32. Thirty-Two

Thirty-Two

Cass

The ride back to the hotel feels like an eternity. The car is quiet except for the hum of the tires on the pavement, but my mind is anything but. Today has been relentless, brutal—back-to-back interviews and guest appearances, each one brimming with speculation: about Kendrick, about Cassidy, about every corner of my life. And I wasn’t allowed to say a damn word.

Derrick’s plan to keep my personal life under wraps feels like a straitjacket. Stick to the script, he said. But the script doesn’t work anymore. I’m done performing for everyone else.

By the time I reach my room, my exhaustion is bone-deep. The door closes with a heavy thud, and I fling my jacket over the nearest chair. The air inside feels stale, suffocating. I stride to the window, wrench it open, and let the cool night breeze spill in, cutting through the heaviness.

Grabbing my phone, I scroll through the endless messages and notifications. Derrick’s name flashes a few times, no doubt berating me about how the interviews went. I don’t bother opening them. Instead, I wearily strip and crawl naked into bed.

Glancing at the clock, I realize that it’s late back on the East Coast. Did Kendrick remember our sexting date? Just the thought stirs new life in me, and with a smirk, I settle back against the pillows and eagerly tap out a message to Kendrick.

‘What are you wearing?’

Instead of a text, she sends me a photo. As a sexy image of Kendrick in a black lace getup wearing a garter belt and sheer stockings comes across my screen, my body instantly hardens, and I let out a low groan.

‘Damn, you look hot!’

‘Are you in bed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Naked?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Smiling emoji - I think you’re naked!’

‘You’re right. Are you in bed?’

‘Yes.’

Suddenly, wanting to hear her voice, I swiftly dial her number.

Picking up, she answers, “Cass? I thought we were sexting.”

I let out a sigh of frustration. “I want to be there with you, but since I’m not–I at least want to talk to you. Hear your voice.” I confess in a rueful voice, “Besides, I got tired of typing.’

Kendrick gives a light laugh, “Me, too,” she admits.

“I like what you’re wearing,” I say huskily.

“Good. I bought it for you,” she tells me softly.

“Touch yourself.”

A moment later. “Okay, where?”

“Your breast. Your nipple. Lick your fingertip and then circle your nipple.” I wait, my imagination going wild. “Are you doing it?” I ask hoarsely.

“Uh-huh, and I’m thinking of you, imagining you touching me there.” She sounds breathless. The visual image I get of her following my demands in that getup drives me wild.

“Cass?”

“Yeah?” I respond gruffly.

“Are you… touching yourself?”

“Yes, I’m stroking my dick.”

“And you’re thinking… of me?”

“Yeah, baby. About how hot you look right now. It’s turning me on.”

“Me, too.”

I continue to whisper sexy instructions into the phone, and she does the same. As I hear her start to pant, I squeeze my eyes shut, stroking myself faster.

“Cass, I’m… I’m…”

“Come for me, Kendrick. Now,” I grit out and hear a soft whimper through the line. I almost drop the phone as I imagine how she must look.

“Cass, are you?”

“Almost… yes! Kendrick,” I say her name with a growl as I explode in my hand.

Silence then. “Was it good for you?” she asks softly.

“Yeah. I’m picturing you–you’re so beautiful when you come,” I whisper softly.

“I wish you were here, Cass,” she whispers back.

“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”

Silence.

“Damn!” I mumble.

“What’s wrong?”

“I ah… made a mess. I need to take a shower,” I admit with a grin.

“Oh. I understand.” I hear her soft laughter through the phone. “Goodnight, Cass. Dream of me.”

“Good night, beautiful. I’ll see you soon.”

The next morning, I feel better after sharing this sexy, intimate moment with Kendrick. There’s a clarity in my mind, a certainty about what comes next. The weight I’ve carried for years is lifting, piece by piece.

But I still have decisions to make.

I scroll through my contacts, my thumb hesitating over Emily’s name before I tap it. If anyone will understand the changes I’m making, it’s her.

“Cass!” Emily’s voice is warm and familiar. “What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be jet-setting or something?”

“Jet-setting’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” I say with a chuckle. “Listen, I need to talk to you about a few things.”

She immediately picks up on my serious tone. “What’s going on? Everything okay with Kendrick and Cassidy?”

“Yeah, they’re great. Better than great, actually. I’m just… reevaluating a lot of things.”

There’s a pause before Emily’s voice softens. “Big decisions, huh? Do they involve Derrick?”

I laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “He’s definitely on that list.”

“Good,” she says knowingly. “Derrick’s always been about the image, not the person. You need someone who gets who you are now, not who you were ten years ago.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m calling. I want you to take over. Be my manager.”

Emily sputters. “Me? Cass, are you serious? That’s a big job.”

“Exactly. You’re smart, you’ve got the skills, and you know me better than anyone. You went to school for this. Hell, you graduated top of your class. And let’s not forget, you’ve seen firsthand how Derrick operates. You could do this in your sleep.”

“Cass…” she trails off, uncertainty lacing her tone.

“I need someone I can trust,” I press on. “Someone who understands that my family comes first. Derrick never could, but you—you’re the only one who can help me balance this career and the life I want.”

She hesitates, but I hear her resolve softening. Finally, she exhales. “Alright,” she says, her voice steadier. “I’ll do it. But don’t come crying to me when I start bossing you around.”

I laugh, relief washing over me. “You’ve been bossing me around since we were kids, Em. I think I can handle it.”

“Okay, big shot. Let’s do this.”

“Thanks,” I say sincerely. “This means a lot to me.”

As the call ends, I feel the shift happening. It’s subtle but powerful. The house, the career, the life I’m building—everything is finally starting to align. And for once, I’m the one calling the shots.

The studio hums with energy as makeup artists and producers flit around, prepping me for my segment. I nod along to their chatter, but my thoughts are elsewhere—on Kendrick, Cassidy, and the life I want for us.

The host, a polished woman with a bright smile and a sharp wit, greets me warmly when I step onto the set. The cameras are rolling, the lights are glaring, and the audience claps as I take my seat. The interview starts off the same as always—how did I feel winning the award—questions about the tour, my latest album, and upcoming projects. I answer on autopilot, the rehearsed lines falling from my lips without a second thought.

Then, she changes the game.

“Cass,” she begins, leaning in slightly. “There’s been a lot of talk lately about your personal life. About a certain blonde woman and a little girl. Care to comment?”

I stiffen, straightening in my chair and giving her a wary look. I know where this is going.

The screen behind us lights up, showing a grainy video clip of Kendrick and me, young and carefree, backstage at one of my early shows. We’re laughing, her arm looped through mine, her head resting on my shoulder. Our chemistry is undeniable, even after all these years.

The host’s smile sharpens. “That was Kendrick Cash, wasn’t it? Your opening act back in the day. Is she the woman you’ve been seen with recently?”

Before I can respond, another clip plays—Kendrick on stage, her voice powerful as she sings one of her original songs. The audience falls silent, captivated by the footage.

“And then there’s this,” the host continues, her tone light but her eyes piercing. A photo flashes on the screen—Kendrick, Cassidy, and me at dinner. Cassidy’s small hand is clasped in mine, and I’m looking down at her with a smile that gives everything away.

The host turns back to me, her expression curious but kind. “Cass, the world wants to know... is that your daughter?”

The studio falls silent. The audience leans forward, hanging on my every word. I glance at the host, then at the cameras, and finally at the screen displaying the photo of my daughter. My family.

I take a deep breath, the weight of Derrick’s warnings pressing against me. But then I think of Kendrick, Cassidy, and the life I want to build. I’m done hiding.

“Yes,” I say, my voice steady despite the emotion swelling in my chest. “That’s my daughter, Cassidy—she was named after me.”

A collective gasp ripples through the audience. The host’s eyes widen slightly, but she quickly regains her composure.

“Wow. That’s... incredible. And Kendrick Cash? She was with you at the awards, right? When you thanked your new family,” she asks.

I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yes. Kendrick is very important to me. She always has been.”

The host beams, clearly delighted by the exclusive revelation. “Well, you heard it here first, folks. Cass Wild has a daughter. He’s now a family man.”

The rest of the interview is a blur. Questions about Kendrick and Cassidy dominate the conversation, but I answer them all with honesty and pride. By the time the segment ends, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and it feels great.

A huge smile spreads across my face at how good everything feels right now. I’m still shaking with a backlash of emotions, but even so, I start to whistle as I walk out the door and climb into the waiting car.

The driver glances at me via the rearview mirror with a grin. “You seem in a good mood tonight, Mr. Wild,” he states as he pulls into the heavy L.A. traffic.

“I am,” I reply, the satisfaction in my voice unmistakable. “In fact, I haven’t felt this good in a while.”

Back at the hotel, I sink into the oversized chair, phone in hand, and exhale deeply before dialing Kendrick. When she picks up, I listen for any type of emotion in her voice. “I saw the interview,” she says lightly.

“And?” I ask, holding my breath.

There’s a pause, and then she laughs—a warm, genuine laugh that makes my chest ache. “You were amazing, Cass. I’m so proud of you,” she says, her voice brimming with warmth.

Relief floods through me as I lean back. “I meant every word, Kendrick. No more hiding.”

“No more hiding,” she agrees, her voice filled with hope.

“What about Cassidy? Is she–”

“She’s thrilled, Cass. I’ve warned her that things may get crazy. What with the paparazzi and reporters. But for now, they don’t know where we are. So she’s safe and staying inside.”

“Good. I would have liked to have warned her, both of you. But this wasn’t planned.”

As we continue to talk, a sense of peace settles over me. “Good night, beautiful. I’ll see you and Cassidy soon.”

My peace is short-lived because there’s a harsh knock on my hotel door the minute we hang up. It’s Derrick.

“I should have known you’d show up–”

Derrick cuts me off as he confronts me, his face a mixture of fury and disbelief. “You made a big mistake, Cass—telling everyone Cassidy was your child.”

“I told the truth, Derrick,” I say, my voice sharp with conviction. “And it felt damn good.”

Derrick’s face is flushed with anger, his jaw tightening as he steps closer to me, his voice sharp and low. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t flinch, meeting his glare head-on. “I was thinking about my daughter. And about Kendrick–about what really matters.”

“What matters,” Derrick hisses, stabbing a finger toward Cass’s chest, “is the brand I’ve spent years building. You destroyed it all in one interview. It’s going to take a tremendous amount of work to spin this–”

I grit my teeth as my anger bubbles over. “I told the truth, Derrick. There’s nothing to spin.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Derrick growls, his face a shade darker now. “The industry doesn’t care if you’re happy. They want Cass Wild—the bad boy. You’ve killed the brand. You’ve killed us .”

I let out a bitter laugh, advancing on Derrick. “Us? This was about you! You’ve been more concerned about your cut than what’s good for me.”

“Damn right, it’s about my cut!” Derrick snaps. “Because without me, you wouldn’t even have a career to talk about! I built you, Cass. Don’t forget that.”

“You’re done controlling me and my life, Derrick.” I let the words hang in the air, my hands clenched at my sides. “You’re fired.”

Derrick freezes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. Then, he explodes. “You’re making a huge mistake! You’ll never find someone who can do what I do. Without me, your career is over!”

“Maybe, but at least it’s my decision. Now get out!” I point to the door.

Derrick stomps to the door, muttering curses, but as the door slams shut behind him, all I feel is relief. As the silence settles, I feel the weight lifting off my shoulders. My life is finally mine.

My eyes travel over the hotel room. Suddenly, I long to be back home–without hesitating, I book the next red-eye home. Kendrick and Cassidy are waiting for me. And I’m done making them wait.