What Deceit Looks Like | ✓

01: cassidy

She squints even though she's wearing her glasses, "Well have fun dear."

"Thank you Mrs. Lewis."

Jenny's catering van is parked on the curb right where Noah said she would be, and I slip into the passenger seat. The moment I step foot into the van, I feel completely different. I'm not being reminded of the fact that there's never enough of anything but more specifically: money.

"Are you ready for tonight?" She asks, pulling out into the road in front of an angry taxi driver who honks his horn at her. I instinctively grab the handle on the door, bracing myself for the accident that never comes. I open my eyes again, reminding myself that Jenny's driving isn't even the worst part of the night.

"Jenny, you ask that every single time and the answer is always the same." I retort giving her a quick look. She grins before turning her turn signal on right as she whips the van to the right, making another abrupt movement. "If you don't kill us first," I grumble under my breath.

I don't want to go tonight at all. I want to stay at home in my pajamas with the ice cream I bought yesterday. I swear I was just at one of these events a few weeks ago, but I can always tell by Noah's mood when it's time to go to another. At some point, they started becoming a way of escaping my life.

"So you remember the drill, right? I sneak you in through the kitchen and you won't have a table, so don't sit down at a random place okay?" Jenny warns as we get closer to the building where the random charity gala is being held tonight tonight.

A sense of calm washes over me because I know what I'm doing. The only good thing that came out of Las Vegas was that it gave me all the tools to run a good hustle, and I'm not exactly sure I'd call that a good thing. "Yes, I know the drill. Besides once I get a few checks, I'll be out before anyone can even remember they saw me."

"Atta girl."

After we're waved through and all of Jenny's stuff is carried in, she walks me in through the back door. Everyone is so busy preparing platters and trays that they don't even recognize me as I become movement in the background. I slip out of the kitchen and onto the floor of the party.

Single out the older men by themselves. Smile. Shake hands. Flirt a little. Slip in the charity, and it's almost a game how fast their checkbooks are out. A part of me starts to feel bad after I take the third check until I remember that there's always going to be more money for them. I can't say the same for me and Noah.

While it's fun playing dress up for a night, the second best part is the champagne and luxury wine. It's just so satisfying letting the delicacy stay for a moment on the top of my tongue as I savor it. I could never afford this on my own.

I've apparently done too well of a job blending into the background as a passerby steps on the train of my dress, jerking me into another person.

The glass of wine in my hand tilts as I try to catch myself, and the white satin fabric absorbs the dark red color. "Holy fuck." I swear, looking down at the now ruined dress.

"Are you okay?" The person who caught me asks, but I can't stop staring at the splotches I know are never going to come out. Oh my god, Noah is going to kill me. "Miss?" A warm hand rests on the side of my arm just enough to draw my attention up to them, and the first thing I notice is the eyes that are bluer than mine. "Are you alright?"

"My dress..." I say weakly looking down at it again, feeling sick to my stomach. Why did I have to get white of all colors?

"I'm sure it will come out," He tries to suggest, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the dress is already ruined beyond repair.

CJ, you need to calm down, I try to tell myself, but I feel tears well in my eyes. The money from tonight was supposed to pay our rent for the month and next month, along with groceries and everything until Noah gets his paychecks. It wasn't supposed to go towards a dress.

"Here, come with me." He says, quickly resting a hand on the small of my back, very, very close to where the price tag has been so carefully tucked away. Now it doesn't even matter. Fuck. "What's your name?" I look at him warily, trying to decide what I do because this is a stranger. Handsome, but a stranger nonetheless. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair in the same way Noah does, except his perfectly combed blonde hair gets messed up, whereas Noah's is never done to begin with. "I'm Maddox Benson, do I get to know who you are, or are you going to stay mute?"

I find my words finally, "Uh, yes sorry, Cassidy." It's weird telling him my name is Cassidy, especially when I never go by it. It's always CJ. But what does it matter now? It's not like I'm ever going to see him again.

"Cassidy," He drawls it out slowly like he's testing the waters. "I like it."

The dress is forgotten for a moment as I stare at him with confusion, "Excuse me?"

Maddox chuckles, revealing his white teeth. "I like your name," He says slower almost like I'm too stupid to comprehend what he's saying.

"Thanks, I think." My mind is whirling because I cannot for the life of me remember where I know the name Benson from. But then I look down again and the dark splash of color streaking across the white fabric snaps me back into reality. "Shit shit shit."

"I'm sure it will be alright, it's just a dress-"

My hands shake as I walk away from him to the counter to grab towels to blot against the dress, even though I know it won't help at this point. "You don't understand. This dress-it was important."

"Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth. It's all going to be fine," He advises, and I close my eyes to do as he says. I don't get rattled easily, certainly never at an event where I'm trying to get money from people. "How much was it?" He asks, and my eyes snap open to stare at him in shock.

"You're not being serious right?"

Maddox smiles easily, "I didn't see the face of the man who bumped into you. I feel somewhat responsible considering you had a hold of your glass until you tripped into me. So please, let me help."

Listen to him, he's practically offering to pay for the dress. Then I won't have to use anything I collected tonight. "You really don't have to do this," I try to protest weakly, but he's already pulled his check book out of his pocket and signs it. Is carrying your checkbook around something that all rich people do?

"I like to think I know when I'm meeting a good person, so you can fill out the price of the dress on your own. You don't seem like the kind of person who would try to take all my money. I really hope this doesn't bite me in the ass," Maddox jokes handing over the blank check. It's ironically funny though because he has no idea how wrong he is right now.

I struggle to form words again for the second time this conversation, "Thank you," I manage to get out after too long of a pause.

"Don't worry about it, Cassidy. I'm sure I'll see you again at another one of these dreadful parties." He grins before he then exits the bathroom, leaving me with a blank check folded in my hand, and a wine stained satin dress. God, it must be nice to have money.