Divorce

"I want a divorce." Casey said without preamble as soon as Zeke answered the phone.

Zeke rolled his eyes and motioned his secretary out before settling back in his chair for what promised to be a long conversation.

"You can't divorce your cleaning service, Case."

"I can too. They're at the house more than you are. I can't even watch the Travel channel in peace."

"Good. Maybe we'll be able to go on a vacation without side trips to see the world's biggest ball of twine for a change." Zeke nodded his thanks to his secretary who appeared in the door with a large latte and two pieces of apple cake. He set the cakes aside to take home and sipped at the latte. Casey was still babbling.

"You're just mad because Eric threw away your penne. He doesn't understand that little thing you have about fuzzy green food."

"It wasn't green," Casey muttered sullenly.

Zeke waited, taking another sip of his drink. He resisted the urge to count down the seconds to Casey's inevitable confession. Feeling generous, Zeke saved them both the effort.

"You could just tell me that you miss me."

"Never," Casey said with a small laugh. "Your ego's inflated enough."

"But..." Zeke turned on that little boy wheedling tone. Casey was a sucker for that.

"Did you see yesterday's proofs?"

"Not your best work, Case, but not terrible either. It's been a crazy month."

"Vienna without me." Casey's voice pitched lower and Zeke was caught between sighing in frustration and blowing off his very important meeting to go home right then. Sighing won.

"You had the Preswyck shoot, Case. Besides, it was business the entire time. You'd have been climbing the walls."

"At least they'd've been different walls."

Zeke pushed the half-finished beverage aside and opened the top drawer of his desk. He listened to Casey's sighs and the sound of the vacuum cleaner droning in the background.

"Any word from the contractor on your studio?"

Zeke winced as Casey launched into a blistering account of his last conversation with the contractor who'd left the new building behind the house half-finished for nearly a month.

Dumping the contents of the plain white envelope, Zeke shuffled through the pile until he found the brochure he wanted. If everything went well at today's meeting, he'd finally be able to take this home.

A light tap at the door served as his twenty-minute warning. Regretfully, Zeke put everything back in the desk but that one colorful trifold. He slipped that into his laptop case while he waited for the next break in Casey's tirade.

"Case?" Zeke's voice was soft and Casey broke off mid-sentence. "You want to order in tonight? I'll be home early."

"Define 'early'."

"Friedman'll be out of here by 4."

"If you're late I'm eating your eggroll."

"You do and I'll tell Eric to vacuum the bedroom first tomorrow."

"Sadist."

"I try." Zeke grinned and reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out his tie. He kept it on hand for meetings with uptight conservatives like Friedman.

"Listen Case, I've gotta go. Do something for me?"

"Besides ordering the food? No one told me being a kept man was such hard work." Zeke laughed at Casey's irritated huff.

"Yes, well life *is* a bitch, dear. Now be a good kept man and get out your winter gear. I hear we're in for a cold spell."

"How cold?" Casey asked suspiciously.

"Think penguins."

"I like penguins."

"Then get out the thermals but order my food first. Now let me go get even richer so I can keep my kept man happy."

"Yes, master," Casey chirped and clicked off.

Zeke leaned down to put the phone into his laptop case. He caught the edge of the travel brochure, angling it so he could read the title, "Iceland" before sliding it fully into the case. Two weeks of gorgeous scenery, huddling together for warmth and not a giant ball of twine in sight. A perfect vacation.

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