Beneath Beautiful (9 page)

“I'm going to work now . . .” Cameron didn't look up again from his sketching but moved backwards, disappearing down into his pod.

And, just like that he was gone, swallowed up by his work, leaving Cassie to an entirely overwhelming movie selection.

“C
assie!”

Cassie looked up to see Alys hanging out one of the warmly lit Central Park West apartment windows, two stories up. “I'll come down.”

Her friend ducked out of sight.

Cassie tipped the airline driver, and told him she'd be fine with her bag. Just as Alys opened the front door, right next to the now closed coffee shop, the driver took off down the street.

“Fancy.” Alys raised her eyebrows. “Your publisher paid this time, I take it?”

“Mmmm . . .” Cassie remained non-committal in the hope of keeping her secret safe. “Lucky me!”

“Anyway, it's so good to see you.” Alys hugged her old school friend. “It feels like ages.”

“It does. Thanks so much for waiting up for me.” Cassie checked the time on her phone, and saw it was just past midnight.

Alys laughed, ushering Cassie inside. “This is when things get started around here. Did you want to go out for a drink? Or did you just want to go to bed? I've begged the morning off tomorrow so we can go out for brunch in the East Village. I've got another friend who flew in from London yesterday evening, and he's staying down there, so I said we'd meet him as well.”

Cassie paused to pull out the handle on her suitcase. “Brunch sounds great.”

Alys went over to push the elevator button. “So, drink, or bed?” she asked once more as the doors opened and they got in.

Cassie groaned. “I know it's pathetic, but bed, please. I was up early this morning. It's been a long day.”

“Not a problem,” Alys said as the elevator doors opened once more. She walked over to her apartment door and let Cassie inside first. “But I'll have you know I'm planning quite the party on the rooftop terrace in the next week or two, and attendance is compulsory.” She followed Cassie into the living room.

“I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I love your apartment. So much.” Cassie took a long look at the one-room studio with its exposed brickwork along one wall, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the other side. Above, the ceiling was divided, half of it lowered and taken up with a heavy oak-beamed ceiling, which concealed the loft bedroom above. “You have the best grandmother ever.”

Alys nodded. “I have the wildest grandmother ever. I'm lucky she was a complete flibbertigibbet in the twenties, because now she encourages all her granddaughters to be exactly the same.”

“I wouldn't call interning at The Met flibbertigibbeting.”

“No, but don't tell my grandmother that. She thinks I spend my time sleeping until noon after dancing the night away. And that's how she likes it.”

“I should have such problems,” Cassie said with a laugh.

“Yes, well, I'm glad
you
like it, because so many people are always on at me for living on the Upper West Side. But I can't get much closer to The Met. It's less than a ten-minute walk across the Park. I mean, I'd live
in
The Met if they'd let me—I'm sure I could make a nice little studio out of the Temple of Dendur, but for some strange reason they won't allow it.”

“That's a shame.”

“It is. Right, then. Here you go . . .” Alys wheeled Cassie's bag across the room. I've made up the sofa bed already. Do you fancy a shower?”

“I had one already,” Cassie told her. “On the
plane
.”

“That's it. I'm leaving the art world, and going into publishing. Tomorrow.”

Cassie laughed.

“Right, so no tea, or anything?”

“Really, I'm fine.” Cassie smiled. “I'm just going to crawl into bed, and then I'll be bright and perky in the morning, and ready to brunch. Or at least ready to brunch.”

“I'll see you in the morning then.” Alys blew her a kiss as she headed for the loft stairs. “It really is good to have you here.” She bent down for a last wave over the stairs as she disappeared from sight.

“T
his is beautiful, Alys. Really beautiful.” Cassie looked around her, her hand to her heart. She meant her words. The café, tucked away inside the New York Historical Society, was truly breathtaking. From its sunny yellow upholstered benches to the white wooden walls stacked high with antique china and its gleaming gold chandeliers, Cassie was in heaven. “It's just so pretty.”

Even the slight detour they'd taken in order to walk through Central Park with all the turning leaves had been magical, despite what they had spoken about—mostly Alys's breakup with someone the month before, and the fact that Cassie hadn't had a proper date in, well, she couldn't remember how long.

“It really is the prettiest thing,” Alys agreed. “And even better, people don't know about it. So I keep it a secret, and when they whine about the boring old Upper West Side I bring them here and show it off. I think it's much, much nicer than some grungy, cool thing where they never really clean the floor properly in the East Village.” She wrinkled her nose.

“You always were a delightful snob. Even at school.” Cassie laughed, remembering Alys picking over many a boarding school meal, complaining dramatically that her palate would be “ruined forever”.

“Ah, here he is!” Alys stood up and waved at someone. Cassie craned her neck to take a look, and was met with the approaching form of a guy of around their age who was tall, thin and pleasant looking, with large brown eyes and dark, cropped, super-curly hair. His clothes suggested he was an avid thrift-shopper, though it wasn't this that gave him his overall dishevelled appearance, but the fact that he seemed as if he hadn't been getting much sleep. As he walked toward them, Cassie noted he didn't seem entirely comfortable with his surroundings—it was as if he didn't quite trust himself not to break any of the china, even though it was housed safely on the walls. The other thing that she noticed, even before speaking to him, was that he had none of Cameron's presence, or confidence. But she then immediately felt bad for thinking this. She shouldn't compare two such different men. There were few people in this world whom had what Cameron had—male or female.

“James, this is Cassie. Cassie, James,” Alys introduced the pair when James reached their table.

Cassie took his outstretched hand. “How do you do?” she said automatically, and then felt the couple sitting at the next table glance at them.

The threesome burst out laughing as James sat down. “I always forget how odd that sounds when you're not at home in England,” Cassie said.

“I've given in,” Alys confessed, pulling in her chair. “I never say it anymore. It's just too embarrassing. I've gone native. These days I even do an automatic ‘you're welcome’.”

“Shocking.” James shook his head. “Appalling, really.” He put on his best toffee-nosed accent.

“Oh, stop it.” Alys swatted him on the arm.

“So, James,” Cassie shifted in her seat, “Alys said you arrived yesterday. Are you here for a long time?”

“I hope not. Just for one interview. That is, I don't have anything against New York; I've just been chasing this interview for a while now. How about you?” He caught her eye. He seemed slightly more at ease now he was seated and talking.

Cassie adjusted her cutlery. “Oh, a few . . . meetings. That's all.” As their waitress began to hover, Cassie glanced at her menu.

“Are we ready to order?” Alys asked, and Cassie told her and James to go first.

After one last scan and everyone else's order taken, she was ready. “I'll have the lemon-ricotta toast, thanks. And a latte.”

“That lemon-ricotta toast is divine. Definitely a good . . .” Alys started, but someone's phone beeped with a text.

“Sorry, that's me,” James said. “I'd better check. Never know my luck, hey?” He pulled out his phone and read the message. “Seriously.” He shook his head in disbelief of what he read. As he shoved his phone back in his jeans, he sighed.

“It's off
again
?” Alys said.

James nodded. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.”

Cassie looked between them as she took a sip of her iced water. “Your job interview's off?”

James shook his head. “No, it's not a job interview I'm here for. I'm a journalist. It's to interview a star.” He waggled his fingers at this. “So far I've been to Paris, Barcelona, Frankfurt and London for this bloody interview.”

Cassie frowned. “And you haven't gotten it?”

“No.” James tapped his fingers on the table and looked at her with his brown eyes. “No, I have not.”

No wonder he looked tired. “Sounds like your boss really wants that interview. Will you ever get it?” It sounded like a wild goose chase to Cassie. “I mean, is there any point to the whole expedition?”

“That's how you get an interview with Cameron Callahan, apparently.” James shrugged.

Her glass of water to her mouth once more, Cassie reminded herself not to choke as she slowly brought it back down to the table. James was interviewing Cameron Callahan? It was too much of a coincidence. Her eyes moved quickly from Alys to James and back again. Did Alys know something? But how? Had Jo called her?

Perhaps Alys saw something in what she was thinking, because she turned to Cassie now. “When Cerys found out James was trying to get this interview, she thought James and I should meet up again, with me working at The Met and all. Though I'm afraid I don't tend to hang out with the artists the museum actually exhibits very much . . .”

Cerys, Alys's older sister, was a journalist, and Cassie instantly saw how the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle fit together now. But still, what were the odds? She looked on silently as Alys continued, nodding at James. “I have heard that before about Cameron Callahan,” she said. “That you've literally got to hunt him down if you want an interview. I don't know why he's like that. I mean, you're not planning on saying horrible things, are you?”

“No,” James said. “Not at all. It's just about being oh-so-rock star, I think. I mean, if he gave out interviews to everyone they wouldn't be so coveted, would they?”

Cassie remained mute as the pair continued their conversation. Cameron didn't seem that elusive, or distant to her. Was that because he wanted something from her, rather than the other way around? Was he charming her in order to extract this sculpture out of her? After all, he'd stand to make a lot of money off any piece he made in the long run. Maybe she was being naïve. Maybe he wasn't interested in her at all, but in what she could provide for him—inspiration.

“Cassie?”

Cassie looked up from the spot she'd been staring at on the tabletop to find both Alys and James staring at her. “Sorry?”

“I'm taking it you're not a fan?” Alys continued.

“Oh!” Cassie replied. “Um . . . I don't know. I suppose I like some of his pieces that I've seen and others . . . well . . .”

“Yes, exactly,” Alys piped up, animated now. “Some of his pieces really speak to me and others make me think what he'd really like to be doing is making porn. The truth is, I'm all over the place when it comes to Cameron Callahan.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Cassie said, weakly.

“I'll third that,” James piped up. “Literally. As in, Frankfurt last month, Paris two weeks ago, and London last week. I'm determined to stick it out now he's on home soil. I really need this interview. If it comes to it, I'll take my holidays to wait things out so I get it.”

“You're . . . determined then.” Cassie stared over at him.

“Oh, yes. And, this time I'm not going to let anything stand in my way. Not even Cameron Callahan himself.”

“S
o, did you like him?” Alys asked the moment James had left them on the street. “Did you?”

Cassie gave Alys a look as they began the walk back to her apartment. “I liked my lemon-ricotta toast.”

“Come on . . .” Alys nudged her with one arm.

“This was a set-up all along, wasn't it?”

Alys gave her a coy look in return. “Well, if I'd told you it was you wouldn't have come, would you?”

Cassie barked a short laugh. “Hardly! Not after last time.” She referred to the last time Alys had tried to set her up with someone—a friend of Alys's boyfriend at the time. It had been one of the longest nights of her life, despite the fact that she'd somehow managed to run off home before dessert.

“Are you ever going to forgive me for that? I've told you before—I didn't realise he was that bad.”

“No. I'm never going to forgive you for that.”

Alys stuck out her tongue. “But you did like him, didn't you? James, I mean? I think he's gorgeous. That hair and those eyes! He's a quarter Jamaican.”

“Why don't you date him then, if he's so hot?” Cassie said.

But Alys pulled a face. “I've known him forever. You must remember me talking about him in the past—he's one of Cerys's friends from university.”

“Oh, right. Actually, I do remember,” Cassie said, suddenly placing James. Alys's sister Cerys had often had her older friends to stay during the holidays. Cassie vaguely remembered meeting James once before at Alys's house, in passing.