18. Cassie
CASSIE
“How the hell did this happen?” Pip squeals as the car pulls up to the gate. “Actually, don’t tell me. I’m just thrilled to be here.”
I bite back a laugh as she practically throws herself out of the car as soon as we roll to a stop.
Pip has only been on my father’s jet a handful of times in the fifteen years I’ve known her.
It’s smaller than a regular plane, only seating fifteen including the pilot, but it’s such a waste of energy it makes my skin crawl.
My dad insisted that he’s sending six of the Rebels aboard with me so it feels a little more like a small commercial flight.
Kind of? Either way, Dad is usually good at humoring me when it comes to flying commercial, but I woke up this morning to two refunded first class tickets and an email that the jet was fueling up at the airport.
I thank the driver and grab my bag and guitar case from the trunk, following Pip to the plane stairs.
We’re heading to London for Danny and Anya’s wedding anniversary.
It’s crazy to think it was a year ago, and even crazier to think that three years ago, they met for the first time and Danny dropped the lore that he’s a phenomenal songwriter.
It took us all a bit by surprise, but now he’s my favorite writing partner.
The last time I wrote with Danny, we locked ourselves in a home studio and came up with two working albums within the space of two weeks. It was like my brain split in two, and he picked up the other half.
Then he had to go and take his new wife on a six month honeymoon, so I lost my sidekick and any motivation to write an album all by myself.
I’m hoping a few days of relative peace in a different country, away from both of my parents, will give me a chance to get the creative juices flowing.
I’ve barely had time to sit at a piano or my guitar in the past three months—which is the excuse I’ve been giving myself for the significant lack of producing anything resembling a workable song.
For the first time in a while, I’ve almost got a melody playing in my head; the click of my heels on the tarmac, the rattle of the plane steps as I ascend, and the low laugh of a British man in the plane.
I round the corner, ducking my head slightly to squeeze through the door and come face to face with Robbie King.
He’s sat in one of the seats to the side, his laughter at whatever Pip was telling him eclipsed by the dark look in his eye he only ever seems to hold for me.
My eyes shift to a glare as I set my guitar down in the aisle. “What are you doing here?”
He shifts in his seat. “I was invited.”
I rest my hands on my hips. “Not by me.”
When dad said ‘Rebels’, I thought it meant upper management. I thought I’d be sharing a flight with stuffy business men on long distance phone calls and suits. Not a player. Not this player.
I open my mouth, ready to demand an explanation, but the flight attendant squeezes past me to shut the heavy door. “Aren’t we waiting for more people?” I ask.
The flight attendant sends me a customer service smile. “All three accounted for.”
“Three? This flight seats ten,” I protest, heart racing. “No, there’s a mistake. There’s more people coming.”
She ignores me, sliding the plane doors closed with a thump.
“I don’t think so, Cass,” Robbie tells me.
I glance at Pip with wide eyes.
“It’s okay,” she reassures me, leaning over the back of her seat. “We can fly commercial on the way back. We’ll even do Economy.” Admirably, she doesn’t even flinch as she says it.
“Please take your seat.” The attendant ushers me forward until I’m opposite a bemused Robbie.
The plane is already moving before I’ve finished buckling myself in with shaking hands.
My heart races as we start moving on the runway. Dad knows how much I hate the jet. I’ve told him over and over that I hate flying in it unnecessarily. Why would he trick me like this?
It’s only a few minutes before we’re in the air and a furious tear gathers in the corner of my eye. I use my nail to catch it before it drops and stare out the window as if I can see the trail of CO2 the engine is leaving in the atmosphere.
A small kick to my shoe has me looking up. “You good, trouble?”
I take a deep breath. “It’s fine.” I flash Robbie what I hope is a reassuring smile, but it falters before I can turn my head away enough for him to not notice.
“Right, I’m going to go take a nap in that bed,” Pip announces as soon as the captain tells us we can unbuckle. “Try to relax, darling.” She throws me a wink over her shoulder as she goes, and I return to my window.
“Is it the plane you have a problem with?” Robbie asks, settling further into his seat. “It’s a bit gauche for my tastes, but beggars must.”
I roll my eyes and rest my heavy head on the headrest. “Been on a lot of private jets, I bet?”
Robbie shrugs. “I’ve been around.”
He’s in jeans and a t-shirt, an outfit I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him before.
I usually only see him now in his Rebels uniform or gym shorts, although I’ve yet to forget what he looked like in a suit at the bottom of my garden.
Now, his light grey t-shirt stretches across his biceps and his jeans hug his thighs so snugly my mouth almost dries out.
Maybe there is a perk to the flight if I get to sit opposite him.
He nudges me again with his foot. “Spill it.”
I let my eyes fall closed. “A few years back, I was on this huge tour. The biggest of my career at the time. I loved it obviously but it was so exhausting. I didn’t really have any control over any of the logistics or anything, I didn’t even pick my set list and every night I’d leave the venue and come straight here and fall asleep in that bed back there,” I gesture to the door Pip closed behind her.
“I didn’t even think about what the backup dancers or the band or everyone else was doing each night, it was just me and my parents.
I'd much rather have slept on the bus with my backup dancers, rather than behind a thin door while they bickered out here all night but I was so tired I couldn’t really think about anything other than the next day's show.
About halfway through the tour, I found an article about private jet emissions compared to commercial flights.” I open my eyes to squint at him. “Do you know how much CO2 I personally emitted that year flying around in this thing?” I knock on the arm of my chair.
Robbie shakes his head.
“A fuck ton. You’d probably need to plant over a thousand oak trees to heal the hole I blew in the ozone layer that year alone.
” I still remember the hollow feeling in my gut when I did the math.
It wasn’t a massive corporation funneling oil into the gulf, or a government decommissioning wind farms, but I was directly causing damage to the planet on a massive scale.
Me. “After that, I wanted to get on the bus with the rest of the team. It’s not like I loved the jet so much I couldn’t not use it.
It would have been so easy to travel on the tour bus.
I begged my Dad to let me bunk with them, or at least fly commercial when they did, but he refused, said I was ‘the star’,” I air quote.
“That I needed to be treated accordingly. When I got home, I swore I wouldn’t use the jet again, unless I absolutely had to.
Dad doesn’t understand,” I add bitterly. “He doesn’t care.”
“You care,” Robbie says quietly. “That should be enough for him.”
I shrug pathetically, running my fingers through my hair and pulling it into a bun on the back of my neck to get some much needed air to my heated skin.
He’s quiet for so long, I think the conversation is over, but then he leans forward in his seat. “How much does a good tree go for these days?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “Ten thousand?”
“Ten thousand pounds? For a tree? Surely not.”
“I don’t know, I haven’t looked into it,” I reply with a laugh.
“I could see a bonsai going for that much, sure, but just a regular old oak? You’re having a laugh.”
For the first time since I stepped foot on this plane, I find myself smiling. “I don’t know the price of trees, Bert. Who do you think I am?”
“You’re the one who’s obsessed with them.”
“I’m not obsessed. I have the normal amount of interest and care in trees of all kinds. So should you.”
He shrugs. “Never really thought about trees much. Though I will be thinking about this for the rest of my life, so thanks for that."
“You’re welcome. It’s a real burden. Caring.”
“Tell me about it.”
I catch his eyes and can’t help the smile that pulls at my cheeks. His smile burns bright, showing off pearly white teeth and a crooked grin that I’ve never seen on him before. I want to freeze the moment, capture the secret smile he’s showing only to me.
“Okay, I’m back. I’m not even tired, and the novelty wore off quick,” Pip announces flopping into the chair opposite us. “Ooh, does this seat swivel?”
She leans to the side, lifting up the latch that makes the chair move before frowning. “Cass, why am I not swiveling?”
I bite back a laugh as I unclip my seatbelt and drop to my knees next to her. I’ve spent too many years on this plane, so I know the knack to get it to move. As soon as I do, Pip’s chair is turned to face the middle aisle, and Robbie is leaning his head on his hand, peering at us both.
“Swivel then.” Pip waves an impatient hand towards him. “It’s like a conversation pit three-thousand feet in the air.”
“Maybe Robbie doesn’t want to talk with us, honey.”
“Nonsense, of course he does.”
Pip reaches into her bag and produces a pack of cards, and I find myself recruited into a game.
Pip doesn't really acknowledge the elephant in the room, but I find I don’t want to talk about it anymore anyway.
I can’t exactly parachute out of the damn plane, so I’m stuck here for at least the next few hours.
“So,” Pip asks later, over a hand of gin rummy. “What are your plans in London, Robbie?”
“Thinking of heading up to my parents’ place. It’s my niece’s birthday coming up, so it will be nice to see them.”
“Have you bought her a good gift?”
Robbie nods. “I ordered her this weird doll thing she wanted.” He puts down a card with a chuckle. “But what she actually wanted was an autograph from Cassandra.”
I snort as I take my turn. “You’re a cheap uncle. You can get that for free.”
“It’s the thought that counts more than the money Sandra, come on.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “I could probably spring for some extras for her.” She’s a kid. It’s not because she’s related to him.
Robbie shrugs his shoulders with a sigh. “I would be more prideful about it but hell, Ffion would never forgive me if I turned you down.”
I glance up at him, remembering all too well the last time he turned me down, to find he’s already looking at me.
I clear my throat. “How are you getting to your parents?”
“I’m going to pick up my car. It’s parked just outside Richmond.”
“Oh, that’s where we’re going!” Pip announces. “We’re at my brother’s house for his anniversary party. You should come”
He laughs. “Can you invite people to a party that isn’t yours?”
“It’s my brother,” Pip waves her hand. “He won’t care. You should come.”
Robbie glances up at me over his hand, questioning with a single look.
I shrug. “You’ve already met Anya, I’m sure they won’t mind. Plus, I store some merch in Danny’s office. I actually love scribbling all over it.” I let the last line linger in the air and know I’ve caught him.
“Maybe I can drop by on my way.”