Chapter 6
Rowan Daestar's office address and home address turned out to be the same. She owned the top two floors of a many-storied office co-op. Both floors had been renovated into single apartments combining work and living space. The lower of the two floors was occupied rent-free by a friend and employee of Ro's. He was one of the head teachers at her school, a one-eyed older man with old-world manners and a propensity (bordering on genius) for dealing with anything technological or mechanical. Roger had in fact met him briefly when Ro had taken him to the school. His name was Norman Berg (Roger later learned Rowan had met Norman at a veterans clinic she had interned at. He had been her patient and they simply hit it off really well.)
Rowan lived in the penthouse. The main elevator to her floor opened onto a small alcove covered in matte gold-leaf, like melted sunlight. A simple black lacquer table was centered against the back wall. On it, a thick chunk of green-gold bamboo held a single stem of white orchids. A very large framed mirror hung on the wall, reflecting the flowers. The flanking walls each held a substantial door. The left hand door bore a bright brass plate marked "Office of R. Daestar." The right hand one was identical save for a discreet peephole rather than a nameplate.
Roger Smith checked his reflection before knocking on the door. He was wearing his favorite leather jacket, a perfectly pressed white shirt, and dark trousers. He placed a bouquet of wild roses on the table and combed his sleek black hair one last time. He knew he looked great but it didn't ease his anxiety one bit.
He'd never had to bother actively courting a woman before meeting Rowan Daestar. Usually just one of his devastating smiles was sufficient, or at least til he got bored or blew it with a sarcastic remark. The flood of conflicting emotions this female raised in him was so new. No one had ever bothered to get past the smirk, to recognise the sarcasm for the protective wall it often was.
Roger was a heart-breaker suddenly aware of his own vulnerability. It was frightening and thrilling simultaneously, knowing Rowan was someone he could love, maybe already did. Harder still to accept was the deeper self-understanding his encounter with Jim Webster had brought.
He picked up the bouquet and knocked on the right hand door. His ears rang in the silence.
Maybe I didn't knock hard enough, he thought, it IS a heavy door. He thumped again, harder. Roger began to rock slightly on his heels as he waited for a response. Now what? ran through his mind...old habits reasserted themselves as his anxiety began to turn to annoyance. He started for the elevator, changed his mind, returned to the door. The young man hesitated before knocking a third time - maybe this was a sign he shouldn't get involved, maybe she was right about being trouble. Maybe he was just a little afraid...focus, Roger, went the little voice in his head - you can handle an armed nut like Webster and a pretty girl does this to you? Breathe, man!
Roger took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and raised his fist to pound the door as hard as he could. He slammed the door once, and raised his hand to do so again when the door flew open. Roger stopped just short of hitting Rowan in the nose. She was dripping wet, clad only in a very large and very damp bath towel. Her long black hair was plastered to her head.
Roger's eyes opened very wide. "Ah, am I too early?" he asked, smirking slightly.
Chagrined, Ro started apologising for making him wait, explaining how she'd gotten home later than she'd expected and the time just got away from her. Her voice trailed off when she realized he hadn't heard a word she said. She looked down at herself and blushed from head to toe.
Roger, on the other hand, was busy appreciating the view. As far as he was concerned, all was forgiven.
Rowan quickly regained her composure. Keeping one hand firmly on her towel, she stepped back from the door. "Please, come in."
Roger entered, avoiding the puddle on the slate floor. "Here," he said, presenting the roses, "these are for you."
"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed. She buried her nose in the fragile pink and white blossoms, deeply inhaling the sweet fragrance. Most flowers were raised for appearance not scent, and these were a real treat.
Roger basked in the reflected glow of her pleasure. The pink and white of Ro's freshly scrubbed skin mimicked the roses' soft colors. He wished he could paint her at that moment.
Rowan then closed the front door, and gestured towards the couch and chairs in the living room. "Make yourself comfortable...I'll be right back, just want to throw something on and put these in water..." She quickly exited the room.
Roger removed his jacket. Curious, he started examining his surroundings. Although much larger than his place, it wasn't overwhelming at all. The furnishings were simple but comfortable, the shelved walls lined with books, plants, and art. Rich color was everywhere. There was a bank of floor to ceiling windows on one side, covered with rice paper blinds that softened the afternoon light. The overall effect was bright, airy, inviting, very different from the prevailing style of Paradigm's upper crust. It was as if a piece of another world had fallen into the dark heart of the domed city.
Roger decided to check out the view from the windows. He rolled up one set of blinds, revealing what seemed to be a jungle of leaves, fruit, and flowers rather than the expected city view. Roger blinked in surprise, then realized it was a greenhouse.
Daestar reentered the living room. "That's part of my lab." Smith looked up as she came over to his side. Her hair was still damp and loose, though no longer dripping, and she had slipped into a sleeveless wrap dress of dark blue silk. The color made her skin luminous, pearl-like. She continued, "Norman helped me build this...this is where I do most of my research." Roger peered through the glass again, noticing it was all quite logically organized and not the wilderness of his first impression.
"You grew all this? It's amazing!"
Rowan's pride in the place was obvious. "Wait," she said, "it gets better." She opened a window panel. "Take a deep breath," she directed Roger. He did - it was a revelation. He'd never experienced air like this...wet, heavily-oxygenated, full of green scents he couldn't identify.He could almost taste it. It cleared his head. It made him smile. "That's wonderful, but what is it?"
"That is what the atmosphere used to be like, I think," Ro said, "before everything went to pieces. I'm glad you like it. It's one of favorite places." She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as well. A gentle smile played on her lips.
Roger leaned against the wall, looking at Daestar's delicate profile. He had to decide today, now, if he was willing to take the biggest chance of his life. Listening to the hostage-taker's tale of a life unlived had made the young man question his own choices. Smith had been disengaged from his own life for a long time, so long that he hadn't realized it til he faced his own mortality. Only his anger at the world's injustice had kept him going...til now.
"Rowan." Just saying her name filled him with warmth. She turned towards him, leaf shadows flickering across her face. Smith raised his hand, delicately tracing the contours of her cheek and mouth with his fingertips. "We have to talk," he said.
Rowan kissed his fingers. "I know." She looked away from him for a moment, then turned back, looking him squarely in the face. "I know what my feelings are for you...but I also know I could jeopardize your safety. You know I keep a lot of secrets from Dastun for that reason, he knows it too. It won't be that simple for us."
Roger's sharp features softened. She was genuinely troubled. No one had ever looked at him with such concern. No one (other than Dastun) had ever given a damn about him. "I understand that," he said.
"Do you?" Her eyes snapped green fire. "Why did you call me back?" She paused, then spoke so quietly that for a moment he thought he imagined her questions: "What do you want, Roger Smith? What is your heart's desire?"
Smith closed his eyes. What questions she asked! What did he want, truly? What WAS his heart's desire? Questions that took a lifetime to answer. Questions answered in the space of a single heartbeat.
"Be sure of this," whispered Rowan "Some choices are riskier than others. You must decide for yourself."
Smith's eyes remained closed; he began to talk as much to himself as to the young woman. "I could have been killed a few days ago," he said, (Ro nodded unseen, having read the newspaper accounts of that near-disaster) "by a man who felt he was already dead. That crystalized everything for me...I realized I was becoming like him, I was almost dead to my own life."
Roger opened his eyes, his gaze dark and soft as velvet. "No life is without risk, certainly no life worth living...and loving someone is the greatest risk of all. I'll take my chances if you're willing to let me."
He placed his large hands on her shoulders - Rowan trembled at his touch. Roger drew her closer, kissed her pale forehead, her soft pink mouth. When he released her lips, Rowan placed her palm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as if to reassure herself that this was real. She smiled lovingly at him, breathed the words"...then I'm yours."
In the quiet, they could hear the muffled sound of distant music. Roger took the tall beauty in his arms, and they began to slow dance to the faint melody. Daestar leaned her head against his, fine tendrils of her night-black hair tickling his face, her clean scent filling his nose.
Roger kissed the back of her neck, nibbled her ear, stroked her through the thin fabric of her blue dress. "You know," she said, tracing her fingertips down his muscular back, "I thought I scared you off."
"Oh, did you now?" Roger smirked despite himself. He cuddled Rowan so she couldn't see his face. She'd been alone for so long, just like him, building her walls too. "We're too much alike, Ro, when you get right down to it, for you to frighten me away."
He kissed her tenderly, with all his heart. The walls separating their souls vanished, setting free the mutual passion burning within them.
It was to be their first night as lovers.
Rowan Daestar's office address and home address turned out to be the same. She owned the top two floors of a many-storied office co-op. Both floors had been renovated into single apartments combining work and living space. The lower of the two floors was occupied rent-free by a friend and employee of Ro's. He was one of the head teachers at her school, a one-eyed older man with old-world manners and a propensity (bordering on genius) for dealing with anything technological or mechanical. Roger had in fact met him briefly when Ro had taken him to the school. His name was Norman Berg (Roger later learned Rowan had met Norman at a veterans clinic she had interned at. He had been her patient and they simply hit it off really well.)
Rowan lived in the penthouse. The main elevator to her floor opened onto a small alcove covered in matte gold-leaf, like melted sunlight. A simple black lacquer table was centered against the back wall. On it, a thick chunk of green-gold bamboo held a single stem of white orchids. A very large framed mirror hung on the wall, reflecting the flowers. The flanking walls each held a substantial door. The left hand door bore a bright brass plate marked "Office of R. Daestar." The right hand one was identical save for a discreet peephole rather than a nameplate.
Roger Smith checked his reflection before knocking on the door. He was wearing his favorite leather jacket, a perfectly pressed white shirt, and dark trousers. He placed a bouquet of wild roses on the table and combed his sleek black hair one last time. He knew he looked great but it didn't ease his anxiety one bit.
He'd never had to bother actively courting a woman before meeting Rowan Daestar. Usually just one of his devastating smiles was sufficient, or at least til he got bored or blew it with a sarcastic remark. The flood of conflicting emotions this female raised in him was so new. No one had ever bothered to get past the smirk, to recognise the sarcasm for the protective wall it often was.
Roger was a heart-breaker suddenly aware of his own vulnerability. It was frightening and thrilling simultaneously, knowing Rowan was someone he could love, maybe already did. Harder still to accept was the deeper self-understanding his encounter with Jim Webster had brought.
He picked up the bouquet and knocked on the right hand door. His ears rang in the silence.
Maybe I didn't knock hard enough, he thought, it IS a heavy door. He thumped again, harder. Roger began to rock slightly on his heels as he waited for a response. Now what? ran through his mind...old habits reasserted themselves as his anxiety began to turn to annoyance. He started for the elevator, changed his mind, returned to the door. The young man hesitated before knocking a third time - maybe this was a sign he shouldn't get involved, maybe she was right about being trouble. Maybe he was just a little afraid...focus, Roger, went the little voice in his head - you can handle an armed nut like Webster and a pretty girl does this to you? Breathe, man!
Roger took a deep breath, straightened his jacket, and raised his fist to pound the door as hard as he could. He slammed the door once, and raised his hand to do so again when the door flew open. Roger stopped just short of hitting Rowan in the nose. She was dripping wet, clad only in a very large and very damp bath towel. Her long black hair was plastered to her head.
Roger's eyes opened very wide. "Ah, am I too early?" he asked, smirking slightly.
Chagrined, Ro started apologising for making him wait, explaining how she'd gotten home later than she'd expected and the time just got away from her. Her voice trailed off when she realized he hadn't heard a word she said. She looked down at herself and blushed from head to toe.
Roger, on the other hand, was busy appreciating the view. As far as he was concerned, all was forgiven.
Rowan quickly regained her composure. Keeping one hand firmly on her towel, she stepped back from the door. "Please, come in."
Roger entered, avoiding the puddle on the slate floor. "Here," he said, presenting the roses, "these are for you."
"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed. She buried her nose in the fragile pink and white blossoms, deeply inhaling the sweet fragrance. Most flowers were raised for appearance not scent, and these were a real treat.
Roger basked in the reflected glow of her pleasure. The pink and white of Ro's freshly scrubbed skin mimicked the roses' soft colors. He wished he could paint her at that moment.
Rowan then closed the front door, and gestured towards the couch and chairs in the living room. "Make yourself comfortable...I'll be right back, just want to throw something on and put these in water..." She quickly exited the room.
Roger removed his jacket. Curious, he started examining his surroundings. Although much larger than his place, it wasn't overwhelming at all. The furnishings were simple but comfortable, the shelved walls lined with books, plants, and art. Rich color was everywhere. There was a bank of floor to ceiling windows on one side, covered with rice paper blinds that softened the afternoon light. The overall effect was bright, airy, inviting, very different from the prevailing style of Paradigm's upper crust. It was as if a piece of another world had fallen into the dark heart of the domed city.
Roger decided to check out the view from the windows. He rolled up one set of blinds, revealing what seemed to be a jungle of leaves, fruit, and flowers rather than the expected city view. Roger blinked in surprise, then realized it was a greenhouse.
Daestar reentered the living room. "That's part of my lab." Smith looked up as she came over to his side. Her hair was still damp and loose, though no longer dripping, and she had slipped into a sleeveless wrap dress of dark blue silk. The color made her skin luminous, pearl-like. She continued, "Norman helped me build this...this is where I do most of my research." Roger peered through the glass again, noticing it was all quite logically organized and not the wilderness of his first impression.
"You grew all this? It's amazing!"
Rowan's pride in the place was obvious. "Wait," she said, "it gets better." She opened a window panel. "Take a deep breath," she directed Roger. He did - it was a revelation. He'd never experienced air like this...wet, heavily-oxygenated, full of green scents he couldn't identify.He could almost taste it. It cleared his head. It made him smile. "That's wonderful, but what is it?"
"That is what the atmosphere used to be like, I think," Ro said, "before everything went to pieces. I'm glad you like it. It's one of favorite places." She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath as well. A gentle smile played on her lips.
Roger leaned against the wall, looking at Daestar's delicate profile. He had to decide today, now, if he was willing to take the biggest chance of his life. Listening to the hostage-taker's tale of a life unlived had made the young man question his own choices. Smith had been disengaged from his own life for a long time, so long that he hadn't realized it til he faced his own mortality. Only his anger at the world's injustice had kept him going...til now.
"Rowan." Just saying her name filled him with warmth. She turned towards him, leaf shadows flickering across her face. Smith raised his hand, delicately tracing the contours of her cheek and mouth with his fingertips. "We have to talk," he said.
Rowan kissed his fingers. "I know." She looked away from him for a moment, then turned back, looking him squarely in the face. "I know what my feelings are for you...but I also know I could jeopardize your safety. You know I keep a lot of secrets from Dastun for that reason, he knows it too. It won't be that simple for us."
Roger's sharp features softened. She was genuinely troubled. No one had ever looked at him with such concern. No one (other than Dastun) had ever given a damn about him. "I understand that," he said.
"Do you?" Her eyes snapped green fire. "Why did you call me back?" She paused, then spoke so quietly that for a moment he thought he imagined her questions: "What do you want, Roger Smith? What is your heart's desire?"
Smith closed his eyes. What questions she asked! What did he want, truly? What WAS his heart's desire? Questions that took a lifetime to answer. Questions answered in the space of a single heartbeat.
"Be sure of this," whispered Rowan "Some choices are riskier than others. You must decide for yourself."
Smith's eyes remained closed; he began to talk as much to himself as to the young woman. "I could have been killed a few days ago," he said, (Ro nodded unseen, having read the newspaper accounts of that near-disaster) "by a man who felt he was already dead. That crystalized everything for me...I realized I was becoming like him, I was almost dead to my own life."
Roger opened his eyes, his gaze dark and soft as velvet. "No life is without risk, certainly no life worth living...and loving someone is the greatest risk of all. I'll take my chances if you're willing to let me."
He placed his large hands on her shoulders - Rowan trembled at his touch. Roger drew her closer, kissed her pale forehead, her soft pink mouth. When he released her lips, Rowan placed her palm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as if to reassure herself that this was real. She smiled lovingly at him, breathed the words"...then I'm yours."
In the quiet, they could hear the muffled sound of distant music. Roger took the tall beauty in his arms, and they began to slow dance to the faint melody. Daestar leaned her head against his, fine tendrils of her night-black hair tickling his face, her clean scent filling his nose.
Roger kissed the back of her neck, nibbled her ear, stroked her through the thin fabric of her blue dress. "You know," she said, tracing her fingertips down his muscular back, "I thought I scared you off."
"Oh, did you now?" Roger smirked despite himself. He cuddled Rowan so she couldn't see his face. She'd been alone for so long, just like him, building her walls too. "We're too much alike, Ro, when you get right down to it, for you to frighten me away."
He kissed her tenderly, with all his heart. The walls separating their souls vanished, setting free the mutual passion burning within them.
It was to be their first night as lovers.