Page 21 of Just Business

Cassie

You know I do for you.

With shaky hands I click on her contact, swallowing hard and mustering up all the courage I’ve got. She answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Aussie. You doing okay?” Aussie is the nickname she gave me when she was a toddler. She couldn’t quite say my name right, and it came out sounding more like Aussie. The nickname stuck. “I’ve been hoping to hear from you.”

I sigh with relief because her voice holds no hint of anger in it. She has every right to stay mad after the fight we had, but I should’ve known she wouldn’t hang onto it. That's not the kind of person my sister is.

“Yeah, Cass. I might be better than okay,” I admit. “I know I haven't even been here a full forty-eight hours, but this place is special. I can’t really explain it. My head feels quiet, ya know?”

“You sound different.” Her voice is thick with emotion.

“Yeah, I just might find a piece of myself I’ve been missing here.” We talk for a few minutes about the town, and she laughs when I tell her about Jackson’s crush on me.

I tell her what I know about the studio, but when I mention Penny, she cuts me off. “Wait, wait, wait—back up. The studio owner is a woman?” she asks, her voice rising with surprise.

Back when my label approached me, Cassie started looking into the business practices of record labels across the country. She’s all about opportunities for women, so she was quick to give me all the stats and data on how few women owned studios and record labels. Since then, the music industry has seen more woman-owned studios pop up here and there, but it's still overwhelmingly run by men.

“Yes, you’d love her. She’s funny and kind but she’s also assertive, and from what I can tell, she seems to be pretty stubborn.”

“You’ve learned all this from one day in the studio for a few hours?”

After explaining the motel situation and Penny’s offer to let me stay here, I tell her about our evening together around town. Cassie goes quiet, but then breaks the silence with laughter. “Austin Ryan James, do you have a crush? Are you smitten?”

“Gimme a break. I’m thirty-four years old. Grown men don’t have crushes.” I scoff. “It’s only been a day, and who the hell says smitten? We’re colleagues.” I'm sure my sister isn’t buying it because even I don't believe my words.

“Hmm,” she hums. “Just be careful. Try not to lose focus on why you’re there. You’re not the best at dealing with your crap, ya know?”

“I won’t lose focus. I promise,” I say, hoping she hears the truth in my voice.

“Okay, well, I know you’re there to get a breather, but nothing will change without some professional help. People like you and me don’t bounce back easily from all we went through. Have you considered my offer to help you find a good therapist? Lots of them do telehealth now. Maybe you could work that into your downtime.”

For the first time ever, I actually consider her suggestion. “Sure. Send me some names. I’d appreciate that.”

The love I have for my sister overwhelms me sometimes. We’re probably closer than most siblings because of everything we went through before Aunt Ashley finally talked our mom into letting us move in with her and Uncle Brad. We’ve always felt like it was us against the world.

Finally, I broach a subject that I’m sure neither of us wants to talk about. “You heard from Mom lately?”

“Nope. I can’t remember the last time I did. Aunt Ashley says she’s ashamed and shame makes people do strange things.”

My aunt always told me the exact same thing. My feelings about my mother are complicated. I realize she’s the victim of my father’s abuse—and still is—but my sister and I witnessed things no child should have to see. I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t beating up on her, and she’s never had the strength to get out. Even today, she continues to live in the nightmare that was my childhood.

Cassie and I have said many times that we don’t know what would have happened if Uncle Brad hadn’t shown up that night to get us. It was only a matter of time before we were his next victims. It’s to the point now that Mom avoids us, and if it weren’t for the occasional calls to Aunt Ashley, I’m not sure we’d even know if she was alive or not.

I’ve tried calling hundreds of times, and those calls always end in disaster. Without fail, my father answers her phone and asks for money. When I refuse, he reminds me how worthless I am and tells me that one day I’ll be exactly like him. When the first negative articles about me hit, he was all too quick to call from my mom’s phone and let me know he was right about how I'd turn out. It was like a double whammy. I still remember the surge of hope at seeing her name on my screen—then the crushing blow when his voice came through instead. That’s when my whole downhill spiral began and it’s been a vicious cycle ever since.

Closing my eyes, I shove those thoughts down for today.

“What have you been up to?” I ask, changing the subject. Cassie used to have tons of friends and a full calendar with them. But about two years ago, she started dating Alan, the attention whore, and it seems like she’s been forcing herself to be less than so he can always be more. My sister is this wonderful, brilliant human who refuses to use her therapy knowledge on herself when it comes to him.

She’s telling me about Alan’s new gym he opened when I let out an involuntary growl.

“Austin, I know he’s not your cup of tea. Alan has his issues, but I love him. I’ve learned to look past them, and I wish you would, too.”

But that’s just it. Cassie shouldn’t have to look past his issues. She deserves more than that.

“You know I think you’re the greatest sister, human, everything. I want you to have the world,” I rake a hand through my hair, frustration seeping into my words.

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