36. Cassie
CASSIE
To: michael@; claudia.hamilton@
Subject: Life Update :)
Dear Mom and Dad,
Thank you both for giving me some space.
I think we all needed it, and I’ve spent a really solid few weeks working on my next album.
I think you’ll both really like it, so I’ll sort out a mini listening party when I’m back home - maybe we could all get dinner together?
Anyway, I’d appreciate it if we can move on from this.
I’d like to gently remind you both that I’m an adult with my own life, and I can do whatever I like with it, but I am sorry if I made you worry.
Love, Cassie
Predictably, my carefully crafted email went down like a lead balloon.
I sent it just before I boarded my flight and opted not to pay for on board WiFi so I wouldn’t have to see the reply until I landed in LAX.
Unfortunately, that did mean that the emails, notifications and missed calls all buzzed through at the same time and nearly exploded my phone before I even made it through security.
By the time my driver has pulled up outside my house to a Bentley and a Audi parked in the circular drive, I already know what I’ll find when I get inside. I let my head bang against the window, loud enough that my driver glances at me through the rear view mirror.
“Shall I keep driving?” he asks politely.
I sigh. “Thank you but no, I can handle it.”
I can see a blind twitch from the front window. No doubt my Mom is stood behind it with her arms crossed and a scowl attached to her face.
“Hello,” I call as I finally cross the threshold. “I know you’re here.”
I hear a harrumph from the living room and dump my bag on the counter.
I lean my hip on the doorframe as I peer inside.
It's not often I see my parents in the same room but it’s not exactly rare.
My old school friend, Tabitha’s, parents divorced around the same time mine did.
We bonded over it at the time, but her parents had an outwardly amicable split.
They just one day never spoke again apart from childcare duties, but that was relegated to nannies and assistants.
My parents bicker like cats and dogs almost every day, keeping me firmly in the middle whilst they try to get one up on the other, but occasionally when they need me to step back in line, they’re more than happy to band together and pool their resources.
I’d think it was a cool dynamic if it didn’t keep making my life more difficult by the second.
“Is this going to take long?” I ask. “I could really do with a shower.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Mom’s incredulous question hits a pitch so high it practically makes the windows rattle.
I take a breath. “Did you get my email?”
My dad sighs at me from over his phone, eyes peering over his reading glasses. “We did get your email, Cassandra. It’s the way you went about it that’s the problem.”
I bite my cheek. “I just thought—”
Dad sighs. “You didn’t think, Cassie. We lost contact with you on the other side of the world.”
“I’m sorry—”
“You’re not sorry,” Mom bites out, picking up her bag and standing.
“Now that I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere”—I don’t mention that she knew I was flying back today, hence how she knew to be here—“I’m leaving.
” She comes to a stop in front of me, one perfectly manicured brow lifting.
Apart from her blonde hair, we’re so similar that Dad used to say I was a mini-her.
Our noses are the same, and our cheekbones used to be too.
Before Mom started getting preventative botox, we’d have passed for twins.
I just hope my face doesn’t scowl as much as hers does.
“You know Cassandra, a nice life like this doesn’t come without sacrifices.
If you want to keep it, you have to be more reliable. ”
Shame tightens around my throat like a noose.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper.
She sighs. “Let’s do lunch next week, okay?”
I nod as she passes with a single squeeze to my bicep, leaving me alone with my father.
He sighs as he folds his newspaper and lets it fall in his lap. I can hear the door close behind my mother, but he doesn’t break the silence. It’s not a comfortable one, awkwardness lingering in the air that I would do anything to break.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from blurting out something to do with his star player. Robbie is on a stretch of away games, so I already know he won’t be here.
“How is the team doing?” I ask quietly, stepping further into the room and perching on the arm of the chair opposite him.
He raises his eyebrows. “Good. They’re starting to gel a lot more, heading for a playoff run. Ticket sales are up too, but not as much as I’d like.”
He sends me a look as if I’m the one responsible for it.
“I can come to some more games now I’m back,” I tell him. “When’s the next one?”
It’s on Saturday. I know this because Robbie sent me his game schedule for the next month, but my dad doesn’t know that.
“Saturday. It’s in the afternoon, and then the fundraiser is that evening.”
The fundraiser. Right. Every year my dad hosts a massive fundraiser for one of his other companies, raising money for whatever charity he’s taken an interest in this year.
I used to think it was charitable, but the overheads alone could do much more directly for the people the charity helps rather than hosting a fancy ball for the rich and famous.
I’m still expected to attend, but now they find an anonymous donation for the equivalent in their account the same day.
Despite the egregious price tag, the best thing about any Michael Hamilton fundraiser is the Pip Covington afterparty that happens almost as soon as it’s over. I have barely heard from Pip since London, but I know she’ll be there. She’s organized them for years now and would never miss it.
“I’ll be there,” I tell him.
“Of course you will,” Dad says as he climbs to his feet, tucking his newspaper under one arm and using his other to pull me into a side hug.
“Don’t take off like that again, okay?” Guilt hardens in my gut at worrying my parents so much.
They didn’t deserve that. “I sent the Montague's an expensive gift to make up for disappointing them, so don’t worry.”
Fuck. Now I feel guilty for disappointing a family that I don’t even know.
“Thanks Dad.” I linger on the doorstep. “And I really am sorry for worrying you.”
“I know you are, sweetheart.”
He presses a final kiss to my forehead before climbing into the back of his Bentley and he’s halfway down the driveway before I realize that he never apologized to me.