Sixty-Two

A week later

Waging war against a stubborn head cold, Riley blew on a steaming spoonful of her dinner—chicken noodle soup. Heavy-lidded, she blinked at her iPad, propped up against Ben’s green Bruins cap. The tablet’s live FaceTime feed showed the California sun beating down on Piper, turning her bleached blondness into a retina-burning glow.

Riley breathed through her mouth and answered Pip’s question with a nasal twang. “Not an hour goes by that I don’t think of him.”

“Aw, Benjamuffin. I’m sorry you’re missing him so much.” Piper frowned underneath her huge white sunglasses. “Does he FaceTime a lot?”

“No, but he wasn’t a big FaceTimer or Skyper when he lived here, either. He calls and texts, though, all the time: photos of his breakfast, his walk to the library, doing laundry. It’s kinda funny how detailed he is.”

“Maybe he thinks if he’s not a constant presence in your phone, you’ll forget him?”

An ache squeezed Riley’s throat. “I could never forget him.” Eyes getting misty, she bowed her head and set down her soup. Here come the waterworks again.

“Rye…?” Piper lifted her sunglasses, concern narrowing her eyes.

Change the subject. “So, how’s life, Cali girl? Anything new from two days ago?” Riley smiled and wrapped a tissue around her streaming nose.

“Nope. Still pinching myself. Give me ALL the felt, googly eyes, and feathers! It’s puppet-making heaven! But I could do without the lame team-building t-shirts they make us wear. Check it…” Piper shifted the phone, showing off the banana yellow tee hanging shapelessly above her silver tutu, ‘I’M A PUPPET PAL!’ scrawled across her chest in a swirly red font.

Riley grimaced. “It looks like you rolled in mustard and someone squirted ketchup on your boobs.”

“I know, right?” Piper snapped her gum. “I love puppets, but I don’t need to declare it while walking along Santa Monica Boulevard. No wonder I haven’t made any friends.”

“You will.” Riley dragged her spoon through her soup. “Oh! Tonight’s Halloween! You should go to that party you told me about Monday. You’ll meet fun people there, and hot ones, too—LA’s full of ’em, right?”

“Meh. Women here think I’m weird, and the only men who give me the time of day are limp and made of felt.”

Riley giggled. Thank God I didn’t have soup in my mouth.

“I was listening to this girl at work bragging about her weekend hookup. She said he was a girthy seven inches. Can you imagine? I swear, I was a mess with the hot glue gun that afternoon. Come quitting time, I rushed home and pounced on Sherlock.” All of Piper’s sex toys were named after characters portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch.

Picking up another tissue, Riley squealed with laughter. “Oh, Pip, never change!”

Piper snickered. “How’s work going? Has Ass-Breath left?”

“Yep. I like it up on that floor, but my desk isn’t near anyone else, so it’s a bit lonely. I’d wander and say hi to my co-workers, but it would look bad if my boss needed me and I wasn’t around.”

“The joys of being an assistant.” Piper sighed. “If I worked there, I’d make a point of becoming best friends with you.”

“I know you would, Pip.” Riley blew her nose. “I really miss you guys.” It feels like that’s all I ever say.

“Aw, I know, I feel the same—” Riley’s phone rang and Piper squinted through the screen. “Oh, is that Maggie?”

“No…Nick, my boss. I’ll let him go to voicemail. He probably wants to quarantine me. He’s flying to London on Friday.”

“So, how is Maggie doing?”

“Good!” Riley’s face brightened. “She’s tolerating her anti-rejection meds much better now.”

“That’s great news. Give her a hug from me?”

“I will, once I’m over this stupid cold.” Riley sniffed. “Those meds weaken her immune system, so I can’t see her until I’m better.”

Piper scowled at the screen, noticing the time. “Shit, I should head back. I have to finish an elephant puppet.”

“Pip, I really think you should go to that Halloween party—”

“Maybe. Look, Rye, what you said about missing everyone—you seem really down.”

“Oh, I’m just sick and…being dramatic. I’ll be fine.” I will. I just have to keep telling myself that. “You should go—”

“No, you’re not being dramatic. Look, gimme five? I’ll call my boss, say I have a period emergency and need tampons. I’ll FaceTime you right back.”

“That excuse always works with male bosses.” Riley grinned. “Pip, really, I’m okay. It’s just so new…”

“But just because I’m not there, it doesn’t mean I’m not here for you, okay? You’re not alone.”

“I know, but there’s really no need to ‘buy tampons’.” Riley still felt lonely but laughing with Piper had boosted her mood considerably.

“When’s your next therapy session?”

“Tomorrow, and they’re helping—a lot. I just…slip backward sometimes. My therapist says that’s completely normal.”

“Well, okay, but if you want to talk—”

“I’ll call you.” Riley nodded.

Piper snapped her gum. “You better mean that!”

“I do!” A genuine smile graced Riley’s face. “Pip, just seeing you makes me feel better.”

“Me, too.” Piper blew her a kiss.

“Now, go! My soup’s getting cold—bye!” Riley waved and hit disconnect.

• • •

Riley tapped Ben’s name in her FaceTime app. It’s worth a try. 7:30 P.M. here is…thirty minutes past midnight there. He’s probably still up reading.

The annoying dial tone gave way to a half-assed Harry Potter.

“Riiiiiilles!” Ben’s blue eyes creased with happiness behind round plastic eyeglasses. The Band-Aid on his forehead from his accident was gone, replaced by a smudged lightning bolt between his dark eyebrows. A loose red-and-yellow striped tie curled around his neck, outside the collar of a half-buttoned white dress shirt, and his hair was standing up like he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He laughed and stumbled over something, which only made him laugh harder. “Aw, baaaaaaabe, I’ve missed yooooo.”

He’s drunk?! “Ben, where are you?”

“Home…”

“Where were you?”

“Out!” His face disappeared from the screen, replaced with a swinging glimpse of clothes on the floor, the crotch of his jeans, and a small lamp. When the phone stopped its travels, it looked like Ben was flopped down on an unmade bed.

“At a Halloween party?” She sniffed her stuffy nose.

“Yeppers.” He waved his cast at his face. “I’m Hazza Potter!”

“Y-Yeah, I see that.” Riley’s forehead creased. “Ben, how much beer did you have?”

“Not much…maybe two halfs.”

“One pint?”

“Yup.”

“Ben, it’s been only eight weeks. You’re not supposed to have any alcohol.”

“I’ve been a bad boy, Riles.” He laughed and fumbled his phone. “Whoops! Spank me, dirty girl!”

“Ben! It’s not funny!” The congestion in her sinuses started to throb. “The doctor told you no booze for three months. Your liver can’t process it. That’s why you’re pissed on one pint.”

“I only had a lickle bit.” He exhaled heavily like he was annoyed. “Stop yellin’ at me.”

“I’m not—”

“Can’t do this, can’t do that…Spencer says I should have fun, says I deserve it.” He gave a woozy frown.

Spencer—yeah, she’s an expert on liver donation. Great.

“She dressed me like dis and we went to…Hallween party. I wasn’t having anyting, but…go onnn, have a half.” He closed his eyes, his words slow to materialize. “Then, someone gave…more…”

Riley scowled. “Was Mark with you? Or that Freddie guy? BEN?!”

He startled, fighting the urge to sleep. “Blimey O’Ri…” His face scrunched like he was in pain. “Do you think of me…?”

What…? Just play along. “Do you think of me?”

“Ohhhhh, Riles! All the fuckin’ time. I think of you at the library, I think of you while eating toast, I think of you when I have a wank.” He groaned and closed his eyes. “Ohh…”

“Ben?”

“Riles!” Breathless, he sprung up to a sitting position, the Potter spectacles hanging off one ear. “Let’s phone fuck!” he growled.

“Uh…sure.” She blotted her runny nose with a tissue.

“Hey! Guess what?! I was celebratin’!”

“O-kay? Why?”

“Just back from Aberdeen—that’s Scotland.”

“Yeah, I know it’s Scotland, but the photos you sent me yesterday were in London—”

“Fooled ya! SURPRISE! Keegs, bless ’im, got me walk-on part in Lairds.”

“Really?” A warm, happy feeling filled her chest. “Oh, Ben! That’s incredible!”

“Yup. I was a messenger! From another clan. Said two lines”—he flung his hand away, his cast a white blur—“then fucked off.”

“I’m so proud of you! That must’ve been fun.”

“Yup…but Riles, ma’ wee lassie, I had nothin’ on under ma’ kilt. I wuz bollock nekked…”

Nice! “Well, I would’ve liked to have seen that…”

“I…show ya now!” He yawned and lay back, trying to stuff his phone down his jeans. Riley got an eyeful of his belt. “Let’s ’ave…” He closed his eyes. “Ssssssex…” His voice trailed off into gentle snores.

• • •

Next morning 6:05 A.M. in NYC / 11:05 A.M. in the UK

Riley slept through the arrival of Ben’s text.

Riley!!! Last nite, SO sorry. I was happy cuz Lairds but missing you + frustrated AF. I’m an idiot. Please 4give me? Luv u. xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A second text landed. ‘4 Riles!!!’—a new addition to his eighties playlist: “Tenderness” by General Public.