91. Riley
NINETY-ONE
When I walkinto the newspaper building first thing on Monday morning, it feels like I”m starting a new job. My stomach clenches with first-day-of-school jitters, which is absurd. The entire office seems foreign to me, filled with sights and sounds and smells that are unfamiliar. The place reeks of decades of ink, burnt popcorn, and mold.
A far cry from the hotel I was just in yesterday in New York. But that”s not real life, I remind myself.
This is.
I try to slip in unnoticed, but Christopher the busybody editorial assistant pounces the moment I step inside.
”Look who it is! Riley Murphy. Oh my god, I haven”t seen you in forever.” His tone is bubbly and gushing and I immediately don”t trust him.
”Hi,” I say shyly, pausing at his desk at the front of the newsroom. It would be rude if I didn”t acknowledge him.
”Welcome back.” He peers over the rim of his black glasses. He”s staring at me as if I”m an alien who recently landed on Earth. ”I heard you were sick. Appendix?”
”Kidney,” I say with a tight, sad smile, hoping he doesn”t ask for more information. The last thing I want to do is explain to a coworker that I got a raging infection in my organs because I”d had too much sex with my boyfriend.
”Sucks. I hope you”re feeling better.”
I nod. ”I”m great now. Anything new here?”
He snickers. ”Yesterday, John told the city editor to suck his dick.”
”Oh, whoa. That must”ve been...something.” I giggle. John covers city hall and acts like he”s on the White House beat. My first week on the job, he yelled at me for using his stapler.
”Yeah, the editor asked him to write a brief about a car crash. John was all like, ”I”m working on something important, you can suck my dick,” ” Christopher mimics John”s snippy baritone. ”And let”s see. What else? Two copy editors were laid off, and someone in business news is sleeping with someone in advertising.”
”Wow. A lot has happened. Who in business news?”
He mentions a woman I”ve chatted with in passing. She”s in her fifties, who is apparently having an affair with a younger — and married — woman in ads. Honestly, I”m less shocked about the clandestine lesbian love affair than I am Christopher”s chumminess. Usually he”s frosty at best, and catty at worst.
”Well, thanks for catching me up,” I say with a wave. ”I”m going to try to get back into the swing here. Mentally I”m on vacation.”
Christopher knows I”m dating Gabriel. The entire world does. Probably he”s wondering why I don”t quit and be on permanent vacation as the girlfriend of a mafia boss.
”Good luck,” he says, eyeing me sympathetically. ”Maybe you can come with us tomorrow for lunch. We”re planning to go to that empanada place.”
A smile spreads on my face. Probably I look way too eager, but I nod enthusiastically. I”ve never felt like I fit in here, and perhaps this is a new beginning for me. ”Sounds good.”
I settle in at my desk, which is still in the same messy state that I”d left it in a few weeks ago. I check the notebook I”d been writing in. It”s filled with story ideas and possibilities. All of them seem stale now. It”s as if I”ve been away for years.
Memories of that night I was working when the restaurant shooting come flooding back into my brain. So much has happened in a short amount of time. The local shooting, the New York boutique shooting, my hospitalization, the entire trip to New York, all of the angst with Gabriel...
I sigh out loud, thanking the universe that no one is in yet in this part of the newsroom. John, the City Hall reporter, has his desk next to mine, but doesn”t come in until later. The general assignment reporter isn”t in, and neither is the new crime writer. I”m grateful for the silence.
My first order of business is to clean this stupid desk. I screw up my face at the sight of a half-filled coffee mug that”s been sitting here for weeks.
”Gross,” I whisper.
My phone pings, and I wonder if it”s Gabriel. He has been oddly distant since yesterday. He”d spent the entire flight back to Florida on his laptop, and when we arrived at his house, he”d disappeared into his office. I stayed with him last night, but had fallen asleep early, and he was already gone by the time I woke up.
I expect he”s texting me good morning, or an apology that he wasn”t able to stay and have breakfast. But I”m shocked when I discover it”s not him.
It”s Cath.
Are you home? Can you have drinks tonight? I miss you!
I grin. This is unexpected. Partially because Catherine doesn”t seem like the kind of person to even be awake at nine in the morning. Also because I”d texted her on Friday, saying Gabriel and I were going to New York. She”d responded with a quick, short text — have fun! — and I hadn”t heard from her since.
Sure! I”d love to. Where?
Within a few seconds, she sends me the address of a new bar downtown. We set a time: five-thirty. There”s no need to stay at the office longer than necessary today.
I text her a heart emoji, then open a text to Gabriel.
I”m going out with Cath tonight after work. See you later. xoxo
When I”m done with that, I go into the office kitchen, hoping that Christopher or someone started a pot of coffee. No one did, of course. In a way, that”s better, because I think I make better coffee than anyone. I fire up the coffee pot and scan the vending machine for those gross sticky buns. I swear softly when I see the buns are sold out.
Then I check my messages on my phone while the coffee brews.
Gabriel, who usually texts me back within minutes, hasn”t responded at all.
Eight hours dragby before I can finally escape the newsroom. Only four blocks separate me from the newsroom and the bar where I”m supposed to meet Cath, so I opt for a brisk walk instead of relying on my car. There”s an odd comfort in walking. Maybe it”s because I spent all those hours strolling around Manhattan this past weekend.
The warm, humid air envelops me. My mind swirls with the weight of Gabriel”s terse message, the only communication he bothered with today. Its icy tone sends shivers down my spine, leaving me confused and uncertain.
Stepping into the bar, I”m greeted by a chill vibe. The place is bathed in the soft glow of tiki torches. The bar is hopping, filled with the hustle and bustle of downtown workers all in their business suits. Cath awaits me on a sofa, her legs casually propped up on a table.
”You look absolutely amazing,” I call out, unable to contain my joy.
Embracing her tightly, I take in every detail of her attire. As always, she”s clad in black, but it”s a form-fitting catsuit that clings to her curves, accentuated by delicate spaghetti straps and adorned with multiple strands of pearls. Her long, glossy hair cascades freely.
In this crowd, she”s like a glossy black raven amidst a sea of gray pigeons.
”I”m channeling my inner Madonna from the 1980s,” she declares, extending a bare arm adorned with countless silver bangle bracelets.
I nod, feigning recollection of the Madonna of that era, though my mind draws a blank. Settling beside her, I swiftly shift the conversation to safer shores.
”What are you drinking? That looks delish.”
”A cucumber mojito,” she responds with a smile. ”I ordered one for you as well. It should be here soon.”
”Aww thanks, friend.” Being with Cath makes me feel like I belong, unlike how I felt around Gabriel”s sister this weekend..
”So, tell me about New York. Spare no detail. It”s been ages since I last set foot in the city,” Cath says, her eyes glistening in the late-day sunshine.
I recount everything about the trip. The lavish dinners, the incredible Broadway show, and the shoes Gabriel bought. ”Oh and we had a private tour of the Metropolitan Museum. That was the highlight.”
”Oh, to be at the Met,” she sighs longingly.
Naturally, I omit the fact that Gabriel had fingered me to the brink of ecstasy within the hallowed halls of the museum. Instead, I segue into gossip territory.
”I almost forgot to mention,” I say, sipping my drink. ”Guess who I met?”
Cath”s eyes widen, teeming with curiosity. ”Who?”
”Mia, Gabriel”s sister,” I reveal.
Cath chuckles, shaking her head. ”Oh, boy. What was that like? Was she nice to you?”
Something tells me that she has a story or three about Mia. It makes me wish I”d had the chance to grill Mia about Cath. Of course, I hadn”t had time for that, in between getting caught in the crossfire of a shooting and verbally sparring with Mia.
I take a deep breath, then tell Cath everything that happened, starting with the awkward conversation in the café. As I explain each new detail, Cath”s eyes grow larger and her mouth hangs open.
”A shooting? Oh my God. Riley!”
A few people at the table next to us turn to stare at Cath”s squeals. I don”t care, though, because I”m now too into telling my story.
”And then I met Rocco, her husband,” I continue.
”Oh, he”s a piece of work. I was at their wedding.”
I chuckle. ”Really?”
”Mia and I have known each other since I was born. She”s a couple of years older than me. She met Rocco when she was a teen, and her father wanted to do business with Rocco”s dad, so voila! Marriage. They were young when they tied the knot. Eighteen.”
”Whoa. They”ve been together for a while.”
Cath shoots me a knowing look. ”Together is a term I”d use loosely for them. They have an arrangement.”
I blink a few times and Cath laughs. ”They can screw anyone they want as long as they”re discreet. Rocco came on to me a couple of weeks after the wedding. I was sixteen. He was twenty-five.”
”Ewww,” I cry. ”That”s nasty!”
”Yeah, it kind of killed my relationship with Mia. Anyway, I”m glad she”s doing so well with her career. She”s a talented designer, and I was always worried she”d never get a chance to shine because of who her family is.”
”That”s pretty wild.” I take a long sip of my drink.
”How was Gabriel in New York? He always enjoyed it there. Part of me thought he”d eventually move there, but he slipped right into his father and grandfather”s footsteps here in Florida.”
I swallow hard. ”He, ah, hm. He liked it.”
My stammered, short response makes her tilt her head and study me. ”Everything okay with you two?”
I look away, not wanting to answer the question. I feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. I fiddle with my necklace, a solitary diamond on a chain that Gabriel had given me a couple of months back. I know something is wrong between Gabriel and I, but I don”t want to admit it yet.
”What do you mean?” I say, trying to deflect the conversation. My heart is pounding. For some reason, everything is becoming clearer.
Cath shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink. ”I just got a feeling,” she says slowly.
We sit in silence for a few moments before Cath speaks again. ”Riley, you can tell me anything,” she says seriously. ”I”m here for you no matter what. I know it”s difficult being with a man like Gabriel.”
Tears fill my eyes as I take in her words and realize how true they are. Taking a deep breath, I nod and let out a sigh of resignation as I finally admit to myself that something is wrong in my relationship.
It”s up to me to find out what — and if we can fix it.