Bait (Wake, #1)(48)

It didn’t feel right hiding what was going on with Casey from Micah, but I wasn’t really sure what to say. We were friends…who sometimes f*cked?

We talked about how she was feeling and how it all came to be. She was in love with Cory and her, although nervous, excitement still sounded happy. When I spoke about my wedding and Grant, I tried to impersonate her enthusiasm, but I couldn't even convince myself.

Casey and I were in constant contact over those weeks and what led into months. I was starting to do shows on my own and he was traveling most of the time.

I'd missed him in at the beginning of August. He was in Seattle, but I’d been in San Francisco. It always seemed to work out like that. He came with Audrey and his dad to help her get situated at school. She'd chosen to go to Cornish, a great art focused college, against her father's best advice, but Casey said she was really happy to get away from California and that it would be good for her.

He told me one night he was glad she was in my city, because if she needed anything I could be there in a hurry for her. That made me feel pretty good.

We talked incessantly. I could tell you the local time in almost any stateside city by late September.

I knew that when I got married it would all have to stop, so I guess I was cramming as much Casey in as I could.

It didn’t sound or seem fair to either Grant or Casey, but I didn’t know how to stop. I couldn’t imagine a world without Casey in it, but felt I needed to stay in the world with Grant as my center.

When we got too intense during phone conversations, or when things got over-heated, I'd ask to switch back to texting. He always sounded annoyed with it, but did it anyway.

We were, for all intents and purposes, friends.

We debated everything and he pissed me off. He told me that I was a poser because I was a gourmet-trained chef who liked Cheetos and canned cheese. He let it go after I called him a poor man's Sam Adams. In fact, he hung up on me that night.

I welcomed those nights. The ones where I laid in my bed and he told me how sea horses mate, or about all the theories he'd read on the never ending controversy of which came first: the chicken or the egg? I'd fall asleep on those nights, wherever I was, and I felt like I was home.

The other nights were more difficult for me. My nights with Grant.

From the outside, everything looked like a best-case scenario for a young couple and their happy future. Things were typical, calm, and I painted on the face of a woman starting a future with a perfect man.

I faked every orgasm Grant thought he gave me. Though our sex life was still active, it was just that. Active. Activated. Choreographed. I knew what he liked. I did it. He knew what I liked. He did it. It wasn't torture, and for him it was genuine. Grant was always sincere.

It was me.

After every fake climax, I'd pull myself into the bathroom and run water over my pale face and look at myself. I'd breathe and try to put all my thoughts back into their separate corners. Until, one especially overwhelming, or underwhelming, depending on how you looked at it, night I decided to bring my phone into the bathroom with me.

I texted Casey.

Me: Tell me what you had for lunch.

Casey: I'm glad you asked, actually. I was going to tell you about it. I had haggis. It was totally disgusting and I'll never eat it again.

I was happy that he replied quickly. All of the jumbled feelings and emotions I had rolling around in my head and stomach quieted and calmed. Things went back to the way they were. He still waited for me to contact him in the evenings, unless he knew I was out of town, even though I didn't ask him to anymore. Every time I send him something he was always right there. Just a send button away.

Me: Haggis is disgusting. Why did you eat it?

Casey: Marc bet me I wouldn't. I won twenty bucks.

Me: Congratulations.

Casey: Thank you. What's up with you?

Me: I was just going to bed. I thought I'd say hi.

Casey: Hi LOL

And I heard it. My generous memory let me actually hear his laugh. That was all I’d needed.

Me: Goodnight.

Casey: I wish.

Me too.

Smart phones were dangerous weapons. Casey's company, Bay Brewing, had a twitter account. I followed it. I set up an account of my own after I found theirs. I used the user name @BettyTRubble. I had a feeling that Casey was the person behind the account. It was to my benefit that there were pictures of him available to me whenever I wanted. Even though I let him take pictures of me when we were in Chicago, I didn't have any of him and I wasn't brave enough to ask him for any. So the twitter account, that I checked almost hourly, had to tide me over.

And it did. There were pictures of him smiling and laughing. Mostly doing work things and marketing, but it was all the same to me. Seeing his crazy wardrobe and hair whenever I wanted made me feel like I was a secret agent.

That probably made me a little bit of a stalker, but I didn't care.





Friday, October 10th, 2008


I DIDN’T REALLY GIVE a f*ck if it made me a stalker. It was public knowledge and good for my business. Blake's company, Couture Dining Incorporated, knew what the hell they're doing.

I didn't want my first trade-show to be the first show we met up at. So, since CDI had an information-rich website—including pictures of Blake at trade shows, new restaurant openings and with new clients—I made a decision to follow their staunch social and marketing excellence.