Fuck. You.
CHAPTER 13
PIA
Isuck hard on my cigarette, and as I release the smoke slowly, I roll my neck because standing at this window for the last few hours is starting to take its toll. But just as I go back to my cigarette for another drag, I see her. Or rather, I see the flash of sunshine that is her hair, emerging from the restaurant’s double doors with sunglasses on and a pointless trench coat pulled up high around her neck. It’s already thirty degrees Celsius in LA and not even June. Fucking ridiculous.
I hold my breath as she takes six steps to a car that’s waiting for her. The restaurant’s doorman is there, opening the rear door, and I feel a pang slice through my heart that that’s all I’m going to get.
Six steps, golden hair bouncing, oversized shades hiding her pretty blue eyes.
But then she pauses before getting in. Cassie looks up, almost exactly in my direction, across the street. But she doesn’t look up quite high enough. She wouldn’t see me anyway because I double checked these windows are mostly obscure from the outside. My breath is still locked in my lungs as she tilts her head to the side, almost imperceptibly, but I see it. I see her. Her pretty, interesting, English rose face.
And then she moves. Disappears. Into the car, which speeds off like it has somewhere much better to be.
I stay at the window until I’ve finished my cigarette. After stubbing it out, I carry the ashtray with me to the bed that is still made up. Resting my back against the headboard, I gather my legs under me and pick up the telephone, holding it to my good ear.
It takes a minute or so to ring, but only a few more seconds before it’s answered.
“Silver Waters, Michael Sweeney. How can I help you?”
“Mickey, it’s me,” I say.
“Oh, Pia, hi. I did what you asked. I gave her the envelope and?—”
“What did she say?” I interrupt.
“Err, not much.”
“What did she say?” I repeat with more force behind every word.
“Well, she asked if you were coming yourself,” he rushes out. “And I said no.”
“Good,” I say and reach for the hip flask of gin I brought with me, taking a quick swig. “What else?”
“She thanked me. For answering her question, I guess. I don’t know. And that was pretty much it.”
“Hmm, what about when she opened the envelope?”
“Oh, she didn’t … She didn’t do that while I was still there. Was I supposed to wait?”
I roll my eyes but hold back the expletive on the tip of my tongue. Mickey’s a good kid. He doesn’t know the … history between me and Cassie. He was just carrying out my orders.
“No, it’s fine,” I reassure him, and maybe myself.
“Right, okay. She’s really pretty,” he says on a soft laugh. “Like even better close up than in all those photos and on TV.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Nothing. That’s all. Can you get a car to come pick me up?”
“Sure, yes, of course. Where are you?”
“Hotel Miramar,” I say. “I’ll be outside in fifteen.”
“But wait … That’s right opposite?—”