Chapter 7
Cassie
J eremy’s parents live in a two-story house with white-washed paneling, blue shutters, and a slate roof. Westchester County is a pretty neighborhood, but it is a bitch to get to on the subway.
The train trip alone took me over an hour.
Nick offered to give me a ride back into the city, and thank God for that because I don’t think I could have handled another bout on public transport, especially not in such heavy rain. And also, the subway still kind of baffles me. I know there are signs everywhere, a well laid out plan the likes of which most preschool kids could probably interpret. But for a transplant like me, I might as well be trying to figure out the basic laws of quantum physics for all the sense it makes.
While I wait on the porch for Nick to say his goodbyes to his parents in the living room, the porch swing sways in the chilly night air, catching my eye. The paint is flaking, and the chains holding it to the ceiling are full of rust, creaking softly as it rocks back and forth in the wind.
The screen door squeaks, and Nick walks up behind me, breaking into my thoughts. “They’ve let the place go a little.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I noticed the grass is a little long, too, same as the weeds in the garden out back. I should get out here more often,” he says quietly as if he’s talking to himself as much as he’s talking to me. “I should give the old man a hand painting that fucking ugly siding is what I should do.”
“You do so much for them.”
“I don’t do enough, Cassie. I just don’t have the time to do enough for them. I wish things were different, but what can you do?”
I nod thoughtfully, staring out over the front yard.
Nick and I have spent so much time sitting on this porch over the past three years. Some of that time we’ve spent talking, some of it we’ve spent crying. Other times we just sit and think, and leave each other with our own thoughts.
When Jeremy was killed, Nick was the only person I could stand to have around me. As much as I love my parents and my brother, for some strange reason, it felt like Nick was the only one who ever really understood my grief. It was like we’d both lost our other halves, and that small connection was one of the only things that got me through some of the darkest days. That, and Jeremy’s letter, of course .
“It’s just grass, Nick. Who cares?”
His expression softens, as if my words hold a thread to his heart, one that maybe he didn’t even know was loose. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk tonight.”
“Your mom kept me occupied in the kitchen. And then your dad started telling stories about when you guys were kids.”
Nick’s tone is preoccupied as he gestures toward his black Lexus parked out front. “The same fucking stories, over and over again,” he says with a slight bite in his voice. “I’m sorry you got stuck with him. I’ll tell him to give it a rest next time.”
“No, don’t.” I smile softly. “It seems to make him happy.”
“Come on, let’s go.”
We hurry side by side down the narrow pathway, hunching over to keep from getting drenched and careful not to slip on the wet cobblestones. Nick pulls the key from his top pocket, and the car beeps a couple of times when he presses the fob. I climb into the passenger seat quickly, watching as Nick jogs around the front of the car, but I’m momentarily distracted by the rain hammering against the windshield.
Man, it’s really coming down hard.
When he slides in behind the wheel, he’s soaked to the bone, dripping water all over the interior. He shakes the water out of his hair, and it goes everywhere.
“Hey, settle down, Fido,” I grumble, shielding my face.
Nick laughs, turning over the ignition. “So tell me, how you really doing, kid? How’s school? Classes going well?”
In the past, I’ve always thought it was cute the way Nick calls me kid . Tonight, for reasons I’m not willing to explore, not so much.
It’s kind of grating on my nerves.
“It’s good, you know, busy as always. I’ve got a couple of assignments due, and I’ve got a business midterm next week that I’m busy studying for.”
Nick flicks on the wipers, and then the headlights, and he reverses out of the driveway with one hand gripping the back of my seat. He pulls away from the curb, turning out onto the main road, before taking the second exit onto the highway that leads us back into the city. “You started on your final paper yet?”
“I still haven’t decided what I want to write about. I’ve made some notes, but nothing’s concrete.”
“Don’t take too long, or you’ll start falling behind.”
Now there’s a brilliant idea, Nick. Why didn’t I think of that?
The faculty requires two major papers a year, one during the first semester and another at the end of the second semester.
I aced the first one. The big red “A” circled on the top of my paper said as much. The second one, I’m not convinced I’ll do as well. I just can’t seem to find the inspiration to get started.
Straightening my legs out in front of me, I scoot one of my sneakers to the very edge of the floor mat, touching the darkness with my toe. I can’t help but think it’s a metaphor for something else. The sky above is full of low-lying clouds, and rain is falling hard all around us, but I know for certain it’s not the shitty weather that’s got me in such a funky mood.
Nick exhales slowly, letting his head fall back against the headrest as he drives. “You work too hard, Cassie.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“When’s the last time you actually allowed yourself to have a little fun?”
Side eyes, that’s what I’m giving him right now.
“What?” He laughs. He moves into the right lane and then indicates as he merges through the never-ending traffic. “You’re allowed to have fun occasionally. You know that, right?”
Fun? Ha. Sure.
Relenting just a little, I tuck one leg up under the other, turning slightly so that I’m facing him, and my head tilts in challenge. “I don’t have time for fun, Nick. Time is a concept that doesn’t exist in my world. My goal, once upon a time, was to marry Jeremy and live happily ever after. Now, my goal is just to get through the day without collapsing from exhaustion. Life changes, we strive for different things. It is what it is.”
“You could use a break. A getaway.”
I snort. Actually snort.
Ladylike, I think not. But the man is goddamn hilarious.
“And where do you propose I go on this getaway? The Bronx? Because at the moment, that’s about all I could afford.”
Nick nods thoughtfully and then reaches across the console, picking up a brand-new pack of cigarettes. Hitting the end of it against the heel of his palm, he tears off the plastic with his teeth before flipping the top.
“Want one?” he asks, holding the wheel with his elbow while he flicks a cigarette lighter in front of his face. He sucks back on the burning paper, and the stink of cigarette smoke instantly fills the car.
“No, gross.” I shake my head. “Why are you still smoking? I thought you gave it up.”
“I’ve had a shitty couple of days at work. Get off my back.”
“Smoking is really bad for you.”
“Thanks for getting off my back, really appreciate it.” Taking another drag, he flicks ash out the partly open window. “You have Thursday nights off, yeah?”
“Yes,” I sigh softly because I love Thursday night. It’s my favorite night of the week. It’s my reset night. I use Thursday night to catch up on my laundry, empty out my emails, do a little grocery shopping. I also like to meal-prep for the week ahead, so that way I’m not tempted to grab takeout when I get too busy to cook.
“You got plans for the Thursday night after next?
“Not that I can think of. Why?”
An ambulance roars past, distracting us for a moment, lights and sirens blazing as it tears down the street. Nick watches the last of the lights disappear before he responds.
“Empress Records is putting on a corporate dinner at The Plaza. Some bigwigs from the London office are coming to New York to discuss the possibility of Cold Neptune going on a European tour next year. They want to crunch some numbers with the accounting department, take a proper look at the books. While they’re here, the studio wants to impress them by putting on some obnoxiously extravagant event at The Plaza.” He glances across at me. “I thought you might like to go.”
Curiosity and panic war inside my head, but the latter wins out. “You want me to go with you?”
“Not with me , with me. You know what I mean. I just figured you might enjoy a fancy meal and a night away from all your responsibilities. Let your hair down for once. Enjoy yourself a little.”
“I… I don’t know—”
“They’ve booked rooms for the night. Management, executives, directors, you know what I mean? I was thinking that maybe you could take my suite. All expenses paid.”
A suite at The Plaza. Holy shit. This gets my attention. I straighten up in the seat. “Why aren’t you using it?”
“Because I live, like, two fucking minutes away from The Plaza. Why would I want to sleep on some germ-infested mattress when I’ve got a perfectly hygienic bed at my place?”
“You’re not exactly selling it, Nick.”
His mouth pulls to the side with an amused smile. “I’m just saying…you’ll enjoy the king-size bed more than I will. Think about it: you can order room service, order whatever you want. Watch a movie. Take a bath. Keep the fucking white robe for all I care. It’s all going on Empress Records’s expense tab.”
“Really?”
“Look, take it or leave it, but the room’s only going to sit there empty if you don’t take it. Whaddya say? ”
I have to admit, the thought of spending an entire evening in a fancy hotel suite is tempting. Damn tempting. I could soak in the tub for an hour, light a candle, read a book. I could order a cocktail from the bar. I could sleep in a huge bed with crisp white sheets and a dozen overstuffed pillows, and I could stay up all night watching Netflix. I don’t have Netflix at my apartment, and I’ve been dying to binge How to Get Away with Murder . I’ve heard really good things about it, and I love the lead actress.
I must make a sound that tells Nick I’m coming around to the idea.
“So, you’ll take it?” he asks hopefully.
“Only if you’re sure.”
Nick exhales with a low laugh. “Of course, I’m sure. I’ll call Dee first thing tomorrow morning, and have the room put in your name. You can check-in any time after two o’clock. The dinner starts at seven. I’ll meet you in the lobby ten minutes before seven so we can find our seats. Oh, and it’s formal. You got a dress to wear?”
Formal? What the hell?
No, I don’t have a formal dress to wear. It’s not like my closet is overflowing with Gucci and Oscar de la Renta gowns. I work in a dive bar, and I deliver newspapers for a living. Shit . Where am I supposed to get a formal dress on such short notice?
“I’ll work something out,” I tell him.
He nods. “Good girl.”
Ick. Good girl? Did he really just say that to me? I stick my fingers in my mouth and pretend to gag violently. “I think you need to get laid, Nick. ”
“And I think you need to mind your own damn business. Who says I’m not getting laid, anyway? Just because I don’t talk about it, doesn’t mean I’m not getting laid.”
“So, you are getting laid?”
A ridiculous amount of time passes. Silence, nothing but silence.
“Shut up, Cassie.”
Yeah, that’s what I thought.