by Madrid, Liz
Riley narrowed her eyes. “You better not be implying that it’s someone I know.”
He shrugged. “Or someone I know. Anyway, let me help you put all these back on the shelves, Ri. You don’t need to get rid of all these books because of one damn complaint over a non-existent rat.”
“What if there is – ”
“And even if there is one, it’s no reason to take all these books down. It’s like someone burning down the house over a spider, like those Internet memes go,” Gareth said.
“What’s a meme?”
“Never mind, Ri,” he said, crouching in front of one of the boxes and pulling out three books in one hand. “Let me help you put them back, please. You were never one to give up so easily anyway. Are these to be arranged alphabetically or just randomly?”
As Riley stared at him, she had to admit that Gareth had a point. Allen freaked out and now she was freaking out, and not thinking clearly. What if the review wasn’t real? Then they’d won, whoever they were.
“The Health Department is coming tomorrow,” Riley said, looking around at the boxes and books scattered around her. “I have to get all these books back on the shelves by then or they’ll think we do have a problem.”
“That’s my girl,” Gareth said, grinning. “Alphabetical by author?”
“No, just random. You know how it is, the fun of being here is discovering what’s on the shelves, especially when they’re in no fixed order,” Riley said.
They spent the next two hours putting everything back up on the shelves and arranging the armchairs, tables and chairs back to the way they’d been. Throughout that time, Riley and Gareth barely spoke. When they did talk, it was only to say something about whatever book they held in their hands, whether it was part of a series, as so many of them were now, or whether they’d read it or not. Gareth said he had very little time to read books these days, while Riley had read most of them. Sometimes Gareth simply watched her as she put the books away.
Riley wondered what had really brought him to the Library, but when she asked him he just told her to keep putting the books away so they’d be able to get out of there. What was it he wasn’t saying?
By the time it was all done, it was past eleven and Riley was hungry and tired, barely able to keep her eyes open. She would have loved to make herself a cup of coffee, but the last thing she wanted to do was get the counter area in need of another cleanup and then be wired up all night. No, she’d head home and heat a pot of ramen noodles. As they made for the front door, Riley stopped and turned to look at him.
“Are you happy?” she asked. Out of all the questions she could have asked him then, Riley had no idea why she picked that question. But there was something in his eyes that told her that his answer would be no, or at least an unconvincing yes. But then, maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part, wanting to see him miserable.
Gareth paused. He pursed his lips and arched an eyebrow, his eyes gazing downwards as he thought about it. He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know anymore.”
“How can you not know?”
He shrugged again. “I haven’t really thought about it. It’s not like I get to wonder about the mysteries of the universe these days, not like years ago when all you and I had was time – and ramen. Remember those days?”
Riley didn’t answer. Of course she remembered them. Why else did she suddenly want to heat up some ramen noodles at home? She hadn’t had ramen in years. Riley opened the door and they stepped outside, the crisp autumn air a welcome change from hours of being surrounded by the smell of books and coffee inside the cafe. It had stopped raining, although there was still a light drizzle.
“I came back for you, you know,” Gareth said as Riley locked the front door and slipped her keys into her jeans pocket.
“What?” Riley asked. He’d spoken so softly that she’d barely heard him.
“I came back for you seven months after I saw you in LA,” he continued. “Someone else was living in the apartment and you left no forwarding address, nothing. It made sense, though. I’d written you a few times and the letters were all returned, but since the return address I used was my PO box, I didn’t know about the returned mail till I got back to LA. I was filming Hell’s Kingdom then, so I was in England for seven months.”
As he spoke, he took a number of letters from inside his jacket pocket and handed them to her. “I was cleaning up my stuff a few days ago and I found these. You might as well have them, Ri. You don’t have to read them if you don’t want to, but I also don’t want to toss them, you know.”
“When did you come back for me?” Riley asked, staring at him.
“I just told you. Seven months after I made up that story that you were a crazy fan at that party,” Gareth replied. “Look, I got to thinking about what happened after we last talked, and I know I told you I didn’t remember, but now I do. I know I told Collette that you were some crazy fan, but I did that so I could get you out of that house. You were so high, you didn’t know which end was up. And look, I’m sorry it had to happen that way. I’m sorry that for seven months I never checked on you either, but I was just so scared of making a wrong move in my first ever real job. Hell’s Kingdom. But I really did come back for you.”
Riley remembered Hell’s Kingdom. It was a big-budget cable mini-series and Gareth’s first big break, the only one he needed. He’d only had a supporting role, but his performance was so good, it caught the attention of a major director who then asked him to audition for a lead role in what would turn out to be his breakout movie.
“I tried calling you, but our old number was already disconnected,” Gareth continued. “I even tried calling Paige but she wouldn’t even take my calls at all.”
“That’s because she hates you for what you did.”
Gareth’s face paled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and exhaled. “I even came here to the cafe, after I checked out the old apartment, but Allen told me you were gone. So I thought you’d quit and moved on somewhere.”
“I was in rehab upstate,” Riley said. “But did you really think I was going to wait for you all that time after what you did? Even if I had wanted to stay in that apartment, you gave me no choice, Gareth. You sent your assistants to clean the place up and left me with only a damn mattress!”
Gareth stared at her. “Wait, I did what?”
“You moved me out of the apartment,” Riley repeated. “I recognized one of the guys who came over. He was at that party in LA.”
“But why the hell would I do that?”
“Well, you did, Gareth,” Riley said, angry now. How dare he deny it?
As Riley walked away, not caring if it was drizzling, Gareth caught her arm, but she kept on walking. “Riley, what the hell are you talking about? I never sent any ‘assistants’ to clean up our apartment. You were still living there. I mean, why would I do that? Shit, I may be cold, but I’m not that cold.”
“Well, you did, Gareth. I wish you’d just stop playing this damn game,” Riley said, hurrying down the sidewalk, hoping a cab would drive by. The streets were slicked with rain and some cars were splashing water against the sidewalks, but she didn’t care.
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Ri.”
“Well, now you do, Gareth, so have a nice life. You came and you’ve said your piece, now say, ‘goodbye, Riley, and enjoy your life’,” she said angrily, raising her arm to hail a passing cab. As it stopped in front of her, she opened the car door but paused before getting in. “I have to admit, Gareth, the final insult was paying me all that money. I mean, was that all I was worth to you? Twenty thousand fucking dollars?”
She slipped inside the back seat and closed the door, but Gareth held it open.
“What money are you talking about?”
“Oh, Gareth,” Riley groaned, rolling her eyes. “Twenty thousand dollars in cash. I’m sure you don’t remember because you’re what – worth a few million now?”
“This is insane,�
� Gareth said, staring at her in shock. “I’ve done a lot of shitty things, Ri, but never anything like that, especially not to you. Twenty thousand! Where the hell would I have gotten that kind of money three years ago? I was so broke then even my manager had to loan me money just to buy new clothes and shit. I had to pay Collette back a hundred thousand on top of her commission.”
As he stood outside the taxicab, getting drenched for it began to rain again, Riley was grateful that Gareth hadn’t tried to get into the cab with her. She wouldn’t have known what to do, though the cab driver was shouting at him to close the door before his upholstery got wet. But as she told the driver her address, the sound of the rain drumming against the roof made her reconsider.
“What the hell, get in!” said Riley.
The order momentarily took Gareth by surprise, drenched again from the rain, but he got in and shut the door, brushing the droplets from his hair.
“Where are you staying? I’ll drop you off.”
“The Plaza,” he said.
For a few seconds, they sat as far apart as possible on the seat of the cab, glaring at each other. Riley didn’t know what to think, but Gareth’s eyes told her that he was telling the truth. Still, it left her confused. If not Gareth, then who?
“I may be all fucked up from here to Sunday, Ri, but I would never, never do such a thing to you. Is that why you ended back at home living with your dad, because you believed I sent my guys to move you out of our place and pay you off?”
Riley didn’t answer. She crossed her arms in front of her and watched the lights outside the window, neon lights that splashed the darkness with bright shades of red, yellow and blue, the sound of the windshield wipers a rhythmic refrain that accompanied the silence between them.
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Ri,” Gareth said. “I don’t know what the hell is going on. But I sure as hell will find out who did that to you.”
“You’ve said enough, Gareth. Maybe it’s time we bury the hatchet and move on. It was a good thing that you came over, really. This way, I can get that closure people always talk about,” Riley said, scrubbing at the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Why did she have to cry?
“I’m so sorry, Ri,” Gareth said before the silence could come between them again. “I wish I could make it up to you after all these years. If I’d known – ”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Riley. As the Plaza Hotel loomed in the distance, Riley knew that Gareth would soon be gone from her life – forever, if she wished it.
“Congratulations on getting the role, by the way,” Riley said. “The Conley Brennan one.”
“Oh, that,” Gareth said, chuckling. “Thanks.”
Riley wanted to say a lot more, but remembered what Ashe had told her. It was only business.
“He’s a good man, Ri,” Gareth said softly.
“Who? Conley?”
“No, I mean Ashe,” Gareth said, slowly touching her hand that lay on the seat between them, their fingertips now touching. “I know you guys are seeing each other, and I mean it – he’s a good man, a decent man.”
Gareth interlaced his fingers with hers, and Riley felt nothing but the warmth of his hand, no electricity, no tingling up and down her spine, and no butterflies in her stomach. She felt only human warmth, the warmth of someone she had once known and trusted and loved so long ago.
“I wish you two the best, Ri. I really do,” he said.
“I wish the same for you and Isobel. You make a beautiful pair,” she told him just as the taxicab stopped right in front of the Plaza Hotel and Gareth let go of her hand.
“You can’t buy everything you read in the tabloids, Ri. Just because you see it in print doesn’t mean it’s true. Remember that, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
Gareth leaned towards her to kiss her on the cheek.
“It means that when you’re fucking your girlfriend’s brains out and she calls out another man’s name, what you think you’ve got isn’t real,” Gareth said, shrugging his shoulders. “It never was.”
23
Denial Ain’t Just A River In Egypt
Gareth hadn’t lied about the letters. He’d sent them to the old address, and they were all returned to him, their envelopes stamped many times between its origin and final destination, which had been Gareth’s postal box in LA. It was so like him to write down his LA address, Riley thought, even though the letters were all postmarked in Hertfordshire, England. And now they were all in front of her, all unopened, sent five years earlier in a span of six months.
Riley started crying after reading the first letter, and she kept crying till she finished reading all of them, each one saying how much Gareth missed her and how sorry he was for what had happened at the producer’s house. Each letter asked her why she hadn’t answered him.
Afterwards, Riley wondered what might had happened had she received them, had she not allowed herself to bundled out of the apartment so unceremoniously by those assistants that Gareth now claimed weren’t his. Sure, they may have been at that producer’s party, but he hadn’t sent them.
And then there was the money, all twenty-thousand dollars of it.
Though it was late, Riley found herself searching through the old boxes in her closet, trying to find the bag that had contained the money. It had been a vintage designer bag. She’d almost even sold it and would have made close to $200 on some consignment website, but what would have been the point in that?
She kept it to remind herself that she’d almost died from an overdose because of what had been inside that damn bag. She’d allowed herself to be defined by that stack of hundred-dollar bills. Then she remembered Gareth’s face when he’d assured her that he would never do such a thing. Never, he had stressed with horror on his face. Where the hell would he have gotten the money then anyway?
But if it hadn’t been Gareth, then who had done it? Whose idea of a sick joke had it been to move someone out of her own apartment, leaving only a mattress on the floor and a bag of money? Not even a note.
After a few agonizing minutes, Riley wondered if maybe she shouldn’t bother to find out who had kicked her out of her apartment and left her the money. It was her past and it had long prevented her from moving on. She’d held on to that grievance for three years and look where it had gotten her — not very far from where she’d started.
Riley put the letters away by her bedside table. Forget about dinner. She was too worried to eat, too confused over the events of the past few hours and the things that Gareth had told her. She needed to be ready for the visit from the Health Department in the morning, to deal with the repercussions from the review about the rat someone swore they saw at the Library Cafe. But if Gareth was right, it was probably just someone with a grudge against the cafe for some reason. And after having cleaned up the entire cafe and not finding a single rat or mouse dropping, she thought he was almost certainly right.
At least she could look on the bright side — the Library Cafe was now so clean one could eat off the floor if they had to. Not that she’d recommend it.
*
Though the review about the rat remained on their Yelp page, a few regular customers left their own reviews about how the Library Cafe was one of the cleanest places in Manhattan. Just as Gareth had suggested, the review about the rat had probably been a fake one since unlike the new reviewers who gave the Library five stars, they all had verified accounts and reviews written for other businesses.
Riley figured that maybe she better start getting a hang of social media after all. It didn’t take much to set up an account for the cafe, for one, as a way to highlight their products and their services. It wasn’t as if the Library Cafe hadn’t already caused a stir in social media as it was, what with two movie stars showing up at the counter two days in a row.
She could always focus on what the Library Cafe was known for the most — good coffee and amazing baristas behind the counter, people she’d trained herself. It was known as th
e place to find Ashe’s cafe Medicí besides the flat white. And foam art, which was growing in popularity and had become such an art form, she’d even caught Tessa practicing how to create a cat emerging from the side of the cup. And then there were the exclusive roast blends she’d come up with herself, after having worked with a roasting company upstate. How many pounds did they ship out to out-of-state customers each month?
But if someone were to ask Riley why she loved working at the Library Cafe, her answer was simple: the people. There was Percy, a media blogger and caffeine addict, who’d sit in his usual spot with a view of the door where he could people-watch more than he should be blogging. And Rachel, the writer who would come in at noon and sit in front of her laptop with an angry face as she wrote her novel. She wasn’t really angry. She just had a terrible case of what she told Riley was her ‘resting bitch face.’ And then there was Kyle – or Mister Kyle, as Riley and everyone else called him — a long-time regular since Riley had started working at the Library, always with his tailored suit as he came in for his coffee and morning paper, sit in his usual chair closest to the counter and sip his coffee while his driver circled the block as often as he needed to till he was finished. Riley wondered why he wouldn’t simply take his coffee to go, but she knew better than to ask. The man seemed to relish the time alone at his table with just his coffee and his newspaper. Carl said that he was a stockbroker, while Tessa said he was some CEO of some investment company. Riley figured it wasn’t anyone’s business what he did for a living. The man had a been a regular for so long she even carved his name – Mister Kyle – on the side of his favorite table.
After the Health Department officials left, it was business as usual, whether it was serving up her signature coffee blends to her regular customers, returning books back to where they belonged and making sure that the place was simply as homey as she wanted it to be.
When Allen came to take over the afternoon shift, Riley made her way to Paige’s house. The triplets would be at preschool and her sister would probably be blogging about her latest adventure, whether it was a trip with the kids to South Street Seaport or something that had happened at the park that was interesting enough to blog about.