Herb Silver was Alex’s agent atCAA. He had moved to L.A. over twenty years earlier, but he told everyone that even though you could take Herb Silver out of Brooklyn, you couldn’t take Brooklyn out of Herb Silver. Cassie reached out and hugged him, his head coming under her chin.
Herb kissed her on the mouth. He ran his hands lightly down her arms as if he were checking for broken bones. “So, you’re fine?”
Cassie nodded, and Alex stepped forward, offering her half of a paperwrapped knish. “She’s perfect,” he said with a full mouth. Herb raised an eyebrow. “Does the girl have a voice of her own?”
“I’m fine,” Cassie said. “Really.” She looked from Alex to Herb and then back at Alex again, silently thanking the little man for forcing his entry this afternoon. With Herb added to the mix of her mind, Alex couldn’t help but seem more familiar.
Alex clapped an arm around Herb’s shoulders and led him upstairs to the dining room. “Cassie—can you get the plates? All right, Herb, tell me what Joe’s doing in Scotland.”
Cassie wandered into the kitchen, grateful for something to do.
Somehow the ordinary things, like finding plates, or cooking, or watching the shower steam up the bathroom, made her feel at home. Alex had seemed so much less threatening that morning when they were doing things together—him pouring juice and her finding the ice, standing side by side and chopping peppers for an omelette, picking up a stack of papers the wind had scattered to the floor. There was an intimacy to simple tasks, things everyone knew and everyone did, that formed a floor of false comfort and security beneath even two strangers.
Herb and Alex were talking in the dining room, a running river of syllables she caught from time to time. Cassie looked from one cabinet door to the next, wondering where the dishes were. She opened the door closest to her. Tablecloths, and a breadbasket. The door beside it revealed wineglasses.
“Joe’s filmed the six lousy scenes that don’t revolve around you—
the witches, and something or other with Banquo. He says Melanie did a tour de force with the hand-washing bit.” Herb watched Cassie open a third and fourth cabinet, bite her lip, and then check beneath the sink. “What’s with her head?” he whispered to Alex. “She’s still a littlemeshugge?”
Alex shrugged. “The doctor told her it’s going to take some time for her to remember who she is, and what the hell knocked her out.” His eyes followed Cassie as she finally opened the cabinet that held the dishes. “In the meantime, I figure I’ll just keep her near me. Safe.” He grinned at his agent. “Shit. IfIcan’t bring back her memory, I don’t know whatcan.”
Cassie brought back three plates and a stack of paper napkins. She hovered at the edge of the table, the outsider. “I could only find wineglasses,” she said.
Herb waved toward her chair. “Just sit. We can drink out of the bottles.” He unwrapped a sandwich with a colossal amount of meat jammed between the slices of bread, and Cassie watched his mouth contort to seal around the bulk of it. “I hope you’ve thanked your lovely wife, Alex, for the free PR.” Herb pinched Cassie’s cheek. “Nationwide coverage of the heartbroken Alex Rivers shielding his wife isexactlythe kind of pre-Oscar coverage we need.” He held his sandwich inches from his mouth. “It can’t hurt all your buddies atAMPASto see you being a family man before they cast their Best Actor and Best Director votes.
You know, I’m going to call Michaela this afternoon and see if we can’t milk this onOprah. You can plugTaboo, maybe we can get Cassie on for the last five minutes—”
“No.” At that last word, Cassie jumped. Alex hadn’t spoken particularly loudly, but he’d slammed his fist on the table so forcefully that he had cracked one of the hand-painted tiles that made up its surface.
Cassie watched a tiny line of blood trickle down Alex’s wrist, but he did not bother to wipe it away. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned across the table toward Herb, upsetting a bottle of soda. “You will not exploit my wife on television to stack my odds for the Oscars.”
Herb blotted his mouth with a napkin, as if he were used to this kind of outburst every day. “Okay, okay,” he said.
Stunned, Cassie sat motionless, watching the clear stream of Sprite puddle onto the carpet. She looked up at Alex. “I don’t mind,” she said.
“If you think it will help you—”
“I saidno,” Alex bellowed. His fingers, clenched white around the edge of the table, suddenly relaxed. “Cassie,” he said more softly. “Thesoda.”
Cassie pushed back her chair and flew into the kitchen. A dishcloth.
She spun around, intuitively opening the cabinet that housed a stack of simple folded cloths. She efficiently mopped up the tiles on the table and then, kneeling between Herb and Alex, she pressed the cloth to the carpet. She scrubbed for a full minute. In fact, she was so intent on cleaning the mess, she didn’t notice the breaking weight of the silence that settled on her shoulders, forcing her to bow her head, preventing her from looking up at Alex.
“There,” Cassie said to herself, breathless. She rocked back to her heels.
Alex pulled her up to sit on his lap. “Sorry, Herb,” he said sheepishly.
“You know how I get about her.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Herb picked up the second half of his sandwich and began methodically sifting through the corned beef, eliminating every other slice. “Goddamn cholesterol.”
Cassie watched him pile the meat on the side of his plate. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling Alex’s thighs beneath hers. She realized she was shaking, and almost as quickly, Alex banded his arms around her.
“Cold?” he whispered against the curve of her ear, and before she could answer, he tightened his embrace.
“I’m going to fly back to Scotland on Friday,” he said. “I’m taking Cassie with me.”
“You are?” Cassie said, turning in his arms to stare at him.
