I'm rewatching the show for the second time and the RomanGerri feels are hitting so hard this time around. Thought I'd write a little piece about *the* scene.
When Logan abruptly gets up from the table to leave the room, gruffly announcing that he needs five, and Shiv tails him looking gleeful and disgusted in equal measure, Gerri shoots Roman a look. He doesn't meet her gaze, instead curling into himself uncomfortably, taking up as little space as he possibly can in his chair. A few minutes later, when Gerri hears Logan yell Roman's name deafeningly loudly, she can't help but panic. What's going on? Is there something about GoJo that she's not in the know about? Impossible. Has Roman fucked it with Matsson? Perhaps more likely, but she's picked her prince, and she has faith in him. Well, to a point.
When Roman hesitantly leaves the room, finally sending a worried glance in her direction, Gerri's mind immediately spins back to that horrific moment at Argestes. To Logan backhanding his younger son in a fit of rage. In front of everyone. In front of her. Roman hadn't deserved it, even if he'd been running his mouth. It was Shiv who had called for a dinosaur culling after all. Roman was simply being Roman.
She hopes beyond hope that Roman is not about to lose another tooth here in Milan, and a part of her even wants to be in that room to make sure he doesn't. Guilt sets in. It's not as if she'd intervened when she'd witnessed the whole scene in upstate New York beyond trying to get Logan to calm down by telling him the panel played well. Nor had she stepped in on other occasions when Logan had gotten violent. And she'd been around the family long enough to hear stories. Hell, she'd been at the summer palace when Shiv recounted the story of Roman getting beat with a slipper for ordering lobster in Gustav. The Roys made no secret of the fact that Roman was Logan's punching bag of choice.
It bothers her. It always had. But what could she do? She mostly tried to keep her nose out of the Roys' personal business. Or that's what she'd told herself over the years. Until the company retreat and the despicable night of Logan's maniacal 'boar on the floor' game. That was the first time she'd ever felt protectiveness and pity bubble up in her chest for Roman Roy, and after that, she was a goner.
She remembers helping him button up his shirt while trying (and failing) to conceal a smile at his hungover flirtation and snarky comments about kittens and perverts. Long after she leaves the room, she's still thinking about his messy hair falling into his eyes and how there is this...expressiveness in Roman's every movement that is magnetically alluring. The ill-advised minefield that was their relationship had only gotten worse from there on out.
Roman had actually taken her advice (she considered it a real achievement that she'd gotten a Roy to actually listen to her for a change) and enrolled in management training after that. And she'd heard through the grapevine that he was surprisingly good. She could manage mentorship fairly well. Unfortunately, she had let things get a little out of hand between their so-called special conference calls and the admittedly enticing bathroom jerk-off at Tern Haven estate.
Even so, she'd thought it was all a bit of fun. After all, what was the point of being adjacent to insane power and wealth without indulging in some of the pleasure it could offer? Roman Roy was, she had convinced herself, just a pleasurable little side quest, a young man who had paid her not necessarily unwanted attention, had real potential and business instinct and simply needed guidance. He needed to be taken seriously. He needed just the right balance of stern and tender to keep him on track and Gerri provided that, avoiding the voice in her head that said she'd provided it far too well.
Her chest tightens as Logan's voice gets louder. She can't hear what is being said. She fiddles with her earring, adjusts one of her rings, touches the base of her updo. She is stuck in a room full of men (which is nothing new, really) waiting to see how things play out, and if, indeed, Roman is going to return with a toothless grin, black eye, or worse, and she finds her heart aching at the thought.
In the aftermath, everything feels blurry. Back in her hotel room—Laurie is thankfully gone for the evening—she tries to get her bearings as she replays the afternoon's events over and over in her head. Roman had come stumbling out of the room with his father, looking pale as a ghost, but not physically maimed in any way, and Gerri feels relief before she can even try to stop herself.
But as he explains to her what happened and waves the whole thing off as if it's no big deal, she goes through a (Brightstar?) rollercoaster's worth of emotions. First, she's numb, then enraged, and finally, she settles on betrayed.
She had no idea Roman would fuck up this badly. She admonishes herself internally. She should have seen this coming. This is what happens when you take a chance on a sleazy man child. The thought that berating him for his mistake might turn him on only makes her more angry and she doesn't even say anything to him in the moment, just takes a second to register the vaguely regretful look on his face, even though he's still making half-hearted attempts at jokes that she doesn't want to hear.
She just wants a goddamn apology, but has a Roy ever given one and actually meant it? For a moment she considers slapping him just like his dad. It would serve him right this time. But as soon as the thought crosses her mind, she feels ashamed. How could she even think it? Even if he had endangered her career and fucked everything up for her? Hit Roman, who'd always been told he was a worthless moron by everyone around him?
She can't be around him any longer and presumably she's not really needed by any of the banker fucks or ground pounders, so she turns on her heel and leaves, only to run into her god daughter, who is clearly on the war path and trying to hide her delight at what one might aptly call the fall of Rome.
Gerri has never really liked Siobhan. The sentiment is mutual. Gerri senses Shiv likes her even less after this whole debacle. But Shiv, ever the bitchy opportunist, sees the path to making things work in her favor. When she tries to get Gerri to turn on Rome, Gerri holds her cards close to her chest and represses the urge to tell Shiv to fuck off. She knows Shiv does not give a single, solitary fuck about her well-being, no matter what she claims. In fact, she finds it repulsive that Shiv is mercilessly eager to profit from Roman's lack of boundaries. It's like none of these kids realize that she, Geraldine Kellman, is an actual human being. No Real Person Involved.
At the very least, Roman, however horrible he is, didn't mean to fuck her over. Even if she'd expressly told him to stop sending the items and had brought Laurie along as a shield. To ensure nothing unprofessional could happen. On his end or hers.
The bar is on the floor. Gerri is well-aware of that. Roman has gone from blowing up rockets to blowing up partnerships in real time, and as a man approaching forty, his intentions do not really fucking matter. She'd told him to get "How does this serve my personal interests?" engraved on his forehead in half-jest once, and clearly, he hasn't learned the lesson.
Her prick of a protege is, perhaps, beyond hope.
And that is the most disappointing thing. Because she could have gotten him there. She really could have.
