Page 41 of The Party Plot

Casey startled, biting back a curse as the sliding door to the balcony opened. Whatever Laurel and Melody had been talking about out there, they seemed to both be in a much better mood, and the easy familiarity between them made a little thorn of bitterness lodge in his chest. He didn’t want to be here. There was a sour taste in his mouth and his stomach hurt, and his sinuses were all clogged up from the friendly cat that followed him into the bathroom, disrespecting his need for privacy. It had been weaving its sleek little velvet body around his ankles for the last fifteen minutes.

“Hey,” Laurel said. The cautious smile on his face made Casey’s stomach clench. He could feel his phone burning in his pocket like it was radioactive. Five missed calls from Denise, all in the last hour.

“I—” he tried to think of something to say. Laurel’s eyes were big and luminous, and suddenly Casey couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him unhappy again. “I have to go.” He sniffled. “Allergy attack.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” Melody said, her face turning pink. “Luna has, like, a sixth sense for that. She loves bothering anyone who doesn’t want to pet her.”

It was a cute name for a cat. Melody was cute, too, somehow. Messy as hell and almost too pretty, and he found her, much like he had the cat, oddly endearing and wanted nothing to do with her. But she and Laurel seemed almost like brother and sister, so if he wanted to get close to Laurel, he would have to—

(He wasn’t going to get close to Laurel. What was he thinking?)

His phone was ringing again, setting his teeth on edge.

“I have to get this,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket. And he added, “Sorry,” not sure what he was apologizing for but sure that whatever was on the other end of the line wouldn’t be good, not for him and probably not for Laurel. He shot Laurel one last look, trying to soak him up for just a little longer, and then he was darting out the door.

13.

Denise’s voice was in his ear before he even had a chance to get into the car, exasperated and demanding. “Casey? Casey, my goodness. What on earth is going on? It’s completely unlike you to miss so many calls.”

“Denise, so sorry.” Casey tried to turn on the regular charm, but he felt like a kid sitting in the principal’s office. His heart was pounding, his hand clamped around the steering wheel. “It was on silent.”

“Well, that’s unacceptable. You know I need to be able to reach you.”

“Of course.” He looked up at the lit kitchen window of Melody’s condo, searching for movement. No one seemed to be watching.

“To be honest, Casey, I haven’t been very pleased with your performance lately.”

Casey leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes. His brain conjured up a rude comment about what her son seemed to think of hisperformance, and he nearly giggled, even though that was the last thing he should be doing right now. God, he was exhausted, and it felt like he had no control over his emotions. Every nerve was raw, and things were bubbling up in the back of his head that he hadn’t thought about in years.

Denise continued. “We don’t seem to be on the same page about the ball at all, even though I was very clear on my expectations for the decor.”

Your expectations for the decor were fugly. He ground his teeth. “I apologize, I must not have understood—”

“And that isn’t all. I heard some very concerning news just now about your behavior downtown.”

Casey’s stomach dropped, and he realized his fingers were shaking on the wheel, though he wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety or anger. Hisbehavior, like he was a child instead of thirty-fucking-two-years old. God, no wonder Laurel couldn’t stand this woman. He thought about hanging up. Racing back up Melody’s stairs and hammering on the door until Laurel answered, grabbing him by the shirtfront and kissing him as hard as he could.

But you couldn’t exactly do that to someone when they were helping their best friend through a mental breakdown. Melody needed Laurel. Laurel didn’t need Casey.

“Denise, whatever you heard—”

“I really don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be spending so much time around my son.” He could picture her narrowed eyes, the nail of her index finger tapping the table. “Especially when he and his friend are causing scenes out in public. To be honest, you’ve seemed distracted since he came into town, and I don’t like it. You’re working forme, so there’s no reason you should be concerned with him at all. People assume things around here, Casey, and when Laurel is seen with—with—”

“With what?” he asked flatly.

“It’s just inappropriate,” she said.

“Right.” Casey didn’t recognize his own voice. He squeezed his eyes shut, sparks popping behind his eyelids. “Well, Denise, if you actually gave a fuck about Laurel, instead of just caring about what the local gossip mill thinks of him, you’d know that he’s got a huge heart, and he was just helping his friend, and that Howie Bonard is a massive shitbag who started the whole thing, and—”

“You’re fired, Casey,” Denise said tightly. “I’m sorry.” She hung up.

*

Casey drove. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the car. He’d meant to go back to his apartment, but somewhere along the way, he seemed to have forgotten a turn, or taken the wrong one. The night was a long tunnel, lights and highway signs passing occasionally, and though he could look down and see his hands on the wheel, the greenish cast of his knuckles, there was nothing in his head but a kind of dull buzzing. At some point, he had the foggy recollection of stopping for gas, the night air hot and smelling of humidity and exhaust. The rain had stopped, or he’d outrun it.

It wasn’t until he saw the pink fingers of dawn tracing across the surface of Lake Okeechobee that he realized how far he’d gone.

Casey pulled over at a rest area, mouth tasting sour, skin greasy and wan-looking in the rearview.Jesus.He wasn’t sure if he had said it out loud or not. It was quiet in the cab of his little used Volvo, the only sound the ticking of the engine as it cooled.

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