C.A.K.E

Chapter 14: Lies and Videotape

Two-thirty in the morning and Karma's just now slipping into the hotel's shower. Cain made his exit

about fifteen minutes ago. She's been lying in the middle of a rented bed, trying to recover from his

eight-inch pleasure stick.

After she's washed Cain's essence off her body, she gets dressed and does her makeup again. She

dabs at her lipstick and smudges her eyeliner a bit. Then she spritzes her face with a little water. For

her excuse that she's been stuck in her office all night to fly, she has to look the part. L'oreal has some

fantastic foundation, but even it wouldn't look flawless after twelve hours.

She collapses on one of the lounge chairs in the suite and flips through a couple of channels on the flat

screen. The urge to go home hasn't struck her. In fact, she's thinking about spending the night here.

After all, she's already paid for it. That seems like a far better option than creeping into her home at this

hour.

Casper must be going out of his mind. She checks her cell, expecting to see a host of messages from

her husband. But there are no missed calls or frantic voicemails for her to listen to with an aggravated

smirk painted on her face. Maybe he fell asleep.

Or maybe he just doesn't give a shit about where you are, bitch.

She shakes her head and chuckles. That can't be it. Casper probably dozed off watching re-runs on the

sofa. He spent the entire evening waiting up for her. Yep, that's exactly what happened.

Content with her analysis of the apparent lack of her husband's concern for her whereabouts, she does

one more check of the hotel room. The last time she and Cain spent a few hours in a rented hideaway,

she left behind a pair of diamond studs that Casper bought for her birthday. She touched her hand to

her ears and found them bare in time to rush back upstairs to retrieve them.

Karma grabs her handbag. After she's checked its depths to ensure that she hasn't left anything for

housekeeping to find, she saunters down the hallway to the elevators. She smiles at another woman

dressed in a power suit walking in the opposite direction.

The woman gives her a knowing nod as they pass each other. Perhaps they're both stalking the halls of

this luxury hotel for the same reason. And it ain't for the tiny hotel soaps and shampoos.

She informs the front desk that she'll be checking out early, and settles the balance on the room. This

little habit of hers is getting expensive. Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

Cain can't leave a paper trail for his wife to find. Manali keeps a close eye on her husband's checking

and savings accounts. Cain doesn't inspire the most trustworthy of feelings in her, with his evasive

answers and long absences.

So Karma has to foot the bill for their rendezvous. She keeps a separate account in her maiden name

away from Casper's eyes. As far as he knows, she barely buys a stick of gum every month. She does

all her questionable spending on the hidden books.

If Casper really knew about all the dirt she does, their five-year marriage would have been over a long

time ago.

She rushes to her car, checking over her shoulder the entire time. It's well after midnight, and she's a

woman walking alone. Even if she hadn't insisted that she and Cain not be seen leaving together, she

doubts he would have stayed to see that she made it safely to her vehicle.

Cain's number one priority is Cain. His second and third priorities also happen to be himself. He makes

her look like a saint sometimes.

A light rain must have chosen to drench the city while she and Cain were indisposed. The few street

lights reflect off the slick asphalt, making the dark streets glow like they've been scattered with copper

pennies.

She speeds through the near-deserted streets watching corners and crannies for any overzealous state

troopers looking to reach their monthly quota. The last thing she wants to do is answer that

incriminating question, “Do you know why I stopped you, ma'am?”

It's near impossible for a person to answer that damn question without admitting that one was indeed

speeding, or neglected to perform a full stop instead of the standard California roll at that stop sign. It's

entrapment if you ask her.

Karma pulls into her driveway and is relieved to see that there doesn't appear to be any lights on in the

house. She gets out of the car, and locks the sedan from the inside, then pushes the heavy metal door

closed with her hip.

She glances around the sleepy cul-de-sac. Not a creature is stirring, save for an adulterous spouse.

Karma pulls off her heels, choosing to carry them in her hand as she makes her way up their front

porch. She says a silent prayer that Casper forgot to set the security system, then pushes her key into

the lock. The alarm control panel next to the door flashes the words “not armed” in neon green.

Good. The alarm won't be waking up half the neighborhood.

Karma tiptoes inside and presses the oak door into its frame once more with a feather-light touch. She

waits with her head against the door, not breathing. As if creeping around like a church mouse will

make her entrance at this ungodly hour any less disruptive.

She closes her eyes and makes a slow about-face, putting her back against the door. Karma takes a

deep breath and prepares herself to dodge the creaky floorboards.

She opens her eyes. And just as she lifts her toes to make that first step, she sees Casper's imposing

build staring right at her. Her breathing stops cold. A prickling sensation overtakes her body, as her

lungs and other organs scream for air.

“What the fuck, Casper?!”

He's sitting in the dark with a vile expression on his face. His eyes look like they haven't rested in days.

His tall frame is still dressed in his Armani slacks and Ralph Lauren shirt.

“What's his fucking name?”

She remembers Cain's words from their earlier phone conversation. Nothing to worry about ... He

doesn't suspect a thing. Fuck, Cain.

He skipped out of that hotel room, knowing full well that Casper has caught their scent and is busy

sniffing out their lying trail. She finds her composure and plasters on her best poker face. See what he

knows first. Maybe she can talk her way out of his suspicion.

“Whose name?” she asks, placing her things down on the mirrored buffet in the foyer.

“The bloke you've been fucking.” He scratches at his goatee, then runs his hand over the dark hairs.

“What is his name?”

“Casper, honey, I don't know what you're talking about.” She approaches him and smooths over his

wrinkled lapel with her hand. “You look exhausted. Let's just go to bed.”

He catches her hand in his and caresses the milk chocolate skin covering her slender digits.

“Karma. You look plenty rested.” He kisses the back of her hand. “And my eyes are now wide open ...

Neither of us needs to sleep.”

She sighs and places her free hand on her hip. “I was at work. You know that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” A little too much attitude is apparent in her voice.

He ignores the bass in her voice and keeps his tone even. “Someone should have informed your boss

then. Frome thinks you're at home nursing a sick relative.”

“Casper ...”

“Which is funny for two reasons.” He holds up one of her fingers. “One, because you haven't been

home for hours.” He raises another of her fingers and kisses it. “And two ... You don't have any

relatives here besides my family.” He glances up at her. “Last I checked, none of them are suffering

from so much as a hangnail.”

Karma swallows hard. Perspiration is soiling the armpits of her dress. She shifts her weight from foot to

foot and avoids his gaze.

“I um ... just needed to take some time to myself. The stress of the Pollard case is starting to get to me.

And—.”

“Please, Karma.” He lets go of her hand. “We both know you thrive on that shit. The higher profile case,

the more press, the more you get off on it.”

She rolls her eyes. Everything he said is true. She loves the thrill her profession offers. It's a high

stakes game for her. And she loves charging into the fray.

“Maybe we should talk about this in the morning. When we've both had some time to think.” She

attempts to pull him from the chair and towards their bedroom.

Casper resists the slight force of her small frame and draws her back to him.

“I've had nothing but time to think. That's all I can do when you disappear. I've done enough thinking to

last a lifetime.” He shrugs. “Maybe you need some time to think up another bullshit story?”

She tries another tactic. Karma takes a seat on his lap and cradles his face in her hands. She stares

into his eyes.

“Baby, I know I've been really wrapped up in my work lately.” She kisses his neck, then nibbles on his

ear. “Let me make it up to you.”

He pushes her away with a surprising amount of force. Karma loses her balance and hits the floor with

a thud. She stares up at him, her eyes wide.

“I'm not in the mood for a pity fuck. All I'm interested in at the moment is the motherfucker's name who

I'm sharing your pussy with.” He glares down at her, making no move to help her off the cold floor.

His vulgar language is something foreign to her. This isn't her husband. Casper would never even blow

on her hard. And he's never referred to her in such a disrespectful manner. She decides to try some

truth.

“His name isn't important.” She kneels before him. “He isn't important to me. You are.”

“Cut the bull, Karma. And tell me his bloody name.”

“It doesn't matter.” She shakes her head. “You don't know him.”

“Another fucking lie.” He chuckles, running his fingers over his close-cropped hair.

Her brow wrinkles. “What are you talking about?”

“You and I both know him very well.”

“I don't understand,” she mumbles.

“My brother, Karma ... My motherfucking brother.” He's yelling now. His accent is amplified, making it

difficult for her to discern his words. But the language of anger is universal and transcends the barriers

of any cultural inflection.

She gets up from the floor and backs away from him. Her breath chooses to hide in the depths of her

petrified lungs, rather than encounter the strained environment she's created for herself. How did this

happen? They were always careful, or so she thought. How the hell did he know?

“Casper, I love your brother. But I assure you, there is—.”

He abandons his seat and heads off in the direction of the great room. Karma remains frozen against

the front door, staring after his tensed form. She holds her breath, afraid to make a noise until he

returns.

A minute later, Casper reappears with a portfolio full of Blu-ray discs and his laptop. He sits the items

on the side table. Then he asks Karma to have a seat in the chair he just left. She doesn't move.

“My darling wife of five years, please have a seat.” His cool tone unnerves her even more.

“I'm fine right here.” She tries to shrink further into the wooden door.

“Sit the fuck down!”

The rage boiling underneath the surface of his once placid demeanor, bursts through and warps his

features. Twisting his face into something ugly, and not at all like his usual, handsome self. He takes a

deep breath, then gestures to the chair again.

Karma takes slow steps to comply with his request. Once she's seated, he places the computer in her

lap. The media player software has been launched, and a video is queued up. She notices the date in

the bottom right corner of the screen. It's today's date. Her stomach begins to roil, as a sickening

thought creeps into her mind.

“About six months ago, you did something that didn't sit well with me.” He leans against the side table,

as he flips through the catalog of discs. “You opened a separate bank account in your maiden name. At

first, I thought you might be trying to hide a few extravagant purchases from me.”

He laughs to himself.

“I thought it was funny that you felt the need to hide a couple of pairs of Louboutins from me. You work

hard ... You're entitled to splurge.”

“Casper, that account is from a long time ago. Before we got married. I just never closed it. I hardly use

it.”

He continues as if she hasn't spoken.

“But then charges for hotels and ... well ... How do I put this?” He taps his finger against his temple.

“Tools of a whore's trade started to appear. And I couldn't help but notice that I'd never been to these

places, or seen these new toys.” He shrugs. “But I trusted my wife. Told myself I was just being

paranoid.”

“I don't know where you're going with this. But I'm done.” Karma takes the laptop in her hands and gets

up.

Casper steps closer to her, putting his lips as close to her ear as possible without touching her.

“I have sat for your shit for years. The least you can do is park your uppity ass for twenty minutes, while

I get this off my chest.”

He's practically snarling.

She does as he says, and parks her uppity ass in the chair again. Whoever this man is, he isn't going

to let her play him like a fiddle.

The realization washes over her, ramping her physiological responses into high gear. She's trembling,

sweating and tears are brimming in her deep brown eyes.

“Cash, listen to me.”

“Only my friends call me, Cash.” He shakes his head. “We haven't been friends for a long time. And I

thought I made myself clear that I'm not equipped to do any listening right now. Not to you, anyway.” He

leans down to her level. “Unless you want to tell me the bastard's name?”

She remains silent and stares straight ahead.

“Didn't think so.” He continues his rant. “As I was saying, I trusted you. Then you got bold. Stopped

coming home at all. So I needed to know for sure. I had a few cameras installed around the house.

Started checking your account activity every day.”

He pulls a stack of papers from the back of the portfolio and shuffles through them.

“I was starting to face the fact that you were sleeping with someone else—some nameless, faceless

stranger. Of course, I sought out my little brother. To confide in my best friend, my blood.”

He reaches down and clicks play on the laptop's media player. The foyer of their home comes into

view. The very same spot where this confrontation is playing out right now. She watches as a recorded

image of herself rushes through the door, and throws her bag on the side table.

“But every time I reached out to my brother, he was too busy. Other times, he wouldn't answer at all.”

He smirks and emphasizes his words by tapping her arm with each one. “Completely disappeared. Just

... like ... you. Care to explain?”

Karma glances at him, but says nothing. She wishes he'd just come out and say whatever he's going to

say. This toying with her is taking a toll on her nerves.

Casper pauses the footage at a point where a head-to-toe shot of her can be seen.

The video is in superb focus. So there's no denying the details of her appearance. He directs her

attention to the immaculate state of her dress.

“Now, I'm no Sherlock. But there seems to be a certain coffee stain missing from your dress.” He

scratches his chin. “It was coffee, right?”

She grits her teeth. The tears that have been building in her doe eyes spill forth, streaking salty

streams down her cheeks. Again she remains mum.

“Ah, doesn't matter.” He tucks his hands into his pockets. “We've got more important ground to cover.”

He switches on a nearby lamp. Then he pulls a sheet of paper from the stack and points out a

highlighted charge on the bank statement. “I can't seem to figure this one out.” He kneels next to her

and examines the paper. “A charge for the Hyatt hotel appeared on your account a few hours ago.”

“Where did you get this?” she asks, eyeing the printout of her private information.

“I have my ways.” He shrugs. “So which is it, Karma? ... Were you at work. The hospital. Or screwing

my baby brother?”

She sniffles. “How do you expect me to answer that?”

“I think it's safe to assume my expectations aren't going to be met tonight.” He bends to her level. She

can see the putrid cocktail of anger and hurt swirling in his eyes. “So I couldn't give two shits how you

decide to answer that.”

She takes a ragged inhale, trying to breathe through the tears clouding her senses.

“Nothing happened between Cain and me. I swear.”

Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? So help you, God?

Karma has listened to countless witnesses and offenders take that oath. Here she is, an officer of the

court, and she can't live by those words. Even though it's evident that she's been caught in a lie. She

can't face the fact that her sweet and trusting husband has outsmarted her. That she's been walking

around thinking she was pulling the wool over poor Casper's eyes. And he's been watching her dig

herself further and further into a hole the entire time.

“Karma, it may be wise for you to start telling me the truth.” He picks up the leather portfolio and flips

through it again. “There are six months of recordings here. Hours of surveillance from all over the

house. I haven't watched any of it yet.”

He pulls out a Blu-ray dated three months ago. Karma's eyes get wide. She remembers that time

period very well. She and Cain were sneaking back to her house five times a week. Little did she know,

they were performing for big brother. Pardon the pun.

“You haven't watched them?” she asks, glancing up at him.

“Nope, I have no clue what is on these discs. Could be four thousand three hundred eighty-three hours

of dust bunnies for all I know.” He eyeballs the Blu-ray in his hand. “But I was hoping one of you would

grow a conscience and confess. So that I wouldn't have to find out for myself.”

“Baby, believe me. It's not what you think.” She rises from the chair again and attempts to get near him.

He pushes her back down by her shoulders.

“Let's play a little game.” He paces in front of her, wearing a groove into the dark hardwood floor. Then

he stops short and smirks at her. “You like playing games. Don't you, sweetheart?”

She swallows a thick gulp of air and swipes at her eyes.

“A game?”

“Yes, a game.” He claps his hands. “More of a wager to be exact.” He stands at the back of the

wingback chair, rubbing her shoulders. “Let's call it, Guess Who Karma's Fucking. Catchy title, huh?”

She sits dumbfounded as he releases her frozen image from the screen's pixelated purgatory.

“I bet I can guess bang on, who is about to walk through that door.”

She looks away from the computer. He takes hold of her chin, making her watch the events unfold.

“I bet my baby brother, Cain, is on the other side of that door.” He leans closer to whisper in her ear.

“What do you think my odds are?”

Karma looks at the scene playing on the screen. A man's heavy build approaches the door, casting an

imposing shadow through the decorative glass panels of the handcrafted, oak door. Her heart rate

accelerates to an alarming pace. She pauses the playback.

“Enough. You win, Casper.” She shifts to face him, tears glistening in her eyes. “You win, all right.”

“I win?” His deep laugh echoes throughout the empty house. “What the fuck do I win, Karma?” He

throws his hands in the air. “Hmm? ... How in the bleeding hell am I the lucky bastard in this situation?”

“I'll tell you—I'll tell you the truth,” she stammers, near hyperventilation.

He clicks play and glares at his brother's face walking into his home. He watches as Cain kisses and

gropes Karma. As the two people whom he trusted most in the world betray him.

“Lot of good that does me when I'm looking right at it.” The tension in his jaw at the moment would be

enough to crush boulders.

“Casper —.” She grabs for his hand. And again, he pulls away from her.

He fishes through her handbag to find her phone, then hands it to her.

“Call your boyfriend. We need to have a little come to Jesus meeting.”