Chapter 19 #2
“I’m not a music agent, either. I made that up. I mean, I guess I kind of am now, because I’ve been faking it so hard that I’ve literally started doing it, but when I met you, I was nobody and I was nothing.”
“Everything? The music—”
“The music, the name, the marriage.” She laughed bitterly.
“The old magazine articles. I’d actually just happened to see your magazine cover on the wall earlier that day, and that’s how I recognized you.
I’d never read any old magazine articles.
Hell, I didn’t really even know anything about classical Greek myth.
I was never married. And I was going to leave New York next month. ”
My face burned, a sick taste in my mouth. “So… everything about you was just you lying to get close to me. For what? Some kind of bucket list in New York?”
“Shit, I guess so.” She had this haunted, distant look in her eyes as she spoke in a low monotone.
“Whole thing was Kingmaker’s idea. I hit rock bottom, or what I thought then was rock bottom, anyway, and I was planning to leave New York, and I saw his ad for life coaching, and I thought, can’t hurt to try it.
Turns out it sure can,” she said dryly. “Tricked me into taking on several thousand dollars’ worth of debt and crashing a party by lying about who I was, using the name of someone who was invited but wasn’t going to make it, all so I could get contacts. ”
I think I would have expected to feel angry or hurt or confused or sad or something, but instead I just felt numb, distant, like I was feeling my emotions through glass so thick I could only see hazy outlines. I barely even heard myself speak. “You just made up a whole identity to talk to me?”
“Oh, god, no. To talk to anyone but you, really. I made up a whole identity to talk to someone who could lead me to a job, and I was told in very strict terms not to spend any time with you, because you knew me as Cassandra, and you were a dangerous distraction, and I… well, I tried not to. But then, I mean, things happened, one after another, and I’d somehow gotten in with Krysten by running all over the city until a studio signed up with her, and then…
Estelle wanted me to help pull you out of your rut, and I thought I’d just help you and Krysten connect, because I knew how much you wanted to get out into the startup field, and I knew Krysten could use someone like you.
Then she pulled a fast one on me by getting you and me on the work together because she knew my whole deal with Cassandra and she wanted to…
to screw with me, I guess. I don’t know.
Jesus, Helena, I just never thought I had any reason for you to take me seriously enough that you’d care about my actual name and life or anything, and by the time I realized how much I really liked you and how much I wanted to be close to you and everything, I was just terrified you’d find out what a nobody I was, what a stupid…
fucking… loser I’ve always been.” She buried her face in her hands, choking on tears as she spoke.
“But this was the worst possible way for it to happen. I’m really fucking sorry. ”
It sounded like she was making up bullshit—making up more bullshit apparently—but it made a little too much sense to ignore.
How much she’d been awkward about her name, nervous and uncomfortable back at the party in Williamsburg, and had slowly stepped into herself.
All the comments about her husband… how she hadn’t been attending events without him for long.
I guess that was technically true. Not because she hadn’t been without him for long, but because she hadn’t been attending events at all.
All the times my heart had broken for her and bled for her, wanting to keep her safe from this relationship—the relationship that never actually existed—and all the times I ached for her, wanting her when it wasn’t even her, I boiled over, clutching my hand to my forehead and turning away with an exasperated sigh, mostly to keep myself from holding her while she cried.
“So, guess you really aren’t too close with Mr. Evans-Pierre,” I said. “Guess I see why you weren’t too shaken up about not being with him.”
“I fucked up with you and with Krysten. She’s actually friends with the real Cassandra.
I don’t know why she gave me any grace.” She laughed through a sob.
“No, actually, I think I do know. I think it’s because she thinks it’s funny.
Well, it doesn’t really matter now. I’m really sorry for lying to you.
I hope you know I was never lying when I told you you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever known, and that…
that you’re going to do really well in your new career. ”
I turned back to where she was frustratedly wiping tears from her face even as new ones were quick to replace them. “What, are you planning to just leave now? Is that why you’re telling me now, because now it’s your time to leave and you don’t have to face the consequences?”
“I just lost my home. And all my possessions, except for what’s in this bag.”
“You’re—what?” My stomach dropped, and she gave me a thin smile, gesturing to the building around us.
“That’s why I’m here. Remember when I told you I lived in a small place?
Yeah… think smaller. Laundry closet, illegally retrofitted into a living space.
Housing authorities just came around and found the place, and the landlord changed the locks and ghosted me because he’s trying to argue I was a squatter.
All my things got locked inside. He’s probably thrown them out somewhere, but on the off chance they are still inside, I’m trying to get someone to hear me out long enough to open the doors and let me get my things.
” She shook her head. “Even the stupid fucking tailored suit I’m still in debt for.
The debt works in my favor, because now I have a witness who’s invested in it, and since the suit itself is his collateral, there’s an actual professional involved in trying to get this thing back, instead of a homeless bum. ”
Jesus Christ, no wonder she’d always looked like she was about to cry when I asked her if she was okay. Of course she wasn’t. And she never said she was, just that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
Shit.
“Where are you staying right now?” I said shakily, and she laughed thickly.
“I spent the night in a music studio where they let me in after hours, but I can’t sleep in there or they’ll kick me out if they find me.
So I didn’t really sleep last night. And I don’t know if I will tonight.
That’s why I was hoping to get this court stuff done today, see you after the mixer, tell you all this, tell you I’m sorry, tell you goodbye, and then leave. ”
“Cassandra—no—Julie—you aren’t going to get New York court authorities to respond to something on the day of.”
“Yeah, I’m realizing that,” she groaned, looking down.
“But I can probably at least… start the case… and if anything comes of the search for the suit, Daniel—the tailor—will get his collateral, and that can at least take a bit off my debt. So I’m starting the case.
I don’t fucking know. It’s not like sticking around is an option, look at me. I’m not cut out for sleeping rough.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with an angry sigh. “It’s not… you’re not… you are not sleeping rough,” I said. “You can stay at my apartment. Why did you not say anything last night instead of going and… sitting in a fucking… music studio overnight?”
She looked vaguely sick. “Jesus, Helena, I’m not—I can’t just crash your apartment after I’ve just told you how I’m a fucking loser who’s been lying to you—”
“Just because I’m pissed off with you doesn’t mean I’m going to turn a blind eye to you when you’re on the street, Julie,” I said thickly. “Do I look like that kind of person?”
She cried. Straight-up—she’d been crying a little, tears in her eyes, trying to hold them back, but when I said that, she broke, fully crying, burying her face in her hands, sobbing in a way I could tell was about a lot more than just an offer to stay on my couch.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in between sobs.
“I think it’s best if I just… go. I’ve made things bad enough.
Maybe there’s not even any good reason to continue with the stupid court process.
Maybe I’ll just book my flight now. Or a Greyhound and work on getting my way out to Missouri, if I can’t afford a flight, hope Daniel doesn’t come chasing me down for the debt. ”
I massaged my temples. “If you won’t stay in my apartment, at least let me cover a hotel stay for you.”
“In New York? Last minute?” She laughed thickly. “You might as well just put the money towards my debt to Daniel instead, that would help me sleep better than any bed would.”
“How much do you owe?”
“Forty-three hundred.”
“Fine. I’ll cover it and a hotel stay.”
She choked, looking up at me with wild eyes. “What are you talking about? You’re just going to drop—”
“That’s really nothing. I’ll bill it to the company as career consulting and expansion. You’ve helped me a lot more than an actual professional would, and that’s less than what they’d have charged.”
She stared slack-jawed. “You’re not… you’re not serious, are you?”
“Julie, look me in the eye and tell me I’m not serious,” I said. “Send me an invoice for consulting expenses. Sixty-five hundred. Nobody will bat an eyelid, you can pay your debt, and you can get a hotel.”
She stared at me another while longer before she wiped her eyes, and in a shaky voice, she said, “Is this… so you can wash your hands of me?”
I sighed, looking away. I felt sick and small and stupid, and I just wanted to crumple up and stop moving.
I was going to blow it at the stupid mixer tonight.
But I didn’t really care right now. “You know I really liked you,” I said coolly.
“Or at least, the person I thought you were. I don’t like being lied to. ”
“God,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to the floor. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say. Even while you’re pissed off at me, you still want to help. I’m really lucky that I got to know you.”
Every nice thing she said made it worse. I swallowed the ugly feelings in my throat, and I shook my head. “Just… just give me the invoice. And promise you’re not going to sleep on the street tonight.”
“I wish I could afford to be the bigger person and turn down your help, but I don’t know how I’ll live without it.” She dragged in a shaky breath, standing a little taller. “Are you… are you going to keep working with Krysten? You really do have a talent for connecting with anybody.”
By myself? I didn’t want to do anything.
I wanted to quit working with Jewel, quit modeling, quit everything.
I didn’t have any interest in showing up to that mixer without Cassandra—fuck—without Julie by my side, without going over it together with her at the end, seeing her eyes gleam as she strategized which route to take.
Was that real? Or just another thing she put on for her stupid fucking life coach?
This was that Kingmaker asshole’s fault. Didn’t she describe him as a sleazy white guy with braids and a durag? I was going to kill him.
“Maybe,” I lied, my voice thin. She sniffled, wiping her eye.
“I really hope you do. I loved getting to see your dreams coming alive while you’re doing this. And you’re so smart and good at the whole… god, just everything. I can’t believe I got to meet you. Thank you for everything.”
I pushed off from the wall with a heavy sigh that made it more obvious than I wanted that I was crying.
“If you don’t send me the invoice, I’m having someone carry you an envelope of cash, and that’s not going to look good for either of us, so make sure you send me that goddamn invoice,” I said, starting towards the doors.
I couldn’t bring myself to look back over my shoulder at her, as if I’d turn to salt if I did. “Bye, Julie. Thanks for your help.”
“Goodbye, Helena.”
Dammit. I hated hearing those words in that small, soft voice. I only just managed to get out the doors into the street before I cried, slumping against the side of the tall stone column at the side entry of the building.