Caught Up in You Chapter 4
Portions for Foxes
I can’t believe there are that many rules for the rehearsal dinner,” Cassie managed to get out in between giggles.
“The email for the bachelor party was two pages long. And he brought a whistle in case anyone got ‘out of line’”
“How many times did he blow it?”
Ethan just shook his head. “I couldn’t hear out of my right ear for 3 days.”
Cassie could hardly contain her laughter at this point. Co-workers passed by with a mixture of disdain and confusion smattered on their faces. Ethan and Cassie ignored them. They were in their own private world. They were comfortable there.
Ethan tossed his tea bag into the trash. He didn’t know how long they’d been in the kitchen, but from the looks of his tea, it was well past the suggested brewing time of three to six minutes. Time seemed to fly by whenever they were with each other. Hours seemed to fly by in the matter of minutes. Sometimes it was hard for Cassie to believe that Ethan had been like family to her for over a decade now. He didn’t have the same longevity as Gabe did. She’d known Gabe for most of her life, but Ethan had been the one to truly be there for her. She could tell he was getting anxious to get back to his office and finish off the producer’s notes. He hated having work hanging over his head. His anxiety would seep into his head and wouldn’t relinquish its’ hold until he accomplished his task. Or he took a hit of weed. Whichever came first. And Cassie knew it was often the weed that did.
Cassie sometimes worried about how often Ethan smoked. In college, Ethan and Mark made weed brownies as a way to supplement their rent. They were the best fucking weed brownies in all of San Diego— those boys could bake (literally and figuratively). Then, in their 20’s, Ethan became her weed supplier. When she was having a particularly bad day (which was often in those days), he’d show up with his famous pot brownie. They’d get stoned and watch bad reality TV all day. But, that was then and as much as Cassie longed for those days, she was trying her best to be an adult. Adults who want to have babies can’t get stoned in their work parking lots during lunch with boys who are not her husband. Even though that was all Cassie wanted to do. She secretly hoped Ethan would suggest it, but ever since she blabbed that her and Scott were “trying”, he’d been respectful. He hadn’t even smoked in front of her for awhile. But, she could often tell when he was stoned. His nervous, high-pitched laughter and his slightly squinted eyes would be a dead giveaway. It wouldn’t be obvious to most people, but when you’ve known someone for twelve years, even the most subtle signs are a dead giveaway. And he had been displaying those signs more and more. Especially since his last breakup, Cassie thought to herself.
“I still need to write my speech.”
“Your best man toast? I thought you said you were going to work on it last night?”
Ethan shook his head.
“But the wedding is this weekend.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
“Mark is going to freak out. Does he know?”
“He made me send him a sample paragraph yesterday to proof.”
“What’d you do?”
“I transcribed the video “Best best man speech ever” and sent that.”
Cassie broke out into a fresh crop of giggles.
“You did not! What did Mark say?”
“He thought I should change the line about his brother being gay since that’s not true.”
Cassie could barely get out: “He doesn’t even have a brother!” because she was laughing so hard. They were both near hysterics. “We’re not going to be able to look at each other during the speech,” she continued.
“Fortunately we’ll be at different tables.”
“How’s that fortunately? Are you serious?”
“I’m at the head table. You’re with the rest of the plebons. Sorry, Cass.”
“I wonder where he’s going to put Gabe…” Cassie couldn’t stop herself. The minute the “G” word left her mouth, she could see Ethan’s demeanor sour.
“Why do you think Gabe would even come?”
“Well, we know he was invited. Mark said…”
“That wasn’t the question. What makes you think that Gabe would get his fucking head out of his ass after all these years. You of all people, Cassie.”
He was pissed. She couldn’t remember the last time Ethan full-named her. It was usually just Cass or sometimes froggy, the nickname he donned for her when she was sick and trying to perform. Cassie knew all the trouble bringing Gabe up would bring, but she couldn’t help herself. She could never help herself around him— that was the problem. And now she could feel a fresh crop of anxiety settle into her stomach. Hopefully Ethan was right. Hopefully Gabe wouldn’t be there. Besides, didn’t a rockstar have more important things to do than go to his old bandmate’s wedding?
“I should get back to work. Dennis wants the new mix after lunch.”
“Oh, okay.” Cassie believed him, but she also knew their conversation would’ve lasted another five minutes if she hadn’t mentioned Gabe. She really should’ve known better. The only time her and Ethan fought was about Gabe. Which is why they made their unspoken agreement to not bring him up. And then when he became successful, they didn’t have to. Who in their right mind would want to be friends with someone who was a megastar when you could barely get an admin job in the same field. At least that’s what the world around them believed. Only Cassie and Ethan knew the truth. And Cassie completely understood why Ethan didn’t want to bring him up after everything that happened. Ethan had to clean up Gabe’s mess. But despite her understanding, Cassie couldn’t make herself feel the same way. She didn’t hate Gabe, as much as wanted to. As much as she had a reason to. Her life was forever tied to his, whether she liked it or not.
Ethan was already halfway out the kitchen when Cassie asked, “Let me know if you need help with the speech.”
That brought a half-smile to Ethan’s face, but it wasn’t good enough for Cassie. Half smiles do little to satisfy perfectionists. It’s almost an invitation to try harder as opposed to a sign that you’re on the right path.
“Sure. It’ll have to be sometime today, though, since I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“How about during lunch? In the car. With a certain…” she lowered her voice to say, “substance.” The way she said it with a lowered voice, emphasis on the “s”, and in a seductive, but fun and flirty way nearly sent Ethan over the edge. Cassie saw it, but she did what she always did when she saw that look from him and simply ignored it. There might have been a time that her and Ethan could’ve been a couple. She almost kissed him the first night they met. And truth be told, had thought about kissing him several times since then, including many a time during their car sessions, but she wondered how much of that was a potent combination of loneliness and weed. As much as she adored Ethan (and she did), they were better as friends. That was the lie she told herself during college. And that was the truth she felt after everything they’d been through.
Immediately, she regretted her hot boxing the car suggestion, but once she saw Ethan’s smile return full-force, she knew she couldn’t backpeddle. Besides, if anyone was in need of weed right now, it was Cassie. Fuck it. Being an adult could come tomorrow.
Cassie and Ethan said their goodbyes, then headed in their separate directions. He towards the long, dark hallway that held the edit bays, and she toward the airy and bright front office. Cassie didn’t mind working out in the open and under the watchful eye of her co-workers. Being locked away in an office didn’t suit her personality. She lived for interaction. If she wanted to be by herself all day, she’d work from home. But, she hated that she couldn’t make her space her own. Or that she didn’t have a suitable private area to cry or meditate when she needed to. Which lately was every day.
Despite her lack of creative control over her desk, Cassie still attempted to “spice it up” a bit. She kept her signature Voluspa Candle (switching between the scents of French Cade Lavender and Huckleberry depending on the season) always burning on the top right corner of her desk. There were framed portraits of her husband and adorable dog on the left side of her desk, next to her very neatly organized pen holder. She even kept a basket of assorted candy front and center. It started out as a way to get rid of excess Halloween candy, but when a certain well-known producer made frequent stops to her desk for a lollipop, which he claimed were his “favorite”, the candy became a mainstay. She was hoping that the frequent interaction thanks to the producers’ sugar addiction would one day lead to Cassie asking him to listen to one of her songs, but that day hadn’t come.
Plus, she’d have to actually write a song first.
When she first took the job, several years ago, she thought one of the advantages would be how much time she would have to work on her own stuff. Truth be told, her job wasn’t very demanding. She enjoyed it because as evidenced by her desk, she enjoyed being organized, but did she aspire to be an assistant all her life? No, definitely not. Her actual work usually took about ten hours a week. The rest of those forty to sixty hours she spent busying herself with mindless tasks such as making yet another list, or on pinterest and the like. It was time she could be using to write something. Or shadowing some of the producers, so she could get access to the songwriters. Or doing something along the lines of what she set out to down.
It couldn’t be accounted on laziness, either. Cassie didn’t have a lazy bone in her body. “Relax” and “take it easy” were not part of her vocabulary. No, the thing holding Cassie back was fear. It had been so long since she had written something she liked, she wasn’t even sure she could anymore. And even the stuff she had been writing— well, it didn’t get her anywhere. Somewhere along the way, Cassie lost her passion. She hadn’t even picked up her bass in god-knows-when and she used to practice at least an hour a day. But, when you’re a wife and trying to be a mother, you can’t waste your time with failed dreams and “practicing” instruments. That’s for teens and twenty-somethings. Yet another lie Cassie told herself. She saw her friends and family move on with their lives — getting married, buying houses, having babies, having a 401K, having a savings account — and Cassie wondered why she couldn’t move past the first step. Sometimes she wondered if she even wanted to. It felt like that was what was expected of her, but she couldn’t be certain that was what she wanted, or if that’s what society wanted for her. Because deep down all Cassie wanted was to be able to make a living off of music. And have someone love her above anyone else. She thought she had the latter. She definitely didn’t have the former.
Every day Cassie would resolve to go home and write or play. And every night, as soon as she walked in the door, she made some excuse: too tired, she wanted to spend time with Scott, she needed to be social, or there simply wasn’t enough time. Maybe tonight would be different. But, probably not. This was a pattern that she’d been stuck in since she took the receptionist job at Simply Sound. That was part of the reason she had been so hesitant to take the job at first. But, she also needed the money and it wouldn’t be fair to Scott if she sat home all day fiddling with her bass in hopes that someday she might get a record deal. Hopes and dreams don’t pay the bills.
Cassie set about tidying up her desk and the waiting area. She had already confirmed all meetings and sessions for the day, and she wanted to save typing up her boss’ expense report until after lunch because it’d be far less tedious after a couple of hits of you-know-what. As she neatly arranged the magazines, putting the ones she thought today’s clients would enjoy the most on top of the pile (a detail that always went unnoticed, but she did it anyway) one of the producer’s breezed past her. James was the newest recruit to Simply Sound and had only been working there for a couple of months. Cassie still didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed nice, but so out of touch with the rest of the staff. She’d heard nearly everyone grumble about him at some point. Even Ethan complained that he didn’t know the difference between Daft Punk and Drake, but that didn’t stop James from pretending to be informed about both. Honestly, Cassie didn’t know how much longer James would be working there. He’d have to churn out a hit, or at least a promising record soon, and his first two at-bats were pretty much strike-outs. She also noticed he hadn’t scheduled any meetings with artists or recording sessions lately. Not good.
“Hi, James,” Cassie cooed politely.
“Oh, hey Cassie. Have you seen Roland yet?” Roland was their boss— the head of the studio and a super-producer during his heyday. He was a big ole bear of a man— sometimes a teddy bear, sometimes one that would attack without the slightest warning. If you were on his good side (which was mostly everyone), he was good to you in a way that made you feel like a million bucks. And quite frankly, much nicer than a boss had to be. But, if you got on his bad side… watch out. Roland had been known to publicly embarrass people, especially people he thought challenged his authority.
“Yeah, he got in about a quarter to nine.”
“Shit,” James spattered. Cassie guessed that he had wanted to discuss something private with Roland and rolling in at half past ten wasn’t going to make the best impression.
“Do you want me to see if he has some time in his schedule later?” Cassie leaded.
“Nah. It’s okay. I’ll stop over during lunch.” None of the producers really took a lunch break, unless they were meeting with an artist, but Cassie kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place. “Let me ask you something, Cassie,” James leaned in conspiratorially.
“Yeah?” She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her out. She wasn’t sure if he was in a relationship or not, or even if anyone would be willing to put up with him, but she was sure she had mentioned Scott. Plus, her ring was relatively blinding in the right light.
“Do you like working here?” Cassie took a second to compose herself. That was not what she was expecting. And, she didn’t even know how to answer the question. Working at Simply Send was fine, but did she like it? Huh. How does one define like?
“I guess it’s fine for now. Everyone is really nice.”
“For now? You mean you want to do something else in the future?” No, she wanted to be a glorified receptionist forever. What did he think?
“Of course. I don’t want to be an assistant forever.”
“Oh, right,” James mused as if it was just dawning on him that she may be a person that has ambitions past scheduling appointments, greeting visitors, and occasionally assisting Roland with correspondence. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get to where you want to be in no time. It took me two years before I became a producer,” James continued.
Cassie almost laughed. Two years. Two whole fucking years. Wow. She’d been at this job for nearly four and had been no closer to “making it.” Prior to that, she spent nearly five years writing and performing songs almost daily. And that’s a blip compared to what most people do. No wonder James’ attitude was so loathed by everyone around him; he was a privileged asshole.
“That’s very lucky,” Cassie chimed back.
“I don’t know if I’d call it luck. I worked very hard for it. I told myself I’d give it five years and if it didn’t work out, I’d go to law school.”
“What would you say to someone who has been giving it a go for nearly ten years?”
James appeared thoughtful for a minute, as if he was really pondering the question. For a second, Cassie wished she hadn’t said anything at all.
“Ten years is a long time. That’d be terribly frustrating. And I think sort of… demeaning. And are you really going to succeed at that point? Probably not, right?”
He didn’t say it to be mean, but that was exactly how she felt. Her worst fears confirmed: Cassandra Green was one big, fat, giant failure. At least in her career, anyway. She felt a burning sensation of humiliation wash over her. James, not sensing he said anything wrong, took off with a cheerful smile. Asshole, Cassie muttered.
She looked down at the clock. Only an hour until lunch. It couldn’t come soon enough.