Chapter Three

Yes, I was really happy in London. Although I didn’t always understand their strange accent and some words, I felt pretty satisfied with the situation I had gotten myself into. I had new partners who bought some of my pictures, or put them up in a gallery, and I composed a lot.

Two weeks after I had moved in, I wrote an e-mail to Diane.

Dear Diana,

You probably don’t (want to) know that I exist, but yes, I’m your daughter, Cassandra Olivers. You had abandoned me and my dad, James Olivers, when I was born, remember?

I don’t want to make any wrong assumptions about you, so why wouldn’t we just meet somewhere, so we could talk and straighten things out a little. I would like to get to know you closer, maybe it would help me to cope with the ugly truth.

Let’s meet in Starbucks on Oxford Street, okay? Tomorrow, 11^th December at 13.00.

Write me back as soon as you can,

Best Regards

Cassandra Olivers

I couldn't but accuse her a few times in the short letter. Well, she answered me a few hours later. My heart accelerated and my palms turned damp as I started reading.

Dear Cassandra,

Thank you for your e-mail. No, I don’t want to meet you. Never.

Best Regards,

Diana Cross

I stared blankly at the screen. She was a coward. She didn't want to meet me, but I wanted to meet her. Shit, and I had hoped that we would get on easily. Alright, I thought angrily, let’s make it extreme.

The very next day I drove my new black Porsche to her house. It was an old house, but it looked like it had been renovated lately. The city district was rather poor and the neighbors looked at my car suspiciously. I took a look in the mirror, saw my bright blue eyes sparkling back, sighed and got out of the car.

It was pretty cold outside, but I was so excited that I didn’t feel the cool wind blowing against my cheeks.

I went through the frozen garden and knocked on the door. First, I thought that no one would open. But then the door opened and a handsome boy looked at me lazily and yawned.

-What do you want?-he blurted out in a deep voice, looking at me with no interest.

-Um, hi. I would like to see your mom, Diana. Is she at home?-

He looked a bit surprised.

-Yeah, she’s at home. Come in, I’ll tell her that you came. What’s your name?-

I struggled a few seconds. Should I tell him the truth? Maybe Diana would send me away if she knew that I came.

-Cassandra Olivers,-I said.

He led me into the foyer, which was full of winter boots, scarves, hats and other stuff.

-Okay, wait here.-he said an scuffed his feet on the worn red carpet.

It smelled of coffee and tobacco in this old house. I assumed that Henry was a smoker, because Diana, I had read the notes after all, was more or less allergic to nicotine.

Then Derek came back and looked absolutely confused.

-Err…she said she doesn’t want to see you.- he said, looking at me with a million questions in his eyes. His tiredness had vanished.

I had prepared myself for that one.

-Alright, thank you, anyway.-I said and went out of the door.

-Who are you?- he yelled as I was already on the street.

I looked at him and smiled.

-Your sister. Ask your mom someday about it. I bet she’ll tell you. You should know that your mother isn’t as perfect as she seems to be. Gotta go!-

As I pulled off, I saw Derek staring at me. Or maybe at my car. However, he looked impressed. The living room curtain moved a little bit. I smiled.

I was absolutely sure that Derek won’t leave his mother alone until he finds out the truth. I also left a business card on the table in the foyer. Now all I had to do was wait.

And not too long.

Already two days later, in the afternoon, when I was writing the lyrics to a new song, the doorbell rang.

I looked surprised at my watch and hurried to the door. It was half past nine in the evening.

I turned on the soft light and opened the heavy door.

It was Diana.

She looked calm, but I could see her anger under the smooth Poker Face.

We measured each other for a few moments.

-Here I am, Cassandra.- she said.

-Come in, Diana. Lets have a talk.-I said and let her in.

She didn’t look surprised that I knew who she was. Well, the external likeness was simply too obvious.

As I led her in, I saw her old gray Volvo outside.

Her eyes grew big, when she saw the furniture and the luxury of my new home.

After she had hung up her old coat, I led her into the living room.

By the sight of the huge LCD TV, she wrinkled her nose. She obviously didn’t like that I was rich.

I sat in the chair, she sat me across on the sofa.

We measured each other for a long moment. Then she sighed and said:

-You wanted to talk to me.-

-Yes.-

-About what?-

I suppressed an ogle. Wasn't my action obvious enough?!

-Why did you leave us?-I asked as friendly as I could.

-I was 21, I wanted to party, to have fun. Then I met James. His eyes had the same stunning blue shade as yours do. I fell in love with him. But when I got pregnant, I hated him, you and myself for being so reckless and stupid. I didn’t want to be a mom and I still don’t regret that I left you both. The next time I got pregnant, I was 28 and wanted to have a child. That’s all.- her tone was completely emotionless, as if she was talking about weather, not abandoning her newborn baby.

I looked at her in disgust.

-I was your very first child. I missed a mom. You simply...left me.- I whispered, angry tears welling up in my eyes.

She looked at me, her face unreadable. Then she shrugged.

-Is this all?- she asked, looking at her watch.

I gasped in exasperation. How cold can a person be, for God's sake?! I stared at her, trying hard to suppress my flaring temper.

-By the way, how’s James?- she asked, looking out of the window.

-As if you’d care. Go home. Leave my house. Now.- I whispered, standing up.

She shrugged, put on her coat and got out on the porch.

As she started to walk down the stairs, I said loudly:

-James Olivers died a month ago.-

She stopped in mid-step.

-Dead?- she asked, looking at me in surprise.

I grid my teeth together, threw a furious glance at her and closed the door.

I slid down the wall and cried. All the tears, the pain and the fury screamed to get out of me. I cried for a very long time. As I finally stopped sobbing, it was already night.

After the depthless sorrow and pain started to get muted, new feelings crushed on me.

Fury, anger, humiliation, need for revenge.

I sat there on the soft carpet in my foyer and a plan began to form itself in my head.

Obviously, she didn’t like that I was rich and successful. What if I would be famous as well? What if I would be in magazines and TV? Would she be able to handle it? Will it hurt that her own children aren’t that famous and loved?

An evil smile spread on my face. I already knew how to realize my plan.

* * *

-And now, greet our guest. She is only 23, but already famous in Europe, America, where she’s from, and of course in Great Britain! Her brand new song “As if you’d never been there” has been Nr.1 in almost all British, European and American radio stations for the last four weeks! Welcome, C-O alias Cassandra Olivers!-

An earsplitting applause and cheers crashed against my ears.

The flashlights blinded me.

I got slowly and elegantly on the stage, right in the middle of the flashlight and waved at the roaring public.

I shook the host's hand, his eyes glued to my cleavage. Typical men.

We sat into the cozy armchairs in the middle of the stage. The applause faded slowly.

I smoothed my emerald dress and looked at him expectantly.

-Well, how does it feel to be famous? - He asks, as the applause finally ceased.

-A pretty new feeling. But I can handle it. - I answered, smiling at him my most glorious smile.

He swallowed a bit nervously, but nobody but me noticed.

-That’s good, because most of the newcomers lose their mind after getting famous. I’m sure that everyone wants to know how you wrote the song. It has got a nice beat, but at the same time it’s so peaceful, almost sad. Who or what inspired you?-

I thought for a second. Then I looked straight in the camera.

-My father. He was an unusual, unique and a very inspiring man. The beat in my song – that was the rhythm of his life. Fast, happy. But underneath there was a sadness that no one could understand.-

-A lost love?-he asked smiling mischievously.

I shrugged.

-He never told me. Now and then this ancient sadness would float on the surface of his mind and I could sense it.-I said and smiled pleasantly.

Nobody but one noticed I was lying. One, who most probably was trying to forget my existence.

He nodded and checked the next question he had on his paper.

-Why did you decide to live in England? I mean, everyone says that the States are the place to find a bright future.-he asked and looked at me with his light green eyes.

-You know, I’m not sure. I guess that some part of me had always wanted to see the “Americas relative”-country. But also the obvious peace and control that this country has. For example, the paparazzi’s don’t chase me down the street as soon as they see me, like it was in NY when I was there two weeks ago.-

The public snickered. I didn’t mean that sentence to be funny, but I also smiled.

The host checked his next question.

An hour later I was sitting in my Porsche, driving home.

I was absolutely drained. It had been very difficult months.

After Diana visited me, I finished a new song. Well, I asked Jen to find me the best producer in England. Keath Jackson alias KJ called me two hours after my conversation with Jen back.

I was pretty surprised that KJ was so interested in me and my work and that he was ready to meet me the very next day. He was jubilant as he heard me singing the song. Two weeks later I sang it as a warm-up for a very famous band. KJ assured me that the applause for me had been much louder than for the band itself.

I wrote my debut album with 9 songs on it three weeks after I had my first debut concert. My bright blue eyes became my label. Even the cover of the CD were my eyes.

The success was tremendous.

Two weeks later my album was the in the top 10 of the month. Then it was the first in the top 10 of the month. My songs were played everywhere-in the TV during some commercials, in the radio, in the supermarkets, absolutely everywhere.

So Diana had to listen to them willingly or unwillingly.

I was absolutely sure that she hated me more than ever. But now she suffered, too.

I yawned and smiled, satisfied, parked next to my house and got out in the warm afternoon air.

As I closed the driver door, I saw a red bike leaning against my fence. I ignored it and got into my garden.

Then I saw Derek, who sat on the steps.

-Hey Derek!- I said, surprised.

-Hey Cassandra.-he said and stood up.

I closed the gate and got to him.

-How are you?-I asked, honestly worried.

He looked awful. He had dark shadows under his eyes and his face and posture screamed “Drained!” at me.

-Fine, thanks.-he muttered and stood up as if to leave.

-So what brings you here?- I asked before he could decide to go.

He looked at me suspiciously. Then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

-I…I wanted to talk to you.-he said, unsure and opened his eyes slowly.

-Alright, let’s go into the house. Although it’s already May, it’s still pretty cold here, isn’t it?-

-Yeah, not like America, huh?-he asked, smirking weakly.

I looked at him with a pleased smile and nodded, opening the door. At least I was able to cheer him up.

He looked at everything with huge eyes. I took off the high heels and the dress got automatically too long.

We got into the kitchen. He was really impressed by the house, I could see it.

-Would you like some tea?- I asked.

-Sure.-he said and sat down behind the breakfast table.

A few minutes later I sat next to him and reached him his cup. We drank our tea in silence for a while.

-I’m sorry to interrupt your businesses like this.-he finally said.

-No problem, I have nothing special to do today.- I assured him, although I wasn’t sure if you could call an interview and a photo session with the Vogue in the evening a “nothing special”.

-I wanted to talk about my mom.-he said, looking at me attentively.

I stiffened and cleared my throat.

-I’m not sure that I can tell you a lot about her. I don’t really know her, after all.-I said quietly.

-I know. Just, I wanted to ask: are you really my sister?-he asked quietly, as if the low volume of his voice would ease the word's meaning.

I looked in his amazingly rich green eyes and nodded.

He sighed.

-Is that bad?- I asked.

-Oh no, no, of course not. Just my mom wouldn’t talk to me about you. In the last few months, since you came here, she was acting really weird. Every time she hears you singing, she turns off the TV or the radio. She has ripped out and thrown away the articles in the magazines about you. She doesn’t get out of the house anymore, except for work. She’s absentminded all the time.- he said, looking in his cup.

I was about to laugh out loud triumphantly. But Derek was really worried. That calmed me down and made me more serious than I wanted.

-I've got the feeling she's planning something. Something big.-he whispered in his cup. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. He looked at me, a bit terrified, as if he had said way too much.

-Doesn't matter. So what's the story with you and Mom?-he asked.

I put my hand on his and looked deep in his eyes, trying to foresee his reaction.

-Listen, Derek. After she’d given birth to me, she abandoned me and my dad. The worst part is that she doesn’t regret it at all.-

-How do you know?-he mumbled, slightly shocked.

-She was here a few days after I had visited her at home. She told me how it all began. She wanted to party and to have fun and not sit at home with the crying baby. She hated me for ruining her life. So she left us. Tried to forget us. And then, 23 years later, her own daughter visits her at home. The awful memory she had always repressed turning into reality. Her daughter is famous, lives a luxurious life and she lives in a tiny house and drives an old Volvo. I think that then, for a second, she regretted that she had left my dad. He had a very good job and she probably imagined what would her life had been like if she had stayed with him forever. Luxurious life, nice cars, cool dresses, famous friends. Haven’t you ever noticed how she looks at rich people? Like she’d have a grudge against them, right?-I guessed.

Derek nodded. Bingo.

-You’re right. She really misses a luxurious life. But dad is...was a cab driver and she is a teacher. You don’t get much money on those jobs.- he said.

I nodded and drank a bit of my soon-cold tea.

-I'm sorry for your loss. I...I researched a bit about you.-he said and blushed, squeezing my hand gently.

I smiled gratefully and stood up to take out some of the cookies Hannah had made me lately.

-How’s school?- I asked.

He shrugged.

-Nothing special. I’m a good student, you know, but…-

He trailed off and looked at me in embarrassment.

-You’re not popular?-I guessed.

His knuckles went white as he squeezed his cup and looked at the delicious cookies as if they were a state's enemy.

I waited for him to say something. But he didn’t look like he would talk to me about it.

-Don’t worry.- I said, smiling at him upon my cup.

I had a plan.

I was sure that Diana would hate me for doing it, but I had to save Derek’s school memories.

Next day, in the morning, I drove to his school. I was just in time – the lunch break had just begun.

I noticed him almost immediately. The picture I saw made me almost jump out of my car.

Derek laid on his face in the grass and some huge boys were standing next to him.

Oh crap.

I went through the gate and then a blond girl yelled:

-Look! It’s C-O !!!-

Right, my pseudonym.

I was surrounded by a crowd immediately.

Ah, the fame, I thought sourly.

I gave autographs to everyone who wanted. Then I saw Derek standing ten feet away from me. He looked surprised. His lip was bleeding a bit, but he obviously didn’t care.

I took off my sunglasses and looked at him. Thank God I’m a good actress.

-Derek! There you are!-I yelled and pushed myself through the crowd. Then I shortly hugged him and smiled a gleaming smile at him.

-Hey, Cassy- he said, smiling, too.

-Here, I brought you the iPhone you forgot yesterday.- I said, giving the brand new phone to him.

Thank God he was a good actor, too.

-Oh yeah, sorry. I thought I’d lost it. How are ya?- he asked, taking the phone with a smug smile.

-Fine, but now I have to run, the Vogue is waiting for the photo shoot.-Well, it didn't matter the shoot was already yesterday.

The same blond girl who recognized me, asked in a totally shocked tone:

-You know Derek-the-nerd?-

I looked at the girl in disgust.

-Derek-the-nerd? At least I’m not surprised. You don’t seem smart enough to think out a proper name. He is my brother, Blondy.- I said, looking at her with a killing glare.

The girl winced and blushed.

-Bye, Derek, see ya on Saturday-I said.

-Bye Cassy. Thanks again.- he said and winked at me.

I got into my car and as I pulled away, I saw that the crowd was surrounding Derek.

Mission completed.

On Saturday there was a Red-carpet-event. I decided to take Derek with me. After all, he was totally handsome, needed some fame and, of course, was charming and elegant.

The event was in the evening, so in the afternoon we met and started immediately with our shopping tour. I bought us some new outfits. Well, Derek was in the start absolutely against it, but when I told him to shut up, he did, but mumbled something like “waste of money” and “Mom will kill me”.

I bought myself a dress that was bright yellow and reached down to my ankles. I told the shop assistant to clothe Derek properly, so that we would match, and give me a clue about the accessories I should wear.

We looked stunning.

The next few weeks changed Derek’s life. The people recognized him on the streets, all the women who met him, tried to flirt with him. He was famous and beloved.

Then I pulled back for a while, wrote a couple of songs and sold some paintings.

Only one thing bothered me. Why hadn’t I still seen Jasmine?

I asked Derek about her. He said that Mom is furious that he gets on with me and that she keeps Jasmine away from him and, of course, me.

I was shocked. I wasn’t contaminative, for Gods sake!

I was only…famous.