Full battery phone? Yes. Several plastic baggies of snacks? Yes. Books for the ride, in case the movies weren't good? Yes. Riley made her list of musts before leaving New York, checking it more than twice. Ad nauseam, she replayed every step she made in her head. Setting the timer for Violet's food banks and a list on instructions for her care on the kitchenette island. She left the door key with Irv, at the front desk. All wires were pulled out, all lights switched off. Everything was moving so fast but finally, Riley could take a breath. She has completely disconnected herself from New York. She was free. And then, her phone rang, minutes before takeoff. Her mistake was looking at the caller - Lucas.
When Riley didn't pick up, he left her a message.
"Hey Riles! Just wanted to know if you were able to take a peak at my first draft yet. Take your time with it, though. You deserve it. Miss you, have a good break!"
Hearing Lucas say that he missed her made Riley want to jump off her plane and arrive on his door-step but, that would be inappropriate for a number of reasons. Instead, she decided to call him back. Her fingers shook, pressing the phone symbol. She listened to his phone ring, feeling like she was going to faint again. The color came back to her face when Lucas' voicemail picked up. Now, Riley had another decision to make: Hang up or say something. Flight or fight. Be a coward or be brave.
"Leave a message after the beep!"
She decided to be brave.
"Lucas," Riley cleared the shrillness and fear out of her throat. "... Lucas, listen... you and I both know that I need to fall out of love with you. The only thing I'm asking of you, is to give me a chance to. Let me try. Goodbye." Quickly, she hung up and turned her phone off. Her eyes were welling up when her seat mate arrived. A very big, older man, he squeezed himself into the aisle seat.
"I hope this seat isn't taken," he said in a pleasant, gentle voice. Riley shook her head, rimming her eyes with her fingers. "Oh, dearie, are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Thank you." Regaining her strength, Riley turned away from the man and looked out the window, not wanting to talk anymore.
"You know, when I'm sad, I like to listen to Anita Baker, knit and eat some of my wife's homemade cookies. Would you like one?" Riley's red eyes slowly moved from the man's plump, generous face to the perfect round cookie, also in a plastic, Ziploc baggy.
Riley accepted the cookie with a small, "Thank you."
"No problem. My name is Gerry. How do you do?" He held out a hand for her to shake and she did so.
"Riley."
Six hours later, Gerry and Riley had become best friends. He had taught her how to knit, sang Broadway songs with her and listened to her whole life story. Walking to the baggage claim together, Gerry told Riley, "I think you're making the right choice. It can be scary to start over, but when it's needed, it usually changes a person for the better. And you Riley, are already a fantastic young woman."
"Oh, Gerry," she leaned into Gerry, giving him a bear hug. He laughed like St. Nick, with his big belly jiggling. "I'm so glad to have met you."
"Me too, dearie. Oh, there's my bags." The silver-haired man reached for his suitcases and winked a farewell to Riley, adding, "Maybe we'll run into each other."
"I hope so. Bye, Gerry!"
"Have a nice trip, Riley." She watched him greet a woman who she assumed was his wife, the way she kissed his chubby cheek and wrapped her whole arm around him, guiding him out of LAX. Riley smiled but couldn't help but think about how that was supposed to be her and... Suddenly, Riley was able to spot her luggage on the conveyor belt and she took it to the first available cab.
Helping her put her bags in his trunk, the cabbie asked, "Where you headed?"
"Um," She groped around in her back pocket, for an old crumpled Burger King receipt she wrote the address on. "4343 Del Vista Way?"
"Oh, the 'Bu?"
"The who?"
"Malibu?"
"Oh, yes. Yes. The 'Bu." The driver proceeded to open the door for Riley to let her in the backseat. She entered the yellow cab and quickly he sped away, into the California sun. On the way, Riley took off her sweater and found her phone to text her parents, letting them know she arrived and all is well. Then, she glued her face to the window, absorbing all the sights she saw.
He eyed her in his rear view, asking, "First time?"
Riley, with both hands on the window still, "How'd you know?"
The driver just laughed. Pulling up in front of this beautiful, Spanish villa with Sunflowers in it's yard, the car finally came to a stop.
"OK. 4343 Del Vista Way." He announced.
Riley's jaw dropped and hung outside of the car window, "You've got to be kidding me." The driver popped the trunk and helped Riley put her things on the sidewalk. She promptly paid, tipped and thanked him, then he drove off. Riley carefully paced the path to the front double doors, hoping no one would wake her up from this dream. She remembered Maya texting her, telling her that someone would be there to give her the keys. Wanting to check the message again, she took her phone from her small tote bag but suddenly, a man appeared.
"Hello there!" He hailed to her brightly and loudly, scaring the crap out of her. Riley yelped, almost dropping her phone. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm Rob, Miss Hart's gardener." She looked him up from his dingy brown cap, all the way down to his dogged work boots. "A-are you, Riley Matthews?"
"Yes," she answered, attentive. He gradually opened his palm, revealing colorful keys.
"Miss Hart left these for you." Riley picked them out his hand, looking them over.
"Well, which one is the door?"
"Oh, may I?" Riley gave him back the keys and stepped aside. Rob kept a distance, showing Riley which key was the for the main door and that he meant her no harm. The teeth of the only black key opened the lock to the entrance. "Each key is colored: Black, for the house. Green, for the Mustang. Red, for the art room. Blue, for the basement. I'll be here every other day to tend to the flowers. Lorraine's the maid; she's here every Friday to clean. Oh, and Manny cleans the pool once every two weeks."
"There's a pool?" Her amber eyes began to take up 70% of her face.
"Right out back-" Riley took off to look at the backyard, but then she ran back.
"Thanks, Rob. It was nice to meet you," She panted, shaking his hand.
While Riley was jogging away from him again, he called after her, "What about your bags, Miss Matthews?"
"I'll get them, it's OK!" She yelled back. Still, Rob brought her bags into the house, setting them in the living room. When she made it to the outside area, Riley gasped. The infinity pool overlooking downtown LA, the cute Tiki theme and bar area, with a sheer canopy over the eating table. There was even sand!
The New York in Riley couldn't contain her disbelief, "You got to be freakin' kidding me!" She jumped for joy and excitedly went to explore the rest of her home for the next two weeks. There were two bathrooms, one had a Jacuzzi. The living room had enough space for generations of families to live in. The walls were decorated with pretty, vibrant paintings and some candid photographs. The couches felt like real leather and the carpet felt like walking on angel's wings.
"Oh! Are you freakin' kidding me?!" She deeply sighed in pleasure on the white fur floor that felt better than any cushions in her house.
Riley went into two bedrooms whose walls were dressed in saturated, summer colors and had furniture to match but the last bedroom, in the farthest end of the house, had to be Maya's. The room was almost similar to her home with the black and white pictures that looked professional in their classic black frames. The bed was huge queen with plain white sheets and quilts, but a rainbow full of different sized pillows. Then, she looked at the wall behind Maya's bed and marveled at the beautiful, life size, hand-painted, in-color portrait of Marilyn Monroe.
The detail of it took her breath away, "Wow..."
"Yeah, Maya loves Marilyn. Her and her mom would watch the movies all the time growing up. She painted that herself." Riley turned around to see the new face with the new voice. It was a guy with a freckled grin and hair that coolly and stylishly stuck up by itself. "Hey."
Riley grabbed the nearest object in a flash and screamed. She pointed it at the stranger and he raised his hands high in the air.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." He eyed the glass vase and backed away slowly. "Listen, you're Riley, right? My name is Farkle Minkus, I'm Maya's personal assistant."
"OK, that's definitely a made-up name-" Riley insisted, about to charge toward him, hurling the vase.
"No! No, it's not. It's my great-granddad's name and I am Maya Hart's personal assistant. Didn't she tell you about me?" Riley looked away, trying to remember. Than, she shook her head with her face becoming even more fierce. "OK... I'm reaching for the photo. See this? This guy? That's me, with Maya and our friend Zay. See?" Walking closer, the feisty New Yorker examined the photo of the young people in graduation robes, then the stranger who called himself Farkle's face. It checked out. "OK? Now, please, put down the vase."
Embarrassed, Riley put down the Japanese Yin and Yang vase on the night-stand. "I'm sorry."
"It's cool. A story to tell. So... Maya really didn't tell you about me?"
"No, I really don't think so."
"Typical. Well, in her text I got this morning, she told me that you were coming and that I was to keep you company-if you need it. Or, want it." Nervously, he scrubbed the back of his neck. Before Riley could speak, her stomach answered for her, growling ferociously. Farkle pulled a half-smile, "Hungry?" Riley held her belly and nodded. "I know this taco place Maya always drags me to. It's like 15 minutes from here and they got great drinks, too. Wanna go?" He twirled his car keys on his fingers. Next thing Riley knew, she was in the front seat of his sleek, black Fiat.
When his long, skinny leg wasn't on the break, it was tapping to the music on the college radio station playing. It looked like the fifteen minute drive was going to be a bit longer because of traffic. To ease the awkwardness she was feeling after nearly assaulting him, Riley tried to make some conversation.
"So... what does Maya... do, exactly?"
Farkle gave her a double-take through his Ray-bans, "What, she didn't tell you? She's a musician and an artist."
"Clearly not a starving one." Riley said, feeling the interior of his car.
"I would think not. Her last album just went gold and the last painting she sold for almost 250K."
"WHAT? HOW HAVE I NEVER HEARD OF HER?" This brand new information that she was staying at the house of some under the radar celebrity had Riley bursting.
Farkle tried to contain his laughter, "You probably have. Her most popular song was the "Bubbly" one? It starts in my toes, makes me crinkle my nose..."
"OH. MY. GOD. I LOVE THAT SONG. THAT'S HER?"
"Maybe I shouldn't have told you..."
"No, no. It's fine." Riley composed herself, smoothing the wrinkles out of her jeans. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"OK."
"... So, how'd you become her personal assistant?"
"Well, I went to Berkeley for computer science and I graduated but had no job prospects. She called me, asked if I wanted to help her out for a while and three years later..." He shrugged, sounding dissatisfied.
"So, why aren't you looking anymore? Are you in love with her or something?" After seeing Farkle's face at his last question, Riley knew she needed to dial back on her Journalist instincts and respect other people's privacy. She quickly apologized, "I'm so sorry, you so don't have to answer that."
"No, it's uh, OK. Um, definitely not in love with Maya. I mean-there was a time where we tried to date, in high school but it didn't work. It was too weird. I got so much love for that girl but she's like my sister, y'know?"
Thankfully, they rolled into Vato's Tacos before Riley could put her foot in her mouth again. The sun was setting on the guest's happy faces. Farkle led Riley to the bar area where another guy welcomed him with bro hug.
Farkle turned around to introduce him, "Riley, this is-"
"Zay." The man had a goofy, charming smile. He took Riley's hand and kissed it. "Enchante."
"Yeah." Farkle sighed, sitting down.
"Please, have a seat." Zay urged her to sit on the stool in the middle."So, I'm told you're from New York?"
There was a nice breeze coming through, making wisps of her brown hair fly in front of Riley's eyes. She tucked some strands behind her ear. "That's right."
"How's the 'Bu treatin' you?"
"The 'Bu is treating me just fine, so far."
"So, you must be single because I know you wouldn't do this weird, house swap thing alone if you were taken." Farkle rolled his eyes.
All of a sudden, Riley started to cry so quietly, that it went unnoticed. Then, she went into a fit of hiccups, next hysterical sobbing. The two men were terrified.
"Man, what the hell did you do?!" Farkle scolded Zay.
"You were right here! You saw! I didn't say anything! The girl just exploded into goddamn flames!"
She purposely laid her forehead on the counter with a bang, still weeping profusely. Farkle tried to console her, petting her back smoothly. Both Zay and Farkle jumped when Riley unexpectedly came back up for air.
"You're right," she cried to Zay. "I am single. My boyfriend broke up with me." Zay passed her some napkins with sombreros on them, which she gladly took and blew her nose.
"How long did ya'll date?" He asked, rubbing her shoulder.
"Seven years. Not off-and-on. Seven years, straight. Seven. Years."
"Ouch," Farkle muttered to himself.
Zay snapped his fingers to the staff, "Ayo, can we get some drinks over here? The strongest you got?"
"Oh, but that's not the best part," Riley made a sardonic cackle. "He started a relationship with my co-worker, just three months ago and now they're ENGAGED!"
"Ooh, damn! Can we get a pitcher over here please?!" Zay hollered over the bar counter. Farkle gave his best friend a very annoyed glare. Zay added, looking at Farkle, "Man, did you hear her? Her dude of seven years-"
"Seven years!" Riley repeated.
"-up and left her for a chick at work, then wife'd her after three months! We gotta drink to that disrespectful mess."
"Oh my God, right?! So disrespectful..." The tall neon drinks with suggestive fruit inside them finally showed up with a pitcher full of twisted iced tea. Instead of grabbing one of the pretty beverages, thinking about how much pain she was feeling went right to her head so, Riley grabbed the pitcher and began to down it with pinched eyes. She guzzled half of it before taking a break to wipe her mouth. Then, she finished the rest.
It wasn't even 9 o'clock yet. Farkle sat miserably sober, being a witness to Riley and Zay's drunken despair. Riley had to have drank over 200 pounds of alcohol, but she could still string together somewhat coherent sentences, like,"Maya is so successful and talented and rich, and like, what am I even doing? Asking Hillary Clinton questions about things? Like, who even is that, really?"
"I don't even know what the hell I'm doing. I'm just riding the coattails of my friends, like that's the thing to do! Like it's cool! I gotta grow up, man! I gotta grow up!" Zay passionately said, while Riley nodded in blind agreement, putting her arm around his shoulder. He wasn't nearly as drunk and seem to forget that he was a moderately successful DJ with gigs around LA. Zay just wanted to join in the most pitiful pity party anyone has ever seen.
"I should call my parents more. They went to Paris. Without me! It's like everyone hates me..."
"Everyone has always hated me."
"I miss my cat. Why doesn't Maya have any cats? I miss my cat." Riley confessed.
"I miss my cat, too."
"Zay, you don't have a cat." Farkle reminded him.
"THAT'S WHY I MISS HIM, FARKLE! GOD!"
"OK, you know what, it's time to go." Farkle stood up, looking at Riley and Zay's flushed faces. "C'mon." He pulled the two people towards him, trying to manage carrying them both back to his car. Zay leaned on Farkle like a crutch, but at least he was still able to stumble himself to the car. He had to loosely piggy back Riley, she almost fell off twice because her reflexes were too dead for her to hold onto him. Zay crawled into his backseat, while he had to place Riley softly. But that didn't matter, she still fell over once he started driving. The drunk duo were having their own party in the backseat, taking pictures on Riley's phone together and dancing to music from the radio. Every time Farkle turned it down, one of them leaned over to turn it back up. Because Zay was the lesser inebriated of the two, he got dropped off at his apartment first. Once Farkle was able to put him to bed, he went back into his car where it looked like Riley was taking a nap. He stared at her and smiled for a minute, then began to the ignition.
Riley then popped up doing a manic, playful scream which made Farkle scream too, but less playful and more horrified. Seeing his reaction, she fell over into laughter.
"That's not funny, Riley! We could have crashed!" Farkle reprimanded, looking at her through his rear view.
"Oh, wah-wah-wah." Riley then clumsily climbed into the front seat.
"What are you doing now?" She found her phone in her back pocket and started taking more selfies of herself. Then, she leaned over to Farkle's side, forcing him to get in the pictures with her. "Riley, Riley, I'm driving!"
"I'm gonna send these to Lucas and let him know, I'm so fun? Like, I'm so much fun, like, everyone wants to leave because they cannot take all the fun that I, Riley, am, OK? Now, get in this pic." She took of picture of her kissing Farkle's cheek.
"Sweetie, I think he got the point at the 23rd picture you sent, OK? Now, c'mon. We're home." Farkle unbuckled his seat-belt and ran over to the passenger side to tend to Riley. He tried to stand her up on the platform shoes she was wearing but she only wobbled backward. "OK," he heaved, squatting down to pick up Riley's thighs. "Come on, ready? One, two..." He lifted her onto his back, while she giggled like a little girl. The short cobblestone walkway to the front door felt like hours to Farkle, because Riley went from lightly rapping Drake to snoring soundly in his ear. He found the black key in Riley's purse and opened the door. He carried her all the way back to Maya's bedroom, letting her fall into the big bed. She groaned peacefully, wrapping herself in the covers. Farkle sighed, helping Riley pull off her chunky shoes.
Tired, Farkle scrubbed his face and sat down, watching the house guest from New York slumber. Then, he pulled out his phone and tried to facetime Maya.
"Far-Far Binks!" She greeted him with through the lens of her glasses.
"Hey. Having fun?"
Maya's mouth pulled a thin line, "Psh, no. Not as much as you, anyway. You sound exhausted."
"Yeah, well," He faced the camera to Riley, somehow snoring even louder than before.
"Whoa, she's out cold!" Maya snickered.
"When I tell you, I wasn't able to have any drinks? Like, not a drop. Her and Zay swallowed the entire bar."
"Yikes..." Maya said with a smile. "But at least she sounds pretty cool. Is she cool?"
"Uh..." He bent and cracked his neck, watching the woman in question cocoon herself in the blankets. "She's a bit neurotic and definitely dramatic but, she's real sweet and smart. I think you two'd get along real well. She almost hit me with a piece of your furniture."
"She is now my favorite person ever." Maya announced with a smirk. Suddenly, over in New York it seemed like there was a disturbance outside Maya's door.
Seeing her blue eyes travel worriedly to the right, Farkle asked her, "Hey, what's going on over there?"
"I don't know, but I'm gonna find out. I'll talk to you soon. Don't kill Riley." The screen went black.
"You should tell her not to kill me," Farkle grumbled.
Farkle glanced at his phone for a minute, thinking Maya might be in trouble but she wasn't the type who couldn't handle herself so, he just stuffed his phone back into his pocket and lied back in the easy chair. The vision of Riley gracefully sleeping became smaller and smaller as his eyelids drooped to a close.
AN: If you like what you read, please leave a review. Thanks for reading.
