Chapter 4 #2
Riley chuckles and once again looks at the ceiling as if she would like some help from on high. “If I ever need electrical services or a freezer fixed, then yes, we’re friends. The favor I need right now is less complicated than that. But it might be weird.”
I lean forward. “Go on.”
She takes a deep breath and then blurts, “The town is demanding my attendance at this year’s art gala and auction.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t normally go to these things, because I’m not good at talking to people.”
My heart goes out to her.
“You’re pretty good at talking to me.”
She shakes her head and laughs a little. “Maybe that’s the case. But I’m supposed to impress some big donors. Or some big art collectors who are coming down from Winston-Salem and whatnot. And well, I’m really terrible at small talk. And you? Literally everybody loves you.”
“Not everybody. Some of the cops are not going to be subscribing to my Substack anytime soon,” I joke.
Riley exhales. “Don’t ever tell me the story behind that, because I might change my mind. I would like you to come with me to the gala. I need to look less like the socially backward hermit that I am. If you’re there, that would make me look less…weird.”
Is this a date?
I don’t wanna presume anything, so I just stare at her for a moment.
Evelyn brings us our orders and some free coffees.
“On the house. Glad you’re alive.”
The baker saunters away, and I detect the slightest squint in Riley’s eyes.
I don’t need any more answers or explanations. I’ll literally do anything Riley needs me to do.
“Sure. I’ll be your date.”
She hoots in relief. Then lifts one finger to issue a caution.
“Just so you know, this isn’t a real date. This is just you helping me not get tongue-tied around the fancy people from Winston-Salem. It doesn’t matter to me if they conclude we’re a couple. But we aren’t. Hopefully, participating in a sort of ruse doesn’t bother you.”
“Why would that bother me?”
“Because we’d be letting people think we are an item. Some might call being phony in this way a bit disgraceful.”
I shrug. “Some people call it disgraceful. I call it a fun caper. Let’s do it.”
Riley sits back and studies me for a moment. With a smile, she shakes her head and picks up one of the white chocolate truffles.
“That was too easy,” she says.
“I’m a cheap date,” I say.
She opens her mouth, and I watch in wonder as her lips wrap around the truffle. Just shove the whole thing in your mouth, I plead silently.
But she doesn’t. Of course, she doesn’t.
I bite back a moan as I watch her pretty mouth take in half the truffle. She moans, and her eyes roll back in her head.
“My god, this is good.”
Riley’s yummy little noises make the dirty thoughts in my head dirtier by the second.
I shift in my seat. I thank god for long linen tablecloths blocking everyone’s view of me adjusting myself like the horndog I am.
“Okay, so we have to figure this out,” I say. “What are you gonna wear? So I can match you.”
She laughs. “ It’s not the prom. But we can talk about that later.”
“Well, I do need to learn everything about you. You know, for the sake of talking you up to those fancy folks with the deep pockets.”
Riley glances around like someone looking for an excuse to take off. “I really need to get back to the studio, but thank you so much, Rowdy. You’re really saving my bacon.”
We get takeout boxes for the rest of our food and then decide to meet up for coffee at her art studio the next day.
I’m floating on a cloud just with the knowledge that I’m going to get to see her in action tomorrow, with her paints and brushes and everything.
After I say goodbye to Riley, I watch her walk away and head toward her building. An ache forms in my chest as she disappears, and the world around me dims somewhat.
Riley is pure sunshine, and I won’t hear anything different.
I turn and jog across the street, waving at Maddie, who’s headed into the real estate office.
I go inside Foster’s store and sit down in one of the chairs near the changing rooms, which are currently unoccupied.
After some time, sitting there with my elbows on my knees, trying to get the blood to go back into my brain, I hear, “ Dude, are you okay? I heard about the scene at the Bluejay.”
Already? Why am I surprised?
“I’m fine. Listen.” I look up at my friend, the loner who doesn’t believe in love, who believes in only hard work, making money, and the inevitability of death. And I just blurt it out.
“Riley.”
Foster waits. “Is there more to this riveting story?”
“Riley. She…asked me to be her date for the gala.”
Foster’s brows knit together. “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. It happened just now.”
“Where? I haven’t heard anything.”
“Literally just 60 seconds ago, at the bakery.”
He looks disgusted. “The gossip network isn’t what it used to be. Last bit of news I got was from Maddie that you almost choked to death.”
“Will you focus, please? I’m going to be her date for the gala, and I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“What do you mean? You’ve been on a hundred dates in this town.”
“But not with Riley. She’s special.”
Foster snorts.
“And there’s one other detail. It’s not a real date. She just needs me to be her buffer.”
He grunts. “Knew there was a catch. What kind of a buffer? She got beef with somebody? Tell me. I’m super bored with the sudden lack of gossip in this town.”
“No beefs. Not that I know of. She’s just shy. She doesn’t wanna talk to all these super-rich donors from Charlotte, Durham, and Winston-Salem, so she asked me to be a partner in crime. You know, to make her look more sociable.”
Foster crosses his arms over his chest. “Huh.”
“Yeah, apparently there’s been some chatter about this community base pay for the artist community no longer being sustainable? I don’t know who’s been putting that bug in people’s ears, but it’s got her pretty spooked, and she asked for my help, so I’m of course gonna help her.”
Foster glances around the room absently.
“Wait a minute. It wasn’t you, was it? You weren’t spouting your nonsense and threatening to pull funding, were you?”
He laughs. “I don’t have that kind of power.”
“Good. I was worried.”
“But maybe I have made a motion that we consider phasing out the arts guild funding.”
“You what? Why would you do that?”
“Dude, you already know my feelings about this.”
I’m upset, but I’m also pretty sure no one else in this community feels the same way. Not enough to put an end to one of our most sacred and unique traditions in Songbird Ridge. Our arts community is our pride and joy. And now I’m in the thick of it.
“If your pessimism had not resulted in Riley needing to be at the gala, and ergo, her needing a date, I’d probably punch you in the face. So you get a pass this time.”
“Gee, thanks. I’m so scared, by the way.” The sarcasm is evident, as Foster is six inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than I am. He could squash me like a bug.
“What are you so worked up for, man?” Foster asks.
How do I explain what I’m feeling? “Just spending a few minutes with her was enough to tell me she’s special. “I want to be her date to all the things. The end.”
Foster chuckles. “That was just adrenaline talking from almost dying face down in your soup.”
“Nah, it’s not like that. I can’t explain it, but it’s something a hell of a lot more powerful than adrenaline.”
The front door chimes, and Foster takes off to wait on customers.
If I said what I really felt, Foster would probably drive me to counseling.
So I keep that feeling locked up. That’s just for me. And Riley.
Because I know she felt it too.
I only have a few days until the gala to prove to her that I’m not just a pretend date.
I wanna be the long-haul guy.
I wanna be her date to all the things. Period.