Cassidy Lane

by Murnane, Maria

  She held up her glass to his for another toast. “I’m all for change. I’m living proof of change.”

  “Cheers to that. So are you coming to my birthday party tomorrow? You didn’t respond.”

  She put a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot. When’s the party again?”

  “Tomorrow night in SoHo.”

  The thought of attending a thirtieth birthday party at all was scary enough, and of doing so alone was unbearable. “Can I invite my friend Danielle?”

  “Of course, the more the merrier. I rented out the upstairs at Novecento.”

  “Must be nice having money to burn.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Does it bother you that I insist on paying for everything when we go out? If so, I can put a stop to that right now.”

  She patted his hand and smiled. “Let’s not be too hasty, Mr. Moneybags. I can’t believe you’re finally turning thirty. I never thought it would happen.”

  “You and me both. I’ve come to terms with it, though.”

  “You’ll make a good addition to the club. Is that girl you told me about going to be at the party? What was her name? Valerie?”

  “Vanessa. And yes, she’ll be there.”

  “Then I’m in. I want to meet any woman who can capture the interest of the elusive Harper Gold.”

  On their way home, Cassidy pulled her cell phone out of her purse to check the time. When she looked at the screen, she noticed a new text message.

  She caught her breath.

  It was from Brandon.

  Had a great time catching up, was sorry to see you get on that subway.

  She stopped walking. “Oh my God.”

  “Is everything OK?” Harper asked.

  She showed him the text. “What do you think?”

  He studied the screen. “This is from the guy you were with earlier tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  He handed her the phone back. “Well, there’s your answer about whether or not it was a date.”

  “Should I reply?”

  Harper laughed. “I know he’s from your high school, but you’re not in high school anymore, Cassidy. Of course you should reply.”

  “What should I say?” She began to chew on her fingernail, then pulled it away from her mouth. I need to get that manicure.

  “You’re asking me?”

  “You’re a guy. I value your opinion.”

  “You’re a writer, Cassidy. I’m sure you can come up with something. Just send him a nice note back.”

  “But should I reply now, or should I wait until tomorrow? I don’t want to make the wrong move.”

  He shrugged. “I say reply now. You know I’m not into playing games.”

  She smiled at him. “I love that about you. Have I ever told you that?”

  “Many times. You love me, you love me, you love me. Now text him back.” He pointed to her phone.

  She studied the screen for a moment, then typed a response she hoped would indicate the appropriate level of interest.

  It was nice seeing you too. Regret is mutual. Have a safe trip home.

  As soon as she hit send, she showed the phone to Harper. “How about that?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. You’re acting like you’re sixteen, do you realize that?”

  “I feel like I’m sixteen right now. Was that a good reply?” She pushed the phone at him.

  He read the message and nodded. “It’s good.”

  She exhaled. “This is exhausting. Fun but exhausting.”

  “As life should be,” Harper said. “Otherwise what’s the point?”

  Cassidy smiled at him. “I like that. I might have to use it in a book.”

  Chapter Six

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON Cassidy paced the lobby of her building, phone in hand, waiting for the car service that would ferry her to Brooklyn for the video shoot. The weather had taken a severe turn, and it was too cold and windy outside to stand on the sidewalk. She wondered if she had time to run back upstairs and tuck an umbrella into her purse, just in case. Getting stuck in the rain was no joke in New York; out of nowhere it could start pouring hard. She’d gotten soaked to the skin more times than she cared to admit.

  Just as she took a step in the direction of the elevator, she heard the chime of her cell. The driver had arrived.

  I guess that answers the umbrella question.

  She gave the doorman a polite wave good-bye before ducking into the black sedan double-parked outside. The driver shut the door behind her, and soon they were on their way.

  Before they’d driven a block, it started raining.

  Well done, Cassidy.

  Twenty-five minutes later they entered a remote corner of Williamsburg. As the car began to slow down, Cassidy wondered if they were in the right place. The area looked like something out of a movie. A scary movie. Maybe a movie about a crack dealer. When the chauffeur pulled to a stop in front of a run-down building with a broken window and peeling yellow paint, the sidewalk littered with trash, her mind began to race with thoughts along the lines of There has to be some mistake. This can’t be the right address. Please, Mr. Driver, don’t make me get out of the car. The driver apparently thought otherwise, because he exited the car and held up a large umbrella for Cassidy as he opened the back door and gestured to the entrance.

  “We’re here?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a polite nod.

  OK then, we’re here.

  She stepped out of the car and tentatively approached the building, looking to her left and right as she walked next to the chauffeur. There wasn’t a soul in sight. She’d never been to a real studio before, but somehow she’d expected more than…this. A sign on the outside of the building, for example.

  She rang the doorbell and was soon greeted by a short blonde woman carrying a clipboard and wearing a headset. “Cassidy Lane?”

  Cassidy smiled. “That’s me.”

  The woman extended her free hand. “I’m Diane French, the production assistant for the shoot. It’s so nice to meet you. Please, come inside.”

  Cassidy followed her into the building and her jaw dropped.

  The place was beautiful.

  Stunning.

  She looked around the cavernous studio. The entire left side of the room was staged to look like a plush living room; all the décor and furniture was white, with ivory vases filled with white flowers everywhere, and the entire scene was gently bathed by soft light. Even the brick walls were painted white. To the right was a bunch of camera and lighting equipment, behind which sat a long table covered with platters of cheese, crackers, sandwiches, fruit, and cookies.

  Diane pointed to the table. “Can I get you something to eat or drink? Hair and makeup will be ready for you in a few minutes.”

  “Water would be great, thank you. Will this outfit work? I wasn’t sure how fancy to go.” Cassidy opened her coat to reveal the solid navy-blue dress underneath, a single strand of pearls around her neck.

  Diane nodded. “It’s perfect. I’ll be right back with that water.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

  Just then Cassidy heard the chime of her phone. She pulled it out of her purse and smiled.

  A text from Brandon.

  Just landed. Won’t miss the screaming baby in the seat behind me. Might miss you, though. On my way to meet my client, hope your video shoot goes well.

  She let out a little gasp, unable to contain her delight.

  He might miss me!

  She typed a quick reply, then silenced her phone and tossed it into her purse as Diane returned with her water.

  Diane handed her the glass and gestured toward the makeup table. “You ready?”

  Cassidy smiled, already feeling prett
ier than she had in a long time. “Let’s do it.”

  “Look at you, picking me up in a town car. I could get on board with this celebrity thing.”

  Cassidy scooted over as the driver shut the car behind Danielle. “I’m hardly a celebrity. Do you think I have too much makeup on? I’m afraid I look like a prostitute.”

  Danielle waved a hand in front of her. “Nonsense. You look hot.”

  “Are you sure? I’m feeling really self-conscious right now. I didn’t expect them to cake it on me like that, though at least they covered that annoying scrape on my nose.”

  Danielle gave her a look. “How does a grown woman scrape her nose anyway? Sounds very suspicious, if you ask me. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “Don’t get all excited. I think I must have scratched myself when I was sleeping.”

  “Well, scratch or no scratch, trust me, you look hot. So where’s this party again?”

  “An Argentinian restaurant called Novecento, on West Broadway and Grand. Have you been there?”

  “Multiple times, I love that place.”

  “Harper rented the upstairs.”

  “I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet this Harper you’re always talking about.” She gave her a sideways glance. “Are you sure you don’t have a thing for him? Or vice versa?”

  Cassidy rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. He’s like my little brother.”

  “I’m just saying, you never know whence romance might spring.”

  “Have you already forgotten about Brandon?”

  “Is Brandon the high-school guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess I have. Did you see him? How did it go?”

  As the car drove them downtown—in traffic, but under clear skies after the earlier rainfall—Cassidy provided a summary of her evening. When she was done, she gave Danielle an expectant look. “What do you think?”

  “He kept his hands in his pockets?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm.”

  Cassidy held up her phone. “But he’s definitely been flirting over text, so maybe he was just being shy?”

  Danielle shrugged and leaned back into the folds of the town car.

  “What?” Cassidy said.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Exactly, and that says something. What is it?”

  Danielle shrugged again. “I just think if he was truly interested, he would have tried to kiss you, at least on the cheek.”

  Cassidy’s face fell, and she began to nibble on her fingernail. “You think so?”

  “I’m just going from my own experience. Did you tell him you’d be out there for Halloween?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “I didn’t know how to work it into the conversation without sounding, I don’t know, obvious.”

  “Obvious about what?”

  “Obvious that I would want to see him while I was out there.”

  Before Danielle could reply, Cassidy’s phone chimed:

  My crazy client dragged me to happy hour at the Old Pro, already bought us tequila shots. This could get interesting. When was the last time you did tequila shots? Would be way more fun if you were here.

  “Oh my God! Look!” She showed the phone to Danielle.

  Danielle read the text and smiled. “OK, I take it back. He’s definitely interested.”

  When they arrived at the restaurant, the private room upstairs was packed—and loud. As they wandered through the crowd, Cassidy wondered if she’d ever find Harper.

  Danielle pointed toward the bar. “Let’s get a drink. What’s your poison?”

  Cassidy scratched her cheek. “Hmm, given that we’re in the Malbec Room, how about a glass of that?”

  “I’m on it.”

  As Danielle waited to order their wine, Cassidy surveyed the party landscape. Most of the guests looked around Harper’s age, although there were several who appeared to be in their forties or even older. Cassidy loved that about New York. No matter where she went, she never felt old. She could only imagine what it would be like to be thirty-eight and single at a bar in Kansas City. Or Omaha. Or most of the United States, now that she thought about it.

  Danielle handed her the drink. “You see him anywhere?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you know anyone else here?

  “I highly doubt it. My world doesn’t really intersect with the banker crowd.”

  “Tristan’s in finance too. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Not that I remember, which probably means yes. Have you ended things with him yet?”

  Danielle shook her head. “It’s on my to-do list, though. I promise. Unless he randomly shows up at this party, in which case I’ll probably go home with him.”

  Cassidy laughed. “I’m so glad you’re around this week. I don’t know if I could have made myself come to this thing alone.”

  Danielle sipped her wine. “I know what you mean. I don’t have a problem going out for a drink by myself when I’m on the road, but doing it in my own city would be another story.”

  “Cassidy!” The sound of a male voice made them both turn their heads. Harper emerged from the crowd, a tipsy grin on his face. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it.” Cassidy set her drink on the bar and gave him a hug. “Harper Gold, this is my friend, Danielle Thompson.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Danielle.” He offered his hand.

  Danielle smiled at him. “Likewise. Happy birthday.”

  Cassidy glanced around the room. “This place is packed, Harper. Who knew you were so popular?”

  “It’s easy to be popular when you pay for the drinks.”

  Danielle laughed. “That sounds like something I would say. Do you work with most of these people?”

  “Some of them. Others I know from college, a few from my basketball league. Some are complete strangers, probably friends of friends or freeloaders or both.”

  Cassidy held her glass up high. “What’s a party without freeloaders?”

  The three of them toasted, and Cassidy tugged on Harper’s arm. “Is Vanessa here?”

  “She just walked in. Directly behind you, red dress.”

  “Who’s Vanessa?” Danielle asked.

  “New crush.” Cassidy mouthed the words.

  Danielle nodded. “Ah, got it.”

  Harper lowered his voice. “I think she’s coming over here.”

  “Hey Harper, happy birthday,” Vanessa said as she walked up, then stood on her tiptoes and gave him a hug. As she did so, Danielle and Cassidy exchanged a look. Vanessa’s dress was indeed red, but that wasn’t the first word Cassidy would have chosen to describe it. An array of other adjectives popped into her head. Topping the list were low-cut, tight, and inappropriate.

  She tried to mask the look of surprise she knew was on her face.

  This is the girl Harper likes?

  Classy, conservative Harper?

  Vanessa broke the embrace and turned toward Cassidy and Danielle with a smile. “Hi, I’m Vanessa.” She looked friendly enough, but it was hard to get past her outfit.

  They all shook hands, and then Danielle grabbed Cassidy’s arm. “We were just going to mingle, so we’ll catch you two later.” She quickly pulled Cassidy toward the other side of the room. “Yowsa, that was a lot of boobage,” she whispered as they walked away.

  Cassidy nodded. “She’s the opposite of what I’d expect for him. I wonder what’s going on there.”

  “To each his own. Maybe underneath that slutty outfit, she’s a peach.” Danielle looked up at the ornate ceiling. “I forgot what a great space this is. I haven’t been here in ages.”

  Cassidy’s eyes followed hers. “I’ve never been here before. I love that about New York. There’s an endless suppl
y of fun new spots to go have a drink. In Palo Alto there are like three bars, and it seems like everyone’s in college.”

  Danielle sipped her wine. “I remember exactly the last time I was here. It was a couple years ago, for a coworker’s going-away party. I got schnockered and ended up going home with this random guy who lived in White Plains.”

  Cassidy stared at her. “White Plains? As in it-takes-an-hour-to-get-there White Plains?”

  “The one and only. Mind you, I was hardly in a state of mind to be thinking rationally. So I went home with him, and the next morning we took the train to Grand Central together. It was beyond awkward.”

  “He came back into the city with you?’

  Danielle nodded. “The party was on a Thursday, so we both had to go to work the next day. It was the longest train ride of my life.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  She waved a hand in front of her. “Oh God no. I think he was as mortified as I was. I can only imagine what the people around us were thinking. There I was, still in my going-out dress and rat’s-nest hair. I’m sure it was superobvious that we had hooked up the night before.”

  “I love it! You totally took a train ride of shame.”

  Danielle nodded. “I did indeed. I also took a nap on the couch in our employee lounge that day. It wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

  Cassidy sipped her wine. “I’ve taken the subway ride of shame, but I haven’t reached train-ride status yet.”

  “It’s an elite club. We take our membership seriously.”

  Cassidy laughed. “I should put that story into one of my books.”

  Danielle grabbed her arm. “If you do, be a dear and call me Elena, will you? I’ve always loved that name.”

  “Deal.” Cassidy looked around the room, which was growing more crowded by the minute. “I wonder how many of these people will be doing the subway ride of shame tomorrow.”

  “I’d say about a baker’s dozen. Or given how many finance types are here, perhaps a banker’s dozen. Want another drink?”

  Cassidy looked at her half-full wineglass and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  On the way to the bar they were stopped by two men wearing suits and ties. Both had baby faces and looked like poster boys for a fraternity’s young alumni organization.