As always, huge thanks to all those who left reviews: Fairy Princess Moon, , Appleautumns, Kenzy and guests #1-4.
Warning: This chapter contains mentions of substance abuse.
Riven was impressed by how well Musa handled being blindsided by the rumour that they were screwing. If it were him, he would've gotten flustered and angry; would've demanded the gossiper's head on a pike. Musa, though, managed to regain her composure and fervently deny the rumour. The photoshoot was brought up and she calmly – or at least her tone was calm, Riven could see her squeezing the life out of her thighs under the table – explained how Riven had been volunteered into it and how the whole thing had been orchestrated to look that... This is where she got flustered: trying to figure out what word to use to describe the shot. Hot was the only one he could think of, but Musa managed to pull passionate out of her ass. Then, she demanded they change the subject because she wouldn't address those ridiculous rumours anymore.
When they were back in thesafety of the car, he worried she would rip someone's head off – namely his – but she just fumed silently in her seat for a few minutes. Then, before he could figure out what the fuck he should even say after they'd both been blindsided by a rumour like that, she was on the phone with someone named Amaryl. From the discussion, he managed to figure out that Amaryl did something related to her image and squashing rumours – PR maybe? That was what PR people did, right?
He listened as Musa went into detail about how she'd broken up with Jared yesterday and how badly he'd taken the news, then how she'd been informed that she was apparently fucking Riven in a live radio interview and how she'd handled it. It took a slight detour as she ranted about how unprofessional it had been of the host to spring that on her, but Amaryl seemingly managed to pull her back to the actual subject – the rumour. Musa was convinced the little snake that was her ex-boyfriend had something to do with the rumour, and frankly, Riven was inclined to agree. He only managed to hear a few words that Amaryl said thanks to Wizgiz turning off the radio so Musa could speak, but he managed to get the gist of what she was saying. They wouldn't blame Jared, instead they would put out a statement saying Musa and Jared had split amicably since the public didn't know about that yet. Jared would never deny that and risk Musa – and the massive following she had – trashing him. They would not address the rumours of her and Riven unless asked directly, which Riven assumed she would be.
"Hey" Musa said after she'd hung up the phone. She leaned forward, pushing against his seat with her shoulder as she poked her head through the front seats. "Is Darcy going to try to kill me?"
"Um. Maybe" Riven replied honestly. Darcy wasn't a particularly violent person, she much preferred sneaky methods of revenge. Problem was she was friends with Stormy who might as well have been Aileen Wuornos (1). Course, Stormy hadn't actually murdered anyone. At least he didn't think she had.
Riven turned to tell Musa not to worry about it, that he would handle Darcy, but she was already looking at her phone when he turned back to face her. Apparently, Amaryl suggested that he post pictures of Darcy on his social media, which seemed pointless to him since, while he had them, he barely he used them. Seemed more like it would be obvious that he was trying to distract.
"And that being seen out with Darcy would be a good idea" Musa read aloud.
"Right, except that you'd have to be with us" Riven pointed out. Musa's eyes widened momentarily as she nodded with a muttered "right… I'll pass."
"Amaryl is PR I assume?"
"Yeah."
"She doesn't seem very good if she didn't make the connection that I have to be around you constantly. Why do you need a PR person anyways?"
"Because as much as I'd rather not have to worry about it, what the public thinks of me matters. They're the ones that buy my albums and magazine covers, watch my videos and come to my shows." Musa dropped herself back into her seat as she explained. She looked out the window and gave a bitter chuckle. "Maybe I need to work on my PR skills though since apparently I haven't succeeded in charming everyone."
"Hey, you won me over eventually" Riven laughed. Truthfully, she probably never would have won him over if they'd never met in person, but he didn't feel the need to mention that. Besides, Musa was smart. She could probably figure that much out on her own.
They got back to the apartment to have a late lunch. The plan had been to get lunch out somewhere but with the discovery that they were apparently fucking, they'd decided that being spotted out having lunch was probably not the wisest idea. Instead, they warmed up some of the leftovers from the Chicken Musa had made the night before.
"I was serious before" Musa said as she took a seat beside him at the counter. "Is Darcy going to kill me? Cause I don't want to cause any problems between you two."
A month ago, Riven would bluntly point out that she already had caused issues between them. Now, he couldn't. He knew Musa would be hurt by that – or at least he thought she would – and he didn't want to hurt her. It wasn't entirely her fault that Darcy decided to be a jealous psycho all because Riven was doing his job. "Don't worry about it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. We'll be fine" he lied. He had no idea if they would be, but his gut told him they wouldn't. He had spent all morning thinking about their relationship and playing back select moments of it. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that he didn't think any of it – besides the sex – was what he wanted; he'd just convinced himself it was. Darcy wasn't all bad – in fact, she could be quite sweet when she wanted, and she was smart and pretty funny – but the negative qualities had started to outweigh the positive ones to a point he couldn't ignore anymore. They needed to work it out or call it quits, he just wasn't sure which of those he wanted.
After lunch, while Musa was getting into the outfit Stella had sent over and Selina was doing Musa's makeup for the next interview she had lined up that afternoon, Riven decided to chance a call to Darcy. He didn't particularly want to talk to her yet, but he wanted it to be clear that the rumours were just that: rumours. He couldn't risk Jared's pettiness causing a bigger rip in his relationship, whatever was left of it anyways.
Darcy answered on the first ring. She was surprised, but happy, to hear from him. Until he told her he wasn't ready to talk just yet, anyways. Instead, he went right into explaining the rumours and how they were completely false. He explained the whole story – right down to Musa dumping Jared yesterday - and prayed she would believe him.
"I see" she muttered when he finished talking. "That guy did seem like a shithead when we went out with them."
"Oh my God. You have no fucking clue. I wanted to bash his face in everytime I saw him."
"Did you have to deal with him a lot?"
"Thankfully, no" Riven chuckled. He would have without a doubt lost his mind if he'd had to deal with Jared more often. He heard Musa's bedroom door open upstairs. She and Selina were talking about some band he'd never heard of that Selina had gotten tickets to see apparently. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know about the rumour. I gotta go."
"Wait! Are you sure you don't want to talk to me right now?" It broke Riven's heart to hear how sad Darcy sounded, but he couldn't allow the weakness he had for her to make him fold. He needed to make sense of his thoughts so he could explain himself properly and not let his emotions get the best of him. It was, he thought, the best way for them to fix things – if they were going to – since they both tended to shut down when conversations got too heavily emotional. "Please, Riven. Just tell me."
God help him. He didn't have the energy – or time – to go into the whole detailed explanation. He wasn't even sure how he would start to explain it, but he supposed he could give her a little bit. "Honestly, Darce. One of the main problems I've realised is that I try to tell you things and you shut me down. I-"
"No, I don't."
"Darcy."
"What? I'm ju-"
"You're doing it right now." That Darcy remained silent after he'd pointed it out tore at him. On the one hand, maybe she was shocked to realise that she had in fact just shut him down when he was trying to communicate something to her. On the other hand, she may just be trying to think of a way to excuse herself – a well you accused me of... she'd done that before. "Whatever. I have to go."
Musa waited for Riven by the front door as he finished up on the phone. Stella had stuck her platform booties and a midriff baring pink t-shirt with the words choose love written across her chest, but at least she'd picked pants. Musa didn't mind dresses every now and then, but she much preferred pants any day of the week. Plus, she, surprisingly, really liked the pants Stella had chosen. They were a dark blue jean with exposed front held together by what could only be described as the front of a belt. All in all, a more punky touch to an otherwise girly outfit, or what Stella would describe as See, I care about your taste in fashion sometimes.
She watched as Riven grabbed his jacket and joined her by the door. He didn't seem to own much beyond basic tees, jeans and that leather jacket – that damned leather jacket – but she couldn't blame him. If she had her way, her closet wouldn't be as fussy as it was. Unfortunately, people cared what she wore for some unfathomable reason.
Wizgiz drove them down to 43rd where Musa was shooting an interview for Hot Ones (2). Now, Musa liked – no, loved – spicy food. She tended to drench every meal in whatever hot sauce was available or, when she was cooking for herself, load up on spice. She knew her heat tolerance was much higher than the average persons, but that didn't stop her from fearing that the hotter sauces on the show would literally burn her taste buds off and render her blind.
"So, what is this show?" Riven asked her as they waited for someone to come mic her. He looked at her like she was a mad woman as she explained that, over the course of the interview, she and the host would be eating chicken wings doused in increasingly hot hot sauces. The hottest sauce, she informed him, was over two million Scolville units. "I might literally die."
"There's a whole array of hot sauces on your kitchen counter" Riven reminded her. "I've seen you eat eggs with more hot sauce than egg."
"Yeah, but none of my sauces are that hot! I've read that this shit is comparable to pepper spray. Why the fuck did I sign up for this?" Musa panicked. As she was trying to calm herself, one of the stagehands came to escort her through preparation. Riven stepped away as she was being mic-ed. He took a seat just beyond the set behind where Sean, the host, would sit so that he could get a good view of her in case – who knows – someone stormed in and tried to whisk her away. Musa couldn't figure out why he wanted to sit there instead of beside the director, but as long as he wasn't in the shot it didn't matter.
The first few wings went down easily as they talked about a collaboration she'd done with Kendrick Lamar a year ago and how that collaboration had come to be. By the fifth wing – which Sean noted Musa barely reacted to – the topic of her new album had come up. "Now, I know nothing's been announced but you rarely do interviews unless you're promoting, so I assume that means there's an album – or maybe a surprise collaboration – coming soon?"
"There's an album" Musa admitted with a laugh. "It's in its last stages, and there should be news about it pretty soon, but I don't want to say too much just yet."
"That's fair. No sense in spoiling the surprise. This is your first one with your new label, right?"
"It is!"
"How's that been?"
"Really great, honestly. You know, this is the first album that I've put out where I had full creative control over it, and that's been just… incredible."
"In the announcement, you mentioned that you were leaving due to creative differences, but you've not spoken much about the split from your previous label beyond that… Why is that?"
"I haven't, no. It's, um, mostly because I'm aware of just how much I owe them even if I don't like how they ran my career. You know, they saw something in a fifteen-year-old girl with a dream and some talent and turned her into, well, me" Musa answered, motioning to herself. "I would have loved to stay with them if they'd been willing to let me... how do I put this? I guess, experiment might be right. Diversify, um, create, whatever. And definitely let me have more control."
"What do you mean by that?"
Musa paused to think of an example as Sean indicated that they should probably get to the sixth wing, and she could think while she ate. "Oh my fuck" she commented through closed lips. Was she allowed to swear on this show? "That's getting spicy."
"Getting?"
"I mean, I've had hotter, but I don't think this is the optimal thinking food." Behind Sean, she could see Riven chuckling as she tried to fan out the heat in her mouth. Once she'd managed to drink some of the milk they'd given her and let the heat ease, she spoke. "One of the things the old label would do a lot is change my songs. For the most part, they barely touched my lyrics, though they would occasionally make suggestions. The actual music, though, they very much wanted to all be pure pop. I managed to slide in some more varied stuff, but it was constantly a battle to. I really wanted to experiment and pull from different genres, different sounds and beats and maybe play with some stuff that isn't super common. You know, have fun with it. They didn't want that. They didn't even really want me to do any sad songs or slow songs; I had to fight for the few that I did get to put out. Take, for example, Long Gone, that I wrote after Andy and I broke up. It was written as a more introspective song. I wrote it sitting at my piano, thinking about all the things that went wrong in our relationship. And that's what I wanted it to be: a slow, sort of sad ballad. I wanted my fans to understand how I felt about the relationship going sour and what parts he and I played in that. When I brought it to them, though, that's not what they wanted. They turned it into what it was – a power pop anthem about me being free of him, when that's not what it was ever supposed to be."
"So, was that the final straw with them?"
"Maybe not the final one, but it was definitely a major part of me realising that I wasn't happy there anymore. In fact, I was completely miserable; I almost wanted to give up on singing. They'd taken something that I love so much – that I would go so far as saying is a major piece of who I am – and made me dread it. I would write these songs that I loved so, so much and I would be afraid of showing them to anyone because I knew the songs would be turned into what the studio wanted instead of what I did."
"And you were signed into a super intricate contract, right?"
"Yeah. The contract I signed was a seven-album deal – which is flattering on one end cause I guess that meant they really, genuinely believed I could be successful. It was filled with tricky clauses that essentially gave them full creative control over my work. I still own my lyrics, thankfully, but I was essentially not allowed to control the music and, if they wanted, they could change any aspect without my permission."
"So, beyond the control aspect, what's different between this album and the others?"
"This one is definitely more, um, playful? It contains a lot of songs from the span of my career that I loved too much to let my label touch, so I hid them. Only eight of the nineteen songs on the album are new. And, while there are some that resemble all my other works, most of them draw from other genres and inspiration. There's a country-esque song or two on there; a more, I guess pop-rock is the right term kind of songs. The album is... I guess, ultimately, it's more... me. It's what I want to be doing and what I want to be creating."
Riven had no idea Musa's career had been so controlled. He'd assumed that the bubblegum crap she'd put out was what she wanted to be doing. Maybe, if he got bored, he'd give her new album a listen at some point. Her voice would still be autotuned – he'd yet to hear her sing live properly and until then he'd continue to assume she was a decent singer with a lot of help from machinery – but maybe the music would be better. He was awed, though, by how much thought she put into her answers and into her work. He'd always assumed she had a team of 30+ writers, but he'd discovered over the interview that she wrote most of it herself, and her co-writers were minimal – just the three people he'd seen in the studio plus the occasional collaboration.
Much to his – and he assumed Musa's too – surprise, she was not once asked about their apparent affair. Instead, the interview had entirely been about her career and, on occasion, her personal life. In fact, not a single rumour that had ever gone around about her had been brought up. The more he thought about it, the more Riven wondered how many times she'd had bombs dropped on her like that, or even just inappropriate or harassing interviewers.
Musa was on the phone with Amaryl confirming details of the statement to be released when Riven poked his head out of the main door, content to find there were no paparazzi evidently visible, just pedestrians, a pizza delivery guy and some guy he recognised as one of the stagehands standing by a gorgeous vintage Harley. Maybe a '57 Sportster? That must've set the guy back a decent sum. Riven missed his bike. It was nothing fancy, but he'd bought it when it was almost a wreck and fixed it up himself. It was probably one of the things in his life he was proudest of.
"Are we going?" Musa said, staring at him with her eyebrows raised. She'd somehow managed to get past him when he was distracted and was now standing on the sidewalk with her arms folded in front of her and her miserable-looking shoes hanging from her right hand. She pivoted as she followed his eyeline towards the stagehand and his bike and gave a contemplative look. "He's cute. Doesn't strike me as your type, though. Plus, you have a girlfriend."
"I was looking at the bike" Riven informed her as he brushed past her towards the car. Musa followed closely behind him, managing to catch up to him by jogging a little. "Do you ride?"
"Yeah."
"Huh, I didn't know that."
"There's a lot you don't know about me." His fault, sure. He stood by the not needing his employer to know his life story, though. It was a boundary that didn't need to be crossed. Granted, Musa was beginning to feel more like a… could it be? Friend? than an employer. Not that it mattered because once this whole stalker ordeal was over, they'd only see each other at group events, assuming Musa's matchmaking was successful. It wasn't like they'd be permanent fixtures in each other's lives.
"And who's fault is that?"
"Yeah, yeah. I know" he groaned.
"Not that it matters. I know more about you than you think I do thanks to Flora."
"What the fuck did she tell you?"
"Nothing bad'" Musa laughed. "So, how long have you ridden?"
"Since I was nineteen." Riven said as he opened the door. He started telling her about the bike he'd bought and fixed. They had been in the car for close to ten minutes when he realised he'd been rambling. He stopped talking, assuming Musa would be thankful that he had, but she didn't. Instead, she started asking questions about certain terms she didn't quite understand. Riven tried to hold back his surprise as he explained it to her. Darcy listened to him talk about this shit, but she never brought it up or asked questions about it. Musa, though, seemed to be genuinely interested.
"I've always wanted to ride one" she commented when he was done. Musa rested her head on her hand on the back of his seat and gave a bitter smile. "My old studio wouldn't let me – too dangerous apparently. I couldn't be a driver or passenger."
"Can they do that?"
"They told me they'd sue me if I got injured. Damaging merchandise or something like that."
"But…"
"I'm a person, not a product?"
"Yeah."
"I know. They were huge assholes." Wizgiz pulled up to the dance studio before Riven could say anything else. He was shocked to know just how much control Musa's studio had had over her life. Her career was one thing, but to control her actual day-to-day life was absolute insanity.
Riven woke at 6:30 on Saturday. He'd been looking forward to sleeping in today, but things had changed, and he had something planned for today now. It couldn't wait until tomorrow cause they'd be taking Flora out for supper, and what he had planned could take all day depending on how it went.
He threw on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and went over to Musa's room. She was curled up in her bed with the covers kicked almost entirely off. She looked so peaceful and adorable when she slept, right down to the drool dripping onto her pillow. As he stood at the door, it dawned on him that he'd thought multiple times over the last few days that she was cute. No, maybe more than cute. But it made sense that he thought she was gorgeous. She had access to expensive and high-quality products, not to mention a full wardrobe, makeup and hair team. Then again, he'd also thought she was really pretty on Tuesday night when they'd decided to watch some stupid show or other that she liked after supper, and she'd been in sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt, messy bun and no makeup. So maybe she was just naturally pretty?
And he was attracted to her.
Well, that was just fucking great.
Whatever, it's just physical, he told himself as he shook his head clear and walked over to the bed, shaking Musa awake. She groaned and swatted his hand away before turning over away from him. He shook her again, calling her name this time. "Whaaaat?"
"It's time to get up. We've got shit to do today."
"No, we don't" she mumbled, pulling her pillow over her head. Musa was right, they didn't have anything to do today. He'd even taken the extra measure of making sure she didn't have plans with any of her friends by asking her what the plan was for today last night. She had said laundry, maybe?
"We do now." Musa sighed dramatically as she rolled over to look at him. Her long hair was put up in a bun – though most of it had fallen out through the night – and she looked like she wanted to murder him. Not that that surprised him; he'd figured out a while ago that she wasn't really a morning person. "We're going for a motorcycle ride."
Pushing herself up in the bed, Musa stared at him curiously. The corners of her lips tugged upwards as she laughed out a what. He forced down the urge to return her smile as he explained that he thought she'd enjoy going out for a ride today, maybe getting out of the city. Musa jumped up in the bed onto her knees in excitement. Riven had never seen anybody so happy over something as simple as a motorcycle ride before. He laughed as he watched her run out of her bed and into the bathroom so she could wash her face and brush her hair. She was practically dancing with every step of the way. Riven let her get ready in peace, heading into his own room to get dressed too.
Musa was halfway through brushing her long-ass hair that she hated when a realisation hit her and her heart sank. She dropped the brush and waddled into Riven's room, forcing herself to ignore the fact that he had just put on pants and his t-shirt still hung from his wrists waiting to be slipped over his head. "We can't be seen together. The world still thinks we're fucking -" If only. "-And we can't really be adding fuel to that fire.
"That's why I suggested we get out of the city" he answered plainly. "Less chances of paparazzi."
"Yes, but we still have to drive through the city first." Musa was very disappointed. She'd really wanted to go, but Amaryl would have her head on a stick if she did. It would be a press field day to catch her and her supposed lover out together, and it would take an eternity to untangle – or for someone else to do something more interesting. "And that's a huge chance of running into paparazzi or -"
"Hey, Muse" he interrupted, clearly amused by how upset she was. What a jerk.
Wait.
Muse?
Had he just given her a nickname?
"There's this incredible invention that hides your face" he continued, "called a helmet. Ever heard of it?"
Musa huffed as she glared at him. Was he always such a smart ass too? He laughed at her glare as he pulled the shirt over his head. He had a really nice laugh. Actually, he just had a really nice voice in general. She liked the way his voice flowed, or how deep it got when he was annoyed. When he laughed – genuinely laughed – it was higher and so bright, but she wondered desperately what it sounded like when he was aroused; what it sounded like when it was low and husky, when he'd whisper in her ear and moan for her.
"You okay?" Fuck. She was staring. At him. And thinking about fucking him. Musa raised her eyebrows and let out a hmm? Playing it cool, like she hadn't just been thinking about his breath on her neck and his hands on her skin. "You were sorta zoning out for a sec" he informed her.
"Yeah, I'm- I'm good. I'm gonna go get ready then." Musa walked out without letting him get another word in, too mortified by the fact that she'd been staring at him so openly. She really needed to get her shit under control or one day she'd do something so much worse – like actually kiss him.
They'd had to drive to Riven's apartment to get his bike. When he'd told her that, Musa had almost freaked out. Was he insane? What if they were spotted getting onto the bike by paparazzi? Or worse: Darcy. She would rip Musa's head off if she knew that Musa and Riven were going on a bike ride for fun. And Musa very much liked her head attached to her body. Riven insisted she calm down, though, and she did – minus the annoyance at being told to calm down – when he informed her that the bike was in the garage of his building, which Darcy never used because she didn't drive, and it was not likely anyone else would be there because it was 7am, 8 by the time they ate and got there, on a Saturday morning.
He'd been right: the garage was completely empty. Musa had no issues getting out of the car and slipping into the helmet and onto the motorcycle without being seen. It was only when Riven instructed her to wrap her arms around his waist that she realised that maybe this ride wasn't the best idea. She was by no means a pervert; she could control herself and stop her hands from roaming over his abs and trailing down to his crotch, but God was it tempting.
He was warm. Like, really warm. It was nice. Musa wanted to wrap herself up in his warmth and let it lull her off to sleep. He smelled really good too; she'd learned that when she'd lifted the helmets visor to hear him better before they'd left. He'd been so close she could make out every pore and scar on his face, but all she could focus on was his lips as they moved and how soft they looked. She wasn't even sure she remembered what he'd told her. Something about a park? Or maybe a lake? Who knew. While they drove, Musa was tempted to rest her head against his back and nuzzle into him, but the helmet prevented it and she was eternally grateful for that.
Riven realised as Musa slid onto the bike that he'd forgotten one component of the ride that he should have remembered. She had to hold onto him. And if his reaction last time she'd had her hands on him for more than a second or two was anything to go by, he'd lose control of the bike and they'd die. Thankfully, she was behind him and wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Still, when he turned to tell her what he thought they could do – stop in a tiny, nothing town and have lunch in the park – he shot himself in the foot by stumbling over his own words. It wasn't his fault he thought she was pretty, and he accepted that – people were attracted to who they were attracted to – but the realisation that he did was really fucking with him. Then she'd wrapped her arms around his waist, and he had to force himself to focus on the bike and the road. If he just thought of the road the whole time, he'd be fine.
The drove to a small town about three hours out of Manhattan that he'd come across about a year earlier when he'd needed to go out and clear his mind, though he couldn't even remember what had happened. He'd liked the town; it reminded him of those idealic small towns that only existed in movies and TV shows. That day, he'd stopped at a small, local grocery store with a to-go counter that had sandwiches and wraps, a variety of salads and pastas, plus some odds and ends (did Musa like samosas?). After that, he'd found a secluded spot of the local park, in a small clearing by a lake that, even on a sunny Saturday, had been completely deserted and eaten. That's what they'd do today. He'd even packed a blanket and some utensils for them.
"Hi, did you –" the cashier's sentence was cut off from a loud, almost atomic gasp. The young girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen, threw her hand over her mouth and turned away from them as Riven was putting the food and drinks they'd selected on the conveyor belt (Musa did like samosas). He should have known that even in the middle of nowhere she'd have fans.
"You okay?" Musa laughed. She seemed completely unbothered for someone who'd been so concerned about being spotted out with him.
The girl managed to compose herself, taking several deep breaths, before she finally turned back to them. "You probably get this all the time, but I love you so much" she gushed. "And… you're, like, here in my small ass hometown… with your bodyguard, that you're… not sleeping with."
"I'm not" Musa groaned, her amusement having quickly turned to irritation.
"You should be, he's fucking hot" the girl mumbled as she looked him over in a way that she should not be before her brain caught on to what she was saying, and she threw her hands over her mouth again. Riven looked away, massively uncomfortable at having been basically hit on by a child. He caught the shocked look Musa's face, completely unexpecting of the girl's bluntness. "I'm so sorry. That just came out. Please don't hate me."
"It's fine" Musa assured her. The shocked and annoyed expression she'd had was long gone, replaced by a placid smile. "But would you mind starting to ring us up? My driver is waiting, and we do have somewhere to be."
Once their groceries had been paid for and bagged up, and the girl had apologised twelve more times to both him and Musa, she managed to work up the courage to ask for a picture. Musa agreed, took the picture and they were on their way. When the door closed behind them, Riven heard squealing. He turned around in time to catch the cashier out in the open, jumping up and down and flailing her arms around gleefully and freezing when she knocked over a display rack of candy bars and caught him watching her. Riven nearly busted a gut laughing at the expression of horror on her face when she noticed him, but he managed to hold it until they got to the bike which he'd parked off to the side of the building.
The clearing was just as empty as it had been last summer, and it made Riven wonder if people in this town ever left their houses. It was just a small space of grass – no bigger than a small bedroom – on the banks of the river, surrounded by trees that, from the ground, looked taller than the Empire State Building, but God was it peaceful. Birds chirped around them, and a gentle breeze blew through the trees, cooling the hot summer day. The water was calm; steady, and Musa sat on the edge of the river and dipped her feet in. Riven didn't understand why more people didn't want to spend the day like this.
As Riven pulled the blanket out, he caught Musa watching him with the dopiest grin on her face. He asked what was so funny, but she shook her head and said nothing. He shrugged it off and continued placing the blanket, a thick blue and grey striped one he'd found in the laundry room closet, on the flattest section of grass he could find. "Do you get recognised like that often?"
"Oh yeah" Musa shrugged, swishing her feet around in the water as she looked into it. "Most of them aren't so bold as to insinuate that I should fuck my employee, but a decent amount work up the courage to ask for pictures."
"And you always oblige them? That seems exhausting."
"When they're polite. I've turned people away if they're assholes about it." Musa stood up and picked up the sneakers she'd dropped beside her on the riverbank. She walked over to the blanket, blades of grass sticking to the soles of her wet feet. If only Riven knew how many times she'd just been trying to hang out with her friends or grab a quick bite only to have people stop her and demand that she take a picture with them. "They usually get real pissy about it; like, because I'm a public figure I owe them something. Then there's the ones that aren't brave enough to ask for a picture, so they decide to snap a picture 'secretly'. I've had people sneak pictures of me in restaurants, bars, hair and nail salons, gyms, grocery stores, clothes stores, on the street, at the airport – oh fuck, so many at the airport. Anyways, whatever; it's the life I chose."
Musa reached into the grocery bag and pulled out the wrap she'd picked out. As she unwrapped it, Riven was saying something about how much it must suck to constantly be harassed by people, but, frankly, she was over talking about it already. There was only so much she could complain about the lack of privacy, and she'd done plenty of it already in her life. Besides, she knew it came with the life she'd chosen; it was the price she paid for fame and fortune.
"So, now that you don't hate me anymore, can we try that getting to know each other thing again?"
Riven stopped unwrapping his sandwich and looked up at her. After a beat, he rolled his eyes and gave in with a sigh. "What do you want to know?"
"Why did you move to New York?"
"I was a dumbass eighteen-year-old that thought I would be with my girlfriend forever. She wanted to come here to follow her dreams and become a Broadway star."
"Did she succeed?"
A pained expression crossed his face, and he lowered the sandwich he'd yet to take a bite of. "No. She, uh, fell in with a bad crowd. Got addicted to coke. I ran into her about three years ago at a club that Nabu's university friend dragged us to, where she works as a stripper."
"Oh... Maybe sh-"
"I asked her how she'd been. She was a prostitute for a few years to fuel her addiction. Went to rehab like five times, OD'd twice." His eyes grew distant as he slouched to rest his elbows on his knees. Musa didn't know what to say, she just knew what she shouldn't say. She racked her brain trying to think of something, but before she managed to come up with anything, Riven spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper, and it, mixed with the faraway look in his eyes, was haunting. "I told her those friends weren't good for her, but she... I should've..." He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a heavy sigh as he lowered his head into his hand and brushed his hair back.
"You blame yourself" Musa stated. Riven raised his head just enough to look at her with a surprised look on his face, like he'd forgotten she was there or that he was talking to her. "You can't do that. She's her own person; you're not responsible for her decisions. Trust me."
"And how would you kno-"
"Hollywood is filled with drugs. I've met more people than I can count that were addicts. A lot were functional – or seemed functional – but I've seen a lot of people go off the rails and lose everything because of their addiction." Memories flashed through Musa's mind of all the times she'd go to parties and see people doing lines in the bathroom; cocaine was the most common she'd come across. Sometimes, though, they'd be smoking – not cigarettes or weed, that was for sure; she'd never asked because she didn't want to know – or shooting up. Riven looked at her with wide eyes, but she didn't catch it because she was off in her own memories. She started talking without realising what she was saying. "When I was, um, seventeen, I was dating this girl I'd met at a photoshoot – she was a model. Her name was Madison; she had the most incredible way of seeing life. She, like your ex, fell in with bad people, made bad decisions. She OD'd a bit over a year after we met; was pronounced DOA(3)."
"Shit..." Riven muttered. "I... I'm so... You like girls?"
"Fuck" she whispered. She'd not meant to come out to him. "I, uh, yeah. I do. Only my friends know though, so, please, don't tell anyone."
"I mean, I can't. I signed an NDA remember?" he chuckled. "You don't want people to know?"
"No, it's not that. Madison was when I figured it out, and, honestly, I accepted that about myself pretty quickly. Plus, the girls were all super accepting and supportive of it. I just wasn't ready to tell the world yet. After she died, the girls did everything they could to pull me out of my misery. It had been six months, and maybe it was too soon, but it doesn't matter now. Stella set me up with Andy. We'd met about two years before that and hit it off, but I never got the chance to see him again. Stella, though, just so happened to run into him at a party and decided to do something about it. At the same time, I had just started talking to my dad again and I..."
"You don't want your dad to know?" Riven guessed.
"Don't get me wrong, I love my dad. It's just that he has some very conservative and, uh, traditional views. We've never really spoken about... any of this and... The three years that I spent without him in my life were rough, and I'd really rather not have to do that again."
Riven nodded slowly and Musa held her breath. No one except her close inner circle, or women she'd dated, knew that she was bisexual, not even Andy or Jared had known. She'd done it on purpose. Not because she was ashamed of her sexuality - in fact, she was very proud of it –but because: one, she didn't owe the public her personal life; two, she didn't want her dad to know in case he reacted negatively. Musa hated hiding part of herself from him, but if that was what it took for their relationship to survive, then so be it. Not that it was doing so great right now. "Next question. I don't want to talk about this anymore. What is -"
"It's my turn to ask a question" Riven interrupted. He reached over for the grocery bag, pulling out the bottle of water he'd gotten himself and offering her hers at the same time. "I promise it won't be a sad one."
"Okay, fine."
"Okay" Riven said, stopping to take a bite of his sandwich as he thought of a question to ask. Musa would murder him on the spot if it was one that would make her sad in any way, shape or form. Course, then she'd have to try to drive his motorcycle back to Manhattan and she'd probably die on the highway. "What's the most amazing experience your job has given you?"
"Just one?" she scoffed. How was she supposed to pick just one? Her career – almost spanning seven years now – had given her so many incredible experiences that it would be nearly impossible to pick just one.
"Yes. Just one."
It took her a really long time to figure it out; she thought for sure Riven would lose patience waiting for her. Instead, he contented himself with reading the book he'd brought in his bag while she thought. When she let out a high oh, he looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow. "After I released my third album, I played an outdoor concert in Montreal. It was a late concert in mid-June and there were some like fifty thousand people there. My third album is special cause it's the first one that the studio let me include a piano ballad on. So, I was on stage, playing by myself under the stars on this warm, beautiful night, and the minute I sang the first note, the whole audience started singing with me. And just being able to hear them properly, without all the extra beats and drums, singing and loving something that I created was just... beautiful."
Musa gave a contented sigh and brought her knees up to her chest so that she could rest her chin on them. She'd always loved ballads. Her mother had loved them, and Musa had so many fragmented memories of her mother singing them at any given time: when she cooked, cleaned, got dressed, went for walks, and any and every moment in between. When she managed to pull herself out of the whirlwind of memories that had gripped her, Riven was watching her patiently with a smile on his lips. "Sounds incredible."
"It was" Musa nodded. "Okay, my turn."
"Happy question" Riven reminded her. Musa rolled her eyes at the reminder but made a point of trying to think of a happy question. His childhood was clearly off limits if what little Flora had told her was anything to go by. She couldn't ask about relationships, not that she wanted to know about his she-demon of a girlfriend anyways. Friendships? That would do. "Because I can't figure out how you met someone so, um different than you: how did you meet Nabu?"
"After my ex and I broke up, I needed a place to live. Nabu had put an ad on Craigslist looking for a roommate. We shared a shithole apartment with one bedroom and a bathroom so small that the sink was on the outside of the bathroom."
"Lots of weirdos on Craigslist…"
"I know, but I got pretty lucky."
"Can't say the same for Nabu" Musa teased. Riven fixed her with a glare, ripping up a handful of grass and tossing it at her. Musa laughed out an objection, throwing her own handful of grass back at him. Her shot hit him square in the face which left him spitting out grass and groaning at her. "I'm kidding" she said, just in case she had actually struck a nerve or annoyed him. "You're not half bad."
"I'll take that as a compliment since a month ago you hated my guts" he chuckled as he spit out the last blade of grass. Musa reminded him that he'd decided he hated her first and she was just reciprocating the feeling. "Whatever. My turn. What did Flora tell you about me?"
"I was wondering if you'd ask about that." Musa laid herself out on the blanket, resting her arms under her head and enjoying the gentle breeze. "She told me about the cookies you always get her for her birthday, that she thinks you threatened her high school bully because he left her alone after she told you about it and that you once carried her to the hospital because she sprained her ankle in the middle of the night."
"That's it?"
"Well... no" she said reluctantly. She'd opted not to mention that footnote about Riven's not-so-great home in the spirit of happy questions, but since he pushed, Musa decided that she should tell him the last little bit. "She also told me you had a rough childhood, but she didn't go into any detail."
Riven nodded as he lowered himself onto his elbows and stretched his legs out. He'd lain himself in the opposite sense so that his head was beside Musa's hip and his legs were stretched out into the grass. Musa wondered whether he'd tell her anything about his childhood, but she didn't press him. It was shocking enough that he'd told her about his ex, there was no need for her to push her luck. "Your turn" he said, grabbing a handful of Doritos and popping one in his mouth. "These are awful."
"That's cause they only had the regular Doritos. The sweet chili heat ones are better."
"Sweet chili heat? Do you genuinely like burning your tastebuds off?"
"Nuh uh, my turn to ask a question" Musa laughed, slapping his thigh. He shook his head in exasperation but motioned for her to go ahead. "Okay. Um, what is the... stupidest thing you've ever done? Like, funny stupid, not regret stupid."
Riven paused to think, rubbing his temple with his index and middle finger. "Okay. The building I grew up in was four stories tall and one winter we had this massive snowfall. Shut down the city kind of snow. The building had roof access, and they'd dump excess snow from the parking lot just under the side we could access. Anyways, me and some of the other boys in the building decided that it would be a great idea to jump off the roof into the pile of snow."
"Oh my god" Musa chuckled. "Did anyone get hurt?"
"No. The landing wasn't as soft as we thought it would be, but it wasn't that bad either. My turn. Do you genuinely like burning your tastebuds off?"
"Yes" Musa answered with a belly laugh. "I like spicy food."
Riven sat up, shaking his head at her in disbelief. A stronger wind blew through, tousling the hair he'd not bothered to gel back that morning. She liked his hair unstyled; he looked just as handsome as he did with the styling, but now she could run her hands through it so much more easily. "You must be part of some superhuman species that can tolerate heat."
"You just need to build up a tolerance to it. My dad likes spicy food too, so I've eaten it my whole life."
"Weirdo" he laughed. Musa smacked his leg again causing him to laugh even more. Once his laughter subsided, though really she wished it hadn't, he motioned for her to ask a question.
"What is your perfect day?"
Riven thought about it for a few minutes. Would his perfect day consist of a book, some beer and a pretty girl? Lots of sex? Lots of solitude? She genuinely wanted to know. After a few minutes, he answered. "Something like this actually. Warm day, but not stupid hot. Nice long bike ride, hanging out somewhere nice with decent food – though my sandwich was a little too dry for my taste – and good company."
"I'm good company?" Musa blushed. Besides admitting that it wouldn't be the worst thing ever if they saw each other again, that was probably the nicest thing Riven had ever said to her. Her stomach fluttered and a warmth spread through her. He thought she was nice company.
"Though I'd enjoy it just as much without the company."
Of course he had to go and ruin a nice moment. She was starting to think he said things like that – and the if I can come use the pool and hot tub comment the other night – just to get under her skin. It would be just like him to antagonise her just for kicks. "Dick" she huffed. "Ask your question."
Riven took a deep breath and a sip of his water before asking. It was obvious that he already had a question in mind, and that it was a more serious one, but she was still surprised when he said: "You might want to kill me for this one, but what did you and your dad fight about?"
"What?"
"You were so happy to see him, and everything was fine," Riven explained. "Then, I went to the bathroom and all of a sudden you were storming out."
"What the fuck happened to happy questions?" Musa snapped. Wasn't it enough that she'd told him some of the most private details of her life, did he really have to know this too?
"Okay, sorry, fuck. I was just curious" he grumbled. Musa turned to her side, facing his knees now that he'd crossed his legs. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him rubbing his eyes. "What's your favourite colour?"
"Red..." Maybe talking about it was a good idea. She'd been holding this frustration with her father for three weeks now and it was wearing her out. She missed talking to her dad. He'd called multiple times over the last few weeks and, while at first she'd ignored him, eventually she broke and answered. Conversation had been strained, but they'd managed to confirm that they were both alive and well. Then the letter had come, and she'd had to call him. It'd been quick and easy, so when he'd called again a few days later, she decided to answer. They'd managed to get through the general catch up questions, but then he'd broached the subject of Judy again and she'd hung up. He'd tried three more times since then and Musa was tired of not being able to talk to him. "He's seeing someone."
"Huh?"
"My dad. He's seeing someone. That's what we fought about."
"Why?" Riven seemed genuinely confused by the topic of the fight, so Musa explained that she thought it was unfair to her mother and the love they'd shared for him to date someone else. His mother had been the love of his life – so he claimed – but then he went and replaced her with Judy. Riven nodded slowly as she explained the story, so Musa thought he must agree with her. But, no. Of course not. "No offense, but you're massively overreacting."
"Excuse me?"
Riven pushed his hair out of his face as he tried to figure out how to explain it. Musa looked like she wanted to murder him, but he stood by what he'd said. She was in the wrong. "If your mom had lived and they'd have another kid, would you believe they loved you any less?"
Musa furrowed her brows at him, but she answered. "Well, no... but -"
"And who would you call your best friend?"
"What does that have to do with an-"
"Just answer the question" he demanded. Musa let out an exasperated sigh, but once again she entertained his question and answered.
"I can't really say. Sometimes it's Aisha, sometimes Stella and sometimes Tecna, but they're all my best friends…"
"And does that mean you love any of them less?"
"No, of course not." Just as he'd thought. Riven would have to thank Flora for that spiel she'd given him about love being infinite a few years ago. She'd gone on this rant – and he had no idea of what had caused it, but her words had stuck in his brain – about how people had so much love to give, and that it was such a beautiful thing that we could love so many people and never have to take away love from one to give to another. At the time, he'd thought it was some hippy bullshit – and to a certain extent it was – but she did have a point. Loving someone new didn't take away the love you'd once felt, or still felt, for another.
"Exactly. This is the same thing. Your father's feelings for someone else don't negate how much he loved your mom. Love isn't a finite resource. Besides, the woman's been dead over a decade. He's allowed to enjoy someone else's company without being vilified for it."
Musa's first instinct was to storm away, but she forced herself to lay back down as she mulled over Riven's words silently. There was nowhere else to go. He'd been blunt about it, but, surprisingly, she found herself liking that he'd been so straightforward with her. And he was right. Love wasn't finite, and maybe she'd overreacted. Lifting herself onto the palms of her hands to sit upright, Musa found Riven watching her. The sun bounced off his eyes, shining so brilliantly they'd put gemstones to shame. "Is that your natural eye colour? And hair colour?"
"Yeah. Some random genetic thing or other; my mother had them too" Riven informed her plainly. He'd probably been asked about his hair and eyes a million and one times; they were just too striking and unnatural not to. She'd honestly convinced herself they were the product of coloured contacts and hair dye – after all, Tecna dyed her hair a strange and bright colour – but Riven hadn't struck her as the type to do either of those things. "I do wear contacts, though. Just, not some funky coloured ones" he informed her as if he'd been reading her thoughts.
"I assume I'm not the first to ask."
"Far from it" he chuckled. "It used to annoy me when I was younger, but I've gotten used to it. Plus, I can't blame people; I'd wonder too."
Musa indicated for Riven to ask a question. He sat there for a few minutes trying to think of something light-hearted and fun, maybe funny, but his mind kept wandering back to something he, much to his surprise, wanted to know her actual opinion about. "What do you think of Darcy?"
Musa's eyes widened, clearly surprised by the question. He couldn't blame her; he would be too if she'd randomly decided to ask what he thought of Jared. Musa stammered as she tried to formulate a sentence, but all she managed to get out was "She's... uh... uh... she's..."
"You're trying very hard to come up with a compliment, aren't you?"
"Yeah… Oh! I guess she seems smart? But she's kind of a complete bitch otherwise..." Darcy had clearly figured out Musa's attraction to Riven, so she was clearly not a moron. Musa usually liked intelligent company, but unfortunately Darcy just had such a character that Musa didn't want to know what she thought about anything. "Why do you ask?"
"I, uh. I've been having my doubts about her lately" he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Riven laid his arms on his knees and rested his chin on his forearm. His eyes pulled away from her towards the river. He looked sad, and it pulled at Musa's heartstrings. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and comfort him, tell him that it was okay to have doubts and that everything would work out. She didn't know how he would react to that, though, and they'd been having such a good afternoon that she didn't want to ruin it, so she settled for a simple Oh?
Riven stared at the river as he contemplated what he should do. It felt like everything he knew was falling apart and he couldn't do anything to stop it. This person that he'd built up in his head; this future that he'd pictured with her; all of it was crumbling around him. He didn't know what to do. In his peripheral vision, he could see Musa watching him with... pity? Sympathy? No. It didn't feel condescending like pity and sympathy did. Concern, maybe. Whatever it was, he liked it. It made him feel... safe. "She made fun of Flora."
"What?" Musa practically screeched.
"Well, no. Icy made fun of her, but Darcy laughed."
"Who the fuck would make fun of Flora?" Musa raged. Riven once again found himself appreciative of how friendly and inclusive Musa, and her friends, had been to Flora; a complete stranger who just so happened to be one of the most important people in the world to an employee of Musa's. "She's like the nicest person to walk the Earth."
"Icy and her non-existent heart."
Musa balled her fists, trying to control her frustration and anger with Darcy and her friends. What kind of heartless asshole could be mean to sweet, lovable Flora? And what kind of trash girlfriend was such a bitch to someone she knew was important to the man she supposedly loved. Musa mulled over the events outside the bathroom at Stella's. She'd originally decided not to tell Riven about it because she assumed he knew what his girlfriend was like and, in all honesty, she wasn't fussed by Darcy's stupid threat since there was nothing going on between her and Riven anyways. Maybe he needed to know, though. Maybe that would be better for him. "She threatened me."
"Huh?" Riven's gaze met hers with eyes narrowed and an open mouth. Apparently, he hadn't known what his girlfriend was like.
"Darcy. Cornered me outside the bathroom during dinner and told me she'd ruin my life if I didn't stay away from you."
"I fucking knew she'd done something" he groaned, apologising for Darcy's actions even though Musa thought it was completely unnecessary. Darcy was a grown-ass woman; she could make her own decisions.
"I mean, I don't care cause she doesn't have the reach to ruin my life. To kill me, maybe. But not to ruin my life."
"What the fuck…" Riven mumbled. He chose not to mention that Darcy probably would kill her – or get her friends to do it. Not that it mattered because Riven wouldn't let her. His job was to protect Musa and he was dead set on doing his job well. Besides, Musa'd done nothing wrong. It wasn't her fault that she was nice and gorgeous and funny and smart and... no. Not this again.
"She seems to think there's something going on with us. As if our proximity is by choice."
"Yeah, I gathered that much, even if I keep telling her there isn't" he sighed. "Thanks."
"For?"
"Telling me the truth. About your opinion and the threat."
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Anytime" Musa mumbled. Riven laid himself back down onto the blanket, staring at the birds in the sky. He played back the conversation as Musa started apologising if their issues were because of her.
"Don't. It's not your fault" Riven sighed. "Can we move on now?"
Musa froze, eyes wide and mouth mid-word, but she quickly caught herself and nodded. She fiddled with her fingernails for a few seconds, undoubtedly trying to think of a question to ask that required no depth of answer. "Favourite season?"
Cliché and unoriginal, but exactly what he needed: uncomplicated. "Fall." Warm, but not too warm. Cold, but not too cold. Nice colours, crisp wind, discount candy after Halloween. What was not to love about fall?
"Mine too" Musa laughed. Riven chuckled at her joy at their mutual favourite season, as if it were that uncommon for people to like the fall. There was a one in four chance, after all. Still, he enjoyed her amusement. Her laugh filled the air around him and he felt the stress melt away. How was she doing that? "Your turn."
"Favourite song?"
"Ha" Musa scoffed. "How long do you have?"
He should've known Musa – self-proclaimed music-lover – would have a list of favourite songs. Any other day, he may have gotten annoyed if the answer was too long, but right now, listening to her talk about something she was passionate about sounded like a great distraction from the Darcy problem. "I'll stop you when I get tired."
"How nice." Much to Musa's surprise, Riven actually let her ramble on about her favourite songs from just about every genre under the sun, and go into detail about why they were her favourite songs. He interrupted her every now and then to comment on a song he knew or ask her a question about one. At some point, he mentioned having not ever heard of a significant chunk of the songs she'd mentioned and Musa thought maybe she should make him a playlist so he could get acquainted with good music. Or would that be weird?
Musa was surprised by how easy it was to fill conversation with Riven. Even more so by how much she liked conversing with him. Dinner was one thing; it was half an hour sitting across from each other where there could be lulls in conversation because they were eating. Here though, there was none of that. They talked about anything at all – keeping to happy topics as much as possible since things had taken a dark turn very quickly.
Riven, as it turned out, was really smart – not that she'd thought he was a moron by any means – but he was even more. He was also funny; like, actually funny. And, like Flora had told her, much nicer than he seemed. Musa found herself enjoying the company more than she'd thought she would. When they started to get too hungry to stick around any longer, sometime around seven pm, Musa found herself being disappointed that the day was over. She'd have been happy to stay there forever, in this perfect little bubble where they could just enjoy each other's company without the pressure and intrigue of the outside world.
They stopped at a drive through once they were in Manhattan where Riven ordered and paid for them without ever removing his helmet on the off chance that the lanky, acne-laden boy at the window recognise either of them, ate quickly when they got home and went to bed, both surprisingly exhausted from a day of lazying around a beautiful park.
As Riven laid in his bed, thinking back on the day, he realised he'd never had that much of a great day with Darcy. When things got heavy, they talked about it a bit and then Darcy would distract him with sex. Musa, though, had listened to him, conversed with him, shared with him. When he'd given his opinion – completely unrequested at that – she'd taken what he had to say in consideration. And then the damn threats; that had been it. He knew Darcy was... territorial, to put it nicely, but there was a limit. Threatening his employer – and friend? Yes, he could say he was, wanted, to be friends with Musa – was too far. If Musa had decided to call Saladin about that, she could have cost him his job – not just this contract, but his actual job with Saladin. He'd have to talk to her.
1. Aileen Wuornos: American serial killer. Monster with Charlize Theron is about her.
2. Hot Ones is a real show. You can find the episodes on Youtube.
3. Dead On Arrival