I gaped at her in shock for a few seconds before gasping, “No!”
Bahiya stared at me before sighing again and bowing her head. “I wasn’t sure.”
“I would never—he’s just my bodyguard. We’re friends. He’s a nice guy, and I like him, but certainly not like that.” I wanted to tell her Ezekiel would murder both of us if such a thing happened, but she didn’t know about Ezekiel, so I kept my mouth shut.
Bahiya bit her lip as she plucked at the wrinkles in her pants. “It’s just—” She paused a moment, closing her eyes. I hoped she wasn’t going to cry. “He’s always at work. Always. And I’ve been wondering lately if maybe—maybe it’s not really work. Maybe he’s lying to me because he’s having some sort of affair, and well, I saw you, and you’re a very pretty young lady, and I thought… I’m sorry.” She inhaled sharply and pressed a hand against her face. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say or even what to feel. “Mrs.—Bahiya. Look, it really is Roger’s job. I swear to you. Roger’s job is to keep me safe, and he does it wonderfully, and if he were seeing another woman, I would know.”
Bahiya lifted her face and pulled her hand away, though she didn’t look much happier. “You’re—please. I only want the truth.”
“I swear it to you. Trust me. You don’t have to worry about him.”
Bahiya bit her lip and nodded, but she looked so…sad. She didn’t even seem angry with me. Maybe she was too tired and sick to be angry. Whatever it was, I suddenly wanted to hug her.
I didn’t, however.
“I’m sorry.” Bahiya sniffed. “I didn’t mean to accuse you. You seem like a nice person.”
“It’s all right.” This was a very strange encounter indeed.
Bahiya reached for some tissues on an end table and touched one to her nose daintily. “Do you worry about your husband? From what little Roger has told me about him, he travels a lot. Separation is hard for a marriage.”
I almost asked, What husband? before I remembered that Ezekiel was supposedly mine. “He is gone much of the time, but I trust him.” This was true, even though being faithful wasn’t part of our deal. And Ezekiel didn’t strike me as the type to pursue multiple women at once.
“That’s good, though, I’m not surprised. After all, you aren’t a cripple.” The last word sounded so bitter that I jumped a little. Bahiya had to have noticed, because she responded. “I’ve been sick for so long—Melanie, is it?”
“Melissa.”
“Ah. Yes. I’ve been sick, and tired, and I never have the energy to do anything, and I don’t even have hair.” She sighed. “If this had happened ten years after our marriage, or only five, at least I would have felt like the beginning years had made it worth it, but it seems like our entire marriage has been me lying in bed, too sick to work or cook or even go for a walk with him and Kendra. It makes me so insecure when I see other men enjoying such active, normal wives, and then to see mine tied to some bed-ridden invalid, with no way out—”
“Roger doesn’t see it that way.” At least, I didn’t think he did. He wasn’t one to give me the raw details on the quality of his marriage. “Look, it doesn’t matter either way. This job wouldn’t have allowed you two much time to be together anyway—”
“He only has this job because he needs it to pay my bills. If I weren’t sick—or if he had someone else—he could quit his job and get something less time consuming. And less dangerous. He assures me that it isn’t a dangerous job, but you and I know better, don’t we, Melissa?”
I stared at her. I couldn’t lie, despite how much I wanted to. Nor was I going to tell her just how dangerous it was. Roger still had a healing bullet wound in his shoulder. I hoped she hadn’t seen that.
“I-I-” I took a deep breath and found my voice. “It’s not terribly dangerous, no. He’s fine. He’s very well taken care of.”
“Whoever he works for has a lot of money.” Bahiya pointed to the window, where I could see the car parked. “That isn’t your usual corporate car. It’s far too nice. And you. I’m not much of a fashion guru, but that dress looks very expensive. You look very expensive. So if this man is so rich, how come I haven’t heard of him?”
“He likes to keep a low profile. He—uh—has radical political views.”
“You’re not a very good liar.”
I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as if I were suffocating. “Bahiya, I can’t—I can’t tell you, all right? Yes, it is a dangerous job. But it is a highly secretive job, and Roger can’t tell you who he works for or what he does, nor can I. Just know that for the most part, his job involves hanging out with me. Most of the time we just go out to lunch, talk a little, and then drive around. Believe me, he’s not dodging bullets.” At least, not every day.
“And are you really this man’s wife?”
“Um, sort of.”
Bahiya blinked, clearly not one to be fooled.
I bowed my head. “More like his, er, personal companion.”
Bahiya didn’t seem surprised at all, but at least she didn’t stick up her nose at me. She actually didn’t seem that bothered, almost as if she expected to hear that.
I decided I liked her.
“Can you promise me something, Melissa?”
“Um, sure.”
“Please keep Roger out of trouble. I don’t want him risking his life just to pay my bills so I don’t die. It would be stupid if he died instead. Sometimes I feel like he worries too much about me. All my family is in Jahral, and they’re all very poor. My friends haven’t any money to spare, either. Roger thinks it’s wholly his responsibility to pick up the financial burdens. If he dies, so do I. I’d prefer if it were just me dying. At least it’s no one’s fault if I go. If Roger… I could never live with myself—”
“I’ll make sure he’s safe,” I said, though I had no clue as to how I was supposed to do that. Ezekiel gave the orders, not me, and if Ezekiel wanted Roger to go spelunking in a Cave of Death, well, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. But Bahiya needed to hear the lie, so I told it to her.
Bahiya opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by Roger’s return. He wiped his hands with a rag before picking up the jacket he’d deposited earlier and slipping back into it.
“All right, Pam is on her way. Her battery was low because her overhead light was on.” He rolled his eyes.
Bahiya stood. “Pam made some lasagna. Would either of you like any?”
I began to say no, but then realized I had nothing to do today, and I didn’t mind wasting time here if that meant Roger could be with his wife longer. It felt awkward, standing here and keeping these two from kissing or whatever they wanted to do in private. But it wasn’t like I could just walk off. I guess I could’ve sat in the car all day, but I’m sure Roger wouldn’t have wanted that.
“Sure,” I agreed, and all three of us went to the kitchen.
* * *
If there was one thing I found out about Roger in those two hours, it was that he was a very private man. I’d always known that a little, but now I saw the true extent of it. Sitting next to his wife, he conversed and smiled a little, but never did he lean over and kiss her or tease her. Not because he wasn’t in love with her—his eyes would dart to her in an occasional smitten glance. I knew he didn’t move toward her because I was there. I didn’t care much what he did. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen a couple kiss in front of me before. Hell, I’d walked in on Yogi and a customer in full swing just a few months ago. If I could be cool about that, I was fine with Roger kissing his wife. But he didn’t. And I didn’t think my saying anything about it would make him.
Bahiya wasn’t terribly affectionate, either, but I knew that was a Jahralian thing. Public display of emotion was heavily frowned upon in their culture, so the women weren’t affectionate—at least, not in front of others. Bahiya struck me as a very traditional Jahralian woman. She dressed conservatively, nothing too tight or brightly colored, very little make-up, plain lip balm, and basic clear nail polish. She talked quietly and slowly, as if reading from a text. Her smiles were always subdued and even her movements were careful, as if afraid of startling me.
No matter how odd she was, and no matter how distant she seemed from her husband, there was love there. I couldn’t really see it in her, but I felt it. She’d been so afraid of Roger leaving her, even more so of him dying. And the fear didn’t stem from the possibility of the hospital bills going unpaid. I knew she didn’t care about those.
It made me feel kind of shitty, to be frank. This wasn’t a really romantic couple, but it was a healthy one, with two people who cared for each other. I wondered what they had that my sister or I couldn’t grasp. There were no Rogers in our neighborhood—or, if there were, did we pass them up out of ignorance?
It was getting late, so Roger told me we had to go. I peeked in through the front door and watched Roger say good-bye. I guess that counted as being nosy, but I was romantically starved. I found Roger and his wife cute, even if they weren’t as close as the married couples on television shows.
There was more hugging than anything else, and I supposed that was to be expected. Bahiya was scheduled for surgery the following morning, and no one knew how it would go. They both had to be feeling scared.
Just when I was about to turn away, Roger finally—finally!—did what a good husband does when saying good-bye to his sickly wife. He wrapped his arms firmly around her waist, pulled her in so tight her feet left the floor, and kissed her fiercely. Her hands slipped to the back of his neck, but quickly unraveled and went to his hair, then to his face, then back through his hair. I couldn’t help but smile, and turn away to give them privacy.
I went to the car to wait. Five minutes later, Roger circled the hood and slipped into the front seat. His lips looked a little puffy. I had to cover my mouth for an instant to hide a smirk.
“I like her,” I told him immediately. “She seems like a really nice woman.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he sighed, his voice soft and his eyes sad. I figured talking was futile. He didn’t appear to be in the mood. However, I didn’t want his mind to dwell on this. Maybe I could do something to cheer him up a little and get his thoughts away from Bahiya’s surgery. He’d have plenty of time to wring his hands when we got back to Ezekiel’s.
“Um, Roger? Look, I was wondering…”
“Yeah?” He started the car, not looking at me.
“Can we go to Metro?”
“Why?” Roger’s eyes snapped to me, and what little humor he’d left the house with drained from his face.
“I know Ezekiel might have said something about it—”
“He said I shouldn’t take you there.”
“But he didn’t say you couldn’t. Okay, let me explain. I know this place in Metro—it’s called the Park—and it’s the safest place in the whole neighborhood, especially on a Saturday afternoon. Tons of people are going to be there, so you wouldn’t have to worry about me getting hurt. I used to go there all the time as a teenager.”
“The Park?” Roger asked, eyes narrowed.
“It’s not really a park. It’s a huge abandoned warehouse where some skate rats built some half-pipes twenty years ago. So it’s most popular with skaters, but people go there to eat, to dance, to socialize, you name it. Honestly, people barely even drink. Parents even take their kids there. Of course, the music can get a little raunchy, but other than that, it’s pretty vanilla. Please? I have a craving for the excellent cheese fries you can only buy there, and I want to show you what the place is like. It’s Metro’s only real attraction.” I blinked slowly and pouted. “Please?”
“Melissa…” Roger ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not dangerous at all, and even if it were, you’d be there with me, right? Ezekiel can’t yell at us for going to the park, Roger. That’s like yelling at us for going golfing or something. Come on. Please?” I grabbed his arm and widened my eyes further.
He sighed and turned a different blinker on at an intersection. “All right, fine.”
“Yay! Okay, I’ll give you directions. You ever been to South Metro?”
“I’ve been to Metro three times in my whole life, Melissa.”
“You’ll need directions then. South Metro is pretty safe, I guess. Safe as—um—Alpin is at three in the morning.” I laughed lightly. But Roger looked tense.
“Hon, I’m serious. It’s sa—” I stopped when Roger gaped at me. It took me a moment to realize why.
“Oops.” I giggled. “Sorry. Did I just call you hon?”
“You did.”
“Man.” I laughed again. “Sorry. Um, I call people that occasionally. Friends, mostly. It’s not like I see you as a honey, it’s just—force of habit?”
Roger raised an eyebrow, but I was glad to see the beginnings of a smile on his mouth. I blushed a little. “I didn’t mean to call you that, okay? Leave me alone.”
“Should I call you schnookums?”
I snorted and hit his arm. “Do it and die.”
Roger puckered his lips at me and made obnoxious kissing sounds. I burst out laughing and hit him again.
“Actually, I picked up the ‘hon’ thing from a coworker named Yogi. She calls everyone sweetheart and honey.”
“Yogi? That’s an, uh, interesting name.”
“I don’t think it’s her real one. But it’s an improvement on Marvin, which was what we used to call her back before…” I waved my hand dismissively. “Seriously though, Marvin is a terrible name.”
“Wait, why would she be… Oh.” Roger’s face went blank. “She some kind of drag queen or something?”
I winced, imagining Yogi’s reaction to the comparison. “No, she’s trans.”
“Oh.” Roger still appeared confused, so I patted his shoulder.
“Don’t think too hard about it.”
“You must know some interesting people.”
“I’m an interesting person. I think you’re interesting. You’re just wound too tight. Can you at least take off your jacket when we go to the Park? You look like you’re in the secret service. Half the crowd is gonna scatter if that’s what they assume.”
“Meaning what? They’re all in trouble with the law?”
“No, but I’m sure they all know someone who is.”
“Oh.”
“It’s fine. Most of them just party a little too loud on the weekends. Or they do the really mild drugs. Either way, don’t worry. I used to go there with my mom when I was ten.” At mentioning my mom, a sudden weight dropped on me and I fell silent, which seemed to provoke Roger’s curiosity.
“You’ve never talked about her before.”
“She’s dead.” Talk about her putting a damper on any conversation. Not just a damper—a huge, sopping wet rag.
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “Shit happens.”
There was a long silence. I knew Roger wanted to ask, but he was too polite. I answered his question for him. “She, uh, was dating this guy.” I rubbed my lips together, trying to keep my voice as unaffected as possible. “You know how it goes—he’s charming and sweet at first, and then he gets jealous and controlling. She was so scared of leaving him because she thought he’d kill her. But she knew she owed it to Mimi and me, so she got out when I was seventeen. I went out to get groceries, and when I came back…” I shrugged, looking away. “Turns out she wasn’t just paranoid.”
“That’s—that’s horrible. I’m sorry. Is he in jail?”
“Yeah. I don’t think I’d stay in the city if I knew he was still out and wandering around.”
“Were you close to your mother?”
“As a kid, of course. Now that she’s gone, I can see she did her best, though I resented her to the point of hating her as a teenager. I acted out a lot because it felt like I was getting back at her. Honestly, sometimes I get the same way with Mimi, probably because she acts like my mother.”
There was a short silence as Roger digested all of this. I realized I probably shouldn’t have told him so much. What if he told Ezekiel? I wasn’t sure how the information could be used against me, but if anyone could do it, it would be my employer.
I reached forward and turned on the radio. “What kind of music do you like?”
Roger eyed me for a bit, alarmed by the subject change, but eventually he answered, “I’m not much of a music person.”
“What? Are you nuts? Let’s—aha, here we go.” R.R. Zone, who was the latest rapper of choice, filled the car. The first words caught were,
—smack that ho so she knows where to go
down, down, down, down there!”
Roger turned it off with a frown while I laughed.
“You don’t like R.R. Zoooooone?” I drawled in my most exaggerated Metro accent. “What’s with you, boy?”
“I prefer something that actually requires talent.”
“Like what?”
“I like classic rock.”
“I pegged you as a classic rock guy the moment I met you. Who do you like?”
“The Smoke Dogs—”
“How old are you, Roger? The Smoke Dogs? Aren’t they, like, eighty?”
“No. They’re sixty, at most.”
I started laughing. Roger looked pissed for a few seconds, but then he rolled his eyes and turned back to the road.
“The Smoke Dogs never get old. Their music is timeless.”
“Only old guys say that about the Smoke Dogs.”
“I’m not old!”
“You sure act like it. Okay, so R.R. Zone is too cool for you. Anything more modern you like?”
Roger thought for a long moment, then shrugged. “Pawz is okay.”
“Pawz?”
“Yeah. Haven’t you heard of them?”
“Nope.”
“They’re an alternative rock group. It’s good stuff. And it’s kind of trendy I guess. They have an electric violin.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I hear some?”
“I don’t have any with me, but I’ll let you listen to some when we get back home, okay?”
“All right.” I smiled softly. “See? We’re sharing music. That practically makes us favies.”
“Favies?”
“Metro-speak for best friends.”
Roger raised his eyebrows.
“I’m gonna school you on Metro speak.” I dropped back into the accent. “You’ll be surprised at all our skinky words.”
“What?”
I elbowed him and laughed. “I’m gonna turn you into a cool roller, you just wait.”
“What’s a roller?”
“A skinky, favie roller.”
“Melissa!”
I ruffled his hair. We settled on a rock station that pleased both of us as I gave him directions to South Metro.