Nineninenine

[honeyandvinegar]

Title: So You Think You Can Tell (Pt. 9)
Pairing: Casey/OMC, C/Z (past)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: 'Too much' brings Casey to a crisis-point.



“Christ…”

Casey watched as Margaret, one of the girls who’d joined the game of ‘Hold ‘Em Poker’ slapped her cards down and held her hands up. “I’m out,” she said.

‘I’d be out, too… out the friggin’ door,’ Casey thought as he stared at the piles of chips in the middle of the table. The stacks of red ones were starting to outnumber the green; having been sitting with Jeremy at the table for three hands now, he was aware of what was at stake. He shifted in the small stool he was perched on next to Jeremy’s chair, needing to stretch from the position to look at his cards again.

“Dunno…” he murmured toward the queen and ten, glancing to the four cards being shared between Jeremy, the notorious, dark-haired poker queen Sarah across from them and Drew, a stone-faced, unsmiling sort who picked up a purple chip.

“Call and raise,” he said, making Sarah coo, say “Call,” and also grab a purple from her stack to toss in.

With one queen and a ten sitting between two threes, Casey bit his lip. All it would take is for either Sarah or Drew to have either one of the last two threes from the deck for Jeremy to lose. Lose hard. ‘Eight-hundred and fifty dollars, hard,’ Casey translated what had gone into the pot so far, adding the five-hundred purple represented. Both Sarah and Drew had their eyes on Jeremy, of course, waiting.

“C’mon, Jer-bear…” Sarah, in a sing-song voice, teased.

Jeremy looked to Casey, who did his best to emote, fucking fold! in an unblinking, severe stare. But the young man’s grin went wide as he said, “Call,” and the appropriate chip was thrown in to stay in the game. Casey let out a defeated breath; but when Sarah slipped the top card from the deck, paused for dramatic effect a moment then flipped it face-up to show off the ‘river’ card, showing itself as a queen, Casey’s eyes widened.

He’d already made the mistake of grabbing Jeremy’s sleeve and smiling with excitement at the first hand he’d played, when the river assured him a straight, king-high, with that king being tucked into Jeremy’s cards. As the table folded faster than anything and the other players laughed and teased Casey with, “Thanks for that, boy!” commentary, Jeremy had groaned and gave Casey a narrow-eyed expression-smiling still, yet letting Casey know what a costly blunder he’d made for him. So for the next three hands, Casey had stayed quiet, doing his best to keep his face straight and still.

He must have gotten better at hiding Jeremy’s future winnings; Jeremy made sure to pause with a pensive expression, eyes darting from his cards to the table a few times before sighing. “Call, raise,” he said, tossing a red and a green in. Casey would have gone higher, but figured Jeremy was simply throwing out a line to see if anyone bit. Drew was the first to take that taste, and did so.

“Call,” he said, matching Jeremy’s bet.

Sarah looked unsure a moment before smiling wide. “Call, raise,” she said. Casey watched as yet another purple was added, as if five-hundred dollars was chump change…

‘It is, to them,’ Casey thought as Jeremy shook his head, shrugged and said, “Call, raise.”

TWO purples. Drew’s nose twitched a few times until his whole face was frowning, deep and dark. “Fold,” he begrudgingly said, staring angrily at the chips and cards as he dropped his hand then crossed his arms tight over his chest.

“Playing with fire, little boy,” Sarah coolly replied. She matched the bet and sat back. “Let’s see how badly you’d bluffed…”

Jeremy grinned as the two of them revealed their cards on the table. Casey couldn’t help but go to a stand to see; he gasped. “Oh no,” he said aloud, staring at the two tens Sarah had been holding.

“You… bitch,” Sarah said, her eyes dark but smirk still on her face as Jeremy beamed.

“Wait, what…” Casey said. “Who… won?”

“ME, silly boy!” Jeremy all but whooped as he leaned forward to rake the pile in.

“The bastard took the damned river straight to home…” Sarah explained to Casey, tapping the two queens on the table. “…We both had a full house, I was at ten-high, the queen over there… ugh. Bitch.”

“Love you too, baby-girl,” Jeremy said through his chuckling, even blowing her a kiss.

All Drew did was scoff as he pushed his chair back in a sharp scree! on the hardwood flooring and shuffled away toward the basement’s bar set-up. “Sore loser, as always,” Sarah said in a soft, tired tone while lighting one of her fancy black cigarettes.

“Another round?” Margaret asked. She collected the cards and began shuffling as Sarah nodded.

“Why not? Get some of my cash back from you. You, there. Bitch,” she teased Jeremy with a sly grin.

Jeremy smiled but looked to Casey. “Mind me hanging-in for that ‘one more’?” he asked.

Though Casey had grown tired of just sitting there, watching everyone having a good time, he shrugged and stood. “No, one more’s fine,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m kinda hungry, anyway,” Casey said. With Thomas having announced that the kitchen staff had brought out tonight’s ‘feast’ upstairs in the main room at the start of this last game, Casey had been dying to bail on Jeremy for some sustenance. The various cigarettes and cigars of many kinds and flavors filling the room with dizzying arrays of aromas, the loud music coming from the sitting area near the bar and buzzing conversations going on around Casey had made him jittery, wanting to find a quieter, less active area of the house.

“Okay. I’ll run up when we’re done, I’m starving,” Jeremy said. He tugged Casey down for a quick kiss, making Sarah tease them with an, “ew…”

Casey knew he was blushing but he smiled when he saw the girl giving him a grin. While she and Margaret definitely carried a certain ‘air’ about them, one that spoke of status, wealth and importance, they’d been nice. Everyone had, really, besides Drew, but Casey got the feeling he was just a general grump all-around. ‘Not like Stokes is all that happy-go-lucky as a default,’ he thought, grinning to himself as he made his way back upstairs.

In just thinking of the hometown-girl, however, Casey was only reminded of his current situation. He would’ve done backflips and shouted with joy if he turned the last corner and found Stokely amongst them all, in whatever weird universe that would allow her to be there. She wasn’t the ‘open to anything’ type, as Casey was working hard to be tonight. She was well-known for her distaste toward anything, or anyone, who’d parade around such grandiose surroundings. Too many Saturdays, she’d picked Casey up for a drive to the Goodwill, each one hunting for the best bargains they could find. With her father being laid-off and desperately looking for a job, while her mother had needed to take double-shifts waitressing at Denny’s, she knew better than to bitch about something as trite as what name was stitched into her clothes. Casey had never been in her position, but felt an inherent sense of frugality and responsibility. Even if he had the money like Jeremy and all of his friends, whether through luck or getting his dream-job as a photographer for Life, not much would change, habits-wise.

The environment he thrived in the most was a simple, quiet one; his most favorite hobbies nursed best there. But in shimmying past groups of people and furniture, offering meek, “Excuse me…”s along the way, he felt surrounded. Over-stimulated. Once at the food tables, he felt even more out-of-his-depth.

The plate he grabbed at the end after waiting for the guy on his cell phone standing in his way (“Um…” was all Casey said and he’d looked up, chuckled and said, “Sorry,” before finally moving on to collect a meal for himself) was plain, but the food items being served were anything but. Besides the platter of raw vegetables and some kind of tasty-looking dip, everything else was a mystery. There were what he presumed were appetizers, signified by toothpicks holding certain items together. He picked one up and scrutinized it; the bacon, he recognized. Whatever it was wrapped around, he had no clue. ‘You LIKE bacon,’ he told himself, grabbing three from the massive amount offered.

He was in the middle of the table, plate half-full of what he hoped were things he’d end up liking when Thomas was suddenly at his side with a smile. “Hey, you came up for air, huh?” he asked.

“Oh… yeah, it’d been a while, watching card games. I woulda been up earlier, when you’d called to us all about the food,” Casey said. As much as he didn’t know the guy, he was the second most recognizable person here to Casey, and was proving himself as a nice, generous host. He nodded to the table. “Quite the spread.”

“An Eton never goes half-assed,” Thomas said with a smirk. Though he glanced away a moment and Casey figured he’d move on, he stayed with him. “So, Jeremy didn’t choose poker games over his boyfriend, right? I’d have to give him what-for, if he did.”

“No, no. He’s having one last game then coming up. And plus, he asked if it was okay for him to play another, so… it’s good,” Casey replied while picking up what he could only assume was a kebob, which held some kind of grilled meat and vegetables. He must have studied it for too long, as Thomas chuckled and pointed to it.

“That’s one of the best things being served; just beef and peppers, onions, whatever. Simple,” he said.

“Doesn’t look simple. Hah, nothing does…” Casey bit his lip. He knew he’d look like a know-nothing, backwoods hick in asking questions about the food, but Thomas seemed nice enough. Feeling insecure, Casey leaned in a bit to mutter, “…I, uh… being honest, I have no fucking clue what ninety-percent of the stuff you’re feeding me IS.”

Relief flooded him when Thomas chuckled, said, “Some stuff I needed the chef to tell me the-hell-it-was,” and began giving Casey a quick education as to what was what. Casey was thankful for his guidance; one of the puff-pastry things he’d grabbed was full of a mix of cream cheese and asparagus, which he felt would be rude to put back, but no way was asparagus going to be anywhere near his lips. In hearing that the bacon-wrapped choice was a scallop and that Casey could shovel a whole tray down his throat if he liked, he returned to that end of the table to grab four more. The whole time, Thomas was kind, patient and in no way made Casey out to be as stupid as Casey felt.

“TOM!”

They looked up, finding Pierre walking over. “What’s up?” Thomas asked.

“Mike just showed up. Tell him to make the drop-off down at the usual spot?” Pierre asked.

“Ooh, good. Was wondering when he was gonna get here… yeah, in the downstairs smoke room,” Thomas said. As Pierre made a lazy salute and went on his way, Thomas followed Casey to the archway. “You all set, ya think?”

“Hah, yeah. Thanks, helps to know what I’m eating,” Casey replied.

“Good. Any more issues, you just give a holler… plus…” Thomas pointed behind them toward the stairs leading to the ‘playpen’ downstairs. “Dunno if you’re into it, but if you’re up for having a little green, my guy just showed up with my usual order. Plenty for everyone to have a puff or ten.”

“Ah…” Casey chuckled. “It’s not my deal most of the time, but… hey, you never know, right?”

“Mmhmm. I’m gonna head down myself in a bit. You want any, head on down.”

Casey nodded. “Sure, thanks. Oh… um, one more question…”

“Shoot.”

Casey cast a look around the busy party space and sighed. “Feeling like I gotta sit down and chill a little. Is there any other room around here where it’s not as noisy? No offense…”

“None taken.” He waved an arm out into the hall and to the right. “Some rooms down there where people go to relax, instead of party-hardy. Library, my dad’s study and another sitting room. You might even stumble into a surprise yoga lesson, if you’re lucky.”

Casey barely knew what yoga was, but he nodded. “Thanks. And if you see Jeremy, let him know where I am?”

“Sure thing!”

Casey smiled and walked down the hall, hoping he came upon the library first. Rich surroundings or not, he’d have a good time sorting through old books-if that was allowed, anyway. He looked into the first room and sighed with relief. It was indeed a room full of books, a stereo in the corner playing music at low volume and only two others, both young men; one was on his phone chatting with someone, while the other was slumped on the couch, tooling around on a state-of-the-art laptop. Seeing as there was enough space for three or more where he sat, Casey padded over with a shy grin. “Um, this couch taken?” he asked.

The young man only glanced his way, shrugged and said, “Feel free,” in a distracted voice.

Casey only nodded, continuing to stare at the computer with interest as he sat. He could have chosen one of the loveseats or the plush chair on the other side of the room to stay alone, but cameras weren’t the only favorite machines Casey drooled over. Whatever model this guy had, its platinum-color shone in the low lamplight coming from the side table he was sat next to. Casey tried not to stare, though it was hard to not butt-in on his business. For a few minutes, he focused on eating, starting with the scallop items. The light crunch from the bacon and seared seafood crackled pleasantly in his teeth; he just might have to go back and make-off with an entire tray, as Thomas had predicted was possible.

When he’d cleared half the plate, he set it down and looked back at the young man. ‘It’s a party, social-time, go ahead,’ he urged himself in his mind before finally daring to say, “What kind of computer is that? Looks pretty sweet.”

Again, the young man didn’t look to Casey, eyes set on whatever he was doing. He did reply with, “It’s a Mac.”

“Ooh. Good brand,” Casey said. He had to amend his original stance on ‘staying sane’ with lots of money, for the moment; he’d only dreamed of having the best computer, laptop especially, money could buy.

“Mmhmm,” the young man hummed.

“Is that the newest model? I went to the Mac store at the mall a while back, and they were releas-“

“No offense, but I’m a bit busy right now.”

The snappy reply shut Casey down immediately. “Sorry,” he mumbled before picking his plate up to busy himself. He looked toward the door; how long was this ‘one last game’ going to take? Or had Jeremy made a series of bad bets he felt the need to recoup? Casey swallowed and curled his legs up, hoping he wasn’t dating a problem gambler…

“Well, well, well…” A new person who’d entered the room said, making his way over to the couch in a slow gait. He swirled the wine in his glass in circles, regarding the laptop-owner with a cool stare. “What’s goin’ on, Griff?”

‘Griff’ as he was revealed snapped his eyes up; a big smile spread over his face as he immediately set the computer down on the coffee table, stood and accepted a hug from the young man. “Tim! Man, when’d you get here?”

“Hop-skipped in all of a minute ago; got some wine and wandered. Nice to find a Grayson’s grad first thing,” he said.

The boys chatted together now; Casey got down to the cream-cheese puff, which he didn’t bother with. He put the plate back on the table and looked toward the bookshelves. So many old, dusty volumes, probably full of interesting history… he was about to leave the couch to go look through them when the guys sat down on the couch. Tim bumped lightly into Casey’s foot; he looked over.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Oh. No bigs,” Casey replied.

The brown-haired, admittedly good-looking young man then smiled and reached his right hand out to him. “Haven’t seen you here before, and I know almost everyone. Tim,” he said.

Smiling a little, Casey took the offered handshake. “Casey. And, well, this is my first time coming to any party here, so-“

“Ohh,” Tim interrupted, nodding slowly and his grin growing. “You’re Casey. Wondered if I was gonna run into you.”

Casey nodded slowly back, feeling put on-the-spot. Knowing he was blushing, he asked, “I guess you’re a friend of Jeremy’s?”

“Ehh…” he said, shrugging a little. Casey noticed Griff, who’d returned to his laptop, had snorted with a smirk on his lips as Tim said, “…Not really a ‘friend’. But I DO know about what he’s been up to lately.”

“Oh,” was all Casey could utter to Tim’s mysterious reply.

As he took a sip of wine, Tim’s eyes dropped down and scanned Casey’s front. After a moment, he nodded. “I could’ve taken a guess at who you were by that sweater alone,” he said.

“Sweater…” Casey murmured, looking down at the clothing he’d been given.

“You’re from Herrington, right?”

How did this guy know so much? Feeling wary and cautious, Casey knitted his brow as he said, “Yeah?”

“No Gucci stores out that way. Hmm. Guess that boy learned how to share, after all,” Tim said, still wearing the odd, suspicious grin.

“Well… yeah, he gave it to me. I mean, well, he kinda forced it at me, but…” Casey stammered, knowing how he was being seen by not just Tim, but Griff, who’d shot a look of interest over at him.

“Hey now, no need to give the history when it comes to gifts…”

As Casey caught Griff’s light but obviously-amused chuckling, he blinked and looked toward the door. No Jeremy, not yet; Thomas passed by with someone, peeking in quick and shooting Casey a smile. Before Casey could force a smile back, he saw Thomas halt quick, stare in a moment then turn to the person he was with to say something. His friend nodded and went on his way, while Thomas strode in.

“Hey, there… how ya doing?” he asked Casey, who felt some of the unbearable tension that had risen up in him start to escape, having Thomas somehow know he needed a familiar face. Maybe he did, with the quick but solid glance he gave Tim, who’d left behind the odd conversation with Casey to check out Griff’s computer.

“Okay. The food was really good,” Casey said.

“Hah, obviously. But-aw, c’mon. Those cream puffs are my favorite, you don’t like ‘em?” Thomas said.

“Devour away. Not big on asparagus, sorry… it was the only thing I didn’t like,” Casey replied.

Thomas shrugged, reached to the plate and grabbed the puff. He tossed in into his mouth and, while he chewed managed to tell Casey, “So’s you know, Jer’s on his way. The game ended a while ago, but he ran into a few people he hadn’t seen in ages on the way up here. ‘Told him how he’d left his sweetheart waiting, and what trouble he’d get into if he didn’t hurry his ass up.”

Laughing, Casey shook his head. “Aw, I’m fine,” he said.

“You sure?” Another glance was made to Tim, overt enough for Casey to clear his throat and move in closer.

“Yeah. Um, dunno who he is, but… yeah, fine,” he said. He was about to try and get Thomas to follow him to another room, to see if he could get any explanations when Jeremy finally arrived. He strode in, carrying a plate, smiling and shaking his head.

“Christ, sorry! Ran into our favorite French traitors at the top of the stairs…” he went to explain, but drifted off in seeing who else was there. His eyes were set on Tim, who’d also noticed the ‘new arrival’.

“Jer-bear, how are ya?” Tim said. He polished off the last of his wine, set it down on the table and stood. Casey watched as he went to Jeremy for a hug; while Tim gave the young man a tight squeeze, Jeremy barely lifted his arms. One rested lightly against Tim’s side before they broke apart. “Been a while,” Tim said.

“Um, yeah. For… reasons,” Jeremy mysteriously replied. Before things could get really concerning, Thomas stood up with a chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe if you hadn’t chosen Harvard, we’d see you around more often,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Tim said, nodding. To Casey’s horror, Tim turned to nod his way, eyes staying on Casey as he said, “Met the next Gucci model you’ve hooked up with, here.”

“Yeah. That’s Casey,” Jeremy, looking nervous, said.

“We already made the usual introductions. Though, like I told him… the sweater gave him away. And…” he peered curiously down at Casey’s legs. “…Well, I guess he had to have something that matched, right?”

Silence fell between the group; Casey brought his arms in over his stomach and lap, tight. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this insecure and uncomfortable. While gritting his teeth and staring at Tim, Jeremy said, “Thomas? Can you take Casey to the bar, maybe get some more wine? I’ll join you guys in a minute.”

“Uh, sure…”

“Why’s he got to go? He seems fine where he is, right, Casey?” The young man’s smirk and narrowed eyes turned to Casey again made the boy feel like prey; he couldn’t seem to find his voice as Thomas nudged his hand against Casey’s shoulder.

“C’mon, you’ve had what, one glass of that wine? That’s shameful,” he said.

“Uh… ‘k,” Casey finally managed to say. His knees felt stiff and wobbly at the same time as he fought to a stand, picking up his plate.

“Oh, don’t bother picking-up, staff should make the rounds any minute,” Thomas told him.

“Something tells me he’s not used to ‘staff’, am I right, Jer?”

Tim’s thinly-veiled insult caused Jeremy to move in closer; Casey had never seen him look so red with anger before. “Knock it off, Tim,” he said with heavy warning; it wasn’t anything that seemed to concern Tim, however, as he scoffed and rolled his eyes. As Thomas somehow managed to get he and Casey walking toward the door, they caught one last remark before exiting the room:

“What next, gonna trade in the Audi for a beat-up Chevy?”

He’d said it loudly, as if he’d wanted to ensure it’d been heard by Casey. He had, of course, the words bouncing around in his head and making him feel encased in ice as Thomas hurried them down to the main room. “What… was…” Casey started, but looking to Thomas, he found him fuming as Jeremy had been-if not more.

“He’s a dick, Casey. First and foremost, he’s a dick,” he said. Now at the bar, he went behind it to grab one of the bottles he’d shared with them before. Casey looked back toward the hall, feeling sick.

“Should-we have left Jeremy-alone with that guy?” he asked, turning back to Thomas who was busy pouring out two glasses for them.

“He can handle ‘im. Most people can. If not, well-my fucking party, my fucking foot in Tim’s ass. ‘Nuff said.” He handed Casey the glass he’d made for him. Casey took it with thanks, even if he wasn’t in the mood to start sipping.

“Who IS he, though? Jer’s never talked about any ‘Tim’ he knows…?”

“Eh, a bitter ex. A guy who thinks he’s better than everyone.”

Ex? Though he hadn’t been dating Jeremy long, he’d figured any stories about former boyfriends would’ve come up, at some point; especially one so significantly sinister, as Tim had been. “He’s never told me about him,” Casey said.

“Eh…” Thomas started with a groan, leading the way to an unoccupied loveseat, the one closest to the fireplace. Casey was grateful he’d chosen this spot, as the chill he felt wasn’t going to go away without help. As he sat, Thomas went on, “…Jer’s told me a lot about you, how you’ve got a good take on things. I knew enough before you got here that… you’re not one of those guys who defines ‘boyfriends’ as ‘walking, talking ATMs’. For a guy with a big bank account, you’re a rarity, honestly.”

“Well… of course,” Casey said. Thomas’ dour look was replaced with his usual, friendly grin.

“You saying that only confirms that you’re a good guy. Know how many girls AND guys I’ve dated who end up being gold-diggers, nothing but? Look around, it’s obvious I’ve got a few bucks in my wallet. It’s like some people can smell it on you, and in they go on the hunt,” Thomas explained. He looked toward the archway and sighed. “But sometimes it’s even worse when it’s two rich boys getting together. Jeremy… he’s done a one-eighty when it comes to how he was LAST year.”

“How so?” Casey asked.

“Let’s just say he and that snobby fucker you just met got along really well when they’d started dating. Won’t lie; the shit Jer would talk about, things he’d up and say? I may have money, but I ain’t rude about it,” Thomas said. “My mother’s made it a rule that once a month, her and I go out and volunteer. Not just on a holiday to make us ‘feel better’ about our having more than most, but… any damned day. She’s kept me grounded, even if I AM a spoiled brat.”

Casey nodded, regarding the boy with a curious look. “No, I can tell. Honestly, yeah, I’m out of my depth, being here. I don’t get it. Can’t… get it,” he said.

“I get it,” Thomas echoed, nodding along. “But… it’d get really annoying when I’d see Jeremy and Tim in the halls between classes… I’ve been friends with Jeremy since the second grade, loved the guy since. Even if he’d be a snooty little jerk about his being a ‘have’ instead of a ‘have-not’. I knew he was better than that, otherwise why would I be friends with him, right? I don’t like jerks, no one should. So I’d seen enough to know he was putting on an act at times, when he had more depth. But-being with Tim didn’t let that part of him come out.”

“So… he was a real snob, huh?” Casey, feeling a little lost, said before taking a slow sip from his glass.

“Yup. ‘Til I had it out with him over how shitty he’d acted when we were driving through Kent and he decided to pick on this homeless guy who was sitting near the corner we were stopped at. The poor guy’s sign read ‘Homeless Vet, Please Help’. Never mind being shitty to a poor person… a vet? I’d had it with his shit, pulled over at the curb of the next block and told him to get the fuck out.”

Casey couldn’t imagine Jeremy, someone who’d impressed him as accidentally rude but a nice guy past his fat wallet and designer clothes, mocking the poor. Knowing this patch of the young man’s bad history, Casey started over-thinking; there could have been a drive through Herrington at some point, Thomas at the wheel allowing Jeremy to point and laugh at the ‘peasant’ he’d see in Casey, walking home from school. “But… he really has changed, right?” he asked with enough insecurity to crush an entire army of brave, strong soldiers in one go.

“Yeah, Casey. Don’t worry about that. Hell, I made sure he changed, right there on our drive,” Thomas said. “We sat at that curb for over an hour, yelling and hollering, ‘til I shut him the hell down. But he missed having to call for a cab by a hair. Next day he called to apologize, talk, and… yeah.”

“Well, thanks for that,” Casey said, letting a lone chuckle escape.

“Hey, I get the feeling-if he wasn’t a changed man? Like hell you’d be dating him, am I right?”

Even with this new apprehension, Casey felt somewhat assured. “Glad he had a good friend like you to set him straight,” he told Thomas, who laughed and shrugged.

“I try, I try…”

Casey sank back against the buttery cushions, taking a heavier sip from his glass. Thomas turned and looked like he was ready to say something when Jeremy walked into the room. He looked red-faced and annoyed, but no bruises bloomed on his face. Casey sat up straight and watched him make his way over. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“No. But whatever,” Jeremy replied. He sat down next to Casey and shook his head. “I am so, so sorry… he acted like that to you.”

“It’s… okay, I’m-“

“No, it’s not.”

Thomas sighed, long and hard as he stood. “I’m heading downstairs for a nice, big puff. Join me later, maybe?”

All Jeremy did was nod, while Casey gave him a smile and said, “Thanks, Thomas.” With a wink, the young man went on his way to the stairs leading to the game-room. Now alone-however one defined ‘alone’ when there were hoards of people, wherever you looked-he cleared his throat and said, “Thomas told me Tim there’s your ex.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately-because you broke it off, or-“

“Unfortunately having to imply I was ever with the guy to begin with.”

“Ah.” Casey nodded and finished off his glass. He stared into the small, empty space he’d left behind, shrugging. “Mistakes happen.”

“Mmm…” Jeremy finally smiled, just a little as he bent forward with Casey and got close, enough that Casey could feel his breath wash over his cheek. “…Even better, you learn from them.”

Casey shrugged his shoulders up, feeling his face grow warm and tight from the smile he now wore. “So-o-o… how’d that last game go?” he asked.

“Hmm-hmm… that’s two games Sarah-the-snaky bitch didn’t come out on top of.” Jeremy patted his pocket, Casey noting now that the wallet inside had created a much bigger bulge. “Cashed the chips in with the house-that sale you’ve been talking non-stop about at your fave shop, there?”

“Oh, no… don’t even think about it,” Casey said, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Come on, Case… c’mo-o-on,” the boy drawled directly into Casey’s ear. “When are you ever, ever gonna let me spoil you, just a little?”

“You version of ‘little’ is something that can blot out the friggin’ sun,” Casey said, finally turning to face the quirky-grin wearing boy. Jeremy shook his head a little, opened his lips to reply then dove in quick to give Casey a smooth, long kiss. Casey opened one eye to scan the room, their overt action something that could gain attention from the others. Even if some couples had already enjoyed some makeouts in here… “A’right, down… heel,” Casey murmured as he broke away, giggling. Jeremy sighed and pressed his nose against Casey’s temple.

“You are… impossible,” he said.

“Good. You’re learning,” Casey replied.

~*~

Never before had Casey felt the urge to apologize to a toilet for urinating into it, but most toilets didn’t look as grand as the one Thomas’ family owned. He couldn’t help from wincing when the stream he made shifted a bit to the left and hit the porcelain directly, instead of straight into the water. However unreasonable it was to worry about leaving a stain, he was glad when it was over and he could quickly hit the flush to send his terrible human filth away.

There’d been another reason being glad that he’d been quick; it showed up when he went to the sinks and the door opened fast, letting two guys stumble in. He startled and looked over, finding the pair laughing incessantly over-something. One of them looked up, said, “Oh!” and chortled.

“Sorry, man… shoulda knocked,” the other said as he trod over to the counter lining the other side of the wall.

“It’s okay. I’ll be outta here in a minute,” Casey said as he turned the sink’s knobs to wash his hands.

“No rush… you can even join-in, if you want.”

Casey’s eyes went wide. What did that mean? They seemed drunk, but did they honestly need someone to hold their stream straight into the bowl? Casey couldn’t help staring at the two in the mirror, one of them digging around in his pocket while the other was getting a bill from his wallet. Just as Casey made a nice lather of soap bubbles in his hands, he stilled altogether in seeing the bill getting rolled and a small mirror and small plastic baggy entering the scene.

“Here,” the one rolling the fifty said while holding a credit card out to the one preparing things. He took it and began creating long, thin lines on the mirror. Casey was staring so intently that he didn’t notice the bill-roller looking right at his reflection and grinning. “Like I said, we got plenty to share?”

“N-No, I’m good,” Casey said, now hurrying with the rinsing then drying of his hands. He went to the door and opened it, but not before he heard a distinctive, hissing sniff, followed by a groan.

“Good shit, man, promise,” was the last thing he heard before shutting the door behind him. For a moment, all he could do was stand still and straight, eyes set on the painting of flowers on the wall ahead of him.

Drugs existed; he knew that. He’d figured a good number of tonight’s guests enjoyed certain substances from time-to-time, especially ones notorious for their use among the wealthy. But while he wasn’t a devout D.A.R.E. program follower and he had smoked-up before, it wasn’t just his paying witness to the coke-snorting duo that bothered him.

How many corners in this huge house would he turn and come across the casual, ho-hum nature of blow being enjoyed? What else could he find? Were there needles, suspicious blotting paper being trimmed, dose-by-dose? Looking down the hallway leading back to the heart of the household, Casey swallowed and finally broke out of his still, stunned state to head back to the bar area. He turned his head from left-to-right, not finding Jeremy where he’d left him at the end of the long bar. ‘Game-room?’ he thought, choosing to speed toward the stairs and make his way down to the smoky depths. The scent of weed had long since mixed in with the other smoke-forms being created, an aroma Casey usually didn’t mind at all. But in the here and now, the familiarity with it was gone, replaced with a heady, foreign feel. He scanned the tables where people were playing cards or sitting with their phones; ‘where IS he?’ Casey thought with more desperation this time.

The quick search of the rest of the bottom floor was just as futile. Casey took a deep, shaky breath as he looked around. The tension only grew when he saw Griff, sitting on the other side of the room with two girls, all chuckling over whatever they were looking at on his laptop. That alone made Casey turn away and squeeze through the small crowd that had formed behind him, leaving out the polite ‘excuse me’s he’d said many times tonight, this time. Now back at the stairs, Casey began rushing up back to the main area, starting to pant with anxiety. Just as he felt like he was going to burst, he almost ran head-on into Thomas, who stood at the top step.

“Oh! S-Sorry, I was…” he said to him. Looking around again, he asked, “Where’s Jeremy?”

“He went to check out the pool, told me to tell you where he was,” Thomas said. “Sorry-I saw you heading downstairs and went to follow you, let you know, but… someone decided to go for the good scotch behind the bar and smash a few wine glasses at the same time.”

Casey didn’t look to where Thomas was nodding, his eyes set on the archway. “Where’s the pool? Haven’t… been to it yet…”

“It’s… you okay?”

Casey finally looked directly at the young man, seeing his concerned expression. With a swallow, Casey tried to smile, but it only came out as a twitching mess. “Yeah. Yeah, just… where’s the pool?” he asked again.

“I’ll… show you, instead of give directions. You can get lost in this maze without help, sometimes,” Thomas said.

‘I’m lost already,’ Casey thought, but followed closely along as they made their exit. He stared ahead at the end, swallowing again at the sight of the opened bathroom door. “Hey, um… I dunno if… YOU know, but… just in case, two guys came into the bathroom when I was in it, there,” he pointed then went on, “I dunno if you allow, um… drug-use here, or if that’s against the rules.”

“What-y’mean, coke?” Thomas asked. Casey made a lone nod, to which Thomas shrugged and smiled. “Yeah, that goes on here. Not with everyone, but I know it happens.”

“Oh.” Casey tried to be just as ‘just-asking’ casual, shrugging a little as they walked. Having to take such a long trip wasn’t helping his anxiety any. “Hope I don’t look like some-some tattletale, or anything. Just didn’t know if doing that was… allowed, or not.”

“N’aw, don’t worry. I DO allow most stuff, but it’s good to know someone around here’s willing to raise an alarm, if they feel I should hear it,” Thomas replied.

His assurances didn’t help Casey any. They kept walking until, finally, they came upon a wall made of ceiling-to-floor windows, with a large set of double-doors as the entrance to Thomas’ indoor pool. Through the glass, Casey could see more people, wondering which was Jeremy. Thomas reached the door first and opened it, letting a wave of sticky, hot air rush out at them. The smell of chlorine felt intense as Thomas waved Casey to follow.

“I’ll help you find ‘im,” he said.

Casey nodded and went in, crossing his arms tight over his chest. They both scanned the area, getting halfway past the pool before Thomas stopped, said, “Ah,” and waved his arm towards the deep-end area. “Hey!” he called.

Casey shrunk into himself a little, Thomas’ shout reverberating around the room and into the walls. The echo chamber effect made Casey’s face go hot and his limbs rigid, but he somehow managed to follow after the young man to where a set of tables and chairs were. There Jeremy sat with two others; he stood as they approached, smiling.

“Hey, sorry I came here without ya, babe,” he told Casey.

“I made sure he didn’t end up lost in the house,” Thomas said.

“Hah, thanks.”

Thomas gave Casey’s shoulder a clap and he made his leave. Casey turned to call out ‘thanks’ to the kind host, but by the time he opened his mouth, he was gone.

“Like I said, sorry; I heard Danielle was here,” he said, motioning to the girl sitting and talking with another boy, half-hidden by the umbrella spread out over their table. “I think I told you about her, once; she’s been living in Germany for forever now, missed her loads.”

“Danielle?” Casey said, feeling lost and mindless.

“Yeah. Come and meet her, she’s…” Jeremy trailed off and blinked profusely, seeming to notice Casey’s state. “Hey. Are you okay?”

Again, Casey opened his mouth to say, ‘Yeah, fine, let’s sit down with your friends,’ but the sudden, booming splash that came from the pool, along with a loud laugh made Casey tense and jump, noticeably enough that Jeremy placed his hands on Casey’s forearms, as if to steady him.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“I…” Casey said, but had to swallow, yet again. His throat felt dry and sore enough to wince; he looked around then directly at Jeremy, blurting, “Any way we could head… home?”

“Huh?” Jeremy lifted his wrist to his eyes and made a lone chuckle. “Casey, it’s barely midnight. And a whole carload from the airport’s due any minute now. Loads of people I’ve been dying to see, for forever now.”

“I’m just-tired. Not feeling too good.”

“Well… here. C’mon, sit down a minute…”

Though Casey wanted nothing more than to have Jeremy grab his keys, say, ‘yeah, let’s blow this joint,’ and make a hasty exit without bothering to tell everyone goodbye, Casey allowed him to bring him over to the table with the two others. He sat down gingerly in the provided seat, which was thankfully dry. The girl across from him was wearing a bright-red lipsticked smile, her dark hair with perfectly frosted blond streaks piled on her head. “H-Hi,” Casey said.

“Oh, he’s a cutie,” she told Jeremy as she put her hand out to him. “Danielle. I’m your boyfriend’s bestie, at least when it comes to girl besties.”

“And that’s Harry, another schoolmate,” Jeremy introduced the other boy with shocking red hair and freckles.

“Nice to meet you, finally,” he said, taking Casey’s limp hand for a shake.

“Nice to meet you,” Casey echoed, more out of polite habit than actually meaning it. That alone made him feel guilty…

Though Jeremy had moved his chair to be closer to Casey and took his hand to hold onto his knee, the idea that Casey was starting to feel alone was almost sickening. It didn’t seem to matter how he somehow ‘belonged’ here, as Jeremy’s new boyfriend. It didn’t matter how honestly nice most of these people were. What started to matter to him was how distant the current conversation felt, as if they were all speaking a foreign language instead of English. Danielle’s speaking of how gorgeous the city of Cologne was that past summer brought both Harry and Jeremy into the fold, asking if certain places they’d visited during their German vacations were still there, or if she’d had a chance to go to any noteworthy Oktoberfest celebrations that fall. Casey’s exposure to the country rested in Mr. Tate’s history classes and his mother’s favorite German restaurant at the edge of town. There was a bit of German in his lineage, somewhere, but he couldn’t say from which ancestor it came from.

The subjects switched to other things that were more blather than Casey-inclusive, and the small squeezes to his hand nor the smiles Jeremy would give him along the way helped any. After Harry had taken up a good chunk of time to talk about some stocks he’d just invested in, Danielle finally set her eyes on Casey and kept them there, long enough to ask, “What would you say about that kind of risk?”

Casey could only stare at her for a few excruciating moments before forming the word, “Huh?”

“I’m afraid Casey hasn’t dipped his toes in the stock market world yet,” Jeremy answered for him.

“Oh. I’m… hah, sorry…” Danielle’s apology sounded honest, embarrassed even; Casey still felt as if a snake had suddenly sneaked up his pant leg and was aiming for his throat, all the same.

“You two met at that photography club you go to, right?” Harry, seeming to sense that there’d been a long-ignored person at their table, piped-up to ask.

“Yup. I took one look at him and thought, ‘my, what a gorgeous specimen that lad is,’” Jeremy said with a bright smile. Casey tried giving one back, but could barely lift his stare away from a spot on the table’s mottled glass. It seemed to be glowing, pulsing with a small, shimmering light. It was probably just reflecting the movement from the pool, rather than creating it itself in the glass…

“Case?”

“Hmm?”

“Uh, Harry asked-what your favorite thing to film is?”

Casey finally attempted to raise his head; when he did, a sickening jolt of vertigo claimed him and he closed his eyes quick. “S-Sorry, the… pool water, I think…” he said, now pressing his fingers into his sockets hard to try and regain his senses. “It’s g-giving me a headache.”

“You don’t look so good, actually,” Danielle said with concern. Casey heard a chair being moved back. “How about we take this back to the bar, instead?”

“I could go for some more of that wine, sure,” Harry said.

Wine. The thought of drinking anything but spring water turned Casey’s stomach. He started fearing that he’d throw-up if he moved, causing him to sit very still. “In… a minute. You guys go, I’ll… just gimmee a minute.”

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that, more than likely, significant glances were being exchanged. “I’ll wait with him; we’ll catch up with you,” Jeremy said. Casey heard him sit back down, while Danielle and Harry made their quiet leave. A minute or two passed with Casey opening his mouth wide to try and gulp in air, as if there wasn’t enough around him.

“Hey…” Jeremy’s hand came to rest on Casey’s arm, where he gave a gentle rub up and down. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…”

“Be honest with me; did you run into that dickhead, Tim? If you did, I’ll go find Thomas and let him know someone needs the boot-“

“NO, I’m just…” Casey drifted off into a groan and finally tried opening his eyes. The dizzy feeling from before had died down enough for him to focus on Jeremy’s worried expression. “Everything’s just… overwhelming. I don’t want you to miss out, but I really, really… want to go home.”

Jeremy bit his lip, looking torn as to what he could do. Casey could easily see the conflict in how he’d dart his eyes to the pool room’s exit, back to Casey, to the pool and its occupants, back to the door… he finally sighed and held onto Casey’s hand, saying, “Look; the whole upstairs is full of guest rooms, beds, whatever else. I DO wanna stay, really… do you think… I could ask Thomas if it’d be all right, you going up and taking a break from it all. Maybe even nap, if you need it.”

‘You promised yourself you’d give this all a try,’ Casey chided himself in his thoughts. A game’s after-party back in Herrington lasted through the night and into the next morning; Casey knew enough about social gatherings to know that eighteen-year olds didn’t bail on a party before the clock struck twelve. He wished he’d prepared himself for this; how maybe he’d not make it to a late hour at this party, a party held almost an hour away from Herrington. It wasn’t as if Jeremy could drive him home then come back and not miss a big chunk of the fun he’d come for to begin with. Resigned to the way tonight was ending up, Casey finally nodded. “’K,” he said.

“I’ll go with you… tuck you in,” Jeremy said, giving the top of Casey’s head a sweet kiss once he was standing.

~*~

“Nobody’s ever died, having a few extra, super-comfy blankets, right?”

Casey smiled weakly at Thomas’ returning with two large, fluffy comforters. “Didn’t have to…” he mumbled.

“Eh, Mom’s been meaning to switch out these older ones for these anyway. They’re clean, just…” Thomas said. He put the items at the foot of the bed and looked to Casey with a smile. “I’ll let Jer there help with the rest. But… if you need anything…” he went to the side table where a phone sat. “Jer’s got his cell on him, I assume?”

Jeremy took it from his pocket and waved it in quick jerks, smiling. Thomas nodded then leaned down to a small pad and pencil. “Just in case, I’ll jot mine down, too. Seriously, glass of water, quick snack, whatever, call.”

He was too kind. If Casey had the energy, he’d grab the boy and hug the life out of him. “Thanks. I mean that,” he replied.

“No prob. Hope you feel better; if you do, hah, it’s not like this party isn’t gonna see the sunrise, promise,” Thomas said as he went to the door, stepped out and gave them one last smile before shutting them in for privacy.

“Comfy enough?” Jeremy asked, his hand at Casey’s head, thumb making gentle swoops over his brow. Casey nodded and turned to his side, nudging the provided pillows tighter under his head and cheek. Sighing, Jeremy stood and said, “I’ll grab you a glass of water to keep by the bed,” before shuffling off to the attached bathroom. Casey closed his eyes and listened to the sink turning on, a glass being filled…

The sounds of the party still reached his ears, however distant and muted they were. A distinct thrumming, bass notes and beats, were made more into a fly’s buzzing but he still felt the motions they made throughout the structure of the house. He felt Jeremy’s return in the bed dipping down and soft clunk of the water glass put onto the other empty side table.

“Now, for these blankets… let’s get you super-cozy…” Jeremy said. Casey’s lips twitched up a little; home would have been much better than this, but… the boy was trying, at least. It was the fairest compromise between them. Casey would get some rest and peace, Jeremy get plenty of long-lost-friend time.

The blankets being put over him provided him with warmth and comfort enough, for now. The edges closest to his face were gently and carefully tucked to encase Casey’s body in full. Casey nudged his chin over the edge and sighed. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Well… thank you, too, really. Sorry… that I wanna stay…” Jeremy said, but Casey shook his head best he could.

“S’fine,” he drowsily replied.

“Okay.” Jeremy stayed with him a few moments longer, saying nothing as Casey did his best to even his breathing. After a few gentle motions from Casey’s hair to his shoulder, he felt Jeremy move himself down to place a kiss on his temple before he slowly and quietly stood, went to the door and left Casey to rest.

‘These pillows are real nice,’ Casey thought, and they were; the ones on his bed back home needed replacing in a big way. He’d let his mother know, first thing in the morning. Or… afternoon. Whenever they got home. Thinking that almost made him groan; if only they’d said, “Home by one, no later,” abiding by his usual weekend-curfew, instead of saying, “Eh, go ahead…”

Casey frowned and turned to his other side. ‘Just rest,’ he told himself. He needed it, if he was to head back, refreshed and ready to take on whatever the party had left for him. He concentrated on keeping himself still, quiet; a slow, counting from one hundred down sometimes helped. He almost never reached the fifties before conking out.

In reaching twenty-one, he deflated with futility. He moved onto his back and opened his eyes. A hazy light full of mottled blue mixed with the ceiling tiles, creating odd shadows of the squares. While he understood that it was natural for humans to find faces in the most bizzare of patterns, he didn’t like the ones he was able to form, here. Back home, the cracks and flaking paint of his bedroom’s ceiling made smiles and goofy, dumb expressions. Here, all Casey saw were frowns, even an angry glare. He returned to his left side and stared at the small amount of light coming from under the door to the bathroom. The more the darkness of the room set in, the brighter it seemed to get-and the more annoyed Casey felt.

“Why’d he leave a light on…” he muttered aloud as he finally couldn’t stand it, enough to throw the covers off and go over to turn off what had to be a few sunlamps, buzzing and brightening away. Instead, all Casey found was a nightlight in the far corner of the room, stuck in the outlet over the end of the counter. Sniffing, he went over, removed it and stalked back into the bedroom.

Getting back in was more a chore now than relaxing; he tugged at the comforters, the one on top slipping down and almost falling to the floor. He grabbed it and tugged it back, only sending it too far to the other side. “Fuckin’…” he said through gritted teeth before giving up, his arms and legs flopping onto the mattress and staying there. After turning to his right side again, he cringed at his right foot gaining comfort underneath both blankets, while his left managed to somehow get between them, bunching the fabric between his calves in the most uncomfortable way. ‘Why can’t I JUST get COMFORTABLE?’ he thought before he felt something heavy and hot spreading from his chest and out, until his whole body felt encased in an uncomfortable, humid heat.

Crying seemed to be the only thing that made sense for him to do; he was given no choice, his eyes birthing what felt like waterfalls to send spilling out over his nose-bridge, cheeks and climb down to his right ear. He felt the pillowcase go wet, making him sob and weep even more. ‘I’ll offer to do laundry, fuck, I want to go. Home!’ his thoughts all but screamed, making him squeeze his eyes shut tight and bury his face into the pillow. The headache the ibuprofen had started to ease began swelling again, making him turn again to the left. Doing that shifted something hard and uncomfortable in his stomach, as if he’d somehow swallowed a few golf balls some time during the night. In the space of a few seconds, he went from feeling sad and uncomfortable to scrambling from the bed, rushing into the bathroom and throwing the toilet open for him to vomit into.

It seemed to last forever; when it finally died down to a shaky spitting, over and over again, Casey closed his eyes and hit the flush. He stayed kneeling by the bowl, keeping his eyes closed so as not to catch sight of anything that’d start another round of puking. When he felt safe enough, he closed the toilet but stayed slumped on the floor, his head coming to rest on his arm. When this happened at home, his mother was right behind him, perched on the tub’s edge and rubbing his back. He’d be helped back to his bed before she went downstairs to make tea and toast, with his favorite of raspberry jam, all to comfort her poor, sick boy.

He couldn’t call anyone up here, not for this. Even if they’d tell him, “Jesus, stop apologizing, we’re here to help you! Geez!” he didn’t want their attentions. Mom, Dad. Home… yet even that wasn’t an option, Casey weighing his staying here with his nerved-up, anxiety-fitting father white-knuckling the entire hour’s drive out here to collect his son; the whole ride home would be spent with him telling Casey that he wasn’t going to go to any more of these all-nighters, parties involved or not. There would be no ‘home’ for Casey, not for a while-just this.

He somehow managed to get to a stand and stumble over to the sink for some water. The first few mouthfuls were swished and spit, before he finally dared to swallow some down. He was glad that the pounding in his head was now just a murmur, and that his insides seemed to accept what was going into them. After a few deep, hissing breaths through his nose, Casey ventured back to the bed and crawled himself over the blankets, however bunchy and haphazardly-placed they were. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t going to sleep. He wasn’t going to relax. Not one stitch of comfort was here that he’d settle into and feel at peace. All he had left to do was lie there with his eyes half-open, staring at the light coming from under the doorway leading out.

‘You tried,’ he thought, which almost brought tears to his eyes, once again. He fought them back this time, not wanting the production from before to return. His jaw was too tense, so he let his mouth fall open. He focused on making himself completely soundless, air going in with every smooth, slow rise of his chest… out again, his body moving down further into the mattress and blankets. ‘Wish I was home…”

Wish you were here. The four words came out in the tune he always heard them in. His eyes seemed to move on their own then, settling on the side table where the phone sat. His next two thoughts were for two different people: the first one of, ‘he’d be so hurt,’ belonged to Jeremy, while the second, ‘you know he’s up and you know he’ll come get you,’ went to Zeke. The latter won-out and with a grunt and bringing his hand up, he was taking the phone from its charger and bringing it to his face to carefully punch in Zeke’s number.

One ring, a deep breath in… two rings, deep breath out… three… “Hello?”

For a second, Casey didn’t remember what he’d just done. “H-Hello?” he irked out into the phone on instinct alone.

“Uh, hello?”

“Zeke? It’s… Casey.”

“Case?” A pause followed; Casey heard a shuffling noise and the clinking of a glass. “Where are you?”

“At-the party. Um, I called… wanna ask…” He closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Can you pick me up?”

“Huh? From-the party?”

Was he stupid? Casey fought down the urge to scowl as he nodded. “Yeah, the party, at Thomas’-Jeremy’s friend, like I said.”

“Wait, wha… what, did Jeremy leave you there, or something?” Zeke asked.

“No. I just-wanna go home.”

“So come home, what’s the big deal?”

“The big d-deal… is that I want. To come home. Now. Not…” Casey’s throat tightened, closing off whatever else he was going to say. When it reopened, a sob escaped on its own, making his next words come out in a shaky mumble, “I can’t call Dad, he’d f-freak, Mom’d freak, and you’re the o-only one I could think of t-to-“

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ll come get you,” Zeke said in a rush. A small huff was breathed into the phone; Casey now heard more noises, Zeke moving around. “Where’s this guy live at? You said it was like, some mansion, but…”

Casey scanned his brain, pressing the heel of his hand over his brow. He’d written Thomas’ number and address down for his mom to have as a just-in-case, dictated by Jeremy. He fought to hear Jeremy’s voice saying the words… three… three… “Thirty-three Clifton Avenue, in Stow. Past Kent,” he said in a rush. As more nondescript noises came from Zeke’s end, Casey sighed. “I’ll… give you gas money, cos’… it’s a f-fuckin’ haul…”

“I’m going to tell you to shut up, and it’s cos’ I care about you enough to say it. Shut up.”

Casey smiled, the first real one in a while. It drifted away from his face, dying down in his next, heavy breath. “Thanks, Zeke,” he murmured.

“You gonna be okay ‘til I get there?”

“Yeah. I’ll… get ready, and… stuff.”

“’K, then. Anything else goes down, call. ‘K?”

“Yeah.”

“Be there soon.”

Casey said, “Thank you,” one more time before pressing ‘off’ on the phone. The hand holding it slapped down along his side and he groaned.

‘You’ve done it now,’ he thought. At least he had almost an hour to think on how he was going to tell Jeremy he was leaving. With his ex-the ex that was probably in his car already. With his driving record, Casey amended his ‘think time’ down to thirty minutes, if that.