Читать книгу We’ve Always Got New York - Jill Knapp - Страница 10

“I was thinking it would be fun if we could go for brunch Sunday,” I said to Cassandra. “We and Olivia should have a girl’s day. You know, before school starts back up on Monday. What do you think?”

It was noon on Saturday and I had just woken up. I had spent the night in Cassandra’s guest room. After she persuaded me to go out to Fire Island last night, the two of us came back to her place. I caught her while she was heading to the kitchen to make coffee. She was wearing gray sweatpants and an oversized men’s T-shirt. Her freshly colored blonde hair was hanging straight to the middle of her back.

Apart from Michael’s, Cassie had my favorite apartment in the city. From what I had seen of my friends’ homes, at least. She lived downtown, in Chelsea. A convenient five-minute cab ride to most of the NYU buildings. Her apartment building was a walk-up, but she only lived on the third floor, so taking the stairs wasn’t too bad. At least not until you were coming home tipsy in three-inch heels. I was currently parked in my pajamas on her white suede couch. Unlike Cassandra, I hadn’t drank anything last night. I felt crappy enough from the jet-lag.

“Can I let you know?” she asked, reaching for the kettle. “It’s just that I might have a date with this guy Brandon.” She wasn’t making eye contact and her overall demeanor suggested she was distracted by something. I just chalked it up to her being tired. We were out until very late last night. Cassandra had dragged me out to a bar and wouldn’t even think about leaving until last call.

“Brandon? Who is this Brandon? Tell me about him!” I jumped up from the couch and joined Cassie in the kitchen area. It had been all summer since Cassie had regaled me with tales from her dating world, and I was chomping at the bit to hear one.

“What’s to tell?” She carefully peeled a banana.

“What’s to tell?” I laughed. “How about everything? For starters, how old is he?”

“I think he’s thirty-one,” she offered, taking the now-whistling kettle off the electric stove top.

“Well, where does he work?” I smiled, trying to encourage Cassandra to dish. “And more importantly, how did you meet?”

“He works in advertising.”

I nodded and waved my hands around, gesturing for her to continue. She handed me a mug and motioned for me to sit on one of the counter stools.

“Did you meet at some fabulous work party?” I joked. One of the perks of Cassie’s job was that she always had an invite to the opening of one of Manhattan’s up-and-coming hot spots. She had been working at the magazine ever since college, and it seemed with each passing year her job became more and more demanding. But at the same time more rewarding.

“I wouldn’t exactly say fabulous, but yes. We met at a new bar that just opened on the Lower East Side,” she explained, sipping her coffee.

I smiled but felt myself cringe at the same time. The Lower East Side had to be my least- favorite neighborhood in all of Manhattan. It was littered with “up-and-coming” bars and night clubs, which I referred to as “seedy-chic” establishments. I thought back to the Manhattan I knew when I was a kid. I always thought of it as classy and romantic. Like an old black-and-white movie. Or at least that’s how everyone pretended it was. I wondered when we traded in our Audrey Hepburn phase for a more dilapidated version of New York.

“Do you like him?” I asked, encouraging Cassie to move the conversation along. “Is he your type?”

She just nodded and smiled.

I waited a few more seconds for her to tell me all of the juicy details, as usual, but she just sat quietly finishing her coffee and banana. I stared at her for a moment and tried to read her facial expression. She was acting unusual. Usually after a date she’d give me a play by play of the night’s events, down to the brand of lipstick she had chosen. Instead, she continued to sit quietly until a few seconds later, when her phone buzzed, and she reached for it with her free hand and was soon completely absorbed in the email.

“Hey, Cassie,” I stared. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” she said, collecting the now-empty coffee mugs. The mugs were black; part of a matching set her mother had given her when she first moved into this apartment. Along with coordinating bowls and dishes. She crossed over to me and gave me a weary smile. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

I know she was trying to come off as being polite, but the question sounded more like a challenge.

“I’m not sure,” I said quietly. I tucked my hair behind my ears and shrugged. “The thing is, I just got back from my trip. And you don’t really seem all that happy to see me.”

I wasn’t sure why, but I felt nervous bringing this up to her. Cassandra and I could usually talk about anything. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her seemed different.

She rinsed off the mugs and walked back over to the counter top.

“I am happy to see you,” she uttered, sounding exasperated. She started fidgeting with her long blonde hair, pulling it in and out of a ponytail. “I am just really stressed out with work, and I’m not even sure what time I am going out on this date on Sunday. I absolutely want to spend time with you, I have just been really busy lately.”

“Of course. I understand,” I replied, quietly studying her laminate counter top. Her explanation had sounded more like a scolding. I wasn’t sure why she was acting this way, but my gut told me something strange was definitely going on.

“Listen, if anything changes I’ll let you know,” she offered. She wasn’t even looking at me now, her attention was completely dominated by her cell phone.

“Sure. No problem,” I grimaced.

I waited a few more seconds and then, without Cassie even noticing, I slipped off the counter stool and headed back to her guest room.