Casey
What the hell was he thinking, staying at 222 Corpse Flower? He should’ve disappeared, changed his name, grown a beard, vanished into some faceless town.
Instead, he stayed. Tethered to the one place Alexander could find him. Just a few doors away.
He takes a slow sip, lets the whiskey burn. Still doesn’t burn enough. Not after this afternoon. Not after Alexander showed up at his place, unannounced. For once, the fury showed. And maybe, for the first time, Casey saw past the mask into the raw, calculated intent beneath.
Alexander’s voice was low, laced with controlled rage, his stare burning with a darker menace, like the veneer of calm had finally worn thin.
“Someone reported me to the State Board,” he said, almost a growl.
“What?” Casey winced, genuinely shocked.
Alexander laid it out: A slow-moving investigation had already begun, looking into claims of breach of confidentiality, coercion, fraud, harassment. Not surprisingly, the list went on.
“Who would be bitter enough to fabricate something so audacious?” There was a new edge to his voice, still controlled, but lethal. “Was it you, Casey?”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear the first time—I want nothing to do with you. But I’m flattered you think I’m the only one who’d want to take you down.”
A shadow crossed Alexander’s face as he moved closer.
“You think you’re out, do you? You don’t get to be done with me. I’ll burn everything to the ground if I have to. Your divorce? I can make it a war zone. Lili’s attorney would love to hear about that revenge-porn stunt you pulled on Raf.”
“That was your stunt, pervert. Not mine.”
Then, Alexander shoved him. Light. Almost casual. But it felt like he was daring Casey to push him back.
“And yet I’m not the one with everything to lose. Am I?”
Of course, he was right. Whatever spark of defiance Casey had left was already snuffed out. “Fine, he said, shame burning beneath the twisted relief of giving in. “I’ll find out who filed it.”
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An hour later, he was at Lili’s door. Gareth answered, bare-chested and sweaty. Of course. Buttoned-up, squeaky-clean Gareth had already moved in on her. And Lili, who’d always insisted Gareth was harmless, hadn’t wasted any time.
“What do you want?” Gareth asked.
“Right now? To punch you in the face. You’re really screwing my wife?”
“I’m not screwing anyone, bro. That’s your move. I’m just here cleaning up your mess.”
Casey almost swung, but then Lili appeared.
“I got this,” she said, stepping forward, almost like she relished the chance to face him again.
“Shout if you need me,” Gareth said. Casey almost burst out laughing. It was such a pitch-perfect Gareth performance, brimming with self-importance, like he was auditioning for a part in his own life, still convinced he could pass for the hero.
“What do you want?” Lili hissed, her glare burning into him.
Casey just grimaced and shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re with him. A little fast, don’t you think?”
“No one’s faster than you. So save me the lecture and get to the point.”
“There’s something we need to talk about.”
“Oh, God. You’re not here to make amends, are you? God, this is so embarrassing—”
“No. I mean, I would, but I know that’s the last thing you want, and it’s not like I’m in AA, but still. It’s about Alexander.”
“What now?”
He drew a slow, performative breath, then squared his shoulders, trying to look like a man who did the right thing on purpose. “We need to report him. To the Board.”
“The board?” she said, repeating him with the slightest hint of mockery. “Do you even know what ‘the board’ is?” She tilted her head, letting out a low sound, somewhere between a laugh and the last breath of patience she had left for him. “Did you really think I’d just sit back after what he did? Some of us actually have a spine, Casey.”
“What do you mean?”
“I already reported him,” she said. “To the Board of Psychology. You should, too. But don’t act like this is some great act of redemption. You don’t get moral points for showing up late.”
He just stared, caught between the script he’d prepared and the strange relief of no longer needing it.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she continued, the edge in her voice sharpening into something almost gleeful, “Gareth and I have a date. In your old bed. Spoiler: it’s actually hot when the guy isn’t a narcissist with a cocktail weenie for a dick.”
And with that, she slammed the door in his face.
She’d made it too easy. First, getting with Gareth to piss him off, then that jab about his dick. Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s no redemption left.
He picks up his phone and types a single message to Alexander: It was Lili. One deep breath. Then he hits send.
He knocks back the last of the whiskey. Sets the glass on the desk. That’s when he sees it—the business card. Kathleen Marks.
He grabs his phone. Dials. It rings once. Twice. Then—
“Hello?”
“Ms. Marks, it’s Casey Stoneman,” he says, not hesitating as long as he thought he would. “We met the other day.”
A pause on the other line. Then: “Yes. I remember.”
“I’ve been thinking about your offer,” he adds slowly, as if he’s still convincing himself. “About work. I think I’m ready to talk.”