Morning. Cassandra’s eyes flickered around as she woke up to a creme ceiling, a soft brown leather sofa, a warm heavy blanket, and a fluffy pillow.
“What happened last night?” she thought. “Let’s see...I had got caught in the rain, saw that concert and that cute guy named Paul- Oh shit! Don’t tell me I...”
She looked under the covers to find thankfully that her clothes were still on her.
“Thank God,” she sighed out loud as she said that.
“What do you think I would’ve done?”
Cassandra turned around, to find Paul in a maroons robe, holding a cup of tea, leaning on the doorway, smiling.
“Well.... ‘do me’.”
“Oh, I see. Well, you fell fast asleep last night during the little concert. Nobody wanted the responsibility of bringing you home. So, out of the kindness of my heart, I brought you home.”
“Um....” What could Cassandra say? This was a guy who actually brought her home. You know, said this annoying little conscience voice in her head, this could lead to other things. You could move in, and- “Shit! My house! I left it unlocked! Oh the klutz I am! Paul, I can’t do this. I’ve gotta get home.”
“No problem. I’ll just bring you there, you can pack, and I’ll-”
“-It’s not that easy, Paul. I mean, what if I don’t want to live here? I just moved here, and....what if I just want to be friends?”
“Friends?” he chuckled. “What ever made you think that I had any sexual desire for you? Of course I can perfectly tell that you just got here, and I’ll let it stay that way. And I told ya before I only brought you home because I couldn’t leave you there.”
Whew, she thought. There goes my anxiousness, walking right out the door. Oh God, what’s this?
By now, Paul had walked over to Cassandra, sat down beside her and placed his arm around her shoulder. She was quite fidgety as the two looked into each others’ eyes.
“Um, Paul.....”
“Yes?.....”
“I really have to leave. I have to get starting with my article. Oh yeah! My papers?”
Paul unhappily walked to the table and held them out for her. Cassandra was about to take them but he pulled them back.
“Uh Uh Uh!” he said. “You have to give me your number, first.” he smiled a fiendish smile.
“I thought we were going to be ‘just friends’,” said Cassandra, coming closer and closer to Paul with a little grin on her face.
“Oh we are!” he replied jumping back. “I mean, how else am I gonna contact you?”
“Oh, I guess your right.” she found herself a scrap of paper and scribbled the number. “And Yours?”
“Oh..mine....Hold on a sec..” Paul walked into another room, probably his bedroom for a minute and came back with a picture of him and a number on the back. “Here you are, madam.”
“Now can I have my papers back? Pretty please?”
Paul now held the papers out. They easily slipped out of his hands and into Cassandra’s, also with a little note. Ooh, she thought. An afternoon treat.
“I guess I should be on my way now. I would like to thank you again for bringing me home, and I....I’ll guess I’ll hear from you later this week.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Good luck with your article, luv.” He smiled and waved back. Cassandra smiled and waved back as she walked out of his door and on her way home.
“You have GOT to see this guy,” cried Cassandra as she took a bite from her chicken sandwich.
“Now what’s his name again?” asked Jane.
Here’s a little about Jane. Jane Asher. This is Cassandra’s best- and only- friend. They knew each other ever since they were little children. Of course, Jane has had a better past than Cassandra, with a happy childhood and living in a townhouse for the most part of her life. Even though Jane was two months younger than Cassandra, she gave the best advice around. And she sure was beautiful, too! She had long auburn hair and sapphire blue eyes. And a figure to die for.
“It’s Paul McCartney. He’s twenty and probably the cutest guy in the world. Oh, I still can’t get over how lucky I was-”
“Cassie! Enough! What does he look like?”
“Well,” she closed her eyes and tried to picture his image last night he’s about six feet tall, has this perfect complexion, jet black hair, these hazel eyes....Oh they’re so precious? i just wanna-”
“Don’t you have a picture?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Cassandra rambled in her purse and found the little black and white photo and gently handed it to Jane.
“Oh....” she said, and ponderously made a disgusted face. “I don’t know about you, but he’s ugly! His hair is so messy! And he looks like a chub face. I would not go out with him if was the only guy on Earth!” She tossed the snapshot back to Cassandra. Why was she acting like this?
“Listen Cass,” she said. “I gotta get back to the theater. The rehearsal is in a half an hour. Can you take the check this time? Okay. Thanks. See ya later.” She picked up her purse and left the cafe. Cassandra had a funny feeling about Jane. Why was she so restless? She picked up the picture, stared at it and sighed,
“Oh, Paul!”
She then placed it in her purse, check, and left for home.
Cassandra got home. She was about to read the little note that Paul wrote her, but the phone rang.
“Hello?” she said quietly.
“VAN GOTTI!!!” cried the man on the other line.
“May I ask who’s calling?” she now was very scared.
“WHO’S CALLING!?!?!??! WHO’S CALLING!?!?!?!? WHY THE HELL SHOULD YOU ASK THAT?”
“Mr. Herriss?”
“YOU BET YOUR SORRY ASS IT IS! WHAT DAY IS IT?”
“Tuesday, sir.”
“HOW COME I FIND YOU THEN AT A CAFE THIS AFTERNOON, HAVING LUNCH WITH A FRIEND WHEN YOU SHOULD BE WORKING ON YOUR @!#$~?!@$#%$!&^*& ARTICLE!!!!”
Cassandra was now frightened to death. She had seen Mr. Herriss mad, but never this mad.
“I’m sorry sir. It’s almost finished, sir. I’ll work on it very hard, sir.”
“WELL IT BETTER BE IN MY HANDS WHEN THE CLOCK TURNS 5:30 ON FRIDAY. AND IF YOU DON’T I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN. I’LL GET YOU IN THE END!!!!”
“Mr. Herriss, I can explain.....Hello?”
Dead. He had hung up, and now Cassandra was in tears of fear. She was easily scared, and this time, this was as scared as they get. Suddenly, the phone rang. Thinking her employer called back,
“Mr. Herriss, I can explain everything-”
“Did I get the wrong number?”
“Oh...I’m terribly sorry. Let me start again. Hello?”
“Hi, Cassandra. This is Paul...McCartney.”
“Oh!”whew, she thought. Relief. “Hello. How are you?”
“Who’s this Herriss guy you’re babblin’ about?”
“He’s my employer. He’s a very intimidating man.”
“Well, am I intimidating?”
“Of course not!”
“Well then how about an unintimidating dinner with John and his wife and me?”
“Sure!”
“Seven, then?”
“Okay. Where’s you’re house?”
“My house!?!?!? You were there last night-”
“With my eyes closed, may I add.”
“Ooh, you are the witty one. 7 Cavendish Avenue, St. John’s Wood. Dress nicely. ‘Kay?”
“Sure. See you then.”
Cassandra didn't realize how pretty Paul’s house was when she arrived. A two-floor flat with creme walls and four windows on each. Among these walls, lovely little chartreuse bushes with pink and white blossoms sprouted.
Cassandra wore a a long-sleeved, knee-length dress with Mary Jane leather shoes. Around her slender neck was a gold chain, with a heart locket, consisting of a picture of her late parents.
“Okay,” she said as she stood in front of the door. “Here goes nothin’.”
She knocked on the door and waited patiently. She finally saw Paul in the doorway, giving her a nice smile.
“Well, you look lovely,” he said.
“You really think so?”
“Oh sure! Come in, come in,” Paul let Cassandra in, and a voice came to,
“Oh it’s you!”
Cassandra turned to find John with a tall blonde clinging to him, and a tall, muscular man with blond hair and green eyes.
“Cassandra,” said Paul, bringing her towards the man, “This is Cynthia, John’s wife.”
“Hi!” the two exchanged greetings.
“And this,” continued Paul, “is John’s mate, Robert Norton. He’s as quirky as his pal over here.”
“Oh sod off,” cried John.
“A pleasure to meet you!” she cried. She held out her hand for a shake.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he said and gave her a very seductive wink.
Cassandra weakly smiled and slowly pulled her hand back.
“Let’s go in,” said Paul, trying to break the uneasiness. “dinner’s ready. You’ll love it, Cass, If I can call you tha-”
The two stared at each other. A man young, sexy , brash man like Paul? Can cook? Now this is too much.
“I never knew you could cook.”
“Hey, you learn somethin’ new every day, luv.”
They smiled and had a laugh, and went into the kitchen, where the plates were neatly arranged. Paul pulled out Cassandra’s chair for her. That’s a very good sign, she thought.
As everyone ate, they talked. Cassandra knew nothing of their conversation, so she kept quiet but heard bits and pieces;
“How long do you think we’ll last, Cyn?”
“I think you’ll last as long as the two of us do!”
“Oh Christ, not that long!”
“How long do you think we’ll last, Cassandra?’
By now, the whole table was staring at her. Cassandra, wasn't really sure. They sounded great, though. But how long? Tough question. Cassandra took a wild guess,
“Eight years.”
“Are you so sure?” asked John.
“Naw. Probably 7 years, eight months...the minimum.”
There was silence. And then laughter. Pure laughter. They couldn't believe how wild a guess that was.
“Lordy! It’s late,” Cyn cried as she glanced at her watch. “Gotta go. Thanks Paulie for the din-din. Quite delish.”
“Give us a kiss, Cyn,” said John as he gave her an affectionate smooch. How cute, Cassandra thought.
“I guess I'll clean up,” said Paul, as he stood up,
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” asked Cassandra.
“Oh no, I'm fine. I need to ask you a question in the living room. I’ll meet you in there.”
“Oh.” What on earth was he going to ask?
Cassandra walked to living room, where she sat down on black leather seats. There was another sofa right across that was separated by a coffee table. John sat next to Cassandra, and Robert stood by the door. Paul came in and sat across from the two who were currently sitting.
“Well..” started Paul. “Would you..”
“Yes?” Cassandra replied. Marry you, she thought. Yes. A definite yes.
“Be our manager? I talked to John about it and it was considered a go.”
“Oh,” gee, she thought. And I really thought he liked me too. Oh well, maybe I could get to know him intimately. “Thank you very much. I’ll gladly accept.... Oh fuck! My article!”
“The phone’s right here. Let me call him for you?” he took the phone and, “What’s the number?”
She dialed it for him, and Robert left for something. Cassandra handed the receiver to Paul.
“Hello?...This is Paul McCartney...I’m calling for Cassandra VanGotti...she will not be working with you anymore...Yes sir, I understand that...If I were you, I wouldn’t talk about her like that...Well, yeah she’s here...But I’m not sure if she’s ready to talk to you yet...Okay..I’ll tell her that...Okay....Fuck you too...Yes, I hope you rot in hell, too...Okay! Bye-bye.”
He hung up.
“That went very well, I can see,” said Robert, “Do you work at the times, Miss VanGotti?”
“Why, yes.”
“Then I guess you’d know Mr. Heriss.”
“He’s my intimidating boss.”
“Ahh, yes. Englebert. He was a roommate of mine. He introduced me to many interesting activities, like-”
“Bob. Come on. Don’t scare the poor kid,” said John. “I’m going. Ta!”
“Ta!” they cried. John opened the door and disappeared into the night.
“How are you going to get home?” asked Paul.
“I guess I’ll walk home,” said Cassandra.
“I’ll bring you home,” cried Robert with a smile. Cassandra looked at Paul. He exchanged her glance with a blank look on her face. She was unsure of it, but it seemed to be the only way home.
“O.K. Why not?” She answered.
Just as they were about to leave, Paul grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“Cass, you can’t go with him.”
“Why not?’
“He’s...you know...on the aggressive side.”
“So? I’ll sit in the back.”
“He doesn’t have backseats. It’s an expensive convertible.”
“Well fine then,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll just press myself on the door.” She walked off, slamming the door on his face.
“It’s very nice of you to bring me home, Mr. Norton.” She said as she buckled herself in. As he closed the door, he looked back at her with hungry eyes. Cassandra looked away. The closing of his door seemed like something that was very final. They started driving and about five minutes later, the car stopped.
“And it’s very nice of you to let me...” She felt something cold. Cassandra looked down, and there was Robert’s arm protruding from her dress, getting closer to the split of her legs. A terrible feeling came over her, and she couldn’t catch her breath.
Paul was right.
Go on to Chapter 3.
Get back to Chapter 1.
Get back to Intro.
Copyright 1998 Kate Stocker. DO NOT reprint this without written permission from the author.