gorgeous!” He shifted the plate toward Riley, their plan to share the meal and its cost.
Well, Ben did say he’s not best friends with Mark, and guys don’t take their girlfriends with them everywhere. Riley smiled at him.
“I’m just gonna nip to the men’s room.” Ben stole a fry and excused himself from the table.
Maggie watched Ben disappear up the stairs and leaned over her small salad. “Sweetie, he’s lovely! We had a nice chat earlier.”
“He said you talked eighties music. He’s such a goof.” She giggled, glancing sideways at Piper.
“Must be hard being away from family.” Maggie unfolded her napkin. “I’m glad he came out with us.”
“Yeah, give him a pint, fries”—Riley picked up her half of the panini—“the promise of cake for dessert and he’s a happy guy.”
Maggie checked the stairs, ensuring Ben wasn’t in sight. “I think he likes you.”
Half-listening to Casey’s sister, Piper jumped in, lowering the fried calamari skewed on her fork. “Yeah, get on with it, will ya?”
“Get on with it?” Riley mumbled, staying quiet so Casey’s sister couldn’t hear. “How about you and Casey get on with it?”
“Ew! I’m eating here.” Piper lost her chin.
“Well?! It’s no different. We’re just good friends.” She lowered her panini and turned to her mom. “And before you say, Oh, but he’s lonely, believe me—he’s not. He’s a cute Brit in New York. He’s not wanting for admirers.”
“But does he buy them all gifts?” Sitting back, Maggie’s eyes darted over Riley’s head.
“Hey, don’t wait for me!” Ben swooped down into his chair. “Get in, Riles.”
Avoiding her mom’s gaze, she bit into her sandwich.