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Except nothing made any sense.
I tried to focus, to recall the exact circumstances of my meetings with the man I knew as Roger. He’d come into my office, ostensibly new in town, in a new job, recently divorced, and looking for a condo by the water.Was any of that true?We’d spent several afternoons together, had dinner twice, exchanged confidences, made love on two separate occasions, once in a hotel room, once in my own house, my own bed.
At the time, I was extremely vulnerable, and Roger was just so sympathetic and easy to talk to. He knew exactly the right things to say, but even more important, helistened.
He cared. Or seemed to.
Much as Elyse had, I realized, with a start.
“What’s the matter?” Tracy asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You gave a little gasp.”
“I did?”Shit.
“Something going on with you?”
“Just surprised,” I told her.
“No kidding.”
Had it been a setup from the start? Had Elyse merely feigned interest in me, lent a sympathetic ear, pretended to be my friend, to gain information and therefore the upper hand? Had she passed this information on to her son to make it easier for him to successfully seduce me?
Why? To what end?
Was Roger really her son? Was his name really Andrew?
What game were they playing?
And perhaps the most important question of all—what happens next?
“He’s quite nice-looking,” Tracy remarked, once again jolting me out of my head. “Do you think he’s single?”
“No,” I answered quickly, recalling the little information about him that Elyse had given me. “He has a wife in Los Angeles.”
“What else do you know about him?”
“That’s about it,” I lied.
The truth was that I knew nothing.
“Here they come,” Tracy said. “Brace yourself.”
In the next second, Elyse and Roger were standing in front of us. “Jodi, Tracy, Harrison,” she began, smiling at each of us in turn. “I’d like you to meet my son, Andrew.”
“Nice to meet you, Andrew,” Harrison dutifully replied, shaking his hand.
“I didn’t know Elyse had a son,” Tracy said.
“I’m sure I must have mentioned it.” Elyse looked to me for confirmation.
“I believe you did.” I strained to keep my voice steady as I looked Roger in the eye. “You’re from Los Angeles?”
“Up until about six months ago,” he replied. “I got divorced, got transferred to Detroit. But I really love Toronto, and I’m thinking seriously of relocating.”
Dear God.
