Double Take: A Raw Romance

by Penny Henry

  Chapter Sixteen

  Imogen raised her eyes from her desk. Her attention had been taken by the slamming entry into the building of DC Harris and a uniformed officer. Imogen jumped to her feet to watch the unexpected twist to her day. Her breath was coming fast and shallow as she fought the crazy notion that Detective Harris was here on the business of one Roger Winter. The uniformed officer hovered outside the door as DC Harris walked into Rose’s office. They talked for a minute before leaving together with the uniformed copper tagging on behind. At the same instant Imogen saw Connie heading towards her office. She was clutching her notepad to her chest. Imogen ignored Rose and Detective Harris to concentrate on Connie's breathless dash into her office.

  "It’s about time, Connie. What the hell is going on?"

  Connie thrust the notebook at her. "Take a look for yourself."

  Imogen took the pad from Connie's hand and studied the pages of absent-minded doodles that John Lomax had created in his anxious wait. Each page carried the predictable mix of swirls and explosions, jagged lightning flashes and exaggerated sketches of naked women. Imogen sank to her seat. Every page was signed off with a perfect replica of a big-nosed man peering over a brick wall. The cartoon was an exact copy of the one that ended the poison pen letters addressed to Imogen. She went white. Then she was furious. She stalked from the office carrying the damning notepad in front of her like an avenging angel bearing a flaming sword. She was at Connie’s desk in seconds, forcing herself between the bodies of Rose and Detective Harris. She twisted to face him,

  "Why, John?" she asked scathingly.

  John looked back at her with a sneer on his lips and a shrug lifting his shoulders. Imogen's volatile temper exploded, she shifted her hips, gathered all the power of her slender frame and threw her clenched fist at John Lomax's face. His head jolted to one side as he half-fell from his chair with the imprint of Imogen's knuckles on his cheek.

  "Scum!" she screamed in his face as Detective Geoff Harris gripped her arms and pulled her away from his damaged suspect.

  "I can let you get away with one punch," said Geoff Harris in a friendly warning. "I haven’t arrested him yet. But I can't let you beat him to a pulp."

  Imogen drew herself up and handed over the notebook. "Thank you," she said. "I needed that." Then she walked unsteadily away. Connie rushed from waiting in the office to support her by the arm. Imogen felt her way round her desk and slumped into her chair shaking with anger. "The lousy bastard!" she spat out to no one in particular.

  "I'll get you a coffee," said Connie. "Sit there and do not move. I'll be back in a minute. Don't waste your time thinking about it. Try deep breathing."

  Connie ran from the office and Imogen took her advice, recharging her lungs with great mouthfuls of air and releasing the captured breath in controlled exhalation. She was quickly coming to terms with John’s betrayal. It seemed obvious now. John was a vindictive and jealous man. He had capitalized on their shared and intimate confidences from the early days. He had always lusted after Imogen but she had never given him a chance. She wondered if she had been his only victim. He had picked up a lot of dangerous information during his time in the business. There might well be others that John had plagued with his vicious letters. She had always considered him a low-life but this went beyond her lowest estimation. There had been the threat in the letters that her past life would be made public. John could have destroyed everything she had worked for - along with the careers of how many others? As it was, Imogen considered he had caused no real damage other than the satisfying sting in her knuckles and the anguish he had put her through. Not until she remembered Roger. Her eyes went to her desk but the sheet of paper had disappeared. She looked wildly around. What had she done with it?

  "One coffee," announced Connie. "And who wrote this?" She waved the crinkled sheet in one hand as she set Imogen's coffee squarely on a coaster. She took one glance at the expression of relief on Imogen's face and teasingly waved the page in the air. She had casually picked it up while Imogen had been otherwise engaged with John Lomax. She had finished reading it as she made the coffee. "It’s from one of the twins, isn't it? My God, Imogen! I don’t think I’ve ever read anything so romantic. Whichever one it was - No! Don't tell me. Whoever it was simply worships you. You have read it, haven't you?"

  Imogen dumbly shook her head.

  "Shame on you, Imogen." She spread the single sheet on the desk and slid it in front of Imogen. "Read it and weep," she ordered. Connie was hurting inside but she had plastered on a smile. She would feel guilty if she kept Imogen from knowing there was someone else that adored her every bit as much as she did. She stepped back from the desk as Imogen lowered her eyes to the sheet of paper. Then Rose bustled into the office.

  "Hiya, girls. Now that’s what I call a good morning's work. I think we’ve seen the last of Mister Lomax." She turned her head to look into the office.

  Imogen and Connie glanced through the glass at the painful scene of John Lomax being escorted from the office by the two serious-faced police officers. Imogen folded the sheet of paper into a small square and slipped it into her handbag. Rose was gearing up for battle.

  "They’ll let us know what John is going to be charged with in due course," said Rose contemptuously. She dismissed the unpleasant incident with a grimace and turned her attention to the waiting women. "Right, bring your coffee, Imogen. We've got a lot to get through. Karl has been let out with a warning and the promotional tour is going ahead as planned. We have too much tied up in the new album to turn our backs on him. We’re going to mount a damage-limitation exercise. I'll need to know to whom you've already talked, Imogen. Oh, and what progress you've made on a replacement tour manager, someone with a tighter grip on security I should hope. The tour kicks off in Edinburgh on Wednesday so there's not a lot of time." Rose paused for breath and then rushed on. "I'll need you to take some notes, Connie. We need to call in every favor that we’re owed. We could use next month’s awards bash as bait. It should buy us some favorable publicity. And that's the next item on the agenda. But let's make some calls before we finalize the guest list. How are you getting on with the twins, Imogen?" An awkward silence fell as Rose stopped talking and Imogen's mind raced to catch up. There wasn't time. Rose set off on a new track. "Okay, how are you getting on with the website Connie?"

  "There’s good news and bad news."

  "Give me the bad news first."

  "The website designer broke his arm playing rugby on Friday. He won't be much use for a while. But the good news is that the consultancy he uses has come up with the goods almost overnight. They put their top guy on it. I think he’s the boss. It’s almost exactly as we discussed. It's uncanny really; music, chat, freebies, just about everything that I covered with Imogen. I was going to ask if either of you had spoken to him. I haven't had the time to discuss it with him myself. I’ve only seen the emails. Apparently his firm put the original website together so he knows the standard we’re looking for. It looks like they’ve upped their game."

  Rose and Imogen exchanged questioning looks.

  "Coincidence?" said Rose. "Maybe they caught on to the way that music websites are going and decided to get one step ahead. I've certainly never met the guy that worked on the website. They’re kind of bookwormy types. I think they’re frightened they might burn up in the sun.” She waited for the giggles before carrying on. “Oh, and Connie, I want you to get Baggage! a spot at the awards ceremony. They’re young and happening and in the news. Don’t forget that there’s no such thing as bad publicity when they’re kicking ass. The kids will love it.” She looked serious for a second. “Of course, I’m not so sure how Karl’s fans are going to react.”

  Imogen caught Connie's eye. Just like Rose - turning adversity to advantage in the blink of an eye.

  “That’s it. Let’s get started.” Rose turned and walked out of Imogen's office, still rattling off orders and asking questions without waiting for the answers. Imogen and Connie hur
ried behind straining not to miss a word. This was Rose at her best, under pressure and relishing every minute of it. They stayed closeted in Rose's office for most of the day, sending out for sandwiches and coffee and loving the natural high their excitement provoked.

  When the three women finally emerged it was with a solid idea of what needed to happen to make the Karl Wainscott thing disappear and a plan for a serious press offensive. The telephone was hot from the calls they’d made to call in favors and make impossible promises. Kerry Moore and Baggage! had a chance of headlining the awards ceremony and Kerry would willingly put her name to a press release dismissing the incident with Karl as a stunt. A new security and tour manager had been engaged and there had even been time for a few minutes of girl-talk. Things were looking up. Imogen entered her office still charged with the adrenaline that had boosted her through the day and set to work dealing with her remaining share of the workload. By the time she put down the telephone for the hundredth time that day, the exhaustion had crept in and her mind had started to wander. The building was quiet. Only the light above Connie’s desk burned as brightly as her own.

  Connie stood up and yawned just as Imogen was thinking about going home. "Hey, Imogen. It’s time to go home.” She wandered towards the door of Imogen’s office. “I suppose you’ll be going back to your place.”

  “I think so. I’ve got some things I need to sort out.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to it.” She looked wistfully at Imogen seated behind her desk. “You know where I am if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Connie. Thanks for everything. If there was a chan―”

  “Uh, uh. Don’t say anything else. I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked away without looking back. Her eyes were shiny again. Maybe it was the air conditioning.

  Imogen was truly alone. There would be a security guard somewhere on the premises and the doors would be locked. But the emptiness she felt was on the inside. It had killed her to watch Connie walk away but she had to know where her heart really lay. She organized her desk for the morning and reached down to her bag. She found the folded sheet and pulled it out before unfolding the page and spreading it on her desk. For the first time Imogen read the secret words of Roger's poetry. She read the lines slowly, examining every word. She read the poem over and over, losing herself in its intricate construction. There was no one in the offices to see her eyes mist over or count the tears that dripped from her cheeks.

  Imogen didn't stop the elevator at the twelfth floor but carried straight on up to the penthouse. The black Porsche had been parked in its usual place. She didn't know which one of the twins had been driving it. She hoped it had been Roger. If it was Gable she would make her excuses and leave. Before she did anything Imogen was determined to apologize to Roger. She knew she had a decision to make. She couldn't go on living like this. She was torn by conflicting emotions. She knew that however hard it was likely to prove she had to make a choice.

  Roger opened the door and stepped back as if confronted by a rabid dog. But Imogen wasn't frothing at the mouth and when she bared her teeth it was in an apologetic smile. She had experienced a knee-jerk reaction on finding Roger's press clippings and made a hasty judgment. She knew in her heart that there wasn't a vindictive bone in Roger's body or a mean thought in his mind. With Roger what you saw was very much what you got. She only wished she had the same belief in Gable. Roger's brother was a dream that stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine. She had a suspicion that when the surface was scratched the personality beneath the self-assured persona would be as thin as the pages that carried his image. The severity of Roger's shyness had placed him at a disadvantage to his confident twin. He had been physically incapable of approaching Imogen. His only course had been to admire her from afar. Roger had painstakingly collected the clippings of her mostly public career and poured out his heart on paper. She had no right to be angry with him. But would Roger understand? She had insulted him and hurt him badly. Would Roger now forgive her?

  There was no other way than to say it straight. "Roger, I've come to apologize. That is, if you'll allow me to do so. May I come in?" She was trembling inside but fighting to preserve a brave face. She had never really appreciated how handsome he was. If he could lose his glasses and do something with his hair he would give Gable a run for his money.

  Roger's face was a picture of conflict. He actually looked terrified. He poked his glasses up on his nose with a forefinger and opened and closed his mouth like a feeding goldfish as he wrestled to find the appropriate words. "Please, come… come in, Imogen."

  The words were magic to Imogen's ears. She breezed into the apartment and twirled to face him. She had decided to brazen it out. Her eyes played on his concerned face while her fingers itched to smooth away the furrowed lines. His mouth was more sensual than she remembered. She took a deep breath. "I got it wrong," she confessed. "I broke into your apartment to try and discover something more about you and your brother. I was confused and I apologize unreservedly. I don't know what else to say. I... I...” It was Imogen's turn to stammer. There was no other way to say it. "I have feelings for you both."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Imogen felt her blush creep up from her neck. She lowered her eyelashes before looking up to stare directly into Roger’s eyes. She took a deep breath. She was there to apologize. "I am so sorry, Roger. I know I hurt you terribly. I had no idea you felt the way you did about me. I understand that shyness can be a crippling affliction and under any other circumstances we would have met sooner. This situation would never have arisen. I...I should have been more understanding."

  "Please, don’t... don't apologize. You weren't to know. How could you?" Roger made it easy for her. "I've lived with this all my life. I should have been stronger. I should have told you how I felt."

  "I think I already know that, Roger." She hoisted her handbag to her chest and rummaged through the contents to find the poem that had made her cry. She scanned the carefully constructed prose and swallowed to conceal her emotion. "I suppose this is why you didn't want me to know you could use a computer. It is the most caring thing I’ve ever read. I don't know what to say. Can you ever forgive the way I acted? Please tell me you can, Roger. I’ve apologized as much as I know how to.”

  Roger had stood motionless through Imogen's short speech. He had watched nervously as she had unfolded and looked at his poetry. His own feelings had welled in his chest and strangled the words in his throat. He would have forgiven Imogen anything but the words would not rise to his tongue

  Imogen could feel herself shrink and her confidence fade in the face of Roger's silence. Her stomach was churning and her knees were about to give way. She had blown it. She longed for Roger's forgiveness, for his head to lean forward and cover her lips with his mouth, for the sweetness of his taste and the strength of his arms around her. But Roger stood immobile. Imogen was devastated. She clutched her bag and despondently turned towards the door. Her heavy steps had reached the elevator before Roger's voice cracked the silence.

  "What… What about Gable?"

  Imogen spun on the balls of her feet. Hope flickered in her heart and her brown eyes pleaded for a second chance. "Gable is a lovely man, Roger. He is everything a woman could dream of." She recognized the disappointment in his eyes. "But a dream is all that Gable could ever be. I got caught up in the image. It is the man underneath that truly matters. For me, that means someone I can have an honest relationship with. I think that’s the type of man I found in you, Roger. I don’t believe that Gable could share himself with anyone. If I’d known you before meeting Gable I would have never―" She faltered in what she was saying. How could she ask Roger to forgive her indiscretions with his own brother? She had created her own bitter ending and she would have to live with it. The flame of hope that had flickered in her breast died in an instant