Cassidy Lane

by Murnane, Maria

  She closed her eyes and again leaned into the folds of the couch, trying to relax, trying not to read too much into Brandon’s e-mail.

  But it was no use.

  Next week couldn’t come fast enough.

  Chapter Three

  CASSIDY SPENT THE next few days preparing for a keynote address she’d been asked to give at a women’s conference in early November. She had sat on a handful of panels before, but those had been at smaller, writing-specific events. Standing on a stage alone in front of hundreds of strangers was light-years out of her comfort zone, and she’d almost turned down the invitation, but then she’d found out the conference was in San Jose, which meant a free plane trip home for Halloween, so she’d agreed—albeit with some reluctance. Whenever her nerves started to get the best of her, she reminded herself that she was going to be able to take Caroline and Courtney trick-or-treating. Though they were only five and seven, she was already dreading the day when they thought it wasn’t cool to dress up for Halloween.

  She was in the middle of reviewing her notes for the presentation when her editor called. She set down the pad of paper and picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Nigel. How are you?”

  “Hi, Cassidy, I’m good. Listen, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?”

  She stiffened. No author ever wants to hear bad news from her publisher. “I guess the bad news. What is it?”

  “I know we originally agreed on New Year’s for you to turn in your new book, but now I’m going to need it by the first week of December.”

  “What? Why?” She knew from experience that the publishing industry often operated by the motto hurry up and wait, so she didn’t want to rush without a legitimate reason.

  “The marketing team wants more advance time to promote it before the launch. But look at it this way—you’ll be able to enjoy the holidays without a deadline looming over your head.”

  She balled her hands into fists at the thought of the avalanche of stress she knew was coming her way. “OK, so you’ve just chopped a month off my deadline. What’s the good news?”

  “The good news is that Malcolm Lennox wants to include you in a short video he’s presenting to the board.”

  “Malcolm Lennox wants me in a video?” Malcolm Lennox was the CEO of Rio Media, the holding company that published Cassidy’s books and also had its fingers in many pies, including radio, television, and magazines, plus a number of Internet ventures.

  “Indeed he does. He’s giving a big shareholder presentation early next year, which will include a section on the publishing division, and he wants to feature three of our authors. You’ve been chosen as one of them.”

  “But why?”

  Nigel chuckled. “Do you want me to go ask him?”

  She chewed on her fingernail and laughed nervously. “Of course not. I’m just surprised, is all.”

  “Don’t be. Your books are selling great, Cassidy. You should be thrilled.”

  “I am thrilled. I’m sorry, I’m just a little…stunned. When do they want to tape it?”

  “We’ve rented a studio in Williamsburg for next Thursday. Are you free?”

  She flipped the calendar on her desk to the following week. “All clear.”

  “Cool beans. Someone from the production team will be in touch about logistics. They’ll send a car for you and take care of your hair and makeup, that sort of thing.”

  Cassidy raised her eyebrows. “They’ll do my hair and makeup?” Her mind immediately turned to Brandon. He hadn’t yet suggested a day for them to get together, but now she hoped it would be Thursday. What woman wouldn’t want to be primped by a professional before meeting a handsome man for a drink?

  “Of course. They’ll make you look great, not that you need much help.”

  She glanced down at the faded sweatpants she was wearing. “Er, thanks, Nigel.” If you could only see me now.

  “So any ideas for your next book? This video won’t be used for a few months, so that might be something worth mentioning in it.”

  Cassidy laughed. “Hello? I’m still working on this one. I don’t even have a title yet.”

  “Work harder, dear. Your deadline is looming.”

  “Given what you just told me, looming is an understatement. I may need to become a hermit to finish on time.”

  “Well then, I’ll let you get to it. Good luck at the taping next week, although you don’t need it. I’m sure you’ll shine, as always.”

  “Thanks, Nigel.”

  She hung up the phone and put her hand on the computer mouse, then opened the file to her manuscript. Her speech could wait. Right now she had to get her novel back on track. She wasn’t sure how she’d lost her motivation to work on it, but she’d been trying to be patient. As she’d learned with her other books, the best way to write a good story was to let it unfold at its own pace. Forcing a plot didn’t work, so when one spoke to her, she did her best to listen. But for some reason this one was staying rolled up in the corner of her imagination, and its stubbornness was beginning to concern her.

  She also suspected the block was partly because the story wasn’t exactly going in the direction she thought it would.

  Or hoped it would.

  She stared at the screen for a few minutes, then began to type.

  Chapter Four

  BRANDON E-MAILED CASSIDY again a couple of days later. As she clicked to open the message, she was surprised—and slightly embarrassed—to realize she was holding her breath.

  Hi Cassidy, looks like next Wednesday is the only night that will work for me. Let me know if you’re free. I’ll be staying at the Standard in the Meatpacking District. I hope to see you.—Brandon

  She sent a quick reply, letting him know that worked for her, then leaned back against her chair.

  Oh my gosh, this is really happening!

  She chewed on her fingernail and wondered what it said about her that she was more excited about having a drink with Brandon on Wednesday than she was about the corporate video shoot for Rio Media the following day. Either she wasn’t taking her career as seriously as she should be, or she was seriously starved for male company.

  Or both.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to the question either way.

  Besides, she didn’t have time to ponder the inner workings of her mind—she had a book to write.

  She shifted gears and got to work, but after an hour or so she hit a wall. As she always did when faced with a bout of writer’s block, or confidence block—which was often the same thing—she read a few fan e-mails to give herself a little boost. She clicked open the folder of reader messages and scrolled through a few from recent weeks.

  Dear Cassidy,

  Although I have a passion for reading books, it has taken a backseat to my busy life. I recently decided to dust off the old Kindle and Montague Terrace was just the thing to rekindle (no pun intended) my passion. I read it in a weekend, and you can only imagine my excitement when I found out that you had written a few other books. I love your real-life perspective and sense of humor about it all. Please continue to create. You have such a gift!

  Several others were similar in spirit to what Cindy in Southern Ohio had to say. As usual, reading fan e-mails did the trick. With a smile on her face and a renewed sense of purpose, Cassidy got back to work.

  After a late night at her desk, Cassidy wasn’t exactly bursting with energy the next morning, so she opted to chop a mile off her regular run through the park. The shorter route avoided the dreaded Harlem Hill, which tended to make her feel like an old lady even when she wasn’t a bit sluggish. And today she was already dragging enough. But she’d made a fair amount of progress on the novel the night before, so the lack of pep in her step was worth it.

  After completing a four-mile loop at a leisurely pa
ce, she stretched on a bench, then slowly walked over to a popular brunch spot called Good Enough to Eat on Columbus and Eighty-Fifth. She and her college friend Danielle tried to get together in some capacity every other weekend, although with Danielle’s hectic work and travel schedule, it ended up being more like once a month, if that. Danielle was an ambitious sales rep for a pharmaceutical company and had more frequent-flier miles than anyone Cassidy had ever met.

  When they were settled into a table in the back corner of the restaurant, they both ordered pancakes and coffee. Danielle poured a packet of sugar into her mug and stirred. “So what’s new? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How’s your book coming?”

  “It’s coming, but my deadline just got pushed up, so I’m a little stressed, to be honest.”

  “I hate deadlines. Have you decided what you’re writing next?”

  “Not a clue, but I’m not worrying about that right now. I need to finish this one first.”

  “I still think you should write about my life. I’ve got some great stories.”

  Cassidy narrowed her eyes. “You do realize that everyone tells me that, right?”

  “Everyone tells you to write about me? How flattering.” Danielle batted her eyelashes.

  “Very funny.”

  The waiter refilled their coffee, and Cassidy cupped hers under her chin to warm herself up. “Where have you been since I last saw you? I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  Danielle paused to think, then held up one finger, then two, then three, then four. “Let me see…Zurich, Paris, London, and Atlanta.”

  “Good lord. All that in a month?”

  “And you wonder why all I want to do is sit on my badonkadonk and chill when I’m in town.” She gestured to Cassidy’s workout gear. “There’s no way I could do the running thing like you, especially later in the year, when it’s freezing outside. I’d rather just embrace my lady curves.” She took a sip of her coffee. “So tell me about the dreaded high-school reunion. You did muster up the courage to go, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “Are you glad you did? Was it as wild as mine?” Danielle had gone to her twentieth reunion on Long Island over the summer and returned with multiple tales of drunken hookups between married former classmates…who weren’t married to each other. She now referred to her alma mater as Infidelity High.

  Cassidy shrugged. “It was pretty tame, actually, especially compared to yours. Nothing too scandalous, as far as I could tell.”

  They both paused as the waiter served them their pancakes. Danielle immediately smothered hers in syrup. “How did everyone look? Any surprises?”

  “It was a mixed bag. Some had gotten a bit squidgy around the edges—while others still looked annoyingly fabulous.”

  “Was everyone married?” Danielle wasn’t interested in settling down or having kids. She was quite happily married to her career.

  Cassidy scratched her cheek. “Most, but not all. And a handful of people there were divorced, which was a little strange. I don’t feel like we’re old enough for that phase of life yet.”

  “Believe me, we’re old enough. One of the girls from my high-school class is a grandmother.”

  Cassidy’s eyes got big. “No way.”

  Danielle took a bite of pancake. “Oh yes. That’s what happens when you get knocked up at sixteen.”

  Cassidy leaned toward Danielle and lowered her voice. “Actually, speaking of divorced people at my reunion, something sort of interesting did happen.”

  Danielle raised her eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  Cassidy filled her in on the Brandon situation, then leaned back in her chair, an anxious expression on her face.

  “So, what do you think? Am I foolish for being sort of excited about this?”

  “Of course not. He sounds great.”

  “What if he’s not interested?”

  “What if you’re not interested? It works both ways, you know.”

  “I’m just a little apprehensive, that’s all.”

  “Why would you be apprehensive?”

  “I don’t know. After what happened with Dean, I guess I’ve sort of given up on the idea of romance, at least in my personal life.” Her books were a different story.

  “That’s ridiculous. If anyone needs to believe in romance, it’s you. Besides, Dean’s ancient history. You can’t let him affect your attitude like that.”

  “But—”

  “But what? He’s gone, Cassidy. You need to forget about him and move on. There are zillions of men out there who are way better than Dean. Maybe this Brandon is one of them.”

  Cassidy frowned. “Most of the dates I’ve had since Dean and I broke up have basically been a disaster. Remember that twitchy life-insurance salesman I met for coffee who put ten packets of sugar into his sugar-free vanilla latte? And the guy who showed up at the bar wearing a pair of high-waisted jeans—with his shirt tucked in?”

  Danielle laughed. “I love that story.”

  “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  Cassidy reached for her coffee. “And remember the cute doctor who said he was separated from his wife, but then admitted on our first date that he still lives with her…and their three kids? I’m not sure I even know what a good date is anymore.”

  Danielle smiled. “Well…maybe you’ll soon find out. So you two are meeting on Wednesday?”

  “Yes. But I’m not even sure it’s a date.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I haven’t picked a place yet. He’s staying at the Standard. Any suggestions?”

  Danielle pointed a forkful of pancake at her. “You should go to Diablo Royale in the West Village. Tristan and I went there a few weeks ago. Amazing margaritas. And if you decide to have dinner, the shrimp tacos are little bundles of heaven.”

  “You think he’ll want to have dinner with me?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? He has to eat, right?”

  “He might already have dinner plans.”

  Danielle poured more syrup on her pancakes. “If he’s meeting you at seven, I highly doubt that. You should really try to have more self-confidence, Cassidy. Self-confidence is attractive to a man. Besides, you’re a catch.”

  Cassidy smiled, grateful to have a friend like Danielle in her corner. “Thanks. Anyhow, enough about me. How are things going with you and young Tristan?”

  “I think I’m going to end it.”

  “Why?”

  “He told me he loves me.”

  Cassidy made a face. “Oh, jeez.” Tristan was twenty-seven.

  “I know. Not good.”

  “So you’re still not into him?”

  “I like him well enough.”

  “But you’re not in love with him.” It wasn’t a question.

  Danielle shook her head. “I’m not opposed to being in love with him, but unfortunately I’m just not feeling it.”

  “You probably should have broken up with him a while ago, don’t you think?”

  “Probably, but I do like hanging out with him, and the sex is off the hook. How can I let him down easy?”

  Cassidy crinkled her nose. “Well…if you didn’t tell him you love him back, he probably knows something’s up, right?”

  Danielle shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’s a sweet guy, and fireman-calendar hot, but he’s not all that quick on the uptake.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  Danielle gave her a look. “Was I not clear? He said ‘I love you.’”

  “Smart-ass. What did you say back?”

  “I said ‘thank you.’ Then we had sex.”

  “Danielle!”

  She shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? He’s hot.”

  “I don’t know, maybe not sleep with him?”

  “So says
you.”

  “When was this?”

  “Last night.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Danielle cut another piece of pancake with her fork. “He’s on a bike ride with a friend. We’re supposed to get together later and go to a movie.”

  “You’ve got to end it.”

  “I know that. I even said that, if you were listening to me.”

  Cassidy laughed. “Don’t get feisty, I’m just agreeing with you. You can’t string the poor guy along anymore.”

  Danielle pretended to stab herself in the neck. “I’ve been thinking…maybe I could fake my own death?”

  Cassidy laughed again. “Have mercy on the poor guy—he loves you! Plus that could get kinda messy, what with all the fake blood.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Have you thought about…I don’t know…telling him the truth?”

  “Of course, but I don’t know if I can stomach that. He’s such a sweetheart.”

  Cassidy sipped her coffee. “I think honesty is always the best policy. That way he won’t hold out hope that you’ll change your mind. Think of how many times you’ve held out hope for a guy because he gave you some excuse for why he couldn’t date you instead of just manning up and telling you he wasn’t feeling it. It’s a waste of time, right?”

  Danielle gave her a blank look. “I’ve never been in that position.”

  Cassidy stared back. “You haven’t?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve never been dumped?”

  “Not really, no.”

  Cassidy set down her mug and put her face in her hands. “You’ve lived a charmed life in the heartache department, my friend.”

  “It’s possible. So you really think I should tell Tristan the truth?”

  “I really do. If he’s in love with you, it’s not fair to lead him on, right?”

  Danielle poured yet more syrup on her pancakes—the remaining bites were now like lily pads in a pond. “OK, I’ll do it. I just wish the sex weren’t so good. I hate to give that up.”

  “You’re like a guy, the way you act with men. You realize that, right?”