CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rogan’s Bad Side

Rogan wouldn’t leave me alone. At the same time Felicity-Ann moved in, Rogan also moved in—not into my apartment—but one down the hall. Once his place was set up, he invited himself over whenever he wanted. He brought food too, but not the way Christian used to. Christian used to bring gourmet everything. Rogan brought over donairs in greasy paper and Vietnamese noodles in Styrofoam containers.

He also established a relationship with Felicity-Ann I could live with. She told me about it later, which surprised me.

“I just had an interesting conversation with Rogan,” she said cutely. I hated it when she acted cute. “Wow, Bethie. Do you know what he said to me?”

“I can’t guess.”

“He told me, ever so gently, that I can’t kiss his cheek anymore when I say hello. You don’t like it, and since your feelings are so precious to him, he would prefer it if I stopped all together.”

I didn’t know she had been doing that and I felt my stomach turn. At least, he’d put a stop to it before I saw it. “Was that verbatim?” I asked sourly.

“Pretty much.”

I really didn’t think I was going to enjoy living with Felicity-Ann. However, she did a few things right. She tidied the bathroom after every shower, never let food in the fridge rot, kept her shoes in the closet neatly in a shoe rack, and did her own dishes after each meal.

I complimented her on it, though I admit to being stingy in my praise.

Soon I realized there was something else about her that was worth complimenting and I wasn’t stingy.

She answered the door. Because of the width of Trinity’s circle of friends, not everyone knew she had married and moved away. Occasionally, random people would show up at the door looking for Trinity. As often as she could, Felicity-Ann took care of these people. She had cards made up with Trinity’s social media information and handed them out as she turned them away. I loved this because these people often took it for granted that I was a replacement for Trinity, even though I had not done a single thing to make them feel that way. If I answered the door, often they still thought it was okay to come in, but if Felicity-Ann answered it, they knew the party was over. She made it sound like the whole apartment was under new management and that everything was different.

It looked different. Trinity had painstakingly decorated the place with fairy lights, pillows, faux sheepskins, and plush carpets so people felt good about sitting on the floor. Trinity took most of her things with her, leaving only dishes and cookware behind. Felicity-Ann’s style was different. The fairy lights were not replaced with more fairy lights. Instead, she had plants. We had a huge wall of glass on one side of the studio and she set up tropical plants at different heights. I liked it. The air smelled fresh and I felt less like a student and more like an independent woman.

In short, she was much cleaner than Trinity, and the ongoing ruckus Trinity had hosted was over. I liked a clean, quiet apartment and that was what I got with Felicity-Ann. Though I missed Trinity, it wasn’t all bad.

Also, I never met Felicity-Ann’s boyfriend. Not that I did much detective work to figure out who he was. It was just that sometimes I came in just as she was going out. I knew she was going to meet him, but the front atrium was desolate. Sometimes, as I leaned on the balcony railing with Rogan, we would see her. She always went out and returned home a hundred percent solo.

Even though I protested that I didn’t want to be friends with Rogan, he was still excellent company. Whether he was Christian or Rogan, I was still in love with him. He was very determined to make himself pleasant and not a burden at all. His angular form on my couch was a welcome sight, and his opinion on anything was a welcome sound. I loved how he thought, how he spoke, how occasionally he would touch me, and though it was hard, I schooled myself to wait for more.

It was a nice summer. Nice in that, it was less lonely than I expected it to be after Trinity’s departure.

As my fake friendship with Rogan deepened, it felt that the line between friendship and love was fading. His hands were massaging my shoulders after work. If he had something to say when we were watching TV, he whispered it in my ear filling my head with the warmth of his breath no matter what he said. If he was eating anything, he was popping half of it in my mouth. It was all very romantic, even if he said he couldn’t fall in love.

Felicity-Ann had had enough. In a surprising moment when he was vacant, she asked me, “Are you dating Rogan?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?” she persisted.

“Yes. He never kisses me and he always says we’re only friends.”

“Should you put up with that?”

I chuckled darkly. “Darling, it’s either this or the guillotine.”

She didn’t know what to make of that answer, but at least it stopped her from asking any more questions.

***

It was late August. The fall term would begin in a week, and I sat in the food court. I had just finished eating my lunch and was reading a news bit on my phone when someone came over and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see who it was, but he had already moved and was now standing in front of me.

“How do, stranger?” he said in his cultured British accent. His red hair was surprisingly long. He hadn’t cut it since the last time I had seen him. He looked raggety. That meant, his clothes looked like they had been stored on the floor and stepped on several times rather than being hung up. Luckily, I couldn’t smell him. After what Rogan said, I should have been afraid to see Charles at all, but his expression was so demure that I judged he was visiting me to test the waters.

“Why, hello!” I said as naturally as I could, considering everything. I stood up and gave him an awkward pat. “Where did you drop down from?”

“Huh?” he asked, dazed and sat down across from me.

“What brings you here? I always thought that you must be in England.”

“Oh. I’ve been working here for the last few years, but I’ve wanted to go to school. I was here visiting the admission office.”

“Are you starting classes this fall?”

“Probably not. I missed the deadline for applying, but I might be able to make it in by January.”

I leaned in and said, like it was a secret, “I have to tell you. You’ve caught me on my lunch break. I can only talk for about ten minutes and then I have to get back to work. I just don't want my shortness to make it seem like I'm not delighted to see you.”

“You’re delighted to see me?” he asked, his bloodshot eyes staring at me in disbelief. “I thought you didn’t like me very much.”

Of course, I didn't like him very much. Words like 'delighted' and 'darling' were warning words in Christian's world. He didn't pick up on it. I yawned. “I embarrassed myself in front of you so many times. Please don’t blame teenage-me for being shy while on vacation.”

“Ah,” he said like he understood.

I could have slapped him, but I kept feigning pleasantness. I only had to put up with it for another nine and a half minutes. “What were you planning on taking?”

“What are you taking?” he asked.

“Business.”

“I should take that too,” he said immediately.

I was going to end up slapping him. He was exactly the same as he had been when I met him at the compound. He had no idea how to improve himself, only how to screw someone else over.

At that exact moment, Rogan dropped himself into the seat next to me. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, giving Charles eye-daggers.

“This is Charles. He’s an old friend. I met him in Scotland when I vacationed there a few years ago.”

Rogan kept his hands under the table.

“Charles,” I continued. “This is my neighbor, Rogan. He’s a business student too.”

Charles nodded, but he looked discomfited by Rogan’s appearance, not that he had been particularly comfortable before. It reminded him to get to the point of his visit. “Beth, I was hoping we would run into each other. I want to show you something.”

I glanced between him and Rogan. “Like what? Like, take me somewhere for a date?”

Charles opened his mouth to say something when Rogan cut him off. “She can’t go.”

“Why not?” Charles asked.

“Because you are a weasel.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, his face becoming a completely different shade of red than his hair.

“How much did you drink last night? You hardly look sober. Showing her something doesn’t sound like much of a date. Where do you want to take her?”

Charles cocked his head and lost what little posture he had. “What are you? Her dad? She called you her neighbor, so it’s none of your business.”

Rogan kept his hands under the table. “Beth, do you want to go on a date with this guy? Am I standing in the way? Or am I doing you a favor asking him to get lost?”

I stood up. “You both suck. I’m going back to work.” I picked up my bag and headed for the stairs.

I heard them behind me. Charles was calling after me, and Rogan was hissing at Charles to sit back down. I knew what he was doing without looking. He was going to chase Charles away using only his mouth because he had to hide his hands and he couldn't stand up and show his height. Just like I knew what he was doing, I knew he liked what I had done. He was here in order to take care of it and I hoped he didn’t take care of it too quickly.

***

Later that evening, Felicity-Ann told me that someone named Charles had buzzed the apartment looking for me.

“I told him you weren’t home and he should come back later.”

My spine crawled as I pictured Charles ringing the bell. Finally, I instructed her, “I’m screening my visitors. If he ever comes back, no matter where I am, tell him I’m not home. I never want to see him again.”

“Does he know that?”

“Look, shutting him down openly isn't a good option. I need to make it seem like he's so unimportant to me that I keep forgetting his existence. I should have pretended I didn't remember him when I met him in the food court, but I honestly didn't expect him to turn up.”

“This isn't like you. You tell it like it is. Why all the deception?”

I sighed. At least, she didn't realize I lied all the time. “Listen. I don't like it either, but for once, this is the right choice.”

She glanced at me disapprovingly and went to get her laundry.

Rogan came by later, but he didn’t mention Charles. He was wearing navy racing gloves, but the tips of the last three fingers on his left hand were artfully covered in black fabric. He sat on the couch and read an economics textbook.

The bell rang and he leaped up like an antelope to answer it, “Hello.”

“Is Beth there?” the voice asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“Charles.”

“Yeah, she’s unavailable. Want me to have her call you?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she have your number?”

“No. It's...”

Rogan let the intercom buzz off so no one could hear the number, then he buzzed back on and said, “Thanks. I'll give her that message.”

The intercom buzzed a few more times, but neither Felicity-Ann nor I wanted to get on Rogan’s bad side, so neither of us answered it, no matter how many times it rang. Rogan was absolutely toxic.

“Do you know this guy?” Felicity-Ann asked, finally getting brave.

“You should have seen him, Felix. He would have set all your warning systems off. He looked like the kind of sleaze that has no limits. He would probably do anything to anyone. Don’t go near him and don’t let him come up here.”

“And how did Bethie pick up someone like that?”

I rolled my eyes. “I did not pick him up. He found me in Calgary when I ran away from boarding school when I was in grade eleven.”

“Wait a second. You ran away from boarding school?” Felicity-Ann interjected. “I thought that was more Trinity’s scene. Why were you running away from school?”

“I was trying to get Christian’s attention.”

“Who’s Christian?” Felicity-Ann asked excitedly, leaning on the kitchen island. “Sounds exciting!”

Rogan snorted softly on the couch.

I ignored him. “He was my guardian after my parents died. I wanted his attention, but all I did was piss him off. I only met Charles because he was in the right place at the right time. I didn’t usually cause trouble. I only wanted to be with Christian.”

“Why?” Rogan asked waspishly.

I turned to him and suddenly had a thought that had never crossed my mind before. Was it possible that the way Christian acted was not always in complete harmony with how the real man wanted to behave? He was so cool as Christian. Just as Felicity-Ann thought I was truthful, I thought he was authentic when he played Christian. It was stupid. I knew he lied all the time too.

I took a breath and said what I felt deep down in my heart. It was a good time to say it, masking it in my love for a non-present character. I looked straight at Rogan and said, "Have you ever been in love with a liar?"

He returned my gaze, his jaw set.

“No. Really?” I continued leaning forward on the counter and letting my words cover the space between us. "Have you ever been in love with a liar? Have you ever been in love with someone who is completely pretentious? They're lying to you. You know they're lying, yet they could ask you for absolutely anything and you'd give it to them. Why? Because you trust that liar. You trust something in their expression, in the brush of their fingertips, and the promise of devotion in their eyes no matter what the last thing they said was. Ever since that man had to leave me, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t missed him.”

Rogan’s expression had split in half. That was what happened when a practiced liar had to play a part but still had to feel within himself. The half that was Rogan looked annoyed, while the half that had been my Christian was visibly moved. “You shouldn’t love that kind of man, Beth.”

I ruffled my hair. “No kidding. How I feel about you is just as bad. I know you’re wrong for me. I know you don’t want to love me and you’re just sitting on that couch now because you’re worried I won’t be safe if you don’t. I love that you feel that way. Stay. I’ll make you dinner.”

Felicity-Ann looked horrified by my mouth. How could I have said that so calmly? She looked between the two of us like she didn’t understand the interchange. I needed to make it make sense.

“He’s right about Charles,” I said, turning to her. “No matter what he says, don't let him up here, and don’t talk to him.”

“What does he look like?”

“You shouldn’t have a hard time spotting him,” Rogan spat. “He’s a redhead who looks like he was recently run over.”

***

The next day, I saw Charles in the food court during my lunch hour. I avoided him and went the other way. Back at the print center, I texted Rogan a message saying that if he wanted me to avoid Charles he needed to bring me lunch. I was astounded when he messaged me back saying that he’d have one for me in fifteen minutes. What was he doing that he could ditch with such short notice?

He showed up and deposited a Greek salad and a container full of fettuccine alfredo with grilled chicken on top.

“Wow!” I exclaimed, opening the lid and letting the aroma waft around me. “Where did you get this?”

“Yeah. Where did you get this?” Gibson asked, butting in.

“This was my lunch. It was what I was making for myself in my apartment when you texted me.”

“The Greek salad, too?”

“Yes,” he said with extreme patience.

“Wait a minute. What are you going to eat?” I asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, straightening his glasses with both hands and moving toward the door. “Beth, return my dishes tonight, would you? And please wash them.”

He left and Gibson leaned over the food. “Are you going to eat all of that?”

“Get lost,” I said, picking it all up and going into the back office.

Gibson followed me. “Who was that?”

“Rogan.”

“Hmm. So that’s him? I thought he wasn’t interested in you. Why is he going to all this trouble if he’s not interested?”

I told Gibson about Charles and not a moment too soon because a minute later Charles was standing in front of our counter. I hid in the office while Gibson gave him the runaround, saying I was out to lunch. Charles said he would wait for me and took a seat. I sat there and ate, but Rogan’s cooking didn’t taste as good as it could have if Charles hadn’t been waiting to talk to me.

A couple of minutes before my lunch hour ended, Gibson came into the office and said, “You know what? I think you should stay back here until he leaves. He is every kind of--”

“Icky?” I supplied.

“Sure. I’ll make up some excuse, so stay back here. I’ll see if I can figure out something for you to do. Oh, and by the way, you can pee in that empty water bottle if he doesn’t leave until closing time.”

“Great.” I wrinkled my nose and waited.

I organized the desk, played on my phone, picked staples out of the carpet, washed the whiteboard, ate the rest of the food, fixed a ceiling tile that was out of place, and half a dozen other meaningless tasks before Gibson came in.

I stared at him. “Charles has seriously been waiting out there for two whole hours?”

“Yeah. Man, that guy is not normal. I told him you were late coming back from lunch. Then he asked me if you were in trouble for being late and I had to say yes.”

“It’s okay. Go out there and tell him you got a message from me saying I called in sick after lunch.”

“All right. You’re lucky it’s summer and slow today.” He disappeared around the corner.

I heard him relaying my lame excuse to Charles, but I didn’t dare take a peek to see how he took the news. I didn’t want to risk him seeing me.

Gibson came back. “The coast is clear. He bought it. Why is he stalking you like this?”

“I don’t even know.”

“Well, come out and do your job. After work, I’m going to walk you home. I wouldn’t normally do that sort of thing, but I think I have to.”

***

About an hour before quitting time, I noticed Gibson was starting to get a bit giddy. I watched him fumble around trying to finish his work for a solid ten minutes before I figured out what his damage was. He was hoping he would get to see Felicity-Ann. To my surprise, his excitement amused me.

At quitting time, we walked the stretch to my building. Before we left, he pulled my hood over my head. I tucked in my hair and we left. Like a good boy, he kept his eyes and ears open, looking behind us often to see if someone was following us. When we got to my apartment building, I showed my appreciation by inviting him up.

“Yeah, I’ll come up. That guy could be waiting in the hallway,” he justified. “Some people will just let anyone in who’s hanging around the bell.”

“I know,” I agreed as we passed through the empty atrium to the elevator.

Upstairs, Felicity-Ann and Rogan were sitting around eating what seemed to be leftovers from lunch.

Felicity-Ann got up immediately and with ladylike earnestness beyond her known capacity, asked Gibson if he wanted to stay for dinner. Seconds later, he was retelling his encounter with Charles and how we eventually got him to leave.

“Unbelievable!” Rogan fumed.

He went on, but I took a break from the retelling by getting a can of pop out of the fridge. I was not in a good mood. I took the can out onto the balcony and stared out at the city skyline drenched in the pink-orange of an Edmonton summer evening.

I hated everything about their conversation. Charles was not someone to disdain or ridicule. He was someone to run from. The thing that made me the most uncomfortable was that he hadn’t always been like that. It was hard to believe he was capable of joining those thugs in torturing anyone. Had he done everything they wanted believing I was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

I was halfway through my cream soda when Rogan joined me on the balcony. “Had enough pasta?” he asked dryly.

I slid my hand into the crook of his arm and rested my head on his shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone, but I am so thankful you’re here,” I whispered.

He kissed my temple and tapped the tip of my nose with his finger. “It’s going to be all right, Beth. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“As long as you promise.”

Just then, the phone in my back pocket started to ring. I picked it up. I knew what my aunt was calling to tell me as soon as I saw her name on the caller ID. I shook Rogan off and talked to her. When I was finished, I hung up and turned to him.

“What’s happened?”

“My grandfather died.”