Page 25 of Courting Trouble
‘You’re sure about that?’ Joanna prompted.
Cassie ignored that. ‘You know, I’m actually coaching someone to play a tennis player in a movie. So that’s its own special hell. She’s playing Tamsin Rowe. You remember her?’
Joanna nodded slowly. ‘Ah, yes. I see. The comeback story.’
‘Yeah. The one who got back up. The one who won again. Delilah wants to understand Tamsin. I think she thinks I can give her some kind of insight.’ Her jaw flexed as if she could bite the thought in half. ‘Only, I never had a comeback.’
Joanna tilted her head, voice measured and quiet. ‘And what does it stir, going back there?’
Cassie almost yelled at Joanna to stop talking to her like a therapist. But that would have been like getting mad at a cat for meowing, so she swallowed it. ‘It’s been years. I should be past it. Shouldn’t I? You learn to live around the missing piece. And then thisactresswalks in and suddenly it’s loose again.’
Joanna did not move, did not try to ease her. Just watched. Cassie rolled her eyes at her routine but talked anyway. ‘She’s not even pushing,’ Cassie muttered. ‘Not really. She just pays attention. Too much attention.’ She glanced down at her hands, clenched in her lap. ‘I didn’t realise how long it’s been since anyone cared what I thought about anything.’
‘Like you still hold something worth passing on,’ Joanna suggested gently.
Cassie nodded once.
‘And what does that feel like?’ Joanna asked, softer still.
For a long time, Cassie did not speak. She turned her face toward the window. It had started raining.
‘Like I’ve been sleepwalking,’ she said finally. Her voice was low, almost ashamed. ‘And someone’s turned on a light.’
Cassie glanced at her watch. Not even ten minutes had gone by. She pushed back her chair. ‘That’s enough. I’ve got things to do.’
‘You’re sure?’ Joanna asked steadily.
‘Positive,’ Cassie said briskly. She grabbed her jacket, stood, and forced a small, dismissive smile. ‘See? No drama. Nothing’s wrong.’
She walked out without a backward glance, like nothing at all had happened.
Twenty-Seven
The ball cracked off Cassie’s racquet and skimmed the baseline. Delilah lunged after it, her feet tangling, and she went down hard, landing squarely on her arse.
‘You OK?’ Cassie called across the net.
‘Yep,’ Delilah said, standing and dusting herself off.
‘You’re thinking too much,’ Cassie told her.
‘I’m trying not to die,’ Delilah shot back, wiping sweat from her temple.
Her phone buzzed on the bench. Once, twice, insistent. Delilah lifted a hand. ‘Hold that thought,’ she said, jogging over and snatching it up without looking at the number.
Cassie leaned on her racquet, waiting.
Delilah pressed the phone to her ear, still breathless from the last rally. The voice on the other end spoke, brisk and businesslike, and her pulse sank with every word.
When the call ended, she stood frozen for a moment, the phone still warm in her hand. She knew only one thing. She was fucked. Everything was fucked.
Delilah looked over at Cassie, who had been waiting. ‘So, if you’re done with your phone call…’ She broke off her admonition, seeing the look on Delilah’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘They’re putting the brakes on the movie,’ Delilah said slowly. She was determined not to blub like a toddler with a skinned knee, which was her instinct. ‘The estate… they’re withdrawing permission. Nobody knows exactly why.’
Cassie’s brows knit together. ‘That’s shit. I’m sorry, Delilah.’
Delilah gave a small, bitter smile. ‘So that’s it. The role’s gone. The film’s dead before it even properly began.’ She laughed. ‘Ah, well. I’m sure I’d have shit the bed anyway. Way too big a role for me.’ She shifted her weight, looking down at the court beneath her feet. ‘Which means… there’s no point in all this. No need to keep training.’
