Page 15 of Until the Last Star Fades

Hunter squatted, picking up his phone from the floor. “Quarter to nine, the Sunday after St. Patrick’s Day—first one I’ve greeted without a hangover, I think…”

“Yeah, me too.” Ben nodded. “Hey, do you have a laptop or a tablet I could use? To search for jobs?”

“Want something under the table?” Hunter scrolled through his phone.

“Maybe.” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“Your accent—Australian?”

“British.”

Hunter nodded. “My buddy’s Spanish, here illegally. I’ve become an expert at finding cash-in-hand work. I might be able to help you land something…” He stared at Ben’s bandaged hand. “I was going to suggest joining his flat-pack furniture assembly biz, but—”

“I can do that.” Ben sat up, eyes keen and bright. “My hand—it’s just a cut. I’ll do anything.”

Anything, huh?” Hunter chuckled, giving Ben a once-over. “Okay. I’ll make some calls.”

Eight

Lining up boxes of perfume just so, a yawn escaped Riley’s pout. Her hand quickly ran interference, covering her mouth as her puffy eyelids flickered and fought to stay open under the headache-inducing fluorescent lights. It was no use—this yawn would not be muffled. Wake up! Look alive.

A co-worker snickered. “Rough St. Paddy’s, Riley? Grab my extra espresso in the break room—you need it more than I do.”

“Aw, thanks…” Riley yawned again, straightening her black Sephora tunic over her hips. “You’re a lifesaver.” Her eyes swept the shop floor, searching for her manager, who had already told her off once for looking pale and exhausted that morning. A quick getaway was imperative. She had to be peppy and back in place for the arrival of Sunday’s first customers. Boss nowhere to be found, Riley made a dash, leaving her post in ‘fragrance world’ for a much-needed rendezvous with the two Cs—concealer and coffee.

A burst of chilly air sailed up the back of her black tights. Shit, 11 A.M.—showtime. She circled back to her department, smiling at the rosy faces emerging from wool scarves and fur-trimmed hoods. The shop in Soho was open for business whether Riley was ready or not. Her eyes strayed to the people passing by outside on Broadway, the morning foot traffic heavy despite yesterday’s snow and the boozy St. Patrick’s Day vibe that still hung over the city. An old habit roused itself—making up stories for people sailing past on the sidewalk: well-groomed women heading toward Balthazar for avocado toast, teenagers in unzipped parkas exercising their parents’ plastic in Uniqlo, the lanky dark-haired guy hidden underneath a green ball cap shuffling to—wait! Ben? It’s Ben! A strange sense of giddiness lightened her mood. The place where he was staying was a few blocks away so it made sense to see him around. Riley smiled, happy he was okay. He looked snug in a quilted coat ideal for a New York winter. Thank God he ditched that light jacket! Snow began to dance in the blustery air as he slowed his pace and adjusted his hat, lifting the peak and turning his head. She raised her hand in a half-wave and his eyes met hers, delivering a blank stare—under a New York Jets cap. This guy’s hand wasn’t bandaged. His lips were thin and unkind, displaying zero joy or interest, his cheekbones unremarkable, and his eyes…steely and impatient. Even if she never saw Ben again, she wouldn’t forget his sparkly blue eyes, carefree and inviting—fun. Ben was like a friendly puppy, all gangly and unable to sit still…unlike this guy. With a double take, he frowned, stared at his phone, and stiffly strode away, out of sight, out of mind, instantly forgettable—unlike Ben.

Riley’s smile dissolved as quickly as it had appeared. Why hasn’t he texted to say hi? She stood up straight, the freezing air pushing past the open doors, waking her up. Riley, you told him your number was for ’emergencies only’. That’s WHY, stupid. Hopefully he’s all right. New York alone is…well, I hope he’s okay—

“Riley!” Frustration tinged the woman’s tone. “A client’s waiting.”

Ugh, the boss. She snapped to attention. With an apologetic smile, Riley slipped her fingers down her sleek ponytail and smoothed her tunic. She turned around, meeting two familiar faces.

“Gotcha!” Underneath the hood of her shearling coat, her oldest friend, Erika Kobayashi, stood tall and posture-perfect, a grin raising the corners of her burgundy lips. “Like my angry boss voice? I’m practicing for when I get that promotion. It’s good, isn’t it?”

Riley nodded with a sleepy smile. “Almost too good. You’ll have ’em quaking in their boots and eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Aw, you really think so?”

“Yep. The Four Seasons would be crazy not to give you that promotion. Plus, you always get what you want.”

“That’s true.” Leia McClelland, Erika’s best friend and fellow New York Islander WAG, stuck her hands in the pockets of her wool coat and tapped her foot. Willowy and ethereal with a thick mane of long red hair, Leia was bewitching yet unassuming. Wherever she went, she drew envious stares, and today was no different, her makeup-free complexion still lightly sun-kissed from her Caribbean vacation with Erika six weeks earlier during the NHL’s all-star break.

“So, what are you doing here?” Riley looked around her friends, ensuring her boss wasn’t hovering. “Erika, weren’t you and Scott booked for a spa day?”

“You never get out anymore. I had to ambush you.” The twenty-four-year-old carefully lowered her hood, revealing her sleek black tresses immaculately coiffed into a bun. Not a hair, not an eyelash, not a sweep of blush was out of place—but that was Erika, always ready for her close-up. The Japanese-American stunner and former teen ballerina was perpetually dressed to impress for any high-profile occasion that might roll her way, be it a star-studded Midtown fundraiser, or an impromptu casting session for the Real Housewives of New York—her favorite TV series. Riley was always amazed by her high school friend’s elegance and had no clue how she kept it up, rain or shine, weekday or weekend. “Scott blocked a shot last night, puck hit his arm.”

“Ouch! In the gap?”

“Yeah, between the glove and elbow pad. It ballooned and turned purple. The doctor’s examining it again, so I’m here, ready to take advantage of your staff discount.”

Riley slouched into a whisper. “Not today, okay? You know I would if I could.”

“Well, save me some of your gratis products, then.”

“I gave you a bag full last month, greedy guts, and it’s not like you can’t afford them—”

“You can take the girl out of Staten Island, babe. Besides, everyone loves free stuff!”