Chapter 17: Bad Karma''s a Bitch
"Mum . . .Dad." Casper breezes into his parents'' home and shuts the door. Grinning from ear to ear, he
makes his way into the front sitting area. "Where are you guys?"
"In here, Casper." Leonora''s voice calls to her son.
Casper follows his mother''s melodic tone toward the kitchen. The smell of her famous peach cobbler
has him almost skipping into the room. "Smells good in here," he says rubbing his hands together.
"It should," Leonora says, smiling at him. "I''ve been baking all day for you."
He smiles, surveying the fruits of herbor. Leonora has certainly made the kitchen her second area of
expertise. Anything prepared by her hands is nothing short of a culinary masterpiece. Years of medical
training as a pediatrician have gifted her with an amazing amount of precision and finesse.
When his parents decided to close their pediatric practice and retire eight years ago, they spent the first
couple of weeks sleeping in and watching Jeopardy. Then Manali gave birth to Jillian a monthter and
provided the two a whole other purpose in life.
So they inserted themselves into the upbringing of Jillian and Sophia with all the subtlety of a bulldozer.
But Ali would never dream of objecting to the intrusion. The way Leonora and Charles dote on Jillie and
Sophie, it''s a wonder the girls aren''tplete spoiled brats.
On days when they weren''t fawning over their grandchildren, they struggled to find a proper hobby to
fill their new surplus of leisure time. After much trial and error, and an unfortunate brief foray into
ballroom dancing, Charles settled on golf and Leonora became Julia Child.
Casper couldn''t be more thankful that her chosen arena is the kitchen. There''s always a cake or pie
waiting for him when he visits.
He gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Leonora epts his silent thank-you with an enthusiasm
that could rival the almost nauseating pep of a high school glee club.
She cuts him a piece of cobbler and tops it with a scoop of vani bean ice cream. Still warm from the
oven, the pastry begins to melt the soft serve into a delicious mess. Leonora grabs a spoon and feeds
a bite of it to him.
"You''re a goddess among women, Mum." Cash smiles and takes the spoon from her. He settles onto a
barstool beside her and tucks into the dessert. "Still the best cobbler I''ve ever had."
Leonora leans over and kisses the side of his head, letting her touch linger on his temple. As she rubs
his back, she watches him eat. "How is my sweet boy?"
"I''m good." A slight smile crosses his face. Having just stolen a kiss from the woman of his dreams,
nothing can touch him today. He takes another bite of the second sweetest thing he''s tasted in thest
few hours. Arden drifts into his thoughts again, making the delight on his handsome features even
more noticeable.
"Are you sure, sweetheart?" she asks, still making soft strokes along his back.
"I''m sure." Casper nods, remembering the feeling of Ardi''s lips against his. He nces up at his
mother. The worry on her face fails to recognize the sheer bliss written upon his. He gives up trying to
convince her. "Where''s Dad?"
"He''s out." Her answer is rushed. She makes a very audible sigh and scoots into the seat next to him.
cing her hand on his arm, she gives it a gentle shake. "Casper, look at me please."
Without a second of hesitation, Casper puts down the spoonful of cobbler and cancels its one-way trip
to his lips. He shifts in his seat to offer Leonora the full attention that she deserves. While he''s looking
into her green eyes, he finds something else hidden in their depths. He clears his throat and scratches
at the back of his neck.
"What is it, Mum?" he asks, taking a deep breath.
"I talked to your brother this morning," Leonora speaks slowly like she''s attempting to introduce her
words into a pool of water without disturbing its calm surface. Still touching his arm in that quiet
reassuring manner of hers, her face fades into a frown. "And he told me what happened between you
two."
Casper groans and reaches for a napkin to tidy his hands, before pushing aside his dish. He gives his
mother a tired smile. "So you didn''t call me over here just for the cobbler."
"No, son. I didn''t." She looks away from him and stares out of the window for a moment. Then she
grasps his hand. "Why didn''t you call me?"
"And say what?" Casper leaves his seat and turns his back to her. Running his hands over his hair, he
res at the vaulted ceiling. "This was between me and Cain. He never should have involved you."
Once again, Cain has chosen to take the bitch''s way out and call their parents. They could have settled
this like men withoutying their problems on anyone else''s doorstep.
"Casper this is a family problem." Leonora touches the cuff of his jacket and urges him to sit. When he
does, she takes both his hands in hers. "And as painful as it might be, the only way we''ll get through it
is together."
He can''t helpughing. "We can''t just hug this one out, Mum. He ..." The absurdity ofst night''s
revtion and subsequent altercation leaves him at a momentary loss for words. He scratches at his
goatee while he searches for a respectful reply. "Things between Cain and me aren''t going to be right
for a very long time."
"I know that, honey." She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "But ignoring each other isn''t going to make
things any easier. You need to discuss this like two calm, rational adults."
"All right." After a full minute of quiet seething inside his head, Cash sighs, and shrugs. "I''ll call Cain in
a couple days. I can''t promise anything else."
They''re both quiet for a few minutes before Leonora decides to speak again.
"There is no excuse for what Cain and Karma have done." She nces down at her hands and takes a
deep breath. "But you have to understand your brother. He was an only child for twelve years before
you came to live with us. He never quite adjusted to that change. And that''s my fault."
"No, Mum. It isn''t." Casper shakes his head. "Whatever Cain has be is a result of his own
choosing."
"I made him resent you." Leonora strokes his cheek and gives him a weak smile. "When your father
died ... and with Ophelia ..." Tears glisten in her emerald eyes. "I was so focused on making sure that
you felt wanted, that I ..." She pauses to swipe at her cheeks, then meets his gaze again. "I could have
done better ... by both of you."
Seeing her cry brings tears to his own eyes. He puts his arms around her, hugging her so tight that he
might crush her. "You did everything you could for me. Cared for me like a son. I''ll never be able to
thank you enough for that."
It''s true. Leonora has always treated Casper like her own. Some would even argue that she doted on
him more than she did Cain. But both boys had the same advantages and the same benefit of Leonora
and Charles'' unflinching love and support. Every family tree has at least one bad apple. At some point,
you have to stop ming the roots for the wrongdoing of its fruit.
Just like Casper''s sess is his own. The implications of Cain''sck of conscience are a product of his
own depravity, not their parents.
They continue to hang onto each other, both choking back the emotion that neither can find adequate
words to express. Leonora kisses Casper''s cheek, then pulls back to look into his eyes. Cradling his
face in her hands, she sighs and shakes her head. A sad smile nudges at her full cheeks.
Cash nces down at the space between them. He''s never been able to tolerate that look from her.
Thest time he saw it was at his wedding. That weak smile and the clouds in her eyes always make
him think of the first woman to ever leave him. And even as a man in his mid-thirties, that wound still
hasn''t found the time to heal.
Before he can find his feet to run from the inevitable phrase that''s waiting on her tongue, she utters the
dreaded words. "Your mother would be so proud of you."
With one sentence, he''s that seven-year-old boy standing beside his mother''s casket with a single
white rose in his hand. Your mother would be so proud of you. She would be. Not she is. The list of
things that Ophelia will never be is long enough to fill countless pages a billion times over. Something
new seems to add itself to the queue every single day.
The walls are closing in on him all of sudden. He tugs at the cor of his shirt, desperate to break free
of its now suffocating clutches.
"I um ... I gotta go." An inexplicable pain cracks at his voice, stripping his deep tone of its usual easy
confidence. He gives her a rushed kiss on the forehead and slips out of her grasp. "I love you. Call you
tomorrow."
Leonora follows him, her feet working double-time to match his long strides. She tugs on the edge of
his jacket. "Casper, wait."
He blinks several times, grinding his teeth into each other. The memory of his mother''s body being
lowered into a six-foot hole in the ground torments him as he tries to block the vivid imagery from his
mind''s eye.
Just as he''s fighting with that painful bit of his past, another unwee recollection begins screaming
for his attention. The unmistakable smell of bleach and human decay fills his nose. It''s seven years
after Ophelia''s demise, and he''s at his father''s bedside. He remembers how helpless he felt watching
the once invincible Frederick Buhari drift into death''s cold grasp.
He reaches for the front door handle, trying tough through the tears that are beating against his
eyelids. "I have some work ... to finish before tomorrow."
Leonora puts herself between him and the door and presses the stained ss fortress of oak closed
again. "Sit with me for a minute ... please."
Giving no other acknowledgment of his acquiescence, he allows her to lead him into the living room.
She takes a seat on the sofa and he joins her, choosing to sit with his elbows on his knees and his face
half-buried in his palms.
She ces her hand on his shoulder. "Sweetheart, do you remember her?"
The question strains at the fragile grip he has on thest thread of hisposure. She''s still with him.
Everything about her is etched into his memory with an eery vibrancy, like light shining through the
negative of a photograph.
Some details about her exist in x-ray, just bones without any substantial flesh. Details like herugh,
how she always smelled of vani and cinnamon, or the way it felt to cuddle up with her in that worn
nket and rx against theforting rise and fall of her chest. He loved just being near her.
Sometimes he forgets what that felt like. But her face will always be with him.
With skin like bittersweet cocoa and eyes like the sun, Ophelia was a sight to behold. Her features
were rather ordinary. No one would have used her of being the most gorgeous woman to ever walk
the earth. Most of her beautyy in the crooked smile that she didn''t show off enough, or her innate
ability to makeplete strangers feel like they were old friends.
She was simply ambrosial as his father had once put it. Just when he felt those memories beginning to
lose some of their mour, another angel came along and breathed new life into them.
But fate is still ying her cruel jokes on him. Karma''s for damn sure a bitch and she has a definite
score to settle with Casper. So much so that she sent a petite package after her own name to st a
wrecking ball through his life. His wife and brother have plunged a knife so deep into his back that he''ll
never be able to extract the de. Plus the one woman he wants and needs more than air bears
another man''sst name.
As sophomoric as it might sound, sometimes life just isn''t fair. And no one knows that better than he
does. He drags himself out of his thoughts and answers Leonora''s earlier question.
"Like the back of my hand. Every smile. Every sight, sound, scent." Casper nods and fiddles with his
fingers. "I remember ... all too well."
"It''s okay to talk about her." She smooths her other hand over his hair. "It''s okay to grieve for her ... and
your father."
Bearing down into his skin until he leaves a faint mark on his chocteplexion, he pinches the
webbed bit of flesh between his index finger and thumb. He shed all the tears he ever nned to weep
for his mother a long time ago. His grief is resting beside two headstones in a Brighton cemetery, left
there by a young man too weary to carry its full burden to another country.
No, he doesn''t cry for her anymore. And he never wept for his father. Life had cheated Frederick of his
one true love. Death meant the end of suffering so great that it was difficult for him to take a breath
every morning because of its crushing weight. Mr. Buhari was free. He would no longernguish behind
the bars of the prison created by Ophelia''s passing.
Casper still had a lifetime sentence to endure without his cellmate who made the pain of her absence
bearable. He''s been going it alone for years. Talking about their loss just makes pretending that he''s
okay even harder.
Bereavement for him is something that is best consolidated to a quiet corner of the mind and forgotten.
Acknowledging the true depths of his ills scares him. There may be noing back from that dark
abyss. And right now, he can feel himself slipping in way too deep.
"Mum, I really don''t want to have this conversation." He nces over at her, quiet desperation written
on his face. "Not now."
Trying to stifle her own emotions, she nods at him. Neither of them utters another word on the matter.
Even if they did have something further to say, it would be drowned out by the boisterous entrance of
Charles and one of Casper''s least favorite people at present.
"Nora?" Charles steps into the house, struggling to bnce the bag of golf clubs that are slung over his
shoulder. "We''re back."
"I smell cobbler." Cain sits down his things and takes the heavy bag from his father. "Winner gets the
first piece. Sorry, Pops." He nudges Charles'' arm.
"You only won by one stroke." He smirks at Cain. "Beginner''s luck is all. I''ll wipe the links with you next
time."
"Whatever you say, old man." Cain ces his arm around his father''s shoulders and proceeds to walk
through the archway that connects the foyer to the living room.
The jovial banter of father and sones to a screeching halt when they notice Nora and Casper on
the sofa. Removing his arm from Charles'' shoulder, Cain shoves his hands into the pockets of his
khakis. He steps further into the room, regarding his brother with a smug smile. That ass-whoopingst
night must not have taken. Cash might need to administer a second dose.
Casper rises from the couch and stands a few feet in front of Cain. The air between the two bes a
charged minefield. One false move from either of the men and this whole house could blow.
Charles braves the gap andes forward to embrace the other man who has be a source of
immense pride for him. "Casper. It''s good to see you, son."
"You too, Dad." Cash steps back and admires the older man''s physique. "Looking good. Losing some
weight?"
Thepliment makes Charles chuckle, his gut moving in time with his deep chortle. "Not with the way
your mother cooks."
Nora and Cash join his amusement, forgetting the tension that surrounds them for a brief moment. As
the two continue their light back and forth, the heat radiating off Cain almost sets the room aze.
Casper catches his re and returns the look of animosity.
Theughter dies down and an ufortable silence takes up residence again. Charles and Nora
stare at their children, unsure of how to defuse this powder keg. They''ve fought with each other on
numerous asions. But there was never any evidence of bad blood between them. At least there
never was on Casper''s end.
Deciding to set yet another example of his emotional maturity, Casper attempts to revive the dead air
between them. "Cain."
The acknowledgment may not sound like much. But in a man''s world, it''s the equivalent of an olive
branch.
Cain remains mute. He either doesn''t recognize the invitation for amnesty, or he doesn''t care. The
Crossing his arms over his chest, Charles regards his youngest with a mixture of frustration and
disappointment. "Don''t you have anything to say to your brother, Cain?"
The three of them wait for Cain to speak. Seeming to crack underneath the pressure of the stern stares
of his parents, he recovers his willingness to piece together sybles.
"I''m sorry, Casper," Cain utters the words in a harsh whisper, ncing over at his father for a moment
as he does.
"Let''s not waste our breath stating the obvious," Cash says through gritted teeth.
Cain scoffs. He locks eyes with his brother and doesn''t let hisser vision waver. "You didn''t let me
finish ... brother." Though it''s midday and the room is awash in natural light streaming in from its bevy
of windows, a shadow overtakes his face. A chilling grin apanies the darkness. "I''m sorry ... that
your wife preferred my dick to yours."
"Cain," Nora and Charles exim in tandem. They gape at him, seeming to be inplete disbelief at
their son''s crassness.
"Have you lost your mind speaking to your brother like that?" Charles asks. "And in front of your mother
no less."
"No, Dad. It''s okay ... I''m sorry, too ..." Casper steps forward and ces a hand on his dad''s shoulder.
He nods at Cain, digging deep to make the remorse on his face seem genuine. "That I didn''t shove my
foot quite far enough up your ass."
The men advance toward each other, snarling like two rabid dogs. They maintain eye contact, neither
one daring to look away first. At this moment, they''re more alike than they realize. Both of them have
the potential to let pride cloud their better judgment.
"All right, that is enough." Leonora steps into the middle of the fray and urges the boys away from each
other. "I know I raised you two better than this. So start acting like you have some shred of home
training."
Nora divides her infuriated gaze between Casper and Cain. The angered expression seems foreign on
her otherwise docile features. She takes several shallow breaths as her elevated heart rate struggles to
calm itself.
Seeing her upset like this makes Casper so embarrassed at his behavior that he can''t meet her eyes.
He apologizes to his parents and mutters a quick goodbye to them both before heading for the door.
Paying no mind to the ignorant bastard who is burning a hole into the side of his head as he walks past,
Cash makes his way out to his car.
Once inside the interior of his Bentley, he slips on a pair of aviators and allows his anger to take the
empty seat next to him. He peels out of the driveway, ready to push his endgame into high gear. Cain
better be ready for the ride.
He drives back to his office like an angry demon fresh out of hell. Forcing his usual smile with his
colleagues as he stalks to his spacious corner of the office building, he decides to go ahead with the
n he concoctedst night. Whatever shred of rationality he had left this morning, has been
decimated by Cain''stest absurd demonstration of his jealousy for Casper.
Taking a seat at his desk, he sets about making a couple of calls. His first will be a conference call with
Arthur Young and Matthew Dunn, the partners of the Young & Dunn advertising firm.
The same advertising firm that lists his brother, Cain Caghan, as a senior ad executive. Hispany
bio details Cain as a promising talent, and an invaluable contributor to the firm. It goes on to name him
as the chief executive handling such ounts as, Nike, New Bnce, Adidas, etcetera.
"Art, Matt. How are you, gentlemen?" Casper greets the two men who have be old friends over
the years.
When Cash first began his career at Regent Financial, he handled a few personal ounts for the
men. Arthur and Matthew became very fond of the young prodigy who devised a few clever ounting
practices to keep the majority of their earnings out of the government''s grasp. And on top of that, the
entire operation was legal. hical perhaps ... But legal nheless.
"Buying our third vacation homes thanks to you." Arthur''s voice booms loud and clear over the phone.
He''s arge presence even when he isn''t in the room.
"Ilka and I are even looking into having a superyacht built next year. She can''t wait to sail to Monaco,"
Matthew adds.
"How is Ilka? She still twenty-two and Ukrainian?" Casper asks, with a smile creeping across his face.
"Yes, she is." Matthewughs. "And she just started taking yoga sses. I am a very lucky man."
"Luck ain''t the word for it," Arthur quips.
"Sounds divine. I''m d to hear that life is treating you both so well."
"How about you, Cash?" Arthur asks.
Casper takes a pause. He reconsiders the decision he allowed the liquor in his system to make for him
in the early hours of this morning. His hand hovers over the "send" button on hisputer screen. The
doctored bank statements will form the crux of the n he''s devised to feed his heart''s hunger for
revenge. ording to these documents, Cain has been receiving regr payments over thest six
months from two of Young & Dunn''spetitors.
By sending these pages to Cain''s superiors, Casper will be taking a sledgehammer to his little brother''s
career. Cain could earn a permanent spot on the advertising industry''s cklist. Casper removes his
fingers from theputer''s mouse.
Then the image of his brother sweating and breathing harder than a fat man on a treadmill over his wife
burns across his eyes. He sends the incriminating email on its way.
The delicious feeling of revenge washes over him, leaving a smirk on his face. "To be honest, Arthur. I
could be better."
"Anything we can do to change that, you know all you have to do is ask," Matt speaks his offer without
a moment''s hesitation.
"I''m d to hear you say that, Matthew." Casper leans back in his ergonomic chair and props his
loafers on the edge of the ss desk. "There is something that you and Arthur can do for me."
"Consider it done," Art says.
Cash smiles and takes a breath. "How is Cain''s performance these days?"
"He''s cutthroat and imaginative." Matthew chuckles. "In short, he''s the best asset and biggest liability
that we have."
"Why do you ask?"
"I want you to fire him," Casper says, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"You want us to sack our best executive?"
"I hope there''s a good reason behind this request." Matthew sounds like he''s on the verge of a
coronary.
Casper considers telling the two gentlemen the truth. That their best associate has screwed over his
own family with a surprising amount of ease. But the truth doesn''t cast Casper in the most ttering of
lights either. Not to mention the way this vengeful maneuver would make him look if anyone were to
find out about it.
"It hase to my attention that Cain has been ..." He takes a pause to allow the proper anticipation to
build on the other line. "... less than loyal over the past year."
"Are you saying he''s been trading ideas with thepetition?" Arthur''s voice adopts a harsher tone. "I
knew that Asics campaign sounded familiar."
Once again, Cain''s elusive behavior has made things easy for Cash. He shrugs. "I wouldn''t put it past
him."
"Just a minute," Matthew interrupts. "Not that we don''t trust your opinion, Casper. But do you have any
proof of these allegations?"
"I just sent Cain''s bank records to you."
There''s a brief lull in their conversation as the two men locate an electronic device to pull up the email.
"That little bastard," Matthew mutters.
"He''ll be out of here so fast, his head will spin," Arthur exims. His once genial tone transforms into
one more favorable of a tattooed brawler in a biker bar.
"Just a moment, Arthur. Another possibility just urred to me," Casper says.
"What''s that?"
"If you let him go, he could walk into another agency and divulge yourpany''s proprietary
information." Casper picks up the engraved paperweight given to him by Cain, tossing the silver object
up into the air and catching it in his palm. "Then, of course, he could always take his clients with him
and start his own firm."
"So what do you suggest we do about him, son?" Art asks.
"A six-month suspension without pay." Casper puts his feet on the floor again and sits up straight. "It
would give him some time to reconsider where his allegiance lies."
"Good idea. As long as he''s still a part of our staff, he can''t look for another job without viting the
terms of his employment." Matthew sighs. Then a boisterous chuckle sounds over the phone. "Casper,
we both are going to owe you our first grandchild for everything you''ve done for us."
"He''s right," Arthur agrees. "How in the hell did you even catch this?"
Casper rises from his seat and stares out of the floor-to-ceiling window of his office at the sunlight
zing down on the downtown area. He smooths his hand over his goatee.
"Well ..." He takes a deep breath "Let''s just say I''ve been making an effort to be more vignt as ofte.
Never know who you can trust."
"That''s the first rule of business, son. Either way, we owe you once again."
"Gentlemen, I know this goes without saying. But ... Cain can''t know where you got this information."
"Of course not. Discretion is our middle name," Arthur says.
The men thank Casper once again, and the three end their conversation.
Casper sits down on one of the white leather armchairs against the far wall of his office. Propping his
feet up on the ottoman, he rxes into thefort of the chair. Then he rests his head on the back of
the seat and stares up at the ceiling. A sick feeling still churns in his gut. Taking a cheap shot at Cain''s
career has failed to satiate the anger dwelling in his bones.
But he knows something that might help feed the beast. Moving over to his desk again, he begins the
execution of the second half of his n. He locates the number of the Jefferson County DA''s office.
"Yes. May I speak with Ephraim Frome, please?" Casper taps his fingers against the ss of his desk
while an assistant transfers his call.
"Frome speaking." The district attorney answers the phone sounding every bit as stressed as someone
trying a serial killer should be.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Frome. It''s Casper Caghan." He allows his ent to shine as he speaks. When
Karma first introduced them, Frome mentioned how charming he thought it made him sound.
"Oh, Casper. Hi." The faint shuffling of papers is heard on Frome''s end. Then the background is quiet
again. It seems Casper has his full attention. "How are you?"
"I''m doing well. Listen, I know your time is valuable. So I''ll keep this brief. I have a favor to ask of you."
"What is it?"
"Karma has been a bit stressedtely. She''ll never admit it. But I think the Pord trial is taking a toll on
her." Cash sighs, trying to impart the anxiety of a concerned husband over the phone. "I was hoping
you would consider assigning the case to someone else."
"Are you sure? Other than taking a few long lunch breaks, she seems pretty enthusiastic about it."
Casper has a good idea of how she''s been spending those "long lunch breaks." She has the audacity
to criticize him for leaving work a couple of hours early when she''s been polishing his brother''s silver on
the state''s dime. His resolve to wreck her world bes even stronger.
"She''s been suffering from insomnia and migraines. I''m afraid she''s going to do serious damage to her
health." Reaching deep into his infinite skill set, he puts forth his best acting. "I know her work is
important. But ... I can''t lose my wife, sir. Karma is ..." A few four-letter words sh through his head.
He quickly pushes them aside. "She''s my everything."
"Say no more, Casper." He sighs. "I''m going to be losing my best weapon in this trial. But I''d rather
rece her now than put her health in jeopardy."
"Thank you, Mr. Frome."
Fromepliments Casper''s concern for his wife''s well-being and wishes him a good day. Now that
the legal equivalent of Shaq has been benched at the height of the big game, he is indeed going to
have a great day.
The rest of the workday is smooth sailing. He even volunteers to help a couple of his less efficient
associates get up to speed. Just before he''s set to leave, a fewte reportsnd on his desk. The extra
work keeps him glued to hisputer well past his usual quitting time. But his underhanded schemes
today have given him an adrenaline boost. Finishing his work quicker than usual, he makes the drive
home.
When he arrives at the house around seven, Karma''s waiting for him. She''s seated in her Benz,
stilettos tapping the acid-washed concrete of the driveway. A seed of regret sprouts on his shoulder as
he exits his vehicle.
He meant to have her car towed to the nearest junkyardst night. Once it was reduced to a block of
scrap metal, he was going to have the remnants of the luxury vehicle sent over to her office. The
emblem would have made a nice keychain. Sighing at his missed opportunity, he breezes past the car
as if he hasn''t seen her.
"Casper," she shouts as he passes. He continues to the front door without even a nce in her
direction. She catches up to him and raises her voice. "I know you hear me, goddammit."
When she resorts to pelting her fists against his broad back, he turns to face her. "May I, help you?"
"You told Frome to take me off the Pord case?" Casper nods. The wounded and bewildered look on
her face makes him smile. Tears begin to glisten in her eyes. "How could you do this to me?"
He scoffs and ces his thumb on the keypad of the door lock. Though tempted to leave her sniffling
on the porch, he allows her to enter the house behind him. This bumbling version of Karma might be
entertaining. And he could always use a goodugh.
"When did you get the locks changed?" she asks, examining the new high-tech security mechanism.
"First thing this morning." He heads for his haven in the great room and she follows. Sensing that he
might want to be a little inebriated for this conversation, he pours himself a drink.
"So this is what we''re going to do, Casper, hmm?" She shakes her head and shrugs. "Treat each other
like strangers after all these years?"
"You have Capone''s ballsing in here acting like I''m the bad guy." He smirks at her and takes a sip
of his scotch. "Karma gets a little taste of her own medicine and it''s too bitter for her."
"I never fucked with your career."
"No, just my brother. So that''s okay, right?"
"Oh, cry me a river, Cash." She advances toward him, pressing her finger into his chest. "This
preschool bullshit stops now."
"You''re hardly in any position to be making demands, sweetheart." He res down into her doe eyes. "I
still have those videos."
That seems to remind her to take a couple of metaphorical and physical steps back. He walks away
from her and settles onto the couch. Taking another long sip of his drink, he turns on the t screen. He
must have left it on awork channelst night because the evening news is on. He leaves it there.
Maybe it will provide some distraction from the banshee in the room with him.
"All right." She steps in front of him and folds her arms over her chest. "What will it take to make things
okay between us?"
"Nothing short of time travel could reverse this damage," he states dryly, trying to look through her at a
pair of newscasters on the screen.
"I''m serious." Karma takes a seat next to him and forces him to look at her. Her eyes dart back and
forth at a crazed pace. "A divorce is out of the question. I will not admit that defeat."
"You know, counselor." Cash nces over at her, contempt written all over his face. "I can get a divorce
without your signature."
"I also know you wouldn''t do that to me." She slides closer to him and ces her hand on his thigh.
"Deep down you still love me."
A quick pain travels through his chest. He clears his throat and removes her hand from his leg. Without
looking in her direction, he mutters an answer. "Don''t tter yourself."
"Look, do whatever you need to do. Sleep with whoever you want. I don''t care as long as we''re still
husband and wife." When he doesn''t respond, she decides to sweeten the pot. She leans in to whisper
in his ear. "You could even fuck Arden."
"She has nothing to do with this," he says through clenched teeth.
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"But she''s what you really want." She props her arm on the back of the sofa and crosses her legs
toward him, allowing her long limbs to brush against his. "Let''s face it, Cash. If I hadn''t slept with Cain
first, you would have cheated on me with her."
That may well be true. But that''s not the reality they''re dealing with at the moment. Besides, Karma has
been fucking Cain for over a year. He just met Ardi. And if Karma were up to snuff, he might not have
even given another woman a second look.
"Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night." He leaves her on the sofa to refresh his drink.
"It''s the truth, honey."
"Isn''t there a broomstick somewhere with your name on it?" Leaning his back against the bar, he res
at her over the rim of his ss. "Maybe you should get the hell out of my house now. Wouldn''t want
you to miss that full moon tonight."
Before Karma can spout theeback that''s poised on her lips, something on the news captures his
attention. She also takes notice of what has him mesmerized.
"Daughter of former senator Mitchell and owner of popr bakery Soho Sugar, Arden Stone, was
arrested this afternoon on charges of possession and child endangerment. Mrs. Stone was taken into
custody after an anonymous call was made to Child Protective Services early this morning."
Casper moves closer to the television, worry wrinkling his brow. A picture of Arden in handcuffs lights
on the high-def screen. He blinks several times, unable to believe the scene before his eyes.
"A search of the Stone household turned up drug paraphernalia. However, no other evidence of drug
abuse by Mrs. Stone or her husband has been identified. The validity of the allegations is still being
investigated."
"Well, looks like little miss sugar and spice is anything but nice." Karma sits back and smirks at the
footage of Arden being escorted into the police station.
Casper ignores her and scrambles to find his mobile. Her number is still in his recent contacts, so his
search is a quick one. The phone rings until her voicemail picks up. Cursing underneath his breath, he
hangs up and tries again. This time it rings twice, before her voicemail answers. He tries one more time
and it goes straight to her voicemail after one ring. Finally, he decides to leave her a message.
"Arden, I''m sorry about earlier today. I got carried away. Just please call me back ... I just want to know
that you''re okay." He ends the call and stares at it, feeling more helpless than an umbre in a
snowstorm.
When he turns around again, Karma is standing right behind him. She looks him up and down, tapping
her heel on the hardwoods. "What happened with Arden today?"
"Nothing that concerns you." Casper rushes from the room and heads for the front door.
"Did you fuck her, Cash?" Karma follows him, continuing to question the reason he felt the need to
apologize to Arden. "Did you?"
He ignores her and grabs his keys from the decorative te on the foyer table. As he''s reaching for the
doorknob, his phone rings.
Recognizing the number shing across the screen, he can''t answer it quick enough. "Arden?"