Fuck. Sucked. Tits.Who am I?
I don’t know, but I think I like her. So much so that I have been thinking about what she said. About us owning the real song. About us sharing our truths. About me being as brave as Pia for once in my life.
Maybe I could do it. Maybe I could be that person. And maybe Pia would see it and she would feel something close to what I feel for her.
“Cassie?” a voice interrupts my daydreaming. It’s Martin again, but this time he’s talking only to me.
“Sorry, yes?”
He opens his mouth and then closes it. He looks up and down my body with nothing but confusion. “Is that…?”
“Oh, yeah, I borrowed one of Pia’s T-shirts,” I say, adjusting the torn grey T-shirt that I suspect was once white, but I don’t care because it smells like her – spice and cigarettes and the warmth of her body. “I, err, got ketchup on my blouse, and there wasn’t time to go back to my house for a change of clothes.”
“Right. Okay. Well, this is Ramona McKenzie, fromRhythm & News.” Martin indicates the woman with the notebook who’s now standing next to him. “She’s here to interview you and Pia.”
“Oh. Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“To make as much noise about the single, of course. She’ll publish the interview the same week ‘What I Want’ gets airtime.”
“Oh, right.”
“It’s a big pleasure to meet you both,” Ramona says, holding out a hand for me to take, which I do. I flash a quick glance over at Pia and see she’s examining her nails like there may be flecks of gold buried under the tips. She clearly doesn’t give a shit about this interview. I am both envious and horrified at how easily she lets this show.
Maybe she doesn’t give a shit about anything. Including me.
Even if it didn’t feel that way last night. Or this morning.
“It won’t take too long, I promise. And we can work closely on making sure the final piece is something you’re happy with,” Ramona explains, pushing her round glasses up her nose. She’s cute in a bookish, mousey way. Her plaid skirt suit and pussy-bow blouse combo is very sexy librarian.
Sexy librarian.Wow.I fuck one woman and I think I know it all.
Much to Ramona’s surprise, I start to giggle at that thought. She withdraws her hand and touches her face, like there might be something there that I’m laughing at.
“Oh, it’s not you.” I touch her forearm and reassure her. “It’s me. I’m just a bit … tired.”
“Because of our sleepover,” Pia adds as she approaches me, and my cheeks immediately heat.
“Well, we’ll have our sit-down after you’ve finished recording, if that’s okay?” Ramona says.
“Sounds good,” Pia says, stubbing her cigarette out on her boot heel. “But could you be a darl’ and go and see if you can find some coffee while we warm up?”
“Coffee?” Ramona looks as affronted as she has a right to.
“Yes, black, one sugar for me. Cassie?”
“Err, no, thank you,” I mumble, and then Pia has a firm grip on my wrist and I’m yanked towards the door by the sound desk, leaving poor Ramona with nothing but her coffee order.
Once we’re inside the recording area, Pia pushes me into a recording booth and has me face her, my back to the wall that stands between us and the control room window.
“Pia, what?—”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she cuts me off.
“Me? What are you talking about?”
“You. In there. With her.”
“Ramona? The journalist?”