Cassie shook the vision from her head, letting the spray of the water rinse the day’s sweat and frustrations from her body. Of course she knew Allie was a remarkable actress. Her talent was obvious. That wasn’t the issue, nor really was Cassie’s lack of success. The problem was their relationships with Jenna. Both daughters had “mommy issues” where Jenna Hughes was concerned. Never had it been more obvious than the last time the sisters had collided, the night before Allie’s disappearance. Cassie had made the fateful mistake of wanting to discuss the tweaks to the script of Dead Heat before the final day of the reshoot. Allie had already voiced her concerns, after all Cassie had a bit part in the movie and hadn’t written the script, but both the writer and director had liked the subtle change. Sure, Allie had lost a little screen time and Cassie, cast as the heroine’s sister-in-law, had picked up those precious minutes.
Allie had perceived it, as always, as a way for Cassie to garner favor at Allie’s expense.
All of which was a lie.
Cassie had driven to her sister’s Portland residence through the driving rain, second-guessing herself, all the while wondering if she’d made a huge mistake. As the windshield wipers struggled with a deluge from the heavens, Cassie had squinted against the glare of headlights and told herself she needed to have it out with her sibling once and for all. She’d intended to straighten out any misconceptions and had hoped beyond hope that all their adolescent insecurities and unresolved issues would be put to bed.
What a pipe dream!
The meeting started off rocky as it was immediately obvious that Allie had somewhere else she would rather be. Though she didn’t admit as much, she’d continually glanced at the decorative clock mounted in the dining area. At least three times she received texts on her cell phone. She responded quickly to them, all the while trying to end her conversation with Cassie.
“This isn’t a good time,” she said even before admitting Cassie into the suite. “I’m really tired.” As Cassie hung her dripping jacket over the arm of a modern hall tree, she added, “I just haven’t been feeling all that well.” A lie. One she didn’t bother keeping up herself as she offered Cassie a glass of red wine. Cassie had declined while Allie poured herself a hefty glassful. From the open bottle on the table, Cassie guessed it wasn’t her first drink of the evening.
It was after eight when they started the conversation. Cassie said, “I wanted to talk about the change to the script.”
“What’s done is done. Everyone including Arnette is on board.” Allie had sounded so damned flippant.
“Everyone but you.”
“Yeah, well, who cares what I think? I’m just the lead.” She buried her nose in her drink and took a long swallow.
As Allie glowered from a position near the windows, Cassie had tried to explain why she’d rewritten the scene, how the little change had improved the ending and added to her character’s motive and—
“It’s all bullshit!” Allie cut her off. She stalked to the bar separating the kitchen from the dining area and poured herself another glass. “This is not about adding to the movie, it’s about getting the last word. Literally.” She jammed the cork into the bottle and picked up her glass. “So you can feel good about yourself.”
“No, that’s not why—”
“Of course it is!” She took back her position near the floor-to-ceiling windows. One arm wrapped around her slim waist, the other tipping her glass to her lips, she eyed her sister. “It’s always what it’s about.” Rain drizzled down the windows behind her, blurring the lights of the city and distorting the faded reflection of the interior.
“Why do you always make this a competition?” Cassie demanded, growing irritated.
“Because it fucking is. Always.” Another long gulp.
“Only if you make it—”
“No, if you make it one. It’s you, Cassie. Always you who pushes me.” She was getting agitated, her eyes avoiding Cassie’s, her lips twisted down. “Face it. You’re selfish and self-centered and . . . mean.”
Cassie struggled to hold her tongue, glancing meaningfully at the pictures of Allie lining the walls, shelves, and slim wooden mantel mounted over the stones of the fireplace.
“Don’t even go there,” Allie sniped.
But it was too late. Cassie rose to the bait. “Yeah? Well, it sure sounds as if you’re describing yourself.”
Allie’s eyes flashed. “You’re just jealous. I made it big. And that bothers you. That I’m a . . .”
“Star?” Cassie interjected as Allie, in an uncharacteristic bout of humility, couldn’t finish what was obviously on the tip of her tongue.
Allie hesitated. “Well, yeah, I guess I’m a celebrity.”
“You guess?”
“What about you? You’re a . . .” She shrugged dramatically, letting the incomplete sentence hang in the air as she took a long swallow from her glass.
“Say it,” Cassie encouraged as her own temper had flared hotter. “I’m a what?”
Allie remained quiet.
Cassie advanced, stepping around a chair. “A what?” she said again.