Notably, the following Tuesday, Cassius had set up an afternoon shoot atAllurefor me to get some high-level, professional photography done. He warned that he would not be there, but that he expected me to show up all the same. He didn’t do this for just anyone, he said. I was a special case because of our past; when I pressed him on it, he simply said that he had more atoning to do than he thought.
That was all good and well, but I was starting to wonder if Cassius was feeling the same way I was.
Namely, confused—and perhaps cautiously, carefully, guardedly optimistic.
I had thought Cassius hated my guts. He might still, but it felt like if he was going to destroy me, he would have by now. Not because he would have run out of patience, but because it was hard to envision a more public setting than a New York City gala and theRed Court’s gala. In the modern era, a hit piece planted by him would have spread by now. The next major events werenot nearly as major; a show in Phoenix, a show in San Francisco, an awards ceremony in New York City. Relevant to my career, yes, but not with nearly as strong a public eye as before.
When I bounced this confusion off my friends, none of them were particularly impressed. Bridget warned that men like Cassius were like the Black Reapers; theyneverforgot a grudge,neverforgot a quest for vengeance, andalwaysfollowed through on their desire to fulfill their personal missions. Talia was a little less forceful in her appraisal, but she shared the same general sentiment. Admitting she was biased, she said that word about the Vales from the Morrils suggested what they said was almost always a mask for what they did. I didn’t doubt that for two seconds, but…
Delilah was the most interesting one. She didn’t say anything at all. She simply asked if she could join me at the photoshoot; she’d go just as a friend in support of me, not as a journalist. I thought about asking Cassius for permission, but at the risk of his fury, I decided it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. If Cassius really was playing games with me, I could play games with him too.
And that meant having the eye of a journalist at my photoshoot, even if undercover.
Delilah and I met at the entrance to theRuby, a smile on her face. She looked relaxed; the girl always looked relaxed despite working a high-stress job with impossibly unstable hours. I was probably a little worse for the wear, but I hoped that my cautious optimism provided some glow to my face.
“Very nice of the billionaire to pay a couple thousand dollars for this for you,” Delilah said dryly. “I’d hate to think that what for us would be like tossing a nickel in the pool might be a hardship to him.”
“He could have not done it,” I said. “He could have chosen to just let me out to dry. I think it’s telling that he’s doing this even though he can’t be there.”
“Right,” Delilah said in a tone that clearly suggested she did not buy it. “Just because he’s not there doesn’t mean he won’t be watching.”
“I mean, he does have cameras?—”
“No, not that. I mean that everyone there will tell him in some form or fashion what happens today. They’ll know you brought me along. I don’t think that’s cause for concern, but Cassius will know I’m here. Frankly, if he gets upset, good. It’s a sign he’s really intending something nefarious for you. If he doesn’t, then I’ll really have my guard up.”
I asked a few more questions why, but the conversation ended as soon as we got to the entrance ofAllure.After speaking with the guard and being let in, I stepped into the most professional gallery shoot I had ever seen. I had four pieces of artwork I would pose with, centered in the middle ofAllure, with three photographers and countless other handlers. A couple thousand dollars might have been underselling it, although to be fair, I didn’t know the true price since most of my prior photoshoots had been non-financial trades with friends.
“You’re like the turkey leading up to Thanksgiving,” Delilah said, shaking her head.
“Huh?”
“Every turkey in the days before Thanksgiving thinks that it's being treated as a king or queen. They’re fed to excess, given the most luxurious quarters possible, are protected against all threats, and can do whatever they want. Then they’re summoned to their human’s room one day, thinking nothing of it, and…”
Delilah made a motion like an ax chopping downward. The message was clear enough.
“Let’s talk after the shoot, shall we?” I said, not particularly relishing the image of Cassius chopping my head off.
I walked over to the photographers, who immediately began directing me to various poses. Admittedly, the process felt extremely impersonal; I could barely get a word in, and the photographers had obvious instructions for what I was to do. If it had been under any other prior context, I would have felt like a commodity, almost like a stress test practice for the photographers.
Instead, in a very twisted way, I feltseen.
A gala was one thing. I might just be a hot girl on his arm to impress other billionaires or the media; at the very least, I was protection against questions about him showing up by himself. There were a million and one excuses for why me going with him to a gala was nothing more than showmanship.
But here, Cassius didn’t win any accolades or praise from the outside world. Between Delilah, the staff here, me, and him, there might be ten people in total who knew what was transpiring. Sure, I was still at the whims of Cassius, but it just felt more personalized. More individualized.
More feeding and luxury before the ax comes chopping down,I thought with a shiver.And with Thanksgiving coming up, to boot.
Delilah occasionally scrolled through her phone and typed out what looked like texts or emails, but otherwise she remained to the side. At one point, her eyebrows raised as she seemed to find something of note, but I never kept up with her work. It was her insistence, anyways—what often appeared like a smoking gun could simply lead to a mere grounded cigarette, not evidence of something damning or shocking.
In other words, for the duration of the shoot until the first break, while Delilah provided the security of knowing a friend was there, she did not protect me from what was in my ownhead. I might be the fat turkey getting ready to be carved up, or I might be “pardoned,” as it were, into a life of happiness and joy.
The first break of the shoot finally came. Cassius was still nowhere to be seen, and I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t be hiding and watching. I wouldn’t put it past the man to watch this on camera later, maybe even do something that would both make me gasp and bring a smile to my face as he watched, but he was not lacking in confidence. If he wanted to see me in person, he could have cared less if there were five dozen Delilahs there.
I headed to the bathroom, but before I made it there, Delilah had walked over. And when she walked with a purpose, you knew. A good journalist like her would not be stopped by anyone or anything; police let her pass through, security guards nodded to her, and even rich and powerful people spoke to her. Very, very, very few people were ones who would not speak to her, and I suspected the Vales were amongst them.
“A quick question for you,” Delilah whispered. “You think Cassius does everything on the up and up, right?”
I nodded and shrugged. Cassius might have been ruthless and vicious, but he was aboveboard. The IRS or the FBI wouldn’t come calling tomorrow with questions for him.
