«Once upon a time, the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned.»
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The numbers increased and Cassandra felt weirder. Not nervous though, just a bit annoyed. God, she hated Hans, that building, and the stares she would probably receive when the elevator doors opened for her. Maybe he'd done her a favour by firing her because she would have jumped off the last floor if she kept working there. Even the simple smell of the place made her feel disgusted. It felt like selling her soul to the devil, although Cassandra knew she was way past that.
The job per se didn't use to be bad. She got the opportunity to write — nonsensical articles sometimes, but it was still writing — and the pay was enough for her to afford the kind of life she liked to live without touching her father's money. Now she was telling another story, but at this point, Cassandra was aware she had brought that upon herself.
The elevator doors opened with a clink and she placed a hand on her chest at the surprise of the sound. The first face who received her was Iman, the receptionist on the floor who smiled brightly at the sight of her. Cassandra gave her a small smile in return and waved her hand as she walked closer to her desk.
"Cassandra, so nice to see you," Iman told her when she was close enough. The girl sounded sincere and amicable, something that was rare to find among the people who worked at the magazine.
"Nice to see you too." She placed her hands on the desk and looked around. Everything was still in the same place. "I have a meeting with Hans, I don't know if he told you?"
Iman checked her computer screen and then looked at her. "Oh, he told me he was expecting someone but didn't say it was you." She reached for a visitor pass and handed it to her. "Good luck." And there was a wink, some sort of sign of encouragement, Cassandra assumed.
All Cassandra could do was scrunch her nose in displeasure, earning a chuckle from Iman. She proceeded to make her way to where the action truly happened next. A few glances turned to her when she walked past the glass doors, some surprised, some smug, and some simply not worth paying attention to. It really was one of the most toxic environments she'd ever worked in, and she used to work in customer service at a vegan restaurant when she was sixteen.
Her eyes spotted her old cubicle, it was empty of course. Hans hadn't found a new victim for that hell they called workplace.
"Oh, Cassandra." She almost gagged at the sound of that voice and the guy who had decided to take his time to interrupt her quiet journey. "It's a pleasure to see you." Jan was insufferable, and his snarky voice just showed the conversation wouldn't end with any compliments being exchanged.
Cassandra stopped in her tracks and glared daggers at him. The saying goes if looks could kill. "Can't say the same, to be honest."
The asshole snorted, because of course. She wasn't lying when she said the work environment was toxic. "Are you here to write that article about faking orgasms? Heard that's your thing now." Jan smirked.
"Yeah, I like to do research for my articles so why don't you tell your girlfriend to give me a call? I'm sure she knows a thing or two about faking orgasms." That seemed to be enough to get him to stop smirking at least.
Not waiting for him to retort to that, Cassandra resumed her way toward Hans' office. It was rather impressive she got fired for sleeping with a coworker and not for murdering one. Something about not looking pretty enough in jail.
Before knocking on the door to make her presence known, Cassandra took a deep breath and psyched herself. She was there because she was good, and if anything, Hans requiring her was more proof of it. Consider it, she remembered Abigail's words. She could do that, she could be civil and all of it.
Two knocks were all it took before she heard Hans' voice telling her to come in.
The man eagerly typed on his computer as she walked in, he didn't even spare her a glance and Cassandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hans always had the dullest expression on his face, even though sometimes he did look pissed. Right now he wasn't really giving her anything. Cassandra stood in the middle of the office and looked at him, waiting for him to stop doing what he was doing and pay attention to her.
One of his hands suddenly flew in the air, gesturing at the chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat, please."
She did as told and sat in one of the chairs, resting her hands on her lap and waiting for him to get it over with. It took a few seconds, but eventually, Hans stopped typing and took off his glasses. It was the same tired face she already knew. Sometimes he looked like Robert De Niro but if the actor absolutely hated his life. Cassandra wondered, not always, if his life outside the magazine was as miserable as he made it look from his expressions.
The situation was different from before. Every time Cassandra had been in that office, he had already prepared an entire speech about what she was doing right or wrong, most of the time it went more onto the wrong side. Besides, the last time she set foot there he welcomed her with a well-detailed employment termination letter.
Fun times.
Hans fixed her with a glare before he decided to finally open his mouth. "How are you?" He couldn't sound sourer even if he tried.
Cassandra shrugged. "I'm fine." She didn't ask back because they weren't there for the pleasantries and all that crap. "You wanted to talk, I'm here."
"Right, the article." Their phone call to set up the meeting had been no more than words of confirmation. No details or anything, just simple yes and okay. "We pitched this idea of an article for Formula 1 and got it accepted. I moved some of my contacts and managed to land an interview with the drivers for Red Bull Racing, one of them is the current World Champion. The team is based here in Milton Keynes." So Abigail wasn't so far off. Cassandra wished she could understand a word he was saying. If she took the job she would definitely have to do some deep research. "I want you to write the article. I'll pay you as an independent, or freelancer, whatever they call it nowadays, you choose how you charge."
The question burned her tongue. Why her? She wanted to ask but wouldn't give him the pleasure of believing she cared what he thought about her and her skills.
"I thought Jan always wrote those kinds of articles." She said it because it was true.
Hans sighed, rubbing his temple. "I have my best guys working with other stories, it's been a moving month what with launching the website and merging with the sports magazine, all of that has generated more traction for us. You know." She didn't know because he decided to fire her before everything took off. "It's good money, Cassandra." Hans didn't know she was living her best life as a nepotism baby in the editorial industry. Or that she was ashamed of that. "And it's important, you always wanted those articles when you worked here."
And yet she never got them. Cassandra bit her tongue to avoid saying that. No conflict.
"These guys, athletes or whatever, they can be very superficial and some lack that kind of interest we seek for a good story. Maybe they are just champagne, fancy cars and girls, who knows? But you have a way with words, and I believe you can get the best out of this." Was that a compliment or was she hallucinating? "And not making it boring, people also need something to indulge their curiosity."
Cassandra blinked. Was that his way to get her to do the job? Ass-kissing? "Who are the guys?" Not that she would know who they were just by getting their names, but she could start somewhere.
"Sebastian Vettel, the current champion, and Mark Webber." Yeah, she had no idea who they were. Cassandra definitely needed to get her head out of her ass and investigate more if she truly wanted to live up to the standards. "Gareth told me he told you about it, I thought you'd do a bit of research."
"I've been busy." She shrugged nonchalantly, knowing how much that upset him. The tight jaw betrayed him. And Gareth had been cryptid about it, just Formula 1. She wasn't a mind-reader. "What is the timeline?"
"I need you to do your research and give me a good structure for the article, once you have that you let me know and I work around for the interviews. It can be a bit tricky with their schedules but their PR team is already aware of the compromise." It was probably because of his contact. He had contacts everywhere. "I think you'd do a good job with this, and I trust you not making a big deal out of it." So he knew she was clueless and that was an advantage apparently. Hans doesn't want a biased opinion, she recalled Gareth's words.
She leaned back on her seat, putting on her best business face. "And what do you expect from this? Something gossipy or what? Do you want that factor?" Working with Hans had given Cassandra enough information to understand the way the man viewed their work. He liked good writing and things that made sense, but he also thrived on impact.
"I want something good, interesting, and that gets people to talk. This is an interview, an article, not a paid space to promote the team. No bias, the truth." Okay, so she was allowed to dig. That was what she got from that.
Cassandra sighed, well, it was interesting enough and a distraction, she reminded herself of that. "Alright, I'll do it." She could do it.
"Good." Not even a smile or anything like that, just a nod. "I'll get the contract delivered to your house, you can sign it and send it back."
"I don't need to work here, right?" Cassandra slightly furrowed her brows.
Hans narrowed his eyes for a bit but shook his head. "Work wherever you want, as long as you do as expected I don't care. Interviews might have to be here or at their place of preference."
"I'm okay with that." It was good. Great. Awesome.
On her way out of there, Cassandra opted for ignoring all the curious and less-than-pleasant looks she received from those who knew her. She made a huge sacrifice, but she could leave the building without flipping Jan off for being a complete twat. When she made it back to her car, Cassandra sighed deeply, resting her forehead on the steering wheel for a couple of minutes.
She needed that, getting back on track with writing would do her good. No matter if she knew fuck about what she was supposed to write about.
As always, Abigail was the first person she decided to contact.
Cassandra: Just finished talking to Hans, I took the offer
She typed and attentively stared at her phone until her friend replied. Thank God Abigail was a fast replier.
Abigail: Oh my God?? That's great!! You'd do amazing, I'm so sure :) should I buy a bottle of wine to celebrate when I get home?
Appealing for sure, she would never say no to wine. There wasn't much to celebrate, but a glass of something wouldn't kill her. Especially if she recalled everything she had been doing for the past month or so.
Cassandra: That sounds like a plan, but nothing to celebrate yet though, I still have to check what did I get into
At least she had paid attention to the few details Hans told her. Formula 1. Red Bull Racing. Sebastian Vettel. Mark Webber. Just a little homework like the good old days. God, she did miss that.
—-
Abigail downed the last of her wine and placed her glass on the floor, Cassandra looked up at her from her position resting on her friend's stomach, it was a bit relaxing. She didn't tell her, but Cassandra had missed her far more than she had imagined while Abigail was in Manchester. Although the fact she hadn't separated from her since she came back home should've told Abigail how much Cassandra missed her after she left. Ironically, getting it out in words wasn't exactly her speciality. At least not spoken words.
Her friend ran a hand through her hair, prompting her to just relax and put her phone down.
She glanced at her. "So, can I get a bit of insight on this article thing, or are you going to be cruel and keep it to yourself?" Abigail smiled down at her. Her hand brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
Cassandra looked up at her and rolled her eyes at the curiosity. "What do you want to know? It's an article, you know how those work." The countless times she had complained with Abigail while she worked at the magazine could be a perfect example of how everything worked behind the scenes.
"Come on," Abigail shook her head, still smiling. "Who are the lucky guys who will be of working with none other than Cassandra Ritter?" She always exaggerated everything just to give everyone a confidence boost. That's how nice Abigail was.
She blinked. "It's uh Sebastian Vettel, yeah, Sebastian Vettel, and his teammate, Mark Webber." She sounded rather proud of the fact she didn't forget their names.
Abigail stopped her hand and gasped. Cassandra frowned at the reaction. "Wait, wait, wait. The Red Bull team?"
"Uh yeah, Red Bull Racing or something." She said, the confusion getting to her. Was she trying to summon them or what? What with all the name-dropping.
"Oh my God. I thought you were going to interview one of the lower teams or something like that." Okay, Abigail had done more research than her...apparently. Fully noted.
"Yeah," Cassandra dragged the word. "I haven't looked up anything yet, so I'm pretty much blank. But it sounds good if you're impressed."
Her friend didn't say anything, instead, Abigail reached for her phone on the centre table — disturbing Cassandra's comfortable position much to her dismay — and started typing something. All Cassandra could do was stare at her weirdly and wait for whatever was coming next.
It turned out that the next thing coming was Abigail almost blinding her with the phone. Cassandra squinted at the brightness hitting her corneas and blinked to recover, she could notice Abigail was showing her a picture.
Then when she finally could focus on the picture without it looking blurry, her face changed completely, looking at one of the guys staring back at her from Abigail's phone screen. The suggestion that her friend needed to lower the brightness on her phone got stuck in her throat at the sight of the guy. He was wearing a navy blue cap and a polo shirt, and he seemed to be in the middle of a press conference or something along those sceneries, another man was sitting next to him.
What the fuck?
"That's Sebastian Vettel?" Cassandra asked, her eyes still glued to the screen.
Abigail screwed her face in confusion, most likely due to her tone. "Well, it literally says Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber on the search bar, so yeah one of them is definitely Sebastian Vettel." Cassandra kept staring at the picture. "Cassandra?"
"Oh shit." She simply said. Of course. Of fucking course. Why didn't she place all the frames together? What did she think? That the Sebastian population in Milton Keynes had increased?
Abigail pulled the phone away, forcing her to look at her. "What is going on?"
She peeled herself off from Abigail and sat straight on the couch. "I know him." Her finger pointed at the phone as if there was any more need for clarification of what they were talking about. "The blonde one, I know him."
"What?" Her lips parted in surprise. "Oh my God, Cassandra. Have you hooked up with him?"
"What?" She couldn't even pretend to be offended because that statement made sense. It was a reputation she had proudly gained over the years. "I didn't sleep with him!"
Abigail frowned. "Then?"
Cassandra chewed on her lip. "That's the—it's the guy. I mean, the owner of the car I hit the other day." She should've checked all those insurance papers better. Why didn't you check the insurance papers?
And then after those words, Abigail started cackling, loud and intense. Cassandra could feel the vibrations of her laugh from where their legs were touching. She frowned because yeah, although the situation seemed a bit hilarious, she didn't expect that to be the reaction from her.
Her friend wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to calm her laughter down. Cassandra felt like she could murder her. If anything, her eyes were pretty much expressing those feelings.
"You hit—" Abigail cleared her throat, trying to stop her little giggles. "You hit a professional racing driver's car. It is a very Cassandra situation, to be honest." She didn't know if she should feel offended by that or not. "How did you not know he was Sebastian Vettel?" Yeah, Abigail was trying really hard not to burst into trembling laughter again.
Cassandra frowned. "I didn't even know racing cars was a sport! How was I supposed to know he existed and was famous or whatever?" She barely knew football and rugby and it was because they lived in the freaking UK. "I can't do the article now." She stated with a serious tone.
That seemed to take Abigail out of her joking mood. Her friend rested on her elbows and fixed her with a glare. "Why not? You already told Hans that you'd do it."
"I haven't signed anything yet," Cassandra replied rather defensively. "And the guy's going to think it was intentional. Well, if he remembers."
"You're unforgettable, love." Cassandra glared daggers at her. "I mean, you crashed his car, I wouldn't forget that." She took the nearest cushion and threw it at Abigail. "And what if he thinks it was intentional? You solved things, it's not like he can sue you for something that's already solved. Don't be dramatic." It was hard for Cassandra to be the recipient of the 'don't be dramatic' bit when she always used it for Abigail. "How did you end up in the same place as Sebastian Vettel anyway?" There it was...curiosity.
"I was hooking up with..." She shut her mouth before even finishing that sentence.
The idea of actually telling Abigail what had happened with the car had come solely because it was their shared car, if Cassandra could've avoided telling her about the whole incident she would've never opened her mouth. Abigail was dramatic. So her explanation had been simple: oh I was leaving a parking lot and accidentally hit another car. No more details about where that parking lot was or anything else.
The thing about her relationship — or more like situationship — with Matteo of all people was that...Abigail had her judgements about it. Mainly because the guy was...well he used to be one of her professors in university — Abigail was heavy on saying Cassandra had gotten groomed by him, which Cassandra constantly denied saying it was consensual and she was of age when everything started. There was also the fact he was engaged. With someone else.
It was bad, and she had admitted she was a bad person for sleeping with someone who was probably getting married in a year and had a considerable eight-year age difference with her, but she wasn't as smart at decision making and the guy was the easiest no-strings-attached person she'd ever had. They had history. Plus, she did meet him before his fiancé did. Cassandra was aware that wasn't an excuse and the meeting circumstances weren't ideal but still.
Abigail narrowed her eyes. "Who were you hooking up with?"
Obviously, Cassandra and Sebastian Vettel were not in the same financial or social bracket, no matter how much her father's royalties gave her, and also, they were from opposite ends of the line. She didn't even know his sport was a sport in the first place. To have a person in common with each other would be an almost impossible casualty.
"Just some random lad I met at the pub." She muttered, hoping it was enough for Abigail to just fuck off. "We went back to his flat and yeah, Sebastian Vettel lived there as well. Such a tragic coincidence." It was a half-truth.
Abigail was clearly smart enough to see how poor that whole story sounded, and Cassandra wasn't as good at lying to her as she liked to believe.
"Interesting, I wonder what kind of pubs you visit to find guys who can afford the same flats a Formula 1 driver can." There was really only one person in their social circle who could exist in the same dimension as a famous Formula 1 driver...champion, actually. That person was Matteo. "You're sleeping with that twat again, aren't you?" Earning Abigail's disappointed looks was not something she was proud of. "Cassandra." Her friend shook her head. Okay, she knew the whole process.
Cassandra looked at her. It was worse if she backed down. "It was just one time!" That was a lie. Abigail didn't need to know that. "It was more like a...quickie." That was also a lie. Nothing about that night had been a quickie.
Abigail was definitely not buying anything she was saying anyway. "You don't do quickies with that dickhead." True, or with anyone else for that matter. "Cassandra, he's not a good man! He took advantage of you, and have you ever thought about the poor idiot who is going to marry that dunce? Don't you feel a bit bad for doing that to her?"
"I'm not the one in a relationship with her. He's the one cheating on her." That was a poor excuse and she knew it.
"But you know she exists, which doesn't make you a good person either." Ouch, that hurt. True, but it hurt. "And on top of that, whatever attachment you have to that idiot is not healthy. It's weird, and I love you, but I just don't understand why you keep doing this. You can get any guy you want. That rich arsehole shouldn't even be in your line of sight." Cassandra could sense that she wanted to call him some specific words. Even though she had received a few similar speeches from Abigail in the past, her friend seemed genuinely done with her this time.
Cassandra sighed. She could live without Matteo, she just needed another idiot who would be willing to be so down to be with her no matter what and when she wanted. "Fine, I promise I'll stop my thing with him." He wasn't as special as a snowflake, he was just easy.
"You said that the last time as well, and the time before that, and so on," Abigail told her accusingly.
Okay, she wasn't a nun, sue her.
She took her phone and gave it to Abigail. "Delete his number, or block it, I don't know. My memory isn't good enough to remember it, and I won't make a great effort to get with him again." Abigail looked at her, she hesitantly took the phone and did as told. "I'm sorry for being the worst person in the world." And she smiled, sincerely, because she was sorry for putting Abigail through a lot of headaches.
"There are fascists in the world, you're not even the worst." Her friend rolled her eyes. "You're just the worst person I know." Her lips tugged into a smile. That meant they were good. "But seriously, stop doing this to yourself." Abigail pointed her finger as a warning. Cassandra raised her hands in self-defence. "And don't drop the article. If he thinks you were stalking him for it, it'll be alright. It's just a one-time thing anyway."
Hans would also hang her to the nearest tree if she just dropped the deal out of a sudden. Most likely the guy wouldn't remember the incident, although as Abigail had said, she did crash his car and that was hard to forget. There was really no harm done, aside from the situation being incredibly embarrassing.
Cassandra suddenly wrinkled her nose, remembering. "I told him he was shitty at parking."
Abigail chuckled again but stopped rather quickly when Cassandra threw a death glare her way. "You're so charming, Cass." She joked.
Cassandra reached to pull her hair but they just ended in a messy fight of arms. In the end, Abigail came victorious and she pushed Cassandra back to her space on the sofa. She huffed a strand of hair out of her face and narrowed her eyes at Abigail who was smiling widely.
"He seemed alright, I mean he didn't yell at me when I hit his car." Or maybe it was because he had another car and he didn't give a shit.
"Aha, charming." Abigail raised an eyebrow. "He looks fine. They look fine. You shouldn't have any problem with this."
"If I prepare myself it can't go terribly, right?" Abigail shook her head. She knew shit about Formula 1 and already had an altercation with one of the guys she was supposed to do a profile for the article. It couldn't go wrong. Not at all. "I can do it." It seemed like she was trying to convince herself really hard.
Her friend grinned. "You can." She confirmed.
It couldn't get more awkward than hitting Sebastian's car and questioning his abilities at the wheel anyway. She had already done that, she would survive a few jokes about it or questioning looks.