Sandy sighs. “I think Billy left the project,” she says. “I don’t know where it’s at right now. We’re going to have to wait and see.”
“I don’t want to lose this.”
“Cost of doing business, kid. Right now the price is getting your cute tush to the airport on time.”
We hang up, and Cassandra stirs. “What’s going on?” she asks. She rolls over and looks at the clock. “It’s eightAM.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But I have to go back to L.A. today.”
Cassandra sits up. She rubs her eyes. “Today? But you have another week here. We were going to do Nob Hill.”
I come to sit down next to her. “I know, but I have to meet with the new director.”
“This blows.”
I nod. Jake snorts in the club chair, but his eyes don’t open.
“Romance,” Cassandra says.
“Hey,youended up in bed with me.”
She smiles a slow, sleepy smile. “I just got you back,” she says.
“I know. Can you come visit?”
“Yeah, but Jake’s not invited this time. Girls’ trip.”
“Definitely. And we still have Mexico,” I point out.
Cassandra peels the covers down and stretches. “I’ll understand if you can’t make it.”
“No way. I promise, I’ll be there. The movie can wait.” But even as I say it, we both know it’s not true. The movie can’t wait. I can’t make those kinds of promises. Not now. Maybe not anymore.
Cassandra puts both of her hands on my shoulders. “Listen,” she says. “I know we are living crazy different lives. And they’re just going to get more different. But don’t ever think that just because I don’t know what it’s like that I can’t understand.”
I pull her in for a hug, but she bounds off the bed. “Brush your teeth,” she says. She crouches down next to Jake and kisses his cheek. “Rise and shine.”
Jake stirs and murmurs something. “You have a protest in the Pearl in forty-five minutes, hot stuff,” she says. “That community garden is not going to save itself.”
Jake bolts upright. He rolls his neck and then stands and grabs Cassandra’s hand. “We have to move,” he says. “See ya, Pat.”
I toss Cassandra’s dress at her. She’s wearing an old pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt of mine. “Love you!” she calls over her shoulder.
I get dressed and go downstairs. Joanna and Bill left last night. My mom and dad are in the kitchen, sipping coffee.
“Hey,” I say.
My mom looks up at me and winces. “Lower your voice,” she says.
“Your mother is experiencing her second hangover in twenty-five years,” my dad says, standing up and giving me his seat. “So you’ll forgive her cheery attitude.”
My mom smiles weakly at me.
“It was a great night,” I tell her. “You did an amazing job.”
She lifts a hand to her temple. “I think they liked it.”
My dad hands me a cup of coffee and kisses my mom on the head. “They loved it,” he says.
