Chapter 13 #2
I didn’t know why I was bothering trying to lie. I shook my head, gesturing her to the catering bar. “The paté here is to die for. Grab a drink with me?”
We sat by a back window overlooking 6th Avenue, Estelle in a chair across from me with a small plate loaded with snacks, and she covered her mouth as she spoke with her mouth full. “So, everything with Houdini is going well?”
I laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know why I try to argue with you, Stellie. You’re always right in the end.”
“Thank you! My god. Literally the exact words I’ve been waiting for. I am going to hold it over you that you said that. We’ll be seventy years old in the nursing home and I’ll be like, now, now, remember you said I’m always right?”
I ignored her. “I’m still terrified of what I’ll say to Linyue.
She’s tracking my position and everything, so I didn’t do anything egregious enough she needed to yell at me right away, but she’ll probably have questions about what I was doing at these music studios when she next reviews me.
But… I guess I like danger, because I feel like I can breathe again. ”
“You like feeling like you’re moving forward, and you want to make progress towards something beyond just your father’s work.” She pointed a cracker at me while she spoke. “Just don’t enjoy the danger too much.”
I pursed my lips. “I don’t know what you’re on about now.”
“You know full well what I’m on about now.” She put the cracker in her mouth, dropping back in the armchair and kicking one leg up over the other. “So, what’ve you been up to?”
“We’re getting traction for an industry event as a value sell for the app,” I said, and I dove into describing the whole thing—how Cassandra had a few people she was managing for and how she was using them to get closer to people in the industry, networking days disguised as studio sessions.
“We said goodbye with me coming here and her going off to meet her songwriting contact, so we’re meeting again tomorrow for drinks to talk about how it went and where to pick up. ”
That last part threw off her whole reaction, and she sat up taller. “You’re taking her out for drinks?”
“We’re just talking about business,” I said defensively.
“Babe, listen to yourself. She’s married.”
“I know. We’re not doing anything like that.” I shook my head. “Just because I think she’s cute doesn’t mean I’m doing anything about it. I’m a grown adult. I can keep it in my pants.”
She leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. “I’m just worried for you! If you’re putting yourself in these positions…”
“You’re the one who sent her to surprise me.”
“I know. You’re not going to make me regret it, are you?”
“No. I…” I slumped back in the chair with a frustrated sigh.
The only reason I was getting annoyed was because I knew she was right—that I knew exactly why I’d asked Cassandra out for drinks, and it was definitely the part of me that was drawn towards what I couldn’t have.
“Do you want to come with?” I said. “It’d be fun to have the three of us all in one place again. ”
She relaxed, lighting up instantly. “I can be around for a bit tomorrow evening. I’d love to hear more about her clever strategies she’s apparently using.”
So when I got back to my apartment for the night, I texted Cassandra, letting her know I’d invited Estelle to drop in for a bit. She was enthusiastic to see her, but I could feel the slight disappointment from her side, and it was a problem that I was happy to see it.
I told her I was off to bed, though, and I asked her if she was getting an early night as well, but she told me she had to hit up another venue for some networking and to talk to somebody. I was starting to wonder when the woman slept.
But she showed up in full force at the bar the next day for drinks, where she nursed one drink much more slowly than she had at the rooftop party, and she and Estelle got on like old friends, the three of us squeezed into a basement corner by an exposed brick wall and low mood lighting.
Cassandra shared stories from last night’s venue and the day’s work today, how she’d gotten her hands on an invite for a mixer that Marion was going to be at, thanks to a little string-pulling from her Kingmaker friend, and how she was planning to finish the close there.
She was a different woman than the one I’d met at the rooftop bar, and she effortlessly held conversation with both me and Estelle, who gave her a hug on her way out and wished her luck, telling her make sure to take a nap at some point, and Cassandra looked like there was nothing in life she’d like better.
But a nap clearly wasn’t forthcoming for her, because she looked dead on her feet when I saw her again the next day to help talk business with another studio.
She was good at hiding it, flipping like a switch and putting on a smile and laying the charm on thickly when she talked to the studio manager at the place in lower Manhattan, but the second we were out, she had a thousand-yard stare that she assured me was nothing, that she’d get plenty of good sleep tonight now that this was done.
I was pretty sure she still didn’t, but she managed, nonetheless.
We kept meeting for work and for conversations with Krysten and the rest of the team, and we got a few different groups to sign up with us, the outreach paying off quickly with Cassandra leveraging some good talent she was promising at the event, and I only finally broke the threshold of concern when she showed up late for something, looking frazzled, her hair a mess as she burst in the doors of the club that was pumping with music and pushed her way through to me at the back wall.
“I am so sorry,” she blurted, brushing herself off. “Traffic on the way here, you know… I didn’t account for it.” She forced a smile. “I hope you didn’t show up early. My god.”
“Cassandra,” I said, and she flinched, but I wasn’t pulling any punches this time. “What’s been going on?”
“I’m just stupid and didn’t account for any traffic in the travel time,” she said. “You do not need to worry. Sometimes things just slip my mind.” She scratched her head, and I saw something wet matted there in her hair, and my stomach dropped.
“Are you bleeding?”
“What?” She pulled her hand away, looking at her fingertips, and she grimaced. “Ah, shit.”
My stomach clenched painfully. She’d insisted her husband wouldn’t hurt her, but…
everything she’d said and done made it sound like she was keeping a wide berth, avoiding him as much as possible.
Had she just been sure she’d be safe because she thought he wouldn’t find her?
“What happened?” I said, my voice more pressing than I meant it, and she winced.
“Oh, god. I thought we’d move past it.”
“Talk to me.”
She hung her head. “I had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“An embarrassing one.”
“Cassandra.”
“Oh my god. I fell off my moped. I was going, like, five miles an hour, so I’m not like, actually hurt, I just wasn’t paying attention and I hit a pothole and I did not have the speed to clear it, so the bike went ass-up and I fell. I hit my head on the handlebars.”
I’d known enough women in abusive relationships to know a coverup story when I heard one. The way she wouldn’t quite look at me, how reluctant she was to share anything, how specific and tidy a coverup story she had. “Did he hurt you?” I said, and she blinked.
“Who?”
“Your husband.”
“Oh, god. No. No, it’s nothing like that.” She shook her head, wide-eyed. “Jesus, I’m not making it up. I literally did fall off my moped.”
“Since when did you even ride a moped?”
“Since forever,” she groaned. “I just didn’t want you to see me riding that hunk of junk around because it’s embarrassing, and now I’m doubly embarrassed.
I’m genuinely just fine. Can we focus on the night?
I’m stressed because of how late I am, and I just need to make sure this gets done.
I’m meeting with Stephen and Sheila after this. ”
“Cassandra, please. You are bleeding from your head.”
“I’m not bleeding anymore, it’s just a little blood stuck in my hair. I’ll pop into the bathroom and get it cleaned up.”
“No, you are not,” I said, my hand on her arm, and she went rigid, eyes wide. “We’re getting out of here.”
“Getting out? Where to?”
“My apartment isn’t far.”
Even in the low lights of the club, I could see the way her breath caught, eyes wide. “I can’t—I’m not crashing your place.”
I did not give a damn what she thought. I was not letting her go back somewhere that man could find her tonight. “You’re coming back with me,” I said, “or our arrangement is off.”
“What? Helena—”
“Don’t argue. You’ve been doing worse and worse over the past weeks, and now you show up bleeding and panicked. I can’t keep working with you pretending I don’t see anything. Come with me,” I said. “I’m not asking you.”
“But I… I can’t… Helena, I don’t have time,” she said, her voice cracking, small and helpless, and it broke my heart hearing it. “I’m so behind on gathering resources for the event.”
“You are coming with me. We’ll make it work. Stop thinking about that and follow me, or you’re figuring it out on your own.”
She swallowed hard, eyes quivering, and it almost broke me—seeing her on the verge of tears, scared and vulnerable, it made me want to give her whatever she wanted, but I knew I had to hold my ground before something worse happened.
“But I promised…” she said weakly, and I tightened my grip on her arm.
“We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Come with me.”
She opened her mouth to protest again, and she closed it, pursing her lips, and for her sake, I pretended I didn’t see the tears building up in her eyes, escaping from one side.
“Just for long enough to make sure I’m not still bleeding,” she whispered, and she relented, following along after me out the doors, my heart pounding the whole way.