Double Take: A Raw Romance

by Penny Henry

  "Imogen, there's something you should know."

  Roger was looking at her with a worrying expression, moistening his lips with the edge of his tongue. He seemed more nervous than usual. He was taking a long time to form his next sentence. Imogen was intrigued by his edginess. At least he was talking.

  "The computer - it wasn't just about the word processing." The words were coming, but in a stilted, self-conscious manner. I... I actually own an Internet design consultancy. It’s got nothing to do with books. My company specializes in website design and e-commerce. We work all over London. We... We do work for Sblig Records. Their website designer is a friend of mine. He... He pulled me in on the new website.”

  It was hard to take in what he was saying. Her first unreal thought was that he had invented the story to impress her. Her second consideration was that Roger actually owned a company. Then the clues started dripping into place. Finally it dawned on her that Roger was the reason for Connie's glowing report on the new concept from the outside consultancy. The ideas were the ones she had discussed with Gable. And Gable had passed them on to his brother. There was a certain irony about the whole sequence of events. At this precise moment Imogen was hard pressed to find the twist amusing. But it wasn't as bad as his nervousness had led her to believe it might be.

  She breathed in and gathered her thoughts. "Well, I’m not sure I believe your methods are entirely ethical. But I can find a way to live with it. Maybe you’ll pay me a commission.” She chanced a conciliatory smile but Roger remained impassive. She had a sinking feeling there was more to come.

  "C... Come with me, Imogen." He turned and led the way to the second bedroom, pausing with his hand on the door handle. Apart from his ragged breathing he appeared emotionless. He was obviously resigned to the consequences of whatever it was he had decided to reveal.

  Imogen swallowed hard. She was suddenly afraid of what she might see inside the room. She hadn't seen Gable for two days. Roger was driving his Porsche. She held her breath as he pushed back the door and stepped inside. Very slowly she exhaled and darted her eyes around the bedroom. It was similar in size to the spare room in her apartment. There was no bloodied corpse on the bed. In fact the bed was unmade and there were no signs of the room being recently occupied. Other than the bed there was the usual array of bedroom furniture. The remarkable difference was that against one wall a solid work-bench supported a state-of-the-art computer system. Roger remained unspeaking. He sat at his desk and booted up the system with Imogen looking over his shoulder. He moved the pointer over the photo icon and opened it up displaying his brother’s face. He added a row of photos of his brother in model poses. Then with deft clicks and flicks he produced a photo album of himself posing alone in front of London landmarks. Imogen watched fascinated as Roger photoshopped the images to fit Gable and himself in a photo that featured the Houses of Parliament as background. The finished composite picture was a virtually undetectable fake.

  "So the photos aren't real. You’re trying to create a relationship with Gable that he won’t make time for. I don’t understand. What are you trying to prove, Roger?"

  He stood up from the desk and looked at her with an almost pitying expression. She could almost hear his brain working. “Just wait here for a minute, please, Imogen. I won’t be long.”

  He strode from the bedroom leaving Imogen alone. She glanced round the stark room, wondering where Gable slept and where he kept his clothes. She had a plummeting feeling in her stomach. She suspected she was going to be told that Gable didn't live with his brother at all. That he only visited now and again. It was the reason that Roger had faked the photos! It was suddenly clear. Gable had no time for his shy brother. The dashing male model was too good for such ordinary surroundings. He had allowed Roger to look after his Porsche while he jetted off halfway round the world but spent most of his time in hotels. She would have a few choice words to deliver to Gable's ear the next time she saw him.

  That time was to be far sooner than Imogen anticipated. Her daydream was interrupted by a tall figure entering the room. Imogen stood unmoving. The man that stood in the doorway was a fusion of the two men that had come to figure so prominently in her life.

  "What the fuck―” She was struggling to make sense of what she was seeing. Gable's deep blue eyes gazed from beneath Roger's unruly blonde hair. From one hand dangled a pair of heavy black-framed spectacles. In his other hand he carried a stage make-up case. Imogen didn’t need for it to be opened to know the predominant color would be black.

  "There is no Gable." Roger disembodied voice was at the edge of Imogen’s consciousness. His voice sounded cold and detached. "Contact lenses, a little wash-in hair color and a short acting course. It didn’t take a lot to fool you."

  Imogen's only movement was the drop of her jaw. Roger knew everything. Everything she had thought of as private between herself and Gable was first-hand knowledge to Roger. She had been tricked, duped, totally taken in by Roger's accomplished performance. How could she have missed the clues that were so obvious now? The losses of Gable's stellar confidence, the trying too hard - it all began to make sense. Exactly how stupid was she?

  Roger brushed past her static figure, determined to totally expose his absurd pretence. He laid the make-up kit and spectacles on the top of a chest of drawers and jerked the top level open, lifting out the books on top of the kit and tossing them onto the bed.

  Imogen eyes followed his action and took in the titles. The colorful cover of one proclaimed itself to be Justin – Memoirs of a Male Model. She automatically walked to the bed and picked up the book, opening it by luck to the story of a Russian interpreter that couldn't speak English. She dropped the book from her hands and glanced at the cover of the second hard-back book. The Joy of Sex screamed up at her, vividly reviving the memory of Gable's textbook lovemaking.

  "I couldn't even do that properly," said Roger in disgust. He was on the verge of tears, furious with himself for the deception he had resorted to in an attempt to gain Imogen's affection. With the contact lenses in place and his theatrical disguise he had become Gable Winter. He was no longer the painfully shy and timid Roger Winter. As Roger he had built his company behind the walls of his office, communicating with the outside world by e-mail and telephone. As Gable he had been free to converse with anyone he wished. Gone was the computer geek that was laughed at behind his back. He had practiced being Gable for months before he had dared to plot his accidental meeting with Imogen. It had been the only way that he could get close to her. Now his ruse had been laid bare and his weak character cruelly exposed.

  "How could you do it? How could you lie to me knowing I was falling in love with you both?” She was barely able to comprehend the scale of Roger's lies. "Gable— No. It was you. You made love to me. You made me think I was with another man. I thought I was with Gable when I was with you. You took advantage of me. You allowed me to think you were Gable… But you are Gable— No, what you did was wrong. You deceived me. You lied to me."

  "But, Imogen, you were with Gable at the time. Gable is part of me. When I came to you as Gable, I wasn’t the shy and awkward neighbor that amused you so much. I was the man that you wanted to be with. You could have said no."

  Imogen colored up despite her self- righteous indignation. She had never realized how obvious her disdain for her reserved neighbor had been. Even then she had been hurting him. But that was no excuse for his hateful actions. He had tricked her into thinking he was someone else. In Imogen's eyes his behaviour was unforgivable. He had made her look foolish and she was bizarrely embarrassed to think that Roger had seen her naked and touched her intimately.

  Roger sensed the rage that Imogen was containing. She was simmering with the fury of a capped volcano. "If there had been another way, Imogen, don't you think I would have taken it? The second I realized you would accept me for myself - as Roger, I decided that Gable would disappear. I... I underestimated you. I know you would have given me a chance. I should have
spoken to you. I... I imagined you saw me as a geek and I behaved like one. In my eyes you were unobtainable. I swore I’d do anything to be able to talk to you."

  Imogen twisted her lip. "So you decided to deceive me. You could have tried acting like a real man, like Gable would have—" She stopped herself from sounding ridiculous. Roger was Gable.

  Roger swallowed at the revulsion in her voice. He could justify his actions. "I only did what every other man does. I portrayed myself as the kind of man that would appeal to you. The kind of man you’d want to sleep with."

  Imogen took a pace forward and slapped him round the face. She bitterly resented the inference that she was so transparently shallow. "What every other man does? What the fuck do you think I am?" She looked him up and down. “You’re a pathetic worm!”

  “Okay, okay. You’re hurt. I understand that.” He was gaining a weird confidence from the fact that she hadn’t stormed out. "Just think about it for a moment. I know I took it further than most but show me a man that has been totally honest in his approach to a woman. What man hasn't led you to believe that he was something more than he turned out to be?"

  Imogen silently fumed. There was an underlying truth in Roger's words. How many times had she suffered lies from men that had hidden their real agendas behind sugar-coated words? Karl Wainscott wasn't the only man to have fooled her. There were very few women that could see through men that habitually lied through their teeth. It was true that Roger had done no worse than a dozen others she could name. But that fact did nothing to ease her crushing sense of disappointment. And a large slice of that was directed at her. Had she really appeared so mean that Roger believed it necessary to become the man to whom he assumed she would readily submit? The most galling thought was that he had been right. She had laughed and pouted like a simpering teenager when she had thought she was in Gable’s company. Now she couldn’t decide if her anger was directed at Roger or at her own weakness and gullibility. At least Roger thought he possessed a reason for his actions. But she could never forgive his behaviour.

  "Excuse me," she said icily. She walked cautiously past him. The scent of his cologne reminded her of better times. It was galling to think she had been living someone else’s dream. "I need time to think. You’ve behaved abominably, Roger.” She twisted to stare into his eyes. “I trusted you."

  Roger followed as she strode towards the elevator. She turned to look at him. He was trying hard but he was starting to look like the awkward geek she had avoided speaking to for the last two years. She heard the elevator doors slide open and walked backwards into the stainless steel box. The elevator would rescue her from examining her own shortcomings and allow her to start making sense of her chaotic thoughts. She hit a buttons and shut her eyes. Then she flicked her eyes open as the doors hissed forward. She caught a look at his face. His dejected expression took nothing away from his square features. The contact lenses had removed the distraction of his clumsy spectacles. His blonde hair flopped over his forehead and the same urge to brush it from his face crept into Imogen’s fingers. Roger straightened his back and stood tall, proud to show her that he was unashamed of what he had done to possess her. He parted his lips to mouth a single word.

  "Goodbye."

  The doors sealed and the elevator slid into motion. Imogen's eyes filled with tears and her heart exploded in her breast. Everything she’d hoped for had been torn away from her. The elevator bumped to a halt one floor down from the penthouse level. The doors opened and shut without Imogen moving. She was tired of being alone. The last week had reminded her that there was a life other than work that she had turned her back on. Roger wasn’t a wicked man. She made up her mind. He hadn’t treated her with the callous indifference she had endured with Karl or the disrespect that random men had shown when they undressed her with their eyes. Roger was completely in love with her. She was going to give him one more chance. She wasn’t going to give herself time to change her mind. She pressed the button. The elevator jerked and rose to the next level.

  She hadn’t had time to rehearse a speech. She would remain cool and composed, spelling out what it would take for her to consider forgiving him. She was still forming the words when the elevator doors slid open.

  Roger was waiting for her. He hadn’t moved an inch. He had been confident that Imogen would change her mind. He had known. Imogen’s heart rose in her chest. He was standing tall. Then she saw the half-smile on Roger’s face. It was a smile that Imogen instantly recognized. It was the same smile she had seen on Karl’s face when he knew that he controlled her. Imogen’s stomach turned. She felt the blood drain from her face. She walked forward to stare into his eyes.

  “You are an absolute, total fucking bastard.” She slapped him harder than last time.

  He took a step back and his fists instinctively bunched. “Don’t slap me again!” he shouted.

  Imogen backed off a pace. “Nice to see you’re ready to hit a woman, Roger.”

  “Imogen, don’t be like that.”

  Imogen’s eyes flashed. “You raped me, you arsehole.”

  Roger staggered back. “You were willing.” That smile again. “I don’t remember you putting up much of a fight.”

  “Let’s see what the police have to say about that, shall we, Roger?”

  Roger staggered back a step. His arrogance shriveled like a feather in a flame. He was suddenly the frightened geek that Imogen had mistakenly pitied. “Imogen, please―”

  “Fuck you, Roger,” she called as she walked into the elevator and spun to press the floor number. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he stood there looking distraught and pleading with his eyes. She was remembering exactly why she had given up on men.

  In five minutes she was leaving the car park. The drive took fifteen minutes. She walked up the steps to the second floor and took a deep breath before pressing the bell.

  “Imogen!” Connie pulled her through the door and hugged her. “What’s the matter?” She looked concerned. Her dazzling eyes were clouded with alarm.

  Imogen smiled and moved her head from side to side as she absorbed Connie’s radiant beauty. “Absolutely nothing now. I’ve been a fool, Commie. I know why I’ve avoided men. I’ve been denying something that I was afraid to let out. There’s always been someone there for me, hasn’t there? I know that now.”

  Connie blushed. “What are you trying to say?”

  “It’s you. You know it is. It’s always been you. I’m in love with you, Commie.” She didn’t blink or take her eyes away from Connie’s for a second. “I know it’s kind of sudden. I just hope you can forgive the way I’ve treated you―”

  “Shut up.” Connie cupped Imogen’s face in her hands and kissed her. It wasn’t a snatched kiss. It wasn’t a prelude to an awkward fumble. It was a kiss that enveloped them in a cocoon of immaculate love. They stumbled through the door and Connie kicked it shut. Their lips separated but they refused to let go. They held each other and rained small kisses on each other’s face.

  “I guess you’ll be staying the night,” whispered Connie.

  Imogen shook her head. “No, I want to stay forever - if you’ll have me. Of course, Rose will have a field day. We’ll take my car tomorrow and then we’ll go―”

  “Shut up.”

  The end

  Copyright William Peter Blight © 2014

  Titles in the Raw Romance series

  Sporting Chance

  Nymphomaniac

  Double Take