Chapter Thirty-Three. Riley
Chapter Thirty-Three
Riley
The next morning, Luna has left for the studio by the time I wake up.
Last night was really hard. I’ve never talked to anyone besides my dads about my feelings and guilt about Liv, and with my dads I was never completely honest. But after saying out loud that I feel like I shouldn’t pursue my dreams because I feel responsible for Liv’s accident …
it sounds totally illogical. I know, on some level, that Liv wouldn’t want that for me.
The note Luna left on the counter says to stop by the studio on my way to Via Carota if I have the time, so after I throw on clothes, I walk to the studio.
Luna always drives, but it’s only a thirty-minute walk and it feels refreshing to have the sun on my face after last night.
My eyes are still puffy, but it felt good to be open with Luna.
“Would you mind letting Luna know that Riley is here?” I ask the receptionist when I enter the lobby.
The receptionist calls up, then directs me to the second floor, where Luna’s recording.
The room has wooden floors with red carpets throughout, plush chairs and couches, and countless instruments throughout the room.
To the side there’s a recording studio, and I can see Luna in there through the doorway, recording a verse while Charles mans the soundboard.
Faithfully I took my marching orders,
Trusting that with every command I obeyed,
My salvation would be earned, and my demons would be slayed.
Instead each year, I fell upon my own blade.
Yet still, still, I kept up my masquerade.
It’s all that I knew how to rehearse
Until I kissed her first,
I kissed her first.
I walk in, and Luna stops singing abruptly. “Hey,” she says, her eyes running over me, searching to see if everything is okay after last night.
“I’d thought that maybe I was cursed,” I say.
“What?”
“The line. That should be the line, before ‘until I kissed her first.’” I don’t know what made me think of it; I know not one thing about songwriting.
But I’m sure of it. Luna looks to Charles, her eyes wide, and he nods in agreement.
The look on Luna’s face is so clear, her excitement, her inspiration—I love seeing her like this.
“Thank you, Riley, that line … I’ve been working it for a while.”
“No problem,” I say. I need to get out of here. I feel the pressure behind my temples and I’m not breaking down in this fancy studio that only musicians who will be memorialized in the history books really deserve to cry in. “I just wanted to say thanks for last night. For listening.”
Charles quietly gets up and excuses himself from the room, to leave us alone to talk.
“Of course,” Luna says softly. “Riley, I’m really sorry that happened to you.”
“To Liv,” I correct her.
Luna shakes her head. “No, to you. It happened to you too.”
I’m about to argue, but I pause. I’ve never thought of it like that. But maybe she’s right. And maybe I need to start confronting what happened head-on, instead of letting the decisions I made that night, and in the weeks afterward, haunt me.
“Maybe it did,” I say finally.
“And I’m sorry about what I said,” Luna adds quickly. “About you being scared. I didn’t … I didn’t know everything.”
“I think that maybe you were right, though.”
“I was being mean. It doesn’t matter if I was right.”
I walk over to her and tilt my head up to kiss her carefully over her guitar. “It’s okay, I understand. This is a stressful time. But I also needed to hear that.” Clearly having the only feedback I get be the click of a voicemail recording ending wasn’t doing anything for me.
“I love you so much,” Luna whispers, kissing me again.
“I love you too.”
After leaving the recording session, I head over to Via Carota, the high-end Italian restaurant where I’m shadowing the head chef for the night.
I watch him inspect dishes and knife work and tell the waitstaff about the seasonal plates that are new that night.
Even once the service is well underway, he never stops, and it should look exhausting, but instead it seems exhilarating.
At prime time I take a walk through the restaurant, pausing just long enough by tables to overhear their exclamations as they take their first bites, or to notice which shared plates are being absolutely devoured and reordered.
The interior of the restaurant is cozy and rustic, but outside, a row of two-person tables line the front window, and couples are on dates, leaning close as they sip wine and eat pasta.
All the restaurants where I’ve shadowed have impeccable food service.
Whether it’s Italian, Greek, Japanese, French—the preparation, execution, ingredients, and flavor combinations are flawless.
But what I’ve become more and more interested in is the ambiance that each restaurant curates.
Is it a hip sushi spot with modern architecture and upbeat music?
A family-style Greek restaurant with long tables where groups almost spill into each other?
A romantic French bistro with low lighting and roses on each table?
Or a place like this, which draws couples, families, and large groups of friends and caters to all of them?
They’re all well done. But my mind keeps going back to the restaurant we went to in Greece, where the water licked our feet.
The idea of doing something like that in Provincetown has been playing in the back of my mind ever since, and for the first time in two years I’m actually starting to wonder … What if?
After the dinner service ends, I walk down the street to meet Rhia. She’s standing outside a Five Guys on the corner, and as soon as I get to her, she wraps me in a long hug.
“Glad you’re still standing,” she says pointedly.
I laugh. “Honestly, I’m surprised. It’s been a crazy few weeks.”
We barely saw each other the last week of tour in London, which is really my fault. With everything going on with Luna and the press and the videos coming out, I didn’t have the bandwidth to talk about the situation.
Rhia rolls her eyes. “That’s only the understatement of the century! Come on, let’s go inside so you can spill everything.”
I glance behind her skeptically. “Not … here, right?” I’m not above eating at Five Guys if I’m at a rest stop or something. But while I’m in New York and there are more incredible restaurants than I could ever dream of going to in my lifetime, I’d really like to try as many as I can.
“Just wait,” Rhia says with a wink.
Reluctantly, I follow her inside, and she walks straight past the people eating burgers and the counter, to the back of the restaurant.
She knocks on a door that seems like it would lead to a supply closet, not even the kitchen, but to my surprise a burly man comes out and gives her a quick but enthusiastic hug.
“Rhia!” he exclaims. “Been long enough.”
“I just got back!” she says with a wide smile. “This is my friend Riley, also from tour.”
“Nice to meet you, Riley. I’m John.” He hugs me too and then pulls back and takes me in, narrowing his eyes. “Any friend of Rhia’s is a friend of mine, but I’m still going to need some ID tonight.”
“Oh, uh, of course,” I stammer. I’m so confused right now. I fumble for my wallet and hand him my driver’s license, which he scans before handing back.
“Come on up, ladies,” he says with a grin.
I follow him and Rhia through the door, and suddenly we’re walking up a tiny staircase and entering a swanky bar.
There’s a reddish glow from the lights and a long counter with stools and people everywhere.
John hangs back by the door, and Rhia leads me away from the counter and takes a sharp left into a tiny room with plush seating and dark wallpaper.
There are two men huddled up against the wall opposite us, whispering and laughing over their cocktails, and once we’ve locked down our seats, Rhia stands back up immediately.
“Wait here, seats go fast at this hour.”
She returns a few minutes later with cocktails and hands me one. “Cheers!”
We each take a sip, then trade glasses to try the other, and they’re amazing. Very floral, botanical almost, and refreshing. “This place is incredible!” I say excitedly. “How did you find it?”
Rhia grins. “I love taking out-of-towners here. Is this your first speakeasy?”
I nod. “It’s so cool.”
“Honestly, it totally is so cool. This one is also every hipster in the West Village’s ‘secret’ spot to take a date to, so it’s not super exclusive, but it is fun.
John and I used to dance together, so now I come here a lot since at the end of the night he’ll come up and have a few drinks and we can hang.
But you should take everyone you know here, especially if they’re not New Yorkers, so you look really in the know. ”
“Luna would love—” I break off, realizing that actually, Luna would never be able to go somewhere like this. Even though in some ways she has it all, now that we’re in the real world instead of on tour, I can see how limiting her fame is too. “I’ll take my dads.”
Rhia nods. “So? Tell me everything. How’s it all going outside of tour?”
“It’s been a hard few weeks, to be honest. I think it’s a really stressful time for her. But when it’s just the two of us, it feels so perfect. Ugh, I don’t know. I just know I want to be what she needs right now.”
“You two are literally so cute. I always thought Luna had a heart of steel and that’s why she dated these guys she literally never saw, because it didn’t matter to her and she only cared about work. But seeing you two at the wrap party … I’ve never, ever seen her like that with anyone.”
I’m glad it’s dark, because I’m blushing furiously, eager to hear more. “Really?”
Rhia nods seriously. “Literally never. She’s always pretty standoffish, and it’s like she’s thrown away all her rules for you. I’ve never seen her actually look happy like that when she’s not performing. And seeing her be so real, honestly, it makes her a million times cooler in my book.”
“Well, she’s making me rethink everything I was so sure of too. I thought I was so sure about where my life was going, but seeing her so focused on getting what she wants makes me want to do it. To cook, and make myself happy even if it disappoints my family.”
Rhia starts a slow clap that gets feverish with excitement. “That’s what I’ve been saying. Luna deserves some credit here, wow! Are you really going to do it? We can call your dads right now! Send a text! No take backs!”
“Slow down!” I laugh. “I need to figure out the right way to do it. But I want to.”
“You will,” Rhia corrects gently.
“Fine. I will.” Just saying it makes my heart pound. But I want it to be true.
This time Rhia golf claps. “Well, I know things have been messy, but I think you two are good for each other.”
“Me too,” I say quietly.
“But also … what’s her house like? I’ve heard it’s epic. Is there really a pool? Just between us.”
I laugh and take another sip of my drink.
“There really is a pool. But it’s inside and there are no windows, just these screens where you can set the view to different places.
And she has an at-home studio, which looks so professional.
And oh my god, the kitchen is amazing. She’s definitely never used it, but the stove…
” I ramble on, telling Rhia everything, and it feels good to talk to someone who knows both of us like this.
It feels like I’m finally moving forward.