Synopsis

Excerpt

          Casey grasped the door frame to steady herself on the patent leather stilettos. She'd bought the shoes along with the black lace bustier and matching thong at Priscilla's Dirty Underwear on Broadway Street in the North Beach section of San Francisco. Casey could feel Drew slipping away from her, from their fifteen-month marriage, and leaving her for a mistress. Drew's obsession was not a woman but a cult, with over a hundred members that she knew of. Casey's outfit was an attempt to show Drew that she believed what they had was good, that she wanted to hold on to it, and that leading a conventional life was more worthwhile than going underground. Casey's ankles felt weak as she walked across the bedroom on the hardwood floor.

          Propped up on one elbow, Drew lay on the bed wearing nothing but a killer smile. The brass bed sat in the recess of a large bay window framed by filmy drapes that cascaded to the floor from ten-foot-high ceilings. The heavy double-hung windows were open just enough to billow the drapes occasionally. The movement made Casey dizzy, like the way Drew used to make her feel when he kissed her.  

          Casey met Drew Landry at 'The School,' which was a nice name for a suspicious faction. That smile, his half-lidded bedroom eyes, and an understated Southern drawl mesmerized her from the first time she saw him. Drew was gorgeous, and she had to have him. He was sitting directly across from her in the circle. Comfortable in a leadership position, Drew spoke freely in the group, directing the conversation and asking questions. Casey forced that memory and the butterflies in her stomach to override the piercing sense of idiocy she felt in the cheap, scratchy get-up.

          The couple had recently returned from a clandestine two-week trip with The School. They were not told where they were going and were not allowed to tell anyone where they were once they landed. Casey lied to her boss about needing the time off for a family illness. The stay at "The Ranch," a lodge somewhere near Glacier National Park, had driven a wedge between them. Drew's commitment to the group deepened with his elevated position, and Casey's doubts about their future grew exponentially. A painful silence descended over them on the plane ride home, and it lasted nearly a week.

          It was now Friday night, date night, which was her chance to show him how much she wanted him and how much she wanted their marriage to work. She would finally do some of the things he had asked her to do, some of the things everyone else in The School was doing, but Casey had resisted. The medieval bedding ritual she endured on their wedding night at The School's instance was mortifying, but she loved Drew enough to agree to voyeurism. Casey drank some whiskey to get through it, but she believed she was drugged. Drew insisted she had not. And now, standing in the doorway of their bedroom, she could see he had a few toys under the sheets, and she needed a drink.