Beneath Beautiful

by Allison Rushby

  “Well, that's what you just told me.”

  “No, I didn't.”

  Cameron paused for a moment, giving her an assessing look. “What are we actually arguing about? Or doesn't it matter?”

  “We're . . .” Cassie stuttered, realising he was right. She was looking to pick a fight. “Arguing about your pervy photo-taking in cemeteries,” she said, triumphantly.

  Cameron inclined his head. “Granted, it's probably not the wisest thing to do . . .”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “Look, Cassie, I think we've reached a standstill.”

  “What?” Cassie froze, fear gripping every cell in her body. “What do you mean? You're not going to finish the sculpture?”

  “No, of course I don't mean that. I just mean we're starting to get on each other's nerves today.”

  “I . . .” Cassie couldn't argue with this. As her eyes searched the room wildly for an answer, she knew she needed to do something. She needed to act. Now. She stepped forward then and grabbed the front of Cameron's shirt, drawing him toward her until he was on top of her, looking down from above. “I need to know what to do.” As soon as the words exited her mouth, she realised it was the worst thing she possibly could have said, and pulled him further to her again before he could turn away. “What do you want from me?” she asked him, her face before his, tears in her eyes. “I don't know what you want from me.”

  Cameron's eyes read concern. “Only yourself, Cassie. I've never asked you for anything more than that.”

  It was true. But what was also true was that this was the one thing she felt was slipping through her fingers faster than sand right now. Herself. Who that was, she had no earthly idea anymore.

  Defeated, Cassie let her hands drop from Cameron's shirt, though he didn't step back immediately, instead carefully using his thumb once more to wipe away the glistening tears that she hadn't been able to hold back. The fact was, he'd lost interest in her. He had less than a week. There was no time for breaks. For pausing. If he didn't meet his deadline, the sculpture wouldn't be going in the new exhibition. And if it didn't go in the new exhibition, undoubtedly it wouldn't be quite right for the next one. It was now or never.

  “You need some time out. You know it. We both do,” he continued. “It seems there's an interview I have to do, so Marianne says. And as you know, what Marianne says, goes. I'll do it this afternoon, and get it out of the way. Give us some space.”

  Space? Wasn't that what people had when things were all over? Cassie could barely look at him on hearing this.

  So James was going to get his interview after all. She was pleased for him, even if it did mean he'd most likely forget all about her and go rushing back to London, leaving her with only the memories of her wanton rooftop behavior to keep her company. Though the truth was, after he found out about her and Cameron and all the secrets she'd been keeping, he'd probably never speak to her again anyway, so she'd lose him either way.

  “I guess that's it for today then.” She stood in the middle of the pink room, feeling altogether small and insignificant. After a moment or two, he made his way back to his computer screen. There, he scrutinized the image—her image—once more.

  “So, bye . . .” Cassie finally said.

  “Mmm . . . see you tomorrow,” Cameron replied.

  He didn't look up.

  Dismissed, Cassie left the studio, and aimlessly made her way slowly back to Alys's apartment. There, she sat at Alys's small table, in the quiet, and attempted to find a way forward once more with her writing. She got nowhere fast. All Cassie could see were those two paths—more Badger and Hare, or the manuscript that stank. She brewed some coffee and drank two cups as she stared at her laptop. This, of course, didn't help matters at all, and she was soon jittery as well as lost.

  When she could finally take her fidgeting no longer, she grabbed the essentials, including a piece of paper and a pen, and headed out. Her laptop wasn't going to give her all the answers, unfortunately. It was no magic 8-Ball.

  Cassie headed for Central Park and tried to walk through her problems, though found she was short on ability to focus. It was becoming more and more clear to her that she hadn't worked in some time. She'd always been the kind of writer who wrote something every day. The fact that she hadn't written anything at all for weeks now, other than the odd Facebook post, was beginning to worry her.

  She walked for a while and tried to forget, admiring the quickly turning leaves, and scuffing her way through the ones that had already fallen. Finally, she sat down upon a free bench and brought out her paper and pen. Sometimes you had to go right back to basics to nut things out. Now, Cassie tried to. She wrote down any and all book ideas she'd had in the past few years, however awful, however bland. Even without any quality control, she didn't have a lot on her piece of paper. And two of them involved more cute animals, which, to be truthful, made her feel slightly sick to her stomach. There were no other adult ideas, other than the one that was a waste of hard drive space and that she had already sent her agent.

  There was nothing for it. Either she needed a better, different idea, or to look at starring in a new and exciting role in the fast food industry.

  And all the time there was the dull ache in the pit of her stomach, knowing that the sculpture might not happen either.

  A text gave her a moment's distraction and Cassie fumbled for her phone in her coat pocket. It was James.

  Can't believe it. Interview in half an hour. No time to look over questions. Going to his studio now. Tell Alys for me.

  Cassie smiled as she read his words and texted back.

  So happy for you. You'll be brilliant. Good luck!

  As she pressed send, she sniffed back some tears, though she had no idea what they were for. Was she happy for James, completely losing the plot about work, worried about the sculpture, or a combination of all three? She really didn't know. Exhaling loudly, Cassie stood up and shoved everything back in her coat pockets.

  The only thing she could do at this point was to keep on walking. One foot in front of the other.

  Cassie stopped on the way back to Alys's apartment and picked up a few things for dinner. After sharing some pasta and a bottle of wine and starting in on a box of Lindt balls, which Cassie found always made life a little brighter, the pair sat back in their chairs at the small dining room table.

  “Now,” Alys said, nibbling her way around a chocolate. “This is a little more normal for you.”

  Cassie finally cracked a smile as her phone beeped, telling her she had a message. Alys's beeped at the same time, also.

  “Do you think it's James?” Alys sat forward on her chair. Cassie had told her the news as soon as she'd got home. “I really want to know it all went off okay. Oh, and that Cameron Callahan hasn't chained him up somewhere, or similar.”

  “I'll check.” Cassie retrieved her phone from her bag, beside the table. “It is James!” She looked up with a smile upon reading the text. “Here.” She passed her phone over to Alys so she could see for herself.

  Alys read his words aloud. “Interview amazing. Can’t describe it. Better than I ever dreamed. Know exactly what to write. Need to get it down fast. Going to pull an all-nighter.” Her voice rose with excitement as each sentence passed her lips.

  After Alys handed her phone back, Cassie began her reply.

  Don't worry about our catch up tomorrow afternoon. Just write and sleep. Happy for you!

  His reply came winging back.

  Knew another crazy writer would understand.

  When Cassie finally looked up from her phone, it was with a broad smile on her face. She was met with Alys's enquiring gaze. “You really do fancy him, don't you?”

  “I'm just . . . happy for him,” Cassie said warily, as Alys got up and started to clear the table.

  “That's good then,” she said, casually, continuing to stack plates.

  “What do you mean by that?” Cassie took the bait, her eyes tracking her friend across t
he room to the kitchen.

  Alys placed the plates on the kitchen bench and turned around with a grin. “Well, from the noises I heard at the party the other night, now everyone's got something they wanted, haven't they?”

  Cassie was starting down the steps to the subway when the call came from Marianne. “Cassie?” she said, “It's Marianne. I haven't caught you too late, have I?”

  “No . . .” Cassie ran the few steps up again and took shelter from the foot traffic in a doorway.

  “Don't worry about coming in this morning. Cameron says he has everything he needs at this point.”

  Cassie's body immediately stiffened. So it was true. There really was something wrong. She hadn't been imagining the worst yesterday. He was pulling away, further and further away with each hour that passed. “Is . . . is everything all right?” she finally managed to speak.

  “Everything's fine,” Marianne told her, a little too quickly for Cassie's liking.

  “Is Cameron there?” Cassie asked. She needed to hear it from Cameron himself.

  “Actually, he's just outside my door . . . Cameron!” Marianne called out. “Cassie for you.”

  Cassie heard the cordless phone being passed over. “Hello,” Cameron said, smoothly. “And what can I do for you?”

  “I don't know.” Cassie paused for a moment. “You tell me. Is there anything I should know about?”

  “No. Not that I know of.” Cameron sounded fine, though maybe a little distracted. “I've been busy . . . thinking through things. Sometimes a small pause is required. To hone in on the finer details, you know.”

  “Right,” Cassie answered. “Okay, then. I thought maybe I should just . . . check.”

  “Yes, well . . . Hang on, Marianne's clicking her fingers at me. I think she wants you back. Here you go.” He lost no time in passing Cassie back to Marianne.

  “Cassie,” she said, grappling with the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “There is one thing.”

  “Yes?” Cassie said quickly. Finally, was someone going to tell her what the deal was here?

  “Plum called. Again. She would really like to have that drink I mentioned. Tonight, if possible.”

  Plum Tarasov? Again? That was what Marianne had to tell her? Disappointed, Cassie gave a defeated shrug. “Fine. I'll do it.”

  “Oh, great. I'll set it up and text you with the time and place. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Cassie replied, in a monotone. “I'll look forward to it.”

  After all, things couldn't get much worse. May as well add Plum into the mix.

  Cassie consoled herself by taking the subway anyway, to the New York Public Library. It seemed the only the only place to go at this point. The British Library was like her second home, and she was sure she could have made her way around the permanent galleries blindfolded. It was where she always went when she felt at a loss, and for some reason, ogling treasures such as Jane Austen's writing desk, the original version of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Charles Dickens's handwritten copy of Nicholas Nickleby never failed to lift her spirits, even if it was just a little. Not to mention the fact that they always had excellent cake at their café.

  She spent a few hours touring the current exhibitions and simply sitting down and watching people, which helped to allay her fears somewhat. It was always a meditative experience, spending time in one of the great libraries of the world. Always calm. Always collected. Panic was something that needed to be checked at the door.

  She was about to go searching for lunch, when the text came, her phone vibrating silently in her pocket. Thinking it was Marianne with a time and place that she would need to meet Plum, she pulled her phone out rather reluctantly, only to find it wasn't Marianne at all, but James.

  Don't want to mess you around, but are you busy? Need to go over to The Met and stare thoughtfully at some of Mr. Callahan's work. Thought you might like to come.

  Despite the fact that she was sitting down, his words made Cassie feel slightly dizzy as her worlds collided once more. She considered his request for a moment before replying. She wanted to see James, but knew it was unwise to involve anything to do with Cameron. Still, James had got his interview now. She may as well go.

  Sounds good. Meet you there in an hour?

  “I had no idea they'd acquired this piece.” Cassie paused in front of the sculpture. “It's my absolute favourite. I could look at it all day.”

  “You've seen it before?” James drew up beside her, looking on.

  Cassie nodded. “Yes, in London. At an exhibition.”

  The sculpture was comprised of an old cast-iron claw-foot bath with a woman inside, submerged in water (actually made of polyester resin, fiberglass and silicone, according to the plaque). There was something about it that Cassie connected with. The ripples on the surface and the few bubbles suggested she had just dove down, and her closed lids and slightly puffed out cheeks said no one was watching. It was all about her. Cassie's own eyes flicked over to James for a moment before returning to the sculpture once more. “There's a lot of his art I don't connect with, but this . . .”

  James considered the work. “Why this one?”

  Cassie thought about his question before responding. “I suppose because everyone's done it, haven't they? Shut the world out. Or tried to.” As she said the words, she recognised it felt like a good idea right now.

  “And which pieces don't you connect with?” James queried.

  “You're not going to use any of this for your feature, are you?” Cassie glanced at him once more, and as she did so, caught sight of his lips, and thought about that awkward shared kiss they'd had upon meeting on the steps of The Met—one of those kisses that landed somewhere between cheek and lips, everyone unsure of what was going on between them.

  “No, it's fine,” James answered. “I'm only here to try and cement my thoughts before I do a final draft. See if I can come up with anything else to add.”

  “Okay then.” Cassie nodded, still captured by the woman in the bathtub who would never rise. “That series of women—the prostitutes from the red light district in Amsterdam. It just does nothing for me. Their dull eyes give me the shivers.”

  “Maybe it does do something for you, then?” James pointed out. “If you think they have dull eyes?”

  Cassie shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I just think Cameron Callahan needs to go to rehab for sex addiction.” She didn't think this, but there were plenty who did.

  James laughed at this.

  “Do you have a favourite?” Cassie shifted her weight as they continued to contemplate the sculpture.

  “Sure,” James teased. “The red light girls with their dull eyes do it for me every time.”

  Cassie threw him a look.

  “Okay, so I'm joking. No, the one I really like—how can I describe it—she's completely naked. Has her back to the viewer and is stretched out on the floor, held up by one elbow . . .”

  “Oh, I know,” Cassie snapped her fingers. “Hair in a braid, falling down to one side. Yes, I know it. It's beautiful. It's very . . . private, if that makes any sense. She's in her own world, isn't she?” The more she remembered the piece, the more she hoped that was what her piece would turn out like. If it turned out at all.

  James nodded. “I thought that was my favourite, and then I found a new one yesterday, at his studio.”

  “Really?” Cassie said, slowly. “What was it like?” She knew it couldn't be hers, but the crossing of the two worlds once more felt a little too close to home.

  “A woman sitting on a chair. A large woman. Just . . . her skin. It was amazing. Truly amazing. It's going to be an amazing exhibition. That was too many amazings, wasn't it?”

  Cassie smiled. “Something tells me he'll be pleased with your feature.”

  “I'm so lucky I got the interview. I still can't believe it. All that time and then . . . bam . . . it happens. Just like that.”

  Cassie found the courage to look at James properly now, thinkin
g to herself that it might very well be the last time she ever saw him. Despite the fact that she'd pushed for his interview, he was obviously going to be angry that she'd lied to him, or hadn't told him the whole truth, as would Alys.

  “I'm not that surprised now about all the stuffing around, though,” James continued.

  It took Cassie a moment or two to register his words. “Sorry?” she said. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” James explained. “It looks like he really has been crazy busy trying to fit that last piece into the exhibition. I thought they might have been fobbing me off, but it seems to be true. And, to be fair, it sounds like it's going to be extraordinary. I don't know if I'm supposed to say,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “but he sort of hinted it might even have an electronic element, which is a first for him.”

  Of course, this caught Cassie's attention. “Really?” she replied. “Did he say anything else? An electronic element that does what, exactly?”

  “I don't really know.” James's forehead wrinkled, and Cassie felt a tug of affection for him. Alys was right. She did like him. A lot. “He mentioned the word 'layers' as well. But that was about it. He's super secretive about his work, that's for sure.”

  “So I've heard.” Cassie nodded, all the time wondering whether maybe she'd been wrong to think the piece was in jeopardy. Certainly James seemed to think Cameron was still excited by it. But an electronic piece? And with layers? She didn't know what to make of these two terms.

  Another feeling took hold, however. Cassie knew then that she had been right all along. There was most definitely something Cameron wasn't telling her.

  And she had no idea at all how to find out what it was.