Until The Last Star Fades

by Jacquelyn Middleton

  Riley’s lips parted. “You sure?” she whispered.

  “Yep.” Ben ran his hand through his hair. “Can we set the surgery date now?”

  “We can. We had a cancelation for next week.”

  “Someone dropped out?” asked Ben.

  Dr. Ricer didn’t answer and kept scrolling on his computer. “We’d like to schedule Maggie’s transplant as soon as we can. It’s always tricky to book these things as we need two operating rooms, two surgeons, two teams of nurses and anesthesiologists…okay, right. Here it is. What are you doing a week from now—Tuesday, September 4th?”

  Ben turned to Riley and smiled. “Saving your mom.”

  Fifty-Two

  Three days later

  Riley’s phone lit up with a photo of Ben basking in April sunlight atop Rat Rock.

  “Hey!” She cradled it in the nook of her neck, her hands busy typing an email on her laptop. “I was just gonna call you. I got an interview! A week from today for the full-time BBC assistant job!”

  “Seriously? Aw, Riles, that’s just grand! I knew they’d consider you.”

  “Oh, and you left without your lunch.”

  “Ahh, well, that’s all down to you, that is,” Ben whispered through the phone. “After sex that good, my brain shuts down and I basically become a vegetable.”

  “Yeah…” Riley’s mind drifted: Ben’s fingers gripping her hips from behind…his eager mouth biting her shoulder, owning her wet skin…their gasps and moans muted behind the plastic curtain… “Just don’t tell Piper. She’ll never shower in there again.”

  He chuckled. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Muffled voices and laughter rose in the background. “Hey, listen, if you’re free, can I meet you and grab those sandwiches?”

  “Uh, yeah, if we meet halfway somewhere.” Riley glanced at the plastic container holding Ben’s lunch hostage. “I have to be at Sephora at two.”

  “Oh, I thought you were scheduled off today?”

  “I got called in. Someone’s sick.”

  “Ahh, okay…well, meet me at Wagamama?”

  “What? A few blocks away?

  “Yep. My last delivery was nearby.”

  “Why do you need sandwiches if you’re eating noodles?”

  “I’ll save them for dinner. Please? Come meet me now!”

  “’Kay, be there in five.”

  Pulling open the door to Wagamama, Ben’s favorite restaurant chain from London, Riley walked into a wall of noise: laughter, clinking cutlery, and John Legend crooning somewhere through the speakers. A cluster of hungry diners waited ahead of her, perusing menus and checking their phones. She glanced past them, spotting Ben wearing his Duran Duran t-shirt, waving her toward a teak booth beside the window. Who’s he with? Someone in a ball cap and a woman with a long blonde ponytail sat across from him.

  “Riles!” Ben climbed out of the booth. “I want you to meet some friends.”

  She turned—and her heart froze. Whaaaa…is it…?

  The chaotic lunchtime noise, the dim light, yummy smells—everything except the male sitting in front of her, got sucked up into a massive black hole of unimportance.

  IT IS! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!

  Riley’s stomach dropped in the most spectacular, giddy freefall. She stared, mouth agape, her lungs paralyzed, all ability to form words gone.

  Ben chuckled, removing the tub of sandwiches from her arms. “Riley, meet Mark and Alex!”

  Mark Keegan. Keegs. Your fave actor…he’s real. He’s HERE!

  Grinning from ear to ear, Mark Keegan was almost unrecognizable, his pitch-black hair, long and shaggy, barely contained under his ball cap. Sunburn tinged the tip of his pale Irish nose and he was wearing navy knee-length shorts with a baggy New York Yankees t-shirt that hid his toned chest.

  “Hey, Riley.”

  That Irish accent!

  Mark stood up and kissed her on each cheek. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” He gave her a soft bear hug, her nose buried in his neck.

  He smells ah-may-zing! What is it about Irish and British guys and their…oh! Crap! My hair’s in his face! ARGH! The ONE day I don’t shampoo…

  Mark pulled back, gifting Riley the full impact of his brown puppy dog eyes. Holy crap! He’s even more gorgeous in person! And…shorter? Shorter than Ben. “Hi…it’s nice to meet you.”

  Mark motioned to the pretty blonde in a blue sleeveless shirtdress. “This is my girlfriend, Alex. She’s from Florida…”

  “I know!” Shit. Great—now I sound like a total stalker. Alex will know you read online gossip. Speaking of which, they’re here…together—they’re back together! Oh God, wait ’til I tell Pip! “Hey, Alex. It’s so great to meet you.”

  Mark sat down and Alex waved from the end of the booth. “Hi! This is amazing. I finally get to meet Ben, and now you, too. I’m so happy to have friends in this crazy city.”

  Ben held the sandwich box and shifted along the seat, nudging his bike helmet and messenger bag with his hip, making room for Riley to scoot in.

  Alex Sinclair wants to be friends! “Oh, you’re moving here?” Riley’s eyes lit up and roamed the table—no food, just drinks. Ben was following donor pre-surgery protocol and was sipping ice water, not alcohol.

  Mark nudged up the peak of his cap. “New York’s great, but no, London’s home, eh, Mouse?”

  Mouse? Mark calls her Mouse. Okay, I’m dying.

  “My play is transferring from London, so I’ve been here working with the producers.” Alex toyed with the straw in her soda. “We’re flying home tomorrow, but I’ll be back for casting in April.”

  “And opening night in May.” Mark sipped his beer. “Can’t wait for that! Thirteen is a great production. I’m proud of my girl.”

  Alex’s eyes lit up. “You guys should come!”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Ben wrapped his arm around Riley and whispered in her ear. “I ordered you a ginger ale.”

  Riley smiled breathlessly at her boyfriend. How is this happening? We’re sitting with MARK AND ALEX!

  “I was just apologizing to your man, here.” Mark smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s my fault we lost touch, mate. I’m glad you reached out to Freddie.” He looked at Riley. “Freds is my best mate back in London.”

  “Freddie’s a top bloke.” Ben swept his hair from his eyes. “I’ll never forget when you guys came to my play at the Old Red Lion Theatre. Tough gig. You were the only people in the audience, if you don’t count the bar staff.”

  “I wanted to tag along that night. I was trying to get this one to notice me.” Alex looked lovingly at Mark. “We were all at the Castle pub earlier in the evening…”

  Mark nodded. “That’s where Alex and I met.”

  “Well, met properly,” Alex said with a smile.

  “May 30th, 2015, a night I’ll never forget—but not for Benny’s acting.” Mark dodged back as Ben swatted at him across the table.

  Benny?! Riley stifled a laugh.

  “Ahh, The Castle. I love Islington. I love that pub,” said Ben. “Riles, when we’re in London, I’ll take you there.”

  When we’re in London…? Riley’s heart fluttered into a frenzy.

  “We’ll get the whole gang out: Lucy, Harry, Simon, Tom, and Naomi!” Alex nodded enthusiastically.

  “Well, if the rest of them are as great as Freddie…” Ben smiled. “He gave me Keegs’ new number yesterday. I rang Mark to catch up, and voila—the bastard’s right HERE.”

  The server stopped at the table with the ginger ale, and Riley noticed how Mark pulled down his cap and ducked his head. Once she dashed off, his chin lifted and he rejoined the conversation.

  “Yeah, I’ve barely been home this year. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I lost my phone and had to change my number because some fans got hold of it. And I lost most of my contacts. I’m not great with technology.”

  “You’ve always been shite at replying to texts.” Ben stroked Riley’s shoulder.


  “But I’ll have you know, Fagan, I rang Spencer months back, trying to get in touch.”

  “Oh…” Ben shifted in his seat. “Erm, she’s…”

  She? A girl named Spencer?

  Mark laughed. “What did you do? She refused to give me your number.”

  “I just owed her some rent…” He winced, turning to Riley. “Spencer’s my old flatmate—we met at uni.”

  “Oh.” She sipped her drink. Ben’s never mentioned her.

  “And the owner of an awful hairless cat.” Mark scrunched up his face.

  “Cat?” Ben sneered. “More like a rat. He used to nip my feet.”

  “Yeah, not cute, not like Pizza Rat.” Mark picked at the label on his beer. “We actually saw him last week—for real!”

  “I love Pizza Rat. He’s so cute—in a grubby New York way!” Riley turned to Ben, who looked both confused and creeped out. “There’s this video of a rat dragging a dirty slice of pizza along the subway tracks.” She laughed. “I’ll show you later.”

  “My first celebrity spotting in New York.” Mark chuckled. “Yeah, I like it here. We did Central Park on my first day, went up the Empire State Building, walked the High Line, and visited Coney Island—I almost got Lex on a roller coaster, but she chickened out.”

  Alex frowned. “Ugh, I hate them.”

  “I don’t blame you,” said Riley.

  “What?” Ben leaned in to his girlfriend. “You’ll scale boulders and rock walls, but a rollercoaster gives you the willies?”

  “It’s not the height. It’s the lack of control I don’t like.”

  “Ahh, now, that makes sense.” Ben kissed her on the forehead and turned back to Mark with a smile. “So, when does filming start? It’s Full Throttle 3, isn’t it? Lots of car chases…”

  The inside scoop on a movie shoot! Riley couldn’t mute her huge grin if she tried.

  “No, I dropped out weeks ago.” Mark met Alex’s gaze and they shared a soft smile. “The script was total bollocks—a ton of plot holes and CGI explosions, zero character development or heart…it just wasn’t for me.”

  “Phew, that’s a relief, mate. Now I don’t have to tell porkies.” Ben scratched his stubble. “Those Throttle films are shite!”

  “Yeah, I’m sticking with stuff I love: season four of Lairds shoots in October, and then I’ve got A Doll’s House at the Old Vic. Previews begin in February.”

  “Old Vic? Blimey, Keegs, well played. That theater is life goals.” Ben nudged Riley. “It’s like two hundred years old and stunning inside—another for our London to-do list.”

  “Can’t wait.” Riley beamed like she could burst.

  “How’s it been for you, finding work out here?” Mark took a swig of beer.

  “Oh, you know. I’m auditioning…no luck yet. I’m doing jobs on the side.”

  “I’m guessin’ courier by the helmet—good, keeps you fit. Bartending, too?”

  “Close! I’m a singing waiter in a diner for tourists!” With a smile, he sarcastically raised his glass to Mark.

  “And a lifesaver.” Mark clinked his beer bottle with Ben’s glass and grinned warmly at Riley. “This fella here…he may be clumsy as fuck and a bit of a klepto, but he’s got a heart of gold. He’s a good ’un. I don’t mind tellin’ ya, if I was donating my liver in four days’ time, I’d be absolutely shitting it.”

  “Well, what can I say? Some of us are made of stronger stuff, Keegs.” Ben pulled up his sleeves to show off his modest guns.

  Riley rolled her eyes, slapping Ben’s arm playfully as the two old friends laughed.

  Alex smiled sympathetically. “Ben told us about your mom, Riley. I hope surgery goes well and she feels better soon.”

  “Yeah.” Mark nodded. “We’ll be sending positive thoughts and lots of love.”

  “Thanks, guys. Mom’ll love to hear that…” Should I ask? For her? “Mark, would it be possible to get an autograph for her?” I hope that isn’t weird!

  “Oh, absolutely!”

  Riley pulled out a spiral notebook and a pen from her tote, handing them over.

  “Maggie, yeah?”

  Riley nodded, and Mark took his time, writing a message while she chatted with Alex and Ben. Alex asked about Riley’s time at NYU and her BBC internship, and they exchanged contact details. She added Riley on Instagram and Facebook and insisted they stay in touch so they could meet up when she returned to New York in April.

  “Here you go, love.” Mark handed Riley her notebook. “Maybe next time we can meet Maggie, too.”

  “That would be great!” Riley tucked Mark’s note in her bag. She didn’t read it, saving it as a surprise for both herself and her mom.

  “I wish we could actually have a meal and stay a bit, but Lex has a final meeting in Midtown.”

  “Oh!” Riley checked her phone. Noooo! “I gotta go to work, too.”

  Ben fished a few dollars out of his pocket and left them on the table beside money left by Mark.

  “Let’s not leave it so long next time, eh?” Mark stuffed his wallet back in his shorts. “Text me when you’re in London?”

  “Definitely, mate.” Ben nodded, tossing his messenger bag over his shoulder. “But before you go, let’s get a pic like old times.”

  Riley beamed. Ben, I frickin’ LOVE you! I so wanted to ask for a photo.

  “Christ, remember the photos we took during drama school? The London Dungeon costumes…?” Mark slipped out of the booth and offered Alex his hand so she could exit easily with her purse and shopping bag from Duane Reade.

  “That tourist attraction? You acted there?” asked Riley.

  “Yeah, we played historical Londoners.” Ben nodded at Mark. “Jack the Ripper here begged me to join him.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “Tough crowd, long days—bloody hot, too! At least we had a laugh together, scaring tourists.”

  “I didn’t know you played Jack the Ripper, Mark!” Alex giggled.

  “With Keegs’ charisma? He KILLED it, geddit?”

  “Ben!” “Oh, God!” His friends groaned.

  He nudged his hair from his eyes. “I was hoping to play Guy Fawkes, Henry VIII—someone awesome—but nope. I was a jester and the plague doctor.”

  Mark snickered. “Ben spent most of his first term at Guildhall washing off fake blood and puss.”

  “Eww!” Riley and Alex cringed with laughter. “That’s just gross!”

  “I’d keep those photos under lock and key, Keegs. They’ll be worth a mint one day.” Ben winked. “Riles, use your phone? Mine’s cracked to fuck.”

  The four of them gathered around the edge of the table and Ben took several selfies. Mark adjusted his hat back down over his eyes and hugged Riley. “Be sure to text me those, ’kay?”

  “Stay in touch.” Alex embraced Riley, too. “We have to hang out when I’m back in the spring.”

  This is surreal. “For sure.” Riley picked up Ben’s sandwich box and caught a glimpse inside Alex’s small plastic bag. Packages of Twizzlers?!

  The two couples headed outside into the bright sunlight on Third Avenue. Mark promptly put on his shades and nodded at a discreetly idling SUV. “All the best for Tuesday, yeah? Riley, make sure this one behaves.” Mark snickered, smacking Ben’s hand and pulling him in for a one-armed hug. “Ben Fagan, liver donor—never in my wildest.” Mark gave Ben a squeeze and let him go. “I’m proud of you, mate.”

  Ben responded with a tight-lipped smile.

  The famous actor and his playwright girlfriend climbed into the SUV’s back seat and waved from the window, driving north through the Friday afternoon traffic.

  Riley stood slack-jawed. “You forgot your lunch on purpose, right?”

  Ben hugged his helmet and twisted slightly back and forth. “Got you here, though, didn’t it?”

  “Did that…really just happen?”

  “The look on your face…bloody priceless!” Ben leaned in to kiss her, but Riley’s phone went off in her hand.

  S
he reluctantly pulled away and handed Ben his sandwiches. “Sorry, could be Mom…oh, Casey. Just let me…hel—”

  “OH. MY. GOD.” Casey’s shouting made her wince. “RILEY! HE WASN’T LYING!”

  “Case?”

  “I was SO wrong about Ben. I’m texting you. Take a look—call me RIGHT BACK!”

  Riley lowered her phone. A screenshot appeared by text, then another. The first was a shot from Mark Keegan’s Instagram, a photo of Maggie’s crowdfunding page with a caption saying: Please spread the word and help my friend if you can. Much love, Mark xo

  The second image was Mark’s Instagram bio with a link so his fans could donate directly to Maggie’s campaign.

  “Oh my God. Mark’s sharing Mom’s…” Riley jabbed at her phone, opening up the crowdfunding page. Scrolling, scrolling…

  A slow smile crept across Ben’s face.

  “Mark donated five thousand dollars and brought us up to just over nine thousand five hundred! And his fans! They’re giving ten, twenty…a hundred dollars! You told him about this?!”

  “It might have come up.”

  Riley shook her head in awe. “I can’t…I just can’t believe you did all this. Thank you so much…Benny!” She smiled and leaned into him for a long, deep kiss.

  Fifty-Three

  Ten hours…almost half a day…six hundred minutes—the only thing separating Ben from his life-changing decision. Before and after…what would the after be like? How does someone feel after saving someone else? Happy? Empowered? Scared? For the past three days, Ben could think of little else, and the whispers in his head were getting louder, more demanding, feeding the seeds of anxiety in his belly. Normally, he’d turn to alcohol to block out unease or sweat away his troubled thoughts in a crowded club, but that morning as a fiery sliver of sun broke through Riley’s curtain, exposing the disarray in the darkness, his girlfriend helped him silence the noise. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.