It was quite dark outside, the only light coming from the forty-watt bulb on the back porch.  Angie stared out into the darkness beyond the pool of light.  “Rollie?”  There was no answer.  She took a step forward.  “Rollie, are you out here?”

“He’s not here,” someone behind her said.

Angie spun around to see the man who had told her Rollie was outside.  “Who are you?  What do you want?”

The man took a step closer to her, his eyes traveling up and down her body.  “I wanted to get you alone.”

Angie took a hasty step backwards, terror flaring inside her.  She spun around to run, but before she could get away, the man was upon her, his hand over her mouth, dragging her toward the bushes.  Her arms trapped at her sides, Angie struggled in his grasp, trying to kick him in the shins, but he kept dodging her feet.

The man lifted her completely off the ground, then slammed her down, knocking the wind out of her.  His body painfully pinning hers down, he wrapped one hand around her throat and brought the other hand up to her blouse.  Angie heard the material rip and felt the cold air touch her bare skin.  She began to pummel him with her fists and scratch his face, but he tightened the grip on her throat, making her choke and fight for air.  His free hand groped at her, bruising her skin.

‘No, no, no!  Oh God, this isn’t happening!  Oh God, Loubar!  Stop, please stop, please stop, please stop!  He’s raping me!  Loubar’s raping me!  Somebody help me, please!  Rollie, help me!’

Suddenly, the man let out a cry of pain, and his grip on her throat loosened for an instant.  Angie took a breath and screamed as loud as her oxygen-starved lungs and bruised larynx would let her.  The scream was silenced as the man’s hand cruelly clamped back down on her throat, cutting off her breath completely.

Rollie stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a bit more in control.  At least his pulse and respiration were back to normal.  He looked around, but saw no sign of Angie.  Was she still in the bathroom?  He went to the other bathroom, but found it empty.  Where was she?  Puzzled, Rollie made his way to the dining room.  He didn’t know why, but he felt tense, ill at ease, like something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

Rollie’s eyes were busy searching the crowd for some sign of Angie, when he heard something.  It had sounded like a brief, muffled scream, coming from behind him.  Rollie turned around and looked at the kitchen.  His eyes went to the back door and, all at once, he knew that Angie was in trouble.  He leapt for the door and threw it open, running outside.  His gaze darted about, but saw nothing.  Then he heard rustling and what sounded like a whimper coming from a clump of bushes on the far side of the yard.  Rollie dashed over to it, then froze at the sight before him.  Angie was on the ground, a man on top of her.  Her blouse was torn half off.  The man had one hand on her throat and the other was tugging at her pants, trying to pull them down.

Suddenly, his dream image of Loubar raping Angie and the real image of Loubar in bed with her, that cold smile on his face, all came crashing together in Rollie’s mind.  With a yell, he dove forward and heaved the man off Angie, throwing him with all his strength into the fence.  He then pounced on the man and dragged him to the ground.

“I’m going to kill you, Loubar!” he screamed.  “I’m going to kill you!”

Rollie’s fists slammed into the man again, and again, and again.  The man tried to fight back, to push Rollie off, but the Aussie had gone insane with hatred, strength pouring into him from some unknown place.  There was blood everywhere, but he didn’t see it.  He didn’t see the man’s real face, which he was turning into a bloody mess.  All he saw was Loubar’s evil features and his cold, mocking eyes.

All at once, arms were pulling him away from the man, yanking him to his feet.  He fought against them, until a voice telling him to stop penetrated through to his brain.  The Aussie ceased struggling and just stood there, his chest heaving.  Angie leapt into his mind.  He spun around and saw her huddled in Joyce’s arms, clutching the remnants of her torn blouse together.  Rollie ran to her, falling to his knees beside her.  He reached for her and was horrified when she cringed away from him, fear in her eyes.  Pain over her reaction ripped a gapping hole in him.

“Angie,” he whispered brokenly, his hands falling to his sides.  After a moment, he saw the fear in her eyes change to recognition, but he did not attempt to touch her again.

“Let’s get you inside, honey,” Joyce said gently.  She helped Angie to her feet and led her inside.  Rollie followed several feet behind them.

In the house, Joyce took Angie to one of the bedrooms, nodding her head briefly toward the other one, indicating that Rollie should go in there.  He went without a word, shutting the door behind him.  He sat on the bed, his body slumped in defeat.  That’s when the tears began to fall.

He wept in silence, his heart an open, aching wound for Angie.

Angie sat on the bed, trying to control the convulsive shudders that had gripped her body.  Joyce sat beside her, holding her gently.  There were tears in the woman’s eyes.

“Angie, I am so sorry this happened.  I should have known something was wrong when I saw that guy earlier and didn’t recognize him.  I thought that he was someone’s date.  He must have crashed the party.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Joyce.”  She looked at her friend.  “I’m all right.  I’m just a little shaky.”  She paused.  “Where’s Rollie?”

“In the other bedroom.  He looks like hell.  Angie, I could have sworn that I heard him call that bastard who attacked you Loubar.  Is there any chance that Rollie knows him?”

Angie stiffened at the sound of the hated name.  It had been Loubar’s face that she had seen looming over her when the man was trying to rape her.  It had been Loubar’s hands that she had felt tearing her clothes and grabbing at her body.  It had been Loubar’s cold eyes that she had seen filled with the need to dominate her, to take her forcefully and brutally.  And it had been Loubar whom she had seen when Rollie tried to touch her.  The devastating pain in the Aussie’s eyes and voice had been what made her see the truth.

“No, that guy isn’t Loubar.  Loubar is someone else.”

Joyce looked as if she was about to ask who Loubar was, but they both heard the sound of approaching sirens.  A few minutes later, two EMT’s came into the room.  Trying not to flinch at his touch, Angie let one of the men check her out.

Joyce looked over at the other man.  “There’s a man in the other bedroom next door.  I think that he may need some medical attention.”  The EMT nodded and left.

Angie quickly turned to her friend.  “Rollie?  What’s wrong with Rollie?” she asked, an edge of fear in her voice.

Joyce patted her leg reassuringly.  “It’s his hands, honey.  They looked pretty banged up.”

Rollie’s hands?  What happened to his hands?  Angie tried to recall exactly what had happened.  The man had been on her, trying to rip her pants off, then, all at once, he was gone.  She had scrambled away, pressing herself into the bushes.  She recalled hearing the sound of struggling, a fight, then there were other people all around, and Joyce was kneeling beside her, pulling her into her arms.  Angie knew that she had been in shock, and that was why she didn’t remember things clearly.  Now, she realized that it had been Rollie who pulled the guy off her and who had fought with him.

“Are his hands really bad?” she asked Joyce.

“I don’t know.  There was a lot of blood, but that might have been mostly the other guy’s.  Rollie almost killed him, Angie, beat him to a pulp.  But I’m sure his hands will be just fine.”

Two cops walked in.  As the male officer stood at the door, the female officer knelt in front of her.  The EMT, satisfied that there were no serious injuries, moved aside.

“How are you doing, ma’am?” the officer asked Angie gently.

“I’m okay.”

“Do you feel like telling me what happened?”

Angie began to recount what she could remember, trying to keep the false image of Victor Loubar out of her mind.

Rollie had still not moved from the bed when a knock came on the door and an EMT entered.  The man knelt beside him.

“How are you doing, sir?”

Ignoring the question, Rollie asked, “How’s Angie?”

The EMT looked at him, smiling faintly.  “My partner is with her right now.  I don’t believe there are any serious injuries.  Now, let me take a look at those hands.”  He examined Rollie’s hands.  “Well, nothing looks broken, but you should have them x-rayed.”  The EMT cleaned the cuts, then bandaged Rollie’s hands, glancing up at the Aussie while he worked.  “I heard that you’re the one who stopped him.”

“Yeah,” Rollie murmured, his throat tightening up again.

“If it had been me, and I had caught some guy doing that to my girlfriend, I would have broken his neck, just like that.  Scum like that don’t deserve to breathe,” the man spat.

Rollie was surprised at the man’s vehemence.  Then something else the EMT said penetrated through.  Girlfriend?  He believed that Angie was Rollie’s girlfriend.  The Aussie supposed that it was a natural mistake on the guy’s part.  Strangely, he had no desire to correct the man.

The EMT finished and stood.  “You’re all set.  Like I said before, you should get those x-rayed, just in case.”  He met Rollie’s eyes.  “You should be glad that you were there to stop him before it was too late.”  He then turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, I was there to stop him, but I wasn’t there to keep him from touching her in the first place,” he whispered bitterly.  “And I wasn’t there to stop Loubar.”

“What’s going to happen to that slime?” Joyce asked the female police officer.

“Well, as soon as the hospital gets through putting his face back together and stitching up his hand, he’ll be locked up,” she replied.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s either got a record or is wanted.  Rapists almost never do it only once.”  She looked at Angie.  “Even if he has no record, between your testimony and that of your boyfriend, he’ll be put away, don’t you worry.”  A look of apology and sympathy came into the cop’s eyes.  “I’m sorry, but we’ll need you to go to the hospital so that pictures can be taken of your injuries.  Evidence.”

Angie nodded.  She had known that this would be the case.  “Could you call Palmira Sanchez?  She’s a detective with the Midtown South Precinct.  She’s a friend of mine.”

“Certainly.”

The cop’s male partner and the EMT left the room, and Joyce helped Angie put on another blouse.  The female officer then took Angie’s ruined one as evidence.  Angie went into the bathroom.  After using the facilities, she looked at herself in the mirror, seeing that bruises were already appearing on her neck.  Her eyes went to the choker and noticed a dark stain on the cameo.  She took it off and looked at it.  It was blood.  How had that gotten there?  Then she remembered something that the cop had said about the man who tried to rape her needing stitches in his hand.  Her mind went back to the moment when the man cried out in pain and loosened the grip on her throat.  The cameo had apparently cut his hand.  Angie stared at the piece of jewelry.  If she hadn’t been wearing it. . . .

Angie carefully put the cameo in her pocket.  The police would want it for evidence if she told them what had happened, but she wasn’t about to let them have it.  It was in her care, and she was going to see that Rollie got it back safe and sound.

She got her coat from the pile on the bed and left the room with Joyce.  As she passed the other bedroom, the door opened and Rollie came out.  His hands were swathed in bandages.  Their gaze met for a moment, then they both looked away.  Though she was glad to see him, she felt uncomfortable being that near to him.  She felt uncomfortable being near any man.  Within the space of five days, she had been raped through deception, then almost raped by force.  The thought of any man coming near her, let alone touching her, was almost unbearable.  It had been very hard letting the EMT examine her.

Angie was loaded into one of the two ambulances that had responded to the call, Joyce climbing in beside her.  The other ambulance was there to take the man who had attacked her to the hospital.

As they pulled away, she saw Rollie standing alone, looking as if his whole world had come crashing down.

Rollie stood shivering, watching the ambulance drive away with Angie.  Once it had disappeared from view, he went back inside, got his coat, and left.  He drove around aimlessly for a long time, not knowing what he should do.  He wanted to be with Angie, to make sure that she was safe and wasn’t left alone, but he couldn’t bear seeing her pull away from him again as she had before.  What happened tonight must have brought what Loubar did back to Angie full-force.  She wouldn’t want him near.  He was too much of a reminder of what had happened, because he was a man and because Loubar had used his face to hurt her.

He should at least go to the hospital to see how she was doing.  Then he could leave and. . . .  He didn’t know what.  Stay away from her until she could stand being around him again, if she ever could.

As Rollie headed toward the hospital, he came to a decision.  Though it broke his heart, he was going to give Angie what she needed: not having him in her life, for as long as she needed it--even if it was forever.

Mira flipped the cell phone closed, silencing the recorded voice mail greeting.  “His phone is still turned off, Angie.  I can’t get through.”

Angie looked at the detective worriedly.  Rollie was out there somewhere, hurting, and it was her fault.  “I hurt him, Mira.  I didn’t mean to.  Rollie is the last person in the world that I’d want to hurt.  But when he came toward me, all I was seeing was Loubar.  Even now, I don’t know if I could stand to have him touch me.  And it’s not because of his face, it’s just because he’s a man.”

“Angie, what you’re feeling is perfectly natural.  Rollie understands that.”

“Does he?  Rollie has been nothing but wonderful to me ever since this whole thing started, and now I do this to him.  I pull away from him, the man I lo--” Angie cut herself off, not ready to reveal her feelings to anyone.

A nurse walked in.  “There is a gentleman outside asking about Ms. Ramirez’s condition.”

“Rollie?”

“That’s what he said his name was.”

“Mira, could you please go out there?  Tell him that I’m all right and that I’ll be going home soon.”

Rollie paced up and down the hallway, waiting for someone to come and tell him how Angie was.  He was surprised to see Mira coming toward him.

“I didn’t know you were here.  I was expecting Joyce.  Did Angie call you?” he asked.

“She had the officers who responded to the call contact me.  Joyce had to get back home.”

Rollie searched the detective’s face.  “How is she?”

“She’s good, Rollie, a lot better than most women would be in her situation.  She’s got a lot of bruises on her neck and upper body and some on her legs, but they’ll heal in time.  She’s been worried about you.  We’ve been trying to get hold of you, but your cell phone was turned off.”

“Yeah, I didn’t feel much like talking to anyone.”  Rollie swallowed tightly, trying to clear the lump in his throat.  “Tell her that I . . . understand how she feels.  And tell her that I’m going to be calling Bill Harris in the morning to let him know that we’re pulling out of Double-Edged.  I’ll find someone to take over.”  The lump in his throat grew.  “Give her my love.”

Rollie turned and walked away, ignoring Mira when she called to him.

Angie nearly pounced on Mira when she saw her.  “How is he?  Is he okay?  What did he say?” she spouted out.

“He’s pretty upset, but he said to tell you that he understands how you feel.  He also said that he was going to call someone named Bill Harris in the morning and tell them that he’s pulling out of Double-Edged.”

“What?!  But he wouldn’t do that, not unless. . . .  Oh my God!  Mira, we have to stop him!”  She dashed out of the exam room.

Mira snatched up Angie’s coat and ran after her.  “Angie, what’s wrong?”

“He’s leaving, Mira.  He’s going away.  He thinks that I don’t want him around anymore, so he’s going away!”

Angie ran out of the hospital and into the visitor parking lot, her eyes desperately searching for Rollie.  That’s when she saw his car pulling out into the street.

“Rollie!  Rollie, stop!” she cried, running after the car.  But he didn’t hear her.  He just kept getting further and further away.  “Rollie, please don’t go!”

Angie stopped and fell to her knees, sobbing.  “Please don’t leave me alone.”
 

CHAPTER SEVEN -- COMPLICATIONS

Angie didn’t speak a word as Mira took her home.  Her eyes burned from the tears that she had cried.  Rollie had gone away.  He had left because he thought she didn’t want to see him anymore.  He was gone, and it was her fault.  She might never see him again.  No!  That couldn’t be!  Rollie wouldn’t go away forever.  He wouldn’t . . . would he?  Angie hugged herself more tightly, trying to convince herself that Rollie wouldn’t leave and never come back.

Mira offered to stay with her, but Angie couldn’t bear the thought of company.  She wanted to be alone.

“Angie, he’ll be back.  He won’t stay away for long.  He’s probably just going to go off to be alone for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right, Mira,” Angie lied, knowing that if Rollie had just been intending to do that, he would have said so.

Angie locked the door behind Mira, then went into the bedroom and slumped onto the bed.  She sat there staring at nothing for a long time before wearily getting up.  She took a long shower, making the water so hot that it almost scalded her.  Afterwards, she dressed for bed, not even bothering to dry her hair fully.  She lay down and turned off the light.  In the darkness, the tears began to fall again.  Angie turned her face into the pillow and let them come.

Angie woke abruptly.  She lay still, wondering what had awakened her.  Then she heard it, a tiny scraping sound coming from the living room.  Someone was in her apartment!  Angie reached for the phone, then cursed.  She had left the handset in the kitchen.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, she got up and went to the closet.  She pulled out a baseball bat, the weapon of choice of many women who lived alone, and crept toward the door.  Her pulse racing, she opened the door and cautiously peered out.  She didn’t see anyone, and there were no more sounds coming from the living room.  Maybe she had just imagined it.  Tightening her grip on the bat, she moved toward the living room.  She peered around the corner.  Seeing no one, she took a step further out--then froze.  There was a dark shape huddle by the door.  It wasn’t moving.  Straining her eyes, Angie tried to see the person better.  Just then, the moon came out and the light through the curtain brightened the room.  Angie’s heart leapt into her throat.  It was Rollie.  He sat on the floor beside the door as if guarding it, protecting her from anyone who might come to harm her.

“Rollie?” Angie said, her voice quavering.

Rollie’s head shot up, his eyes wide.  He scrambled to his feet.  “Angie!  I-I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to wake you.”  He looked at Angie’s wide eyes.  “I’ll go.”  He turned to the door.

“No!” Angie cried, dropping the bat and running a couple of steps forward.  Rollie stopped and turned back to her, his eyes not quite meeting hers.  “I . . . I thought you left,” she whispered.

Rollie’s gaze came up to hers.  “What?”

“When you told Mira that you were pulling out of Double-Edged, I thought that it was because you were leaving.  I thought you went away.”

Rollie took a step toward her, clearly distressed.  “Oh, Angie, no.  I wouldn’t leave.  I would never leave you, not unless . . . you asked me to.”  A look of fear and pain came into his eyes.  “Do you want me to?”

Angie shook her head.  “No, Rol.  I don’t want you to leave.  I don’t ever want you to leave.”

Rollie took another step forward, his hands starting to lift toward her.  Then he stopped, and his hands fell to his sides, clenched into fists.  “I’m sorry.  I know that you don’t want me to touch you.”  He looked away from her, but not before Angie saw the tears in his eyes.

Two emotions crashed inside Angie, warring for supremacy, her fear of letting any man touch her and her desire to hold Rollie and never let him go.  She stood, unable to move, her voice silent.  Then she heard Rollie give a tiny, sad sound.  He turned away.

“I’ll go now.  Sleep tight, Angel,” he said, his voice barely audible.  He put his hand on the doorknob.

It was seeing Rollie’s hand on the knob that broke Angie indecision.  “Rollie,” she whispered.

The Aussie turned just in time to catch Angie as she threw herself into his arms.  Lifting her off the floor, he crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair.  Angie wrapped her arms tightly about his neck, her face pressed against him, and began to cry.

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  It wasn’t you I was afraid of.  It wasn’t you!  I didn’t mean to hurt you, Rollie.  I’d never want to hurt you.”

“Angie, please don’t cry.  It’s all right, really it is.  I understand.  I know it’s because Loubar used my face and be--”

Angie lifted her head quickly.  “No!” she said forcefully.  “No, Rollie.  It is not that.  It was never that.”  She took Rollie’s face between her hands.  “This is your face, not his.  I never see this face when I think of Loubar.  And I don’t see or think of Loubar whenever I look at you.  Rollie, listen to me.  I knew it wasn’t you.  That following morning when I saw the . . . when he hit me, I couldn’t believe that you would do that to me.  I just couldn’t believe it.  Even then, I knew that something was all wrong.”  She looked into his eyes intently.  “Even if Loubar hadn’t taken off the mask, I would have known that he couldn’t possibly have been you.  I would have known that the real you would never hurt me like that.  Please, Rollie, you have to believe that.”

As Rollie gazed into her eyes, seeing the truth of her words, a huge part of the weight that had been crushing his heart lifted.  He pulled her close again, pressing his cheek against hers.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  Then, realizing that he was still holding her up off the floor, he let her down.  They went over and sat on the couch.  Rollie put an arm around her shoulder, so happy that he could do it without worrying that his touch was making Angie uncomfortable.  Angie rested her head on his shoulder.

“Rollie, what did you mean when you told Mira that you were going to pull out of Double-Edged?”

The Aussie’s arm tightened around her.  “I figured that you would be uncomfortable about working with me, being in such close proximity, so I decided to give up the job.  I wanted to let you have some time away from me, give you time to get over everything.”

“You would do that?  You would give up a job for me?”

Rollie looked into her eyes.  “Of course I would, Angie.  I told you that we don’t do any job that we can’t both agree on, remember?”

“But suddenly pulling out of a movie like that would have really hurt your reputation.  You might have had a hard time getting another job.”

Rollie shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.  He then searched Angie’s face.  “If you feel as if you’re not up to working, I can still call Bill and rework the schedule somehow.”

Angie shook her head.  “No, I want to work.  That’s what I need.”  She took Rollie’s bandaged hand and gently squeezed it.  “I’m going to be all right, Rol, really I am.”

“I know you will, Ange.  You’re stronger than anyone I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, then Angie thought of something.  “Why did you come here tonight?”

Rollie shrugged again, looking somewhat embarrassed.  “I didn’t want you to be alone.  I was going to sneak back out early in the morning before you woke.  I knew that you wouldn’t know I’d been here, but it would have made me feel better to know that I was here in case something happened and you needed someone.”  He sighed almost inaudibly.  “I guess that I should go, though.  We’ll be expected on the set in only a few hours.”

Angie held on to him more tightly, not wanting him to leave.  “Maybe you could . . . sleep on the couch?” she said, posing it as more of a question than a suggestion.

Rollie smiled.  “Sure.  I can do that.  Got an extra pillow?”

With a smile, Angie got up and fetched some extra blankets and one of the pillows off her bed.  When she came back out, Rollie had shed his coat and was standing beside the couch.  She saw that he was not wearing the blue shirt.

“Where’s the other shirt, the one you wore to the party?”

“I threw it away.  It had blood on it, and . . . well, I didn’t think you’d want to see it again.”

“Please don’t throw it away.  I really liked it.  You can get the blood out.  It won’t bother me if you wear it again.”

The Aussie smiled.  “Okay.  When I get home, I’ll fetch it out of the trash.”  He began spreading the blankets on the couch.

Angie looked down at the bandages.  “How are your hands?”

“They hurt a bit, but not that bad.”  He paused in the act of laying out the second blanket.  “I don’t regret doing it, not for an instant.  That bastard deserved a lot more than what I did,” he said, not looking at her.  He then resumed what he’d been doing.

Angie studied him, not knowing if she should ask the question that had come into her mind.  She finally decided that she needed to know.  “Rollie?  Joyce said that she heard you speak Loubar’s name when you were hitting the guy.”

Rollie stiffened, his back turned toward her, the pillow clutched in his hands.  He put the pillow down and straightened slowly.  Not turning around, he began to speak, his voice low.  “When I saw that guy on top of you, I didn’t see him, I saw Loubar.  In my mind, it was Loubar who was raping you.  I lost it.  I really lost it.  I wanted to kill him.”  He finally turned around and looked at her.  “Angie, did you. . . .”

“Did I what?” Angie asked when Rollie didn’t finish his question.

The Aussie turned his attention back to his makeshift bed.  “Nothing.  Never mind.”

She stared at his back.  She had a feeling that she knew what he was going to ask.  “I saw him, too.”

Rollie’s eyes met hers.

“When that guy first attacked me, it was him that I saw.  But then, suddenly, it was Loubar.  It was Loubar who was raping me.  I’ve never been so scared in my life.  He was choking me . . .” her hand went unconsciously to her neck, “and ripping my clothes off, and all I could see was Loubar.”

Rollie quickly went to her and pulled her back into his embrace.  Wrapped in the haven of his arms, Angie continued.  “I know that it wasn’t really Loubar, but, even now, I still see his face looming over me.  I was still seeing him when you. . . .”

“When I tried to touch you.”

Angie nodded against his chest.  She looked up at him.  “I would have seen the same thing no matter what man it had been coming toward me.  It had nothing to do with you.  Please believe that, Rollie.”

Rollie smiled down at her, then placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.  “I’m just glad that you’re all right.  I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”  He drew her close again, laying his cheek on her hair.

Remembering another time he had said almost the same thing and what her reply had been, Angie smiled and said, “You’d be out of business in under a week.”  She felt Rollie’s chest shake under her cheek as he laughed softly.

“You’ve got that right,” he replied.

They kept holding each other, Rollie’s hand rubbing slowly up and down her back.  Angie wondered how she could ever have been afraid to let him touch her.  She felt so warm and sheltered in his arms.  She wished that they could stay like that for the rest of the night.

The thought of what Rollie was willing to sacrifice for her filled her with wonder.  His work and reputation as an F/X artist were the most important things to him, yet he had been willing to throw it all away for her.  Though he may not be in love with her, if she had ever doubted that he loved her, she could never do so again.

Rollie was amazed at the feelings that were swelling inside him.  Though it seemed strange that it would be that way, he felt safe in her arms.  It was like all the doubts, and fears, and pain, all the monsters that had been haunting him day and night for the last five days, couldn’t touch him as long as he was held by and was holding her.  He’d never felt anything like it in his life, and he never wanted it to end.

Finally, they drew apart.  “You’d better go get some sleep, Ange,” Rollie said.  “It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”

He watched her disappear into the bedroom, then stretched his lengthy frame across the couch, his feet hanging over the end.  It wasn’t going to be particularly comfortable, but that didn’t matter as long as he was there for her.

It was so dark, the deep, black darkness that light seemed powerless to dispel.  Angie walked through the darkness, calling Rollie’s name.  Her voice echoed back, as if she were in a great cavern.  Then she heard a chuckle behind her.  She spun around and saw something move, a shadow that was somehow even darker than the blackness around her.  It came forward and she saw the face of the man who had tried to rape her.  He was smiling.

“Ah, you’re alone again, dear Angela, and, this time, he isn’t going to come to stop me,” he said.  His voice was wrong.  It was not his voice, but Loubar’s.  Then, as he sprang toward her, his features changed, and it was now Loubar’s face.

Angie cried out Rollie’s name, but no sound came out.  Then she was on the ground.  She tried to fight, but she couldn’t move.  Loubar’s hands came up and ripped her clothes off.  Then he began grabbing at her, bruising and tearing her tender skin.

“Rollie!  Rollie!  Rollie!” Angie screamed over, and over, and over again.

Rollie was ripped out of sleep by his name being screamed in abject terror.  He jumped off the couch and ran to the bedroom, hurtling the door open.  Angie was thrashing about in the bed, crying his name repeatedly.  The blankets had wrapped tightly around her like a cocoon, pinning her arms to her sides.

Rollie hurried to the bed and grasped her shoulders.  “Angie!  Wake up!  Angie, it’s a dream!”  She continued to thrash, her head twisting from side to side.  He kept trying to wake her up, but she remained locked in the nightmare.  “Angie, it’s Rollie.  I’m here.  He isn’t going to hurt you.  I won’t let him hurt you!”  Rollie clawed at the blankets, trying to release her from their grasp.  After twisting and yanking at them, they finally came free.  Then he pulled her into his arms.  “It’s me, it’s me, baby.”

Angie fought against him, hitting him with her fists.  But then, as he continued talking to her, her blows ceased, and she relaxed.  Rollie kept holding her, rocking her back and forth, like he did the day of her father’s funeral.  “I’ll never let him hurt you again, Angie.  Never!  I’d die before letting that happen.”

Rollie began kissing her forehead and cheeks, whispering words of comfort between each kiss.  Angie’s arms came up around his neck, and, all at once, he realized what he was doing.  He grew still.  He tried to draw away, but Angie’s arms were like a vise around his shoulders and neck.  Rollie began to panic.  Feelings like he’d experienced at the party were rising back up in him with shocking strength, and he didn’t know if he could fight them.  He could smell the scent of her skin and hair, feel the softness of her body against his.  It was too much.  Then Angie’s lips brushed against his neck, and he just about jumped out of his skin.  He reached back and tried to pry her arms from around him.

“Angie, please let go,” he pleaded, his voice an octave too high.  She paid no attention to him and kept right on kissing his neck.  Rollie shuddered violently as her tongue touched his skin.  He clutched at her, a tortured moan rising from his throat.  His heart was racing wildly, and he felt like he was on fire.  If he didn’t get out of here right now, he was not going to be able to stop himself from taking their relationship way past the bounds of friendship.  He pulled harder at her arms and finally succeeded in getting them free.

Rollie leapt to his feet, his chest heaving.  He watched as Angie moved about restlessly, making sounds of protest.  Then she settled down and grew quiet.  Her breathing slowed.

Rollie quickly exited the bedroom.  His whole body was shaking, and he had broken out in a sweat.  He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face and neck, trying to cool down.  Then he began pacing up and down the living room, thinking about anything and everything except Angie in an attempt to calm the reaction his mind and body had had to what happened in the bedroom.  It took a very long time.  At last, Rollie flopped onto the couch.  Things were getting out of control, and he didn’t know how to stop it--or if he should even try.  The way Angie had--  No!  She was asleep.  She hadn’t known what she was doing.

And what if he did take that step?  There would be no going back.  Everything would change.  What would happen to their friendship, especially if things didn’t work out?  Was it worth the risk?  Or what if Angie didn’t really want to start a relationship and all he did was make a fool of himself?

Rollie lay back on the couch, wondering how his life had suddenly gotten so confusing and so very complicated.

Angie awoke.  She stared into the darkness, wondering about the strange dream she’d had.  It had started out as a horrible nightmare.  She was being raped by Loubar.  But then, Rollie was there, telling her that he’d never let Loubar hurt her again.  That’s when the dream had become very nice indeed.  He had held her, kissing her face over and over.  She had reciprocated, kissing his neck as she had wanted to so many times in the last few days.  But, for some reason, Rollie pulled away from her, leaving her arms empty.  And that’s how the dream had ended.

Having a sudden need to assure herself that Rollie was still there, Angie got up and crept out into the living room.  She smiled when she saw the Aussie sprawled on the couch, one of his arms thrown over his eyes.  One leg was stretched out, his foot over the armrest, and the other was hanging over the front of the couch.  The blankets were half on the floor.

Angie picked up the blankets and spread them over him.  She stood looking down at him for a long time, then she bent over and placed a feather-light kiss on his forehead.

‘I love you, Rollie Tyler,’ she told him silently.

With a smile on her face, she headed back to her bedroom.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT -- FIRST STEP

Angie woke to the smell of something cooking.  She found Rollie in the kitchen, busily fixing a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast.  Glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice sat on the table.

“Wow.  If this is what I’d wake up to each morning, you can sleep here every night,” Angie commented, then immediately wanted to bite her tongue out when she realized how her words could be misconstrued.

Fortunately, Rollie just laughed and said, “The spirit would be willing, Ange, but I’m afraid my back wouldn’t.  That couch wasn’t made for a six-foot two-inch man to sleep on.”  He looked at her closely.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yeah.”  She studied Rollie’s face.  “I . . . had a bit of a nightmare, but it went away.”

Rollie nodded and turned back to the eggs.  “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, it was just a dream.  But thank you for asking.”

Angie kept watching the Aussie, trying to see some hint that he had known about her dream.  She was afraid that she might have talked in her sleep and awakened him.  But Rollie just kept stirring the eggs, showing no sign that he suspected anything.  Angie relaxed and sat down.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Not bad.  I’ve certainly had worse nights.”

“Have you showered yet?”

“Yep, the bathroom’s all yours.”

As Angie went off to take her shower, Rollie let out a sigh of relief.  He had been afraid that Angie would have some memory of what happened last night.  She apparently had not a clue of what went on.

The Aussie was pleased with the little act that he had just put on.  It had been bloody hard pretending that he was totally unaffected by her presence and that comment she had made.  He’d almost had to bite his own tongue out to prevent himself from saying that he’d love to sleep there every night if he could do it in her arms.

Rollie was setting plates on the table when Angie came out of the bathroom, wearing only her robe, which clung to her still damp body.  Rollie quickly averted his eyes and stared fixedly at the tablecloth.  He heard the bedroom door close behind her.

“This is not going to be easy,” he groaned.

As they ate breakfast, they talked about the day’s schedule.  A good part of the morning would be taken up with the preparations and shooting of the bridge gag.  After that would come several live-action sequences that would be meshed with CGI later.

As Rollie cleaned up the kitchen, Angie went to brush her teeth and put her makeup on.  After she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror.  She was wearing a turtleneck sweater that hid the new bruises on her neck.  The bruise that Loubar had given her on her cheek had faded to yellow, and the cut on her lip was almost invisible with lipstick on.  In another few days, there would be no outward sign of what he had done.  It would take a lot longer for the wounds inside to heal.

She had almost been raped again, yet, as strange as it seemed, something positive had actually come of it.  For one thing, a man who had probably raped before was now in jail and, hopefully, would stay there for quite some time to come.  But there was more than that.  She had been mired in her fear and unwillingness to talk about Loubar, and her silence had been hurting both her and Rollie.  What happened last night and her fear of losing him had punched a hole in the dam.  Though there was still a lot left unsaid, things that would eventually have to be talked about, last night had been the first real step that she and Rollie had taken toward finding their way past what Loubar did.

Angie glanced down and saw that the clothes she’d worn last night were still on the floor where she dropped them.  She picked them up, making a mental note to wash Joyce’s blouse tonight and take it over to her Sunday.  As she carried the clothes over to the hamper, she felt something hard in the pants pocket.  The cameo!  She had completely forgotten about it.  Angie took it out.  She couldn’t give it back to Rollie in this condition.  She didn’t have any jewelry cleaner, so plain water would have to do.

Angie ran it under the faucet, gently scrubbing it with an old tooth brush.  She was relieved to see the blood come off, not leaving a trace behind.  Drying it with a towel, she carefully looked it over, making sure there was no damage.

Rollie was leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen sipping on a second cup of coffee when she came out.  “I almost forgot to give this back to you,” Angie said, holding out the cameo.

Rollie stared at the piece of jewelry for a second or two before taking it.  Other than a photograph of his mother, the cameo was the only thing he had that was a reminder of her.  It had sat in that box for years, taken out only on rare occasions when he was feeling low and on her birthday and the anniversary of her death.  He had never intended to show it to anyone, let alone allow someone to wear it, but seeing Angie with it on had made him feel good.  It had felt right for her to wear it, and, somehow, he had a feeling that his mother would have been happy to see it on her.

Rollie’s gaze lifted to Angie’s.  “I want you to have it,” he said softly.

“What?”  Angie’s eyes had widened.

“I want you to keep it, Ange.”

“But, Rollie, I can’t.  It was your mom’s.  I couldn’t take it.  Besides, there . . . might come a day when you’ll want to give it to someone else.”

“Angie, there wouldn’t be anyone else I’d rather give it to than you.  Please take it.”

Angie hesitated, then took the cameo.  Her throat felt tight.  He was giving her one of his most precious possessions.  What could she possibly say to thank him?

“Thank you, Rol,” she whispered, knowing it wasn’t enough.  “I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”

“I know you will, Ange.”

Angie abruptly stood on tippytoe and placed a kiss on Rollie’s cheek.  Surprised, Rollie stood stock still, his breath stopping.  Angie then turned and headed to the bedroom, which was a good  thing because, otherwise, she would surely have seen the tremor that passed through the Aussie.  His hand went to his face, wondering how it was that a simple kiss on the cheek could make him feel like he was flying ten feet off the ground.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone.

“Rollie, could you get that?” Angie called from the bedroom.

“Hello?” he said into the receiver.

There was about two seconds of silence, then, “Rollie?  What are you doing there?”

“Oh, hi, Mira.  I spent the night on Angie’s couch.  I didn’t want her to be alone last night.”

“But, we thought. . . .  Never mind.  How’s Angie doing?”

“She’s good.”  Rollie looked up and saw Angie coming toward him.  “Here she is now.”  He handed the phone to her.  “It’s Mira.”

“Hi,” Angie greeted.

“Well, it looks like some things happened after I left last night.  Rollie didn’t leave after all?”

Angie glanced at Rollie, smiling, then walked away a few feet.  “No, I was wrong.  I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Are things all right between you two now?”

“Yeah, they’re great,” Angie said with a happy smile.  “So, were you calling just to check up on me or is there another reason?”

“I have some news about the man who attacked you last night.”

Angie stiffened.  “What is it?  Wait.  Let me put you on the speaker so Rollie can hear, too.”  She hit the speakerphone button and hung up the handset.  “Go ahead, Mira.”

“Well, the guy’s name is Ralph Lambert and it turns out that he matches the description of a man who is wanted on five counts of rape, and those are only the ones that were reported.  He apparently cruises around the middle and upper class neighborhoods on Friday and Saturday nights, looking for parties.  Then he crashes the party, chooses his victim, and manages to get her alone, usually outside.”

Rollie put his arm around Angie’s shoulders, pulling her close.  She was grateful for his touch.

“Why did he pick me?” she asked.

“I’m afraid that it’s a simple case of you matching the type of woman that he chooses.  All of his victims were in their early to mid-twenties, blonde, short to medium height, and unmarried.”

“So, I was just unlucky enough to be the kind of woman he went for?”  There was a note of bitterness in Angie’s voice.  Rollie’s arm tightened about her.

“Yeah.  I’m sorry, Angie.  There is one good thing, though.  If his other victims I.D. him and are willing to testify, there is a good chance that we won’t need you to testify, especially since he didn’t succeed in raping you.  They will need you to go down to the Seventeenth Precinct to give them a formal statement and sign some paperwork, though.”

“I can go down this evening, around six, unless we end up having to work longer.”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine,” Mira said

Rollie was studying her face as Angie hung up the phone.  She smiled up at him reassuringly.  “I’m okay, Rol.”

The Aussie returned her smile and gave her a final squeeze.  “I’m going with you, of course.”

Angie’s smile grew.  “I wouldn’t try stopping you, even if I wanted to.”

“That’s good because it would be a waste of breath.”

They drove to the loft.  Rollie changed clothes and brushed his teeth, then they loaded the van with what they would need.  Once they’d finished, Angie noticed that the bandages covering Rollie’s hands had gotten pretty dirty from handling the equipment and that one was torn slightly.

“You should change your bandages, Rol.”

He glanced down at his hands.  “Yeah, I guess I should.  I need to put more antiseptic on, too.”

“Go get the stuff, and I’ll do it.  It will be easier.”

Rollie fetched fresh bandages and a tube of antiseptic.  They sat on the couch and Angie began unwrapping Rollie’s hands.  Her breath hissed inward slightly when she uncovered the first hand.  The knuckles were swollen and purpling, and several of them were split open from the force of Rollie’s blows to Lambert’s face.

Angie unconsciously stroked the back of Rollie’s hand with her thumb as she stared down at the injury.  After a few second, the Aussie’s fingers curled around hers and gave them a squeeze.  “It’s all right, Angie.  They’ll heal,” he said softly.

The blonde gave herself a little shake, then started putting the antiseptic on.  “You’re lucky you didn’t break them.”  She looked up at the Aussie.  “You did have them x-rayed, didn’t you?”

“Uh, no.  I haven’t gotten around to it.”

The blonde sighed in exasperation.  “Rol, you need to have that done.  There could be some hairline fractures.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll go get some taken tomorrow.  Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”  Angie finished with the first hand, then took care of the other one.  By then, they were running late and had to hurry over to the studio.

As they walked onto the set, they saw that the huge screens that would be used for the background were in place.  They immediately got to work setting up the smokers that would lay a blanket of fog over the entire floor of the set.  Then, as Rollie put the rotating winch on a catwalk over the bridge, Angie got the holographic projectors set up and linked to her Ambler.  After that, Angie programmed the PDA’s as Rollie covered a hole near the center of the bridge with a specially designed trapdoor.

Angie’s cell phone rang and she answered it.

“Hi, Angie, it’s Joyce.  How are you doing?”

“Hi.  I’m good, Joyce, a lot better than last night.”

“Are, um, things good between you and Rollie?   How are his hands?”

“Rollie and I are great.  His hands are a bit swollen and sore, but they’ll be fine.”

There was a moment of silence, then, “I got you at a bad time, didn’t I,” Joyce said.

“We’re getting a gag set up, but I can work while I talk.  What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something, but I guess that it will wait until later.  It would be better if we talked in person, anyway.”

Angie immediately stopped what she was doing and paid full attention to Joyce.  “Is something wrong?”

“No, no.  Nothing’s wrong.  I just wanted to discuss something with you.”

“Well, we’re going to be busy at the studio for the rest of the day, then I have to go to the police station to give my statement.  I guess I could come over tonight.”  An idea occurred to Angie.  “Hey, Joyce?  Why don’t you come down to the studio?  I could leave a pass for you at the gate.  Then you could actually watch us in action.”

“I’d like that, Angie.  I’ve always wanted to see you use all that stuff you spent so many Friday nights learning while the rest of us college girls were out on dates.  What time should I be there?”

“Well, if you want to catch today’s big show, you’ll need to get here before 10:30.  That’s when we’ll be shooting the scene we’re working on now.”

“I’ll head right on over then.  Will there be someone who can direct me where to go?”

“Yeah, the guard will help you, and he’ll give you a map, if you need it.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Angie spied Joyce walking across the set.  “Hi, Joyce.”

“Hi.  This is amazing.  Is it always this . . . chaotic on a movie set?”

“When you’re getting ready to shoot a major scene, it is.”

“Where’s Rollie?”

Angie nodded her head in the direction of the Aussie.  “Over there under the bridge.”

Joyce watched Rollie as he put the harness that was attached to the rotating winch around the waist of a tall woman.  Angie watched her friend’s eyes grow large.  “Isn’t that Gena Bowman?” Joyce asked.

“Uh huh.  She’s the female lead in this movie.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Joyce kept watching as Rollie explained how the winch worked, lifting the actress a couple of feet off the ground, then turning the rotor on so that she started spinning.  By the way he was acting, the Aussie appeared to be completely oblivious to the actress’s beauty.

“Do you ever get jealous when Rollie works in such close proximity to women who look like that?”

“Sometimes, though, up until a few days ago, I didn’t really know why.”

“What do you mean?” Joyce asked, turning her attention to her friend.

Angie paused, not sure if she was willing to admit the depth of her feelings to anyone yet.  Finally, she decided that there was no point in keeping them a secret from Joyce.  “Something happened earlier this week that made me realize that . . . I’m in love with Rollie.”

Joyce smiled gently.  “Am I the first person you’ve told this to?”

The blonde nodded.  “No one else knows.”  Her eyes drifted to Rollie, wishing that she didn’t have to hide her feelings.  With a sigh, she returned her attention to Joyce.  “So, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Um, a friend of mine runs a place that teaches self-defense to women who have been assaulted.  I think that it might be good for you to go down there.  She’s helped a lot of women.”

“Self-defense?”  Angie had never seriously considered taking self-defense, though she had once learned a few moves from a friend a few years ago.  If she had taken a course, would she have been able to fight off the man who attacked her?  Still uncertain if it was something she wanted to do, Angie said, “I’m not sure.  Maybe I could go down there and just watch for a while.”

Joyce smiled.  “Sure.  There’s a class at 8 p.m. tonight, if you’d like to sit in.  I’ll go with you, if you want.  Rollie could sit in too, though he might not receive a warm welcome from some of the women.  A lot of them are still really hurting from their ordeal and are uncomfortable around--and even hate--men.”

“Hey, Joyce,” called Rollie, who was walking over to them, a big smile on his face.  “So, how do you like seeing what things look like before the director yells, ‘cut, print’?”

“Very impressive,” Joyce paused.  “And so is the female star of the movie.  She’s even more beautiful in real life than on the screen, don’t you think?”  She watched the Aussie’s reaction closely.

He glanced over his shoulder at Gena Bowman and shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess.  I hadn’t thought about it much.  She’s not my type.”

“Oh, really?  What is your type?”

Rollie suddenly looked extremely flustered.  He glanced at Angie, then cleared his throat.  “So, what was it that you wanted to discuss with Angie, or is it more of that ‘girl stuff’?”

Looking very pleased about something, Joyce told him about the self-defense classes.

Rollie nodded.  “Are you going to go, Ange?  I think it’s a good idea.”

“I want to check it out first, then I’ll see.  There’s a class tonight at eight.  Would you like to come with me?”

“If you want me to.”  He grinned.  “Maybe I can pick up a few pointers myself so I won’t keep getting beat up all the time.”

“You were doing pretty good against that guy last night,” Joyce commented.

“Believe me, that was an exception.  I usually end up on the losing end of a fight.”  The Aussie glanced at his watch.  “We’ve got to get finished, Ange.  We’re rolling in fifteen minutes.”

“Hey, don’t let me interfere with work,” Joyce said.  “I’ll just stand back there out of the way.  Forget I’m here.”

Rollie quickly got to the top of the bridge.  The actors were all there, listening to the director, Russell Sanford, as he gave them directions and suggestions.  The Aussie again put the harness around Gena’s waist.  Outwardly, the harness looked exactly like the belt of the actress’s costume, except for the two tiny fasteners on either side to which the wires were attached.  What couldn’t be seen was that there was a thin band of steel inside the belt and that the belt was attached to cloth harness straps, which went under the actress’s outer clothing, between her legs, and then back up to the back of the belt.  The straps would prevent the belt from riding up painfully on Gena’s waist when her full weight was pulling down on it.

“Okay, you’re all set, Gena.  Knock ‘em dead,” Rollie said.  He then made his way up to the catwalk where the rotating winch sat.

“Okay, everybody.  Let’s get this show on the road,” the director called.

Angie hit an icon on the Ambler, and fog began pouring out of the tubes on the floor.  The lights were lowered.  She hit another icon and the screens on the wall flickered and darkened.  A breathtaking starscape appeared.  Angie heard Joyce gasp in appreciation.  The screens were an invention of Rollie’s and could be used in any scene where a static background was needed.  They could be programmed to show any motionless image and eliminated the need to use green screens and insert CGI images for the background during post production.

Angie hit a third icon, which activated the holographic projectors.  Ghostlike apparitions began flitting here and there.

The director called for action, and filming began.  The leading man, Lance Derrickson, walked toward the center of the bridge with Gena a few feet behind him.  From the other direction came John Hardy, the actor who played the villain.  The two men stopped about ten feet away from each other.

“I am surprised that you would choose to meet here, Cullen,” John said. “You know as well as I that many of our powers are useless in this place between realities.”

“That is why we are here, Mardon,” Lance replied.  “I am not here to fight you, but to talk.  Why did you choose my Earth to play your games of conquest?  You must have known that I would have to stop you.”

“I knew that you would try, but trying and doing are not the same thing, now are they.” John smiled evilly.

Lance took a step closer to John.  “I will stop you, Mardon.  I will not let you do to my home what you have done to so many other realities.”

John laughed.  “It will be enjoyable to see you try.  I have not had a truly worthy opponent in many centuries.”  His gaze went past Lance to Gena, then returned.  “But, in the end, I will win.  Do you know why?  Because I am not weakened by love or compassion for others.  I will destroy anyone who gets in my way and use anyone who will help me achieve what I want.  Whereas you are limited by your morality.  You will die protecting the people you love, and I will be victorious.”

As the actor talked, Rollie began to see not John Hardy, but Victor Loubar, and Lance suddenly became himself.  This was the way that it was between him, a man who would always draw the line at hurting and carelessly using other people, and Loubar, who had no morals and no conscience, a man who would do whatever it took to get what he wanted.  Was love a weakness?  If Loubar was alive and Rollie came up against him again, would love be his downfall?  Rollie’s eyes went down to Angie.  Or would it be what gave him the strength and determination to win?

The Aussie’s attention snapped back to the actors as Lance spoke.

“You’re wrong, Mardon.  Love is a strength, not a weakness.  Yes, I would die to protect the people I love, but that is what makes me strong.  I am willing to give all that I am, my life and my soul, for what’s right.  If I have to, I will cross that ultimate line.  You will not.  That is why, in the end, I am the one who will win.”

Another evil smile curved John’s lips.  “Well, let’s see just how strong your love makes you, then.”  He pointed his finger at Gena and flicked his wrist.  Rollie hit an icon on his PDA and the trapdoor, which Gena was standing on, appeared to come apart at the seams, fragmenting into pieces.  Gena screamed and fell.

“Rebecca!” Lance cried, falling to his knees before the hole.  He stretched out his hand toward her.

Rollie let Gena fall around twenty feet, then started applying the winch’s brakes.  The actress’s descent slowed, then stopped.  She hung suspended in the air, the wires that were holding her nearly invisible in the low light.  The Aussie reversed the wheels, bringing her back up slowly.  He then turned on the rotor, and she began to spin.  Gena spread out her arms as she rose, looking like a wingless angel in her flowing white dress.  He brought her back up through the hole and into Lance’s arms.  They embraced tightly.  Lance then turned to where John had been.  The actor had walked off the bridge on cue and was no longer there.  Lance then returned his eyes to Gena.

“I won’t let him hurt you, Rebecca.  I’ll die before letting that happen.”

“You will beat him, Cullen.  You have to,” the actress said.

“Cut!” the director called.  “Excellent!  That one is a print.”  The lights came back up.

Rollie smiled, happy that they weren’t going to have to do another take.  Watching this scene and seeing the parallel between it and his real life battle with Loubar had made Rollie feel tense and uncomfortable.

The director looked up at him.  “Rollie?  Great job.  This is going to put us ahead of schedule.  Let’s go ahead and take an early lunch, then we’ll get started again at 12:30.”

“Works for me,” Rollie replied.  The director called out the words lunch break, and virtually everyone made a hasty exit.

The Aussie released the clamps holding the winch and took the equipment downstairs.  Both Angie and Joyce were grinning.

“That was wonderful,” Joyce said.  “I can’t wait to see what this scene looks like on the screen.”

“Well, there will be a lot of effects added during post,” Angie explained.  “For one thing, I’ll be putting in a beam of light that shoots from Lance’s hand to Gena, then make a halo around her.”

“We’re going to pick up again at 12:30, Ange,” Rollie told her.  “Let’s get some of this stuff put back in the van, then we’ll eat.  Do you want to join us for lunch, Joyce?”

“No, I have to get going.  Thanks for inviting me to watch this.”  She handed a business card to Angie.  “Here’s the address of the self-defense center.  We’ll see you there tonight.”
 

CHAPTER NINE -- IN SELF-DEFENSE

Rollie and Angie’s final shoot of the day had been a nightmare.  A scene in the script called for a battle to be waged between the hero, Cullen, and the villain, Mardon, where the image of a steel-clad warrior would be superimposed over Cullen, while the figure of a three-headed dragon would be superimposed over Mardon.  The shooting of the live-action sequence with Lance and John had been today.  The problem was that the actors kept putting their arms or legs in a position that would overlap that of the CGI creature that would be superimposed over the other actor.  Rollie had tried to tell the actors where not to put their arms and legs, but to no avail.  After the seventh take, the director had called it quits since they still had one more scene to film that day and they were running out of daylight.

As the rest of the crew went off to film the day’s final shoot, Rollie and Angie loaded their equipment into the van.  Rollie dropped Angie off at her apartment, then headed to the loft, where he showered and changed.  He then picked Angie up, and they went over to the Seventeenth Precinct.

“Ms. Ramirez?  I’m Detective Gerard.  I’ve been assigned to handle this case.”  The heavyset man shook her hand, then Rollie’s.  “You must be Mister Tyler.”

“Call me Rollie,” the Aussie responded.

They all took seats at the detective’s desk. “I’ve been in frequent contact with Mira Sanchez over at Midtown South.  She said that you’re friends,” he told them.

“Yeah, we are,” Angie said.

“Well, to be honest, there isn’t a great deal to do on this case.  Ralph Lambert has been positively identified in a lineup by four of the five women whom he raped.  The fifth one is out of town and will be back on Monday.  We suspect, though, that he’s responsible for other rapes that we know nothing about or where the victim couldn’t remember or didn’t see her attacker’s face.  I’ve been trying to link him to other rapes.  The more that we can get him on, the longer his sentence is going to be, and I want this guy put away for a very long time.”

“Will I need to testify?” Angie asked.

“No, I don’t think so.  This probably won’t even go to trial.  The evidence against Lambert is so heavy that no lawyer in his right mind would even try to plead his case in court.  He’ll probably just try to bargain for a lesser sentence, though I don’t foresee him getting it.  They have nothing to bargain with.”  Gerard looked at Rollie.  “Do you know that Lambert actually tried to file assault charges against you?”

The Aussie’s eyes widened.  “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.  We laughed right in his face.  Then his lawyer showed up and told him that doing something like that wouldn’t endear him to the judge.”  He looked at Angie, smiling gently.  “Are you ready to give your statement?”

For the second time, Angie told what happened.  About a third of the way though, she felt Rollie take her hand.  He held onto it throughout the rest of her account.  After she was done, it was Rollie’s turn.  It was difficult speaking aloud what he had seen when he came around the bush.  It brought the image back to his mind with vivid clarity.  His hand was still holding Angie’s, and he felt her give his fingers a squeeze.

“Okay, I think that about does it,” Gerard said once the statements were signed.  “If anything new comes up, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”

Rollie and Angie were both pretty quiet as they ate dinner at a diner a few blocks from the self-defense center.  The Aussie kept thinking about what would have happened if he’d gotten to Angie just a few minutes later and how he wished that he’d gotten there sooner.

“Ange, I’m sorry that I didn’t get there sooner, before he hurt you,” he finally said.

“Rollie, you stopped him before he raped me.  That’s what’s important.”  Angie gazed into his eyes.  “I never thanked you for that.”  She grinned.  “You’re my hero,” she said teasingly.

An answering smile spread across Rollie’s face.  “Aw shuck, ma’am, t’wernt nuthin’.”

They paid for their food, then headed over to the self-defense center.  Though he wouldn’t admit it to Angie, Rollie was feeling pretty nervous about going to the class.  He suspected that there wouldn’t be any other men there and that he might not be very welcome.  But Angie wanted him to be there, so that’s what he was going to do.

The moment he stepped in the door, Rollie could have sworn he felt the temperature drop about ten degrees.  Every pair of eyes in the room fixed upon him, the emotions ranging from surprise and curiosity to discomfort, displeasure, and even hatred.

“Uh . . . Ange, maybe I’d better wait in the car,” Rollie whispered.

Angie turned to him, a wicked smile curving her lips.  “Why?  After facing down armed terrorists, assassins, psychopaths, and too many other life-threatening dangers to name, don’t tell me that you’re afraid of a room full of women.”

“It’s not fear, Angie, it’s respect,” he glanced around at the staring women, “a lot of respect.”

“Uh huh.  You respect the fact that they could rip you to shreds if they decided to.”

“Exactly.”

A smiling woman of about forty came up to them.  “Don’t let these ladies scare you.  I promise that they won’t practice what they learn on you.”  She held out her hand to Rollie.  “Hi.  You must be Rollie and Angie.  I’m Joyce’s friend, Linda Robertson.”

Rollie shook the woman’s hand, surprised at the firmness of her grip.  “Hi.  Are you sure it’s not going to upset everyone if I stay?”

“Oh, it’ll be fine.” Linda glanced around at the women, her smile dimming.  “Beside, they have to get used to men being near them.”  She turned back to the Aussie, brightening again.  “There are too many of you around to hide from forever.”  She led them inside.  “I’m afraid that Joyce had a minor crisis at work and isn’t going to make it over here.  She sent her apologies.  Rollie, why don’t you go have a seat on one of the cushions on the floor over there, and, Angie, I’ll introduce you to the other ladies.”

Feeling even more nervous without Angie, Rollie shed his coat and sat on the cushion farthest from the women.  He tried to ignore the fact that a lot of them were still staring at him, but it was pretty much impossible, especially with one woman in particular.  The expression on her face was absolute, unadulterated hatred.  Her eyes fairly burned with it.  Swallowing, Rollie dropped his gaze to the floor and kept it there.  After about twenty seconds, a pair of feet appeared beside his left knee.  He looked up into the face of the woman.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a hate-filled snarl.  “We don’t want you here.  You don’t belong here.  So why don’t you just leave.”

“I--” Rollie began, but was interrupted.

“What did you do to your hands?  Did you get that beating up your girlfriend?”

Suddenly, Angie was there, her eyes flashing.  “For your information, he hurt his hands while saving me from the guy who tried to rape me.”

The woman sneered at Rollie as he stood.  “Yeah, violence is always the answer with you men, isn’t it,” she said.  “Well, maybe if you had been with her like you should have been instead of off somewhere--probably chasing another woman--then she wouldn’t have needed to be saved from a rapist.”

Rollie’s face went white as the woman’s words brought his guilt back full force.

Angie, her eyes glowing with rage, took a step toward the woman.  “Why, you bi--”

“Eve!  What the hell do you think you’re doing?” snapped Linda, who was striding up to them.  “I’ve warned you about controlling your temper before.  I will not warn you again.  If you can’t abide by the rules here, then you will have to leave, you got that?”

Eve continued to glare at Rollie.  “Yeah, I got it,” she said.  Then, turning on her heels, she went to the opposite side of the room and sat down.

“Rollie, I’m really sorry about that,” Linda said.  “Eve has a deep-seated hatred for all men.  When she was fourteen, her mother was beaten to death by her father in a drunken rage, then in the foster family she was placed with, the man sexually molested her repeatedly until she ran away when she was sixteen.  She started coming here about two weeks ago after she was attacked and raped by two men in an alley.”

Rollie looked over at the woman, horrified by what she had suffered at the hands of men.  No wonder she had gone after him like she did.

“She still had no right to say those things,” Angie said, still angry.  She turned to him.  “Let’s just leave, Rol.”

“No, Ange.  We’re here for you.  I don’t want us to leave because of what she said to me.  It’s over now.  Let’s just go sit down and do what we came here to do.”

Angie hesitated.  “Are you sure?”

The Aussie gave her a warm smile.  “Of course I’m sure.”

“Good.  I would have felt terrible if you had left because of this,” Linda said.  “Go make yourselves comfortable.  Class will be starting in a couple of minutes.”

Rollie and Angie sat on the cushions, close enough that their knees were touching.  Rollie had an urge to put his arm around Angie’s shoulder.  Instead, he took her hand.  Angie looked down at their joined hands, then into his eyes.  She smiled and tightened her grip.

“You know that what she said isn’t true, don’t you?” she asked.  “It wasn’t your fault that Lambert picked me as his next victim, and it wasn’t your fault that he tricked me out into that backyard.  You can’t be expected to watch over me every minute of every day and night, Rol, even if I wanted you to.”

The Aussie sighed deeply.  “Yeah, I know, Ange.  I just wish that I could turn back time and make it so that none of it happened.”

Angie knew that he was talking about more than just the attack by Ralph Lambert.  “Me too,” she murmured.

Just then, a man came out covered from head to toe in a heavily padded protective suit.  He walked over to the large padded mats that were in the center of the room.

“Ladies, for those of you who are new to our group, this is Mark.  Now, some of you are probably wondering what all this padding is for.  Well, since men who are brave enough to volunteer for the job of being a punching bag are hard to come by, we want to keep Mark here in one piece for as long as possible.”  There were a few laughs, many of them strained, from the women.

Linda grew serious.  “I want to make it clear to all of you that, if at any time, you start to feel anxiety or fear, or even start feeling really uncomfortable, you need to tell me, okay?  To make you newcomers feel more at ease, some of the women who have been here before will be the first ones to go.  Watch them and you’ll learn a lot.  But don’t worry.  We won’t expect you to jump right in and do the things they do.  Each of you will be allowed to progress at your own pace.  I want to stress that this is not a martial arts class.  We are here to teach you basic self-defense techniques and show you that just because a man is bigger than you doesn’t mean that you can’t successfully defend yourself against him.”

Linda positioned herself in front of Mark.  “Okay, the first thing to learn is the points of attack that are the most sensitive.”  She brought her fingers up to Mark’s eyes.  “The eyes are extremely sensitive to pain.  Poke them with your fingers, gouge them with your nails.  If you have car keys, a pen, or some other sharp object in your hand or your purse, go for the eyes.  If you score, quite often the guy’s going to let go, and you can run.  Now, that is a point I want to make right now.  Once you get away from the guy, don’t try to overpower him.  Run.  Find help or, if that isn’t possible, hide.  Don’t get overconfident.  Unless you have advanced martial arts training, you are still very much in danger from your attacker.”

Linda turned back to Mark.  She brought the heel of her hand up against Mark’s throat in a gentle blow.  “It doesn’t take a great deal of force against the larynx to cause a person to choke.  One hard blow, and the guy’s natural instinct is going to be to grab his throat.  Usually, he won’t be able to help himself.”  Linda gave Mark a light jab against his sternum with her elbow, then another one in the stomach.  “If you have good strength in your arms, a blow to the sternum with your elbow or to the stomach with your fist or elbow, may be enough to make your attacker let go or at least weaken his grip.”

A smile came to Linda’s face.  “Okay, now for the ‘bull’s eye’ zone.”  She brought her knee up slowly into Mark’s crotch.  “The genitals are one of the most sensitive areas on the male body.  Use your knee, your foot, your hands, and, yes, even your head or your teeth.  Hit him or bite him hard enough, and he’s going to fold.”  She kicked Mark’s knee gently.  “The knees are another good target, especially, if you’re wearing heels.  They are one of the few targets you can hit while the man is holding you from behind.  The same goes for the feet.  Stomp down on his toes as hard as you can.”

She drew away from Mark.  “Don’t forget to use your teeth and your nails.  If he’s got his hand over your mouth, try to bite it.  Scratch his face, bite his ears.  Bite his lip or his tongue if he’s kissing you.  Do whatever you have to.  The goal is to get him to let you go long enough so that you can run.

“Okay, some of you are probably now saying, ‘What if I can’t run?’  Well, then you have my permission to beat the crap out of the guy.”  More laughter arose, this time much less strained.  “If you can’t run, or if you are in a remote or vacant area where there is no place to run to, then kick and hit the guy over, and over, and over again.  Kick him in the head, the ribs, the stomach, the groin, wherever you can.  Use any weapon at your disposal, a rock, a tree branch, whatever you can lay your hands on.”  Linda looked at each one of the women.  “Be prepared to inflict severe bodily injury.  Do not hesitate to really hurt him if it’s going to keep you from be hurt, raped or even killed.”

Linda called up the first of the women.  With Mark playing the role of an attacker, the woman fought to get away, using the techniques that Linda had shown them and others.  It was clear that she was not pulling her punches.  She was hitting and kicking Mark with all her strength, demonstrating why the padded suit was necessary.  As the battle went on, Linda called out encouragement and guidance, sometimes stopping them to demonstrate a move to the woman.  After a few minutes, the woman stopped, and another one took her place.

The fifth woman to be called was Eve.  From the moment she stepped up to Mark, the hatred in her eyes could clearly be seen.  Every blow, every kick, every yell she gave echoed that hatred.  It gave Rollie a chill watching her.  He’d never seen such violent, untamed hatred in his life, and he pitied any man who would tangle with her.

Things went more slowly with the newcomers.  Some of them were too scared or nervous to do more than throw mock kicks and punches at Mark with Linda continually giving them encouragement.

Angie silently watched the class, Rollie’s hand still holding hers.  Some of the things being taught was stuff that she had already known.  She had tried some of them against Lambert, but they had done no good.  Maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough or maybe, no matter how hard you fought, sometimes it just wasn’t enough.  As if sensing her train of thought, Rollie’s hand tightened around hers.  She turned to him and saw that he was looking at her, his eyes full of reassurance and caring.

“Angie?  Do you feel as if you would like to try?”

Startled at hearing her named called, Angie just stared at Linda for a few seconds.  “Uh, I don’t know.  I was just going to watch this time. . . .”  She looked again at Rollie, who smiled encouragingly at her.  “Yeah, okay.  I can try.”  She got up and stood before Mark, feeling self-conscious.

“Are you feeling all right?” Linda asked.

“Yeah, I’m just a little nervous.”

Linda nodded.  “Don’t forget, if there’s anything you’re too uncomfortable about or if you start getting scared, all you have to do is say the word, and we’ll stop.”

Rollie watched as Angie practiced hitting and kicking Mark, not using her full strength in the blows.  Rollie could see the tension in Angie’s body and on her face, and saw it grow even stronger when, with an okay from her, Mark wrapped his arms around her from behind, Linda showing her how to hit and kick the man from that position.  This was how Ralph Lambert had grabbed her.

Even though she knew that he wasn’t going to hurt her, Mark grabbing hold of her like that was causing the tension within Angie to mount.  It got a lot worse when he grabbed her from behind.  For a moment, it was as if Lambert were attacking her again.  Angie fought down the momentary flash of panic and tried to focus on Linda’s instruction.  As the lesson continued, she began to get immersed in what she was being taught, and her tension eased.  She started hitting harder.

“Good, Angie.  You’re doing great,” Linda praised.  She watched Angie for a couple more minutes, then, “All right, I think that’s enough for tonight.  How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, better than I was at first.”

Linda smiled delightedly.  “That’s great.”

Angie went back to Rollie as Linda called to the last woman in the class.

“How are you doing, Ange?” the Aussie asked, immediately taking hold of her hand when she had settled on the floor.

“Good, Rol.”  She smiled at him.  “I’m glad we came.”

Rollie gave her an answering smile.  “I’m glad we did, too.  You’ll have to find out when the next class is.”

Once the last woman had finished her lesson, everyone got up.  Some women left immediately, while others stood and talked with each other.  Most of the women now seemed to accept Rollie’s presence there, though the majority of them made a point of not getting close to him.  Eve had left the moment the class was over, throwing him a final glare on the way out.

Linda walked up to them.  “Thank you for choosing to participate, Angie.  You did very well.  I have a feeling that you’re going to be a quick learner.”

“She always has been,” Rollie said with a grin.  “We were wondering when your next class is.”

“Well, there are two tomorrow, one at one o’clock, then another at seven.  There are also classes every weekday at ten and 7:30.”

“You want to come tomorrow, Ange?” Rollie asked.

“Yeah.  Seven would be good.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you,” Linda said.  She looked from Rollie to Angie.  “Joyce said that you’ve known each other for a long time.”

“Almost fourteen years,” Angie confirmed.

“And you work together?”

“Uh huh.  Movie special effects,” Rollie said.

“Then . . . you’re pretty close, I gather.  Comfortable with each other.”

Rollie frowned slightly, wondering what this was leading to.  “Yeah.  Why?”

“The reason why I’m asking is that with the women who have husbands or steady boyfriends, I sometimes suggest that they practice with their male partners.  Nothing extreme, of course, just the basic moves.”

Angie shook her head.  “No.  I wouldn’t want to do that.”

“We could take it easy, Ange,” Rollie suggested.  “Just go through the--”

“No,” Angie repeated adamantly.  “I don’t want to.”  She turned to Linda.  “Thanks for your help.  We’ll see you tomorrow.”  She grabbed up her coat and headed for the door.  Rollie quickly got his coat and followed after her.

Angie didn’t say anything as he unlocked and opened the car door for her and remained silent as they drove.  It was Rollie who finally spoke up.

“Angie, why don’t you want to practice with me?”

“I just don’t, okay?  Let’s drop it.”

The Aussie glanced at her profile.  It looked stiff.  “Does it have something to do with what Loubar did?”

Angie kept staring out the window for a long time, then, with a small sigh, her gaze dropped to her hands.  “I just don’t want to pretend that you’re attacking me.  I don’t want to act like I’m hitting you.  Please, Rollie, let’s just forget it.”

Rollie didn’t say anything more.  When they got to her apartment, he went in with her.

“Would you like some coffee?” Angie asked, removing her coat and going into the kitchen.

“No, I’m fine.”  The Aussie watched her moving around the kitchen.  “Do you want me to stay tonight?”

“No, I’ll be okay.  I’m a big girl.”

Rollie kept watching her, wishing there was something he could do to ease the tension he saw in her.  As he stood there, he made a decision.

Angie’s back was to him as he quietly entered the kitchen.  She was not aware of his presence until he rested his hands on her shoulders.  She immediately stiffened.

“Rollie, what--”

“Shhh.  It’s all right.  It’s just me.”  Slowly, the Aussie wrapped his arms around her lower chest, holding her arms to her sides.  He held her gently, careful not to press against her bruises.  “Is this how he held you?” he murmured.

“Yes.”  Angie’s voice was barely more than a whisper.  Tiny, convulsive shudders were passing through her.

Rollie’s arms tightened a little.  “You tried to fight him.  What did you do?”

“I-I tried to kick him in the shins.”  Angie’s respiration had increased.

“Show me,” Rollie whispered.

Angie lifted her right leg up and brought her heel slowly up against Rollie’s shin.  “He . . . he kept dodging my feet.  I couldn’t connect hard enough.”

“What would you do now?”  Rollie was starting to feel warm.  Having Angie pressed up against him was doing amazing things to him.  Part of him wanted to turn her around and kiss her, while another part just wanted to keep holding her like that.

“I-I’d kick him in the kn-knee.”  Angie’s respiration had gone up even more.  Her pulse was beating so fast and hard that he could feel it through her skin.

“Show me,” he whispered again, this time right in her ear.

Angie swallowed and brought her leg up.  She swung it backwards to hit her heel softly against Rollie’s knee.

“What else would you do?” he asked.

“I’d step on his toes.”  Angie lifted her other foot and brought it down lightly onto Rollie’s toes.  “Then I’d try to reach between us and. . . .”  Angie didn’t finish.  She swallowed again.

“Yes.”  Rollie knew what her next move would be if he was a real attacker.  It was a trick that Linda showed her during her lesson.  The Aussie was glad that Angie wouldn’t be practicing that move on him.  He wasn’t afraid that she’d hurt him.  What he feared was what his body’s reaction would be.  He was already having a very hard time controlling himself.  In fact, if he didn’t let her go soon, things were going to get out of hand.

Rollie unwound his arms from around her and stepped back.  Angie swayed for a second.  She took a deep breath and turned around to look at him.  Her face was flushed.

“I just wanted to show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Rollie told her softly.  “I trust you, Ange, and I know that you trust me.”  The Aussie went to the door and opened it.  “I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”

Angie stared at the door for several seconds after Rollie had left, feeling as if every nerve in her body was jumping.  When he had first touched her, she had been afraid, instinctively knowing what he planned to do.  But then, as his arms came so gently around her, she had forgotten those emotions.  The feel of his arms around her, the sound of his voice whispering so close to her ear, had been enough to send her right into orbit.

Angie had not wanted to practice the self-defense techniques on Rollie, but, with nothing more than his touch and his voice, he had transformed something she couldn’t bear the thought of doing into something that had made her feel safe and incredibly alive.  Did Rollie have any idea at all what he’d just done to her, what he could do to her with only a touch?  If he did, would he have left like he did?

Angie sat down heavily, wondering if she was going to be able to concentrate during tomorrow’s class.

Rollie drove the distance between Angie’s apartment and the loft on ‘autopilot’, so lost in thought that he had only a vague memory of the trip.  Had he gone too far?  Would Angie be angry with him for pushing her into doing something she hadn’t wanted to do?  She hadn’t looked angry when he left.  She had looked. . . .  Exactly how had she looked?  He’d had a hard time trying to decipher the expression on her face.  Dazed?  Flustered?  The Aussie’s muscles tightened.  Aroused?  Like he had been aroused?  He quickly steered away from that thought.  Those were dangerous waters.

A brief image flashed through Rollie’s mind of the ancient sailing charts that often had written across treacherous or unknown sections of the sea “There be monsters here.”  Rollie felt as if one of those monsters had taken hold of him and was dragging him under, helpless to escape.  He had tried to fight the feelings that kept rising up in him, but it seemed to be a losing battle.  He couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hold her, kiss her, make love to her.  Was he falling in love with her?  He still couldn’t believe that.  How could he be in love with someone whom he had practically helped raise?  Okay, so he hadn’t really helped raise her, but he’d been there throughout nearly half her childhood.  He’d been there when she took her first step into womanhood, when she’d had her first crush, her first date.  He’d been there to see her all dressed up for the prom.  He had attended her high school graduation, and, later, her graduation from college.  He’d watched her grow from a little girl in ponytails to a confident, independent woman.  After all that and all these years, how could he be in love with her?

Sometimes, the eight years difference in their ages seemed like a huge gap, but other times, it seemed like no difference at all.  Eight years.  When you thought about it, it really wasn’t that much.  He knew that people with ten, twelve, fourteen or more years difference in their ages got married and had--

Whoa.  Hold on here.  Marriage?  Where did that come from?  Marry Angie?

Suddenly, Rollie felt scared.  Things were changing too fast.  Within the space of less than a week, everything had turned topsy-turvy, and he didn’t know which way was up and which way down.

With an effort, Rollie thrust it all out of his mind as he stepped into the loft.  He saw that there was a phone message for him and had Bluey play it back.

“Rollie.  It’s Megan again.  I’ll be leaving tomorrow night, and I’d really like to get together with you.  How about lunch tomorrow?  Call me.  You’ve got my number.”

Megan had called earlier in the week, wanting to get together with him.  He had told her he was too busy.  But now, he was thinking that maybe a lunch date with the actress might be a good idea.  It had been five years since he’d seen her last, and it might be fun to catch up on what was happening in her life.  Maybe it would also take his mind off things.

Rollie called and arranged to meet her at noon.  That done, he got to work on some things they would be needing for the shoot on Monday, wondering why it was that he was feeling guilty.
 

CHAPTER TEN -- HEALING

Rollie saw Megan sitting at a table for two.  She smiled brightly when she spied him.

“Rollie!  How nice to see you.  You’ve hardly changed.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Meg.”  Rollie sat across from her.  “So, how have you been?”

“Wonderful, wonderful.  That move to L.A. was the best thing I ever did.  My career is going marvelously.”

Rollie nodded.  He had gone out on about three or four dates with Megan when she told him that she’d decided to move to Los Angeles to further her acting career.  Though he had been sorry to see her go, he hadn’t been all that upset about it.  Their relationship hadn’t gone any farther than dinner, dancing, and a movie or two.  Which was why he was surprised that she had called him.

“I have to say that I was surprised to hear from you, Meg, after all these years.”

The actress smiled.  “Oh, I was just remembering the good times I had here in New York, and you came into my mind.  You were quite the gentleman, you know.  You don’t find that much these days.  I’m surprised that some lucky lady hasn’t snatched you up yet.”

“My work doesn’t leave me a lot of time to pursue a relationship,” Rollie told her.

“So, how are things with you and your business?” the actress asked.  “I’ve seen your name on quite a few movies these last few years.”

“Things are good, a lot better than they were when I saw you last.  We’re keeping busy, and we manage to stay out of the red.”

“We?”

“Angie and me.  Do you remember Angie, Manny Ramirez’s daughter?”

“Ah, yes.  I think I recall meeting her once or twice.  She was going to college back then, wasn’t she?” Megan asked, looking only slightly interested.

“Yeah.  She often worked with me after school and on weekends.”

“So, she’s still working for you?”  Megan pulled out her makeup mirror and checked her reflection, removing a tiny lipstick smudge from her lower lip.

Rollie frowned slightly.  “Yes, she’s still working with me.”

Megan’s attention returned to him.  “I would think that you’d have hired more people by now.  You must surely have too much work to do for just you and one employee to handle.”

Rollie’s frown deepened.  “I don’t really think of Angie as an employee.  She’s more than that.  I couldn’t get along without her.  We’re a team, and we do pretty good with just the two of us most of the time.  When we need help, we just hire temps or get help from the grips at the studio.”

The actress shook her head.  “Rollie, Rollie.  You need to think bigger.  I’m sure that Angie is a fine little helper, but you really ought to hire some new people.  The kids that are coming out of the colleges and computer schools these days have all the latest knowledge.  They could really help your business take off.”

Rollie felt anger seep up from some deep place inside him at the woman’s condescending attitude toward Angie.  “Angie’s the best there is with computers.  She’d beat the pants off any of those kids.  I wouldn’t trade her for a hundred of them.”

Megan smiled indulgently, which made Rollie even angrier.  “Well, if you say so.  All that computer stuff is way over my head anyway.”  She went back to talking about herself and her career, going on about her past movies, her agent, the project she was presently doing, and the reviews she’d gotten.  Rollie began to wonder what it was that he’d ever seen in her to make him want to date her five years ago.  He didn’t remember her being that shallow and self-centered back when he knew her before.  Had she changed that much?  Or was he the one who’d changed?  Maybe it was both.

As Rollie sat picking at his lunch, he kept comparing Megan to Angie.  Angie would never pull out her makeup mirror at the table to see how she looked.  She would never go on and on about herself endlessly.  She would be more interested in what other people had to say.  Angie wouldn’t make herself sound more important than she was or praise her own accomplishments, yet she was ten times the woman that Megan was.  She was smart, beautiful, strong, and caring--and he’d rather be with her any day of the week than this woman who was sitting across from him.

Rollie was heartily regretting that he’d accepted Megan’s lunch invitation.  When the check finally came, he couldn’t pay it fast enough.  At the curb, Rollie hailed a cab for her.

“So, Rollie, are you busy for dinner?  My flight doesn’t leave until nine,” Megan said.

“Yes, I am busy tonight.  I have someplace very important to go,” Rollie replied, grateful that he could say that without it being a lie.

“Oh, I see.  Well, maybe we can get together the next time I’m in New York.”  She paused, waiting for him to say that would be nice.  When he didn’t, she frowned slightly, then got into the taxi.  “Give Angie my regards.”  The door closed, and the cab pulled out into traffic.

Rollie walked to his car, thinking that it would be really nice to see Angie right now or even just talk to her on the phone.  When he got back to the loft, he was surprised to see her car there.

“Hey, Ange.  I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight,” he said with a big grin, thinking that, even wearing jeans and almost no makeup, she was far more beautiful that Megan could ever hope to be.

“I got this idea for the alternate reality gag, and I wanted to see if I could make it work.  I brought lunch,” she nodded over at a deli sandwich sitting on the counter, “but you were out.”

“I wish I’d known you were coming.  I’d have canceled--” Rollie stopped himself short, not wanting Angie to know where he’d been.

“Canceled what?” Angie asked curiously.

“Uh, nothing important.  Just an old friend who was in town and wanted to get together.”

“Oh?”  Angie turned back to the computer, an odd note in her voice.  “What old friend?”

Rollie groaned inwardly.  He had really been hoping that she wouldn’t ask that.  “Um . . . do you remember Megan Sandler?  We dated a few times back when you were in college.”

Angie felt a little knife of pain twist in her heart.  Yes, she remembered Megan.  Tall, beautiful, charming, everything she wasn’t.  Rollie had dated her several times before she went off to California.  So, now she was back, and Rollie was seeing her again.

“Yeah, I remember her,” Angie said, trying to hide the pain that was driving deeper into her.  “So, what’s she doing back in New York?”

“A couple of location shots for the movie she’s working on right now.  She’s going back to L.A. tonight.”

“I see.  Did you have a good time?”

‘No, Angie, I had a lousy time.  I kept wishing it was you,’ Rollie said silently.  Out loud, he said, “Uh, not really.  She’s changed a lot.  She’s got that typical Hollywood attitude now.  Way too self-absorbed for my tastes.”

Angie looked at him in surprise, the cloud that had darkened her mood lifting.  Rollie was watching her, a warm, gentle expression in his brown eyes.

“So, what did you get me?” he asked, going over to the sandwich.

“I thought you already ate.”

“I didn’t really eat very much.  I was too busy pretending to be fascinated while Megan prattled on about herself.”  In truth, he’d hardly eaten at all.  He’d lost his appetite before they even ordered.  Now, he was starving.

Angie laughed at Rollie’s comment, feeling her spirits lift through the roof.  “Pastrami on rye,” she told him.

The Aussie grinned.  “With mayo?”

“Yes, with mayo,” she confirmed, wondering how Rollie could prefer a pastrami sandwich with mayonnaise over mustard.

Rollie sat down and happily began munching away at the sandwich.  “So, what’s this great idea you have?”

“I got an idea for the opening of the gate.  You know how in The Abyss they had that scene in the alien spaceship where the water in the room split down the middle and opened up?  Well, I was thinking that we could do something like that, only it would be like reality splitting and opening up.”

“That sounds fantastic,” the Aussie said enthusiastically.  “And if there’s anyone who can pull it off, it’s you.”

Angie’s eyebrows rose, and she blushed faintly, not accustomed to Rollie being so . . . ardent with his praise.  “Uh, thanks, Rol,” she stammered.

The Aussie shrugged.  “Just stating a fact,” he said.

Angie turned back to the computer, wondering what had gotten into the Aussie.  He seemed to be in an extremely good mood, especially for having just returned from a lousy date.  Could he have been lying to her about the date?  No, Rollie wouldn’t do that.  If he’d had a good time, he would have said so.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, sensing Rollie’s eyes on her.  It was a bit disconcerting.  She was wishing that he would go do something.

Rollie watched Angie work, enthralled by every move she made, the way her fingers danced across the keyboard or moved the mouse, how her head turned, her neck bending and twisting, the way that she moved in the chair, occasionally shifting her position or stretching her back.  He was surprised at how much he was enjoying just watching her.

Finally deciding that he should do something more productive, he went back to work on what he’d been doing last night.  After a few minutes of fighting to concentrate on the job, he gave up.  He just wasn’t in the mood to sit and work.  There were a few things around the loft that he’d been putting off.  Maybe now would be a good time to do them.

Rollie went upstairs and opened the door to the storage room.  Mounds of junk that hadn’t been touched in years met his eyes.  With a sigh, he waded in, pulling out boxes and crates, intent on going through every one of them to see what could be thrown away.

He’d pulled out about half the boxes, when he came across something that he’d almost forgotten about.  He pulled the case out and sat it on the floor, settling beside it.  Opening it, he ran his fingers across what lay inside.

Angie could hear the racket that was going on upstairs.  It sounded like Rollie was finally going through the junkyard that was in that room.  It was about time.  She’d been telling him for years that he should do it.  The noise went on for a while, then abruptly ceased.  There was a moment of silence, then she heard something that made her look upstairs.  Had that been a guitar?  Since when did Rollie have a guitar?  Curious, Angie snuck upstairs.  Sure enough, Rollie was sitting on the floor, an acoustic guitar still in its case on the floor in front of him.

“I didn’t know you had a guitar, Rol,” she said.

The Aussie jumped, startled, and looked up at her.  She was surprised to see a blush come to his cheeks.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve had it for a while now.”

Angie sat on the floor a couple of feet away.  “Can you play it?”

Rollie nodded.  “It’s been a long time, though.  Mum played the guitar.  She loved to play it and sing in the evenings when it was just the two of us there.  She taught me how to play.  After she died, I didn’t play anymore, not until. . . .”  He stopped, blushing again.

“Until what?”  Angie was really curious now.

Rollie squirmed, not looking at her.  “You’ll just laugh.”

“No I won’t, Rol.  I promise.”

He glanced up at her, then down again.  “You remember when you were seeing that boy in your junior year in high school?  I think his name was Todd, and he was the lead singer in a band.  He broke up with you for another girl.  You came home crying, babbling on about how you were never going to find somebody who’d love you and sing love songs to you.  Well, I wanted to make you feel better, and I thought that if. . . .”  Rollie sighed.  “This is so stupid.  I know you’re going to laugh.”  He paused again.  “I went out and bought the guitar.  I was going to sing to you from the first floor of the loft while you were up on the second, sort of like Romeo serenading Juliet.”  He ducked his head, his face flaming.

Angie stared at Rollie, deeply touched by what he had intended to do.  “Rollie, that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The Aussie lifted his eyes to her. “It is?”

Angie nodded.  “Why didn’t you do it?”

“You, um, got mad at me the next day when I accidentally broke that silver hand mirror your dad bought for you on your fifteenth birthday.  You stayed mad for the rest of the week until I went and had a new mirror put in it.  After that, I decided that the serenading wouldn’t be appreciated.”

“Oh.”  Angie remembered about the mirror and how terrible she’d been to Rollie about it.  She had been upset about being dumped by Todd, and the breaking of the mirror had seemed all the more unforgivable because of it.  She had felt bad about it later, after Rollie had the mirror repaired, but hadn’t apologized.  She felt even worse now.

“Rollie, I’m sorry about what I said back then.  I didn’t mean it.  I was just upset about Todd and everything.  It was nice of you to have the mirror fixed, especially when it wasn’t really your fault that it got broken.”  She studied Rollie’s face, which was again turned toward the floor.  “What were you going to sing?”

“Huh?”  The Aussie’s head lifted.

“What song were you going to sing for me?”

“Oh, uh, it was your favorite at the time.  Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx.”

Angie smiled, remembering how much she’d loved that song, playing it over and over again until both Rollie and her father were ready to break the stereo so they wouldn’t have to listen to it anymore.

“Would you sing it for me now?” she asked softly.

Rollie’s eyes widened.  “I . . . I don’t think that would be such a good idea.  I mean, it’s been a long time since I played, and, besides, I’m not sure if I’d remember all the words.”

“Please, Rol.  You know, I’ve never really heard you sing.  Whenever we sing at the Christmas parties, you never sing loud enough for me to hear you properly.”

“That’s because I’m not very good.”

Just then, the phone rang.  Looking relieved, Rollie answered it.

“Hi, Rollie,” said Frank’s voice.

“Hey, Francis.”

“I just found out what happened.  Is Angie okay?”   There was sadness and deep concern in the detective’s voice.

“Yeah, she’s doing good.  She’s here now.  Would you like to talk to her?”

“Yeah, put her on.”

Rollie handed the phone to Angie.

“How are you doing, Angie?” Francis asked.

“I’m doing all right.”

“I am so sorry I didn’t call sooner.  We were gone all day yesterday.  I didn’t find out about what happened until a little while ago.  I tried to call you at your apartment.  When I didn’t get an answer, I figured that you might be at the loft.  Is there anything that Sarah or I can do for you?  Would you like to come over and talk about things?  We’d be happy to have you and Rollie for dinner sometime.  Anything at all that you need, all you have to do is tell us.”

“Thank you, Frank.  That’s sweet of you and Sarah, but I really am all right,” she looked at Rollie, who was watching her, “thanks to Rollie.  We’ll give you a call soon, okay?”

They said their goodbyes.  Angie had no sooner hung up the phone, then her cell phone rang.  The call was from her landlord.  There had been an accident with an overflowing bathtub in the apartment above hers, and he wanted to check to see if the water had leaked into her apartment.  Telling him that she’d be right there, she hung up.  She told Rollie what had happened.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, Rol.”

“All right.  I’ll be here,” Rollie said.

After Angie had left, the Aussie stared down at the guitar.  It wouldn’t hurt to at least tune it.  He pulled the guitar out and sat on the bed.  After tuning the guitar, he played a few chords, remembering how much he used to enjoy the lessons his mother gave him.

Sighing, he put the guitar back in its case and set it in the corner.  Rollie then got back to work cleaning out the room.  As he went though the piles of boxes, his eyes kept going back to the guitar, thinking about Angie’s request.  He couldn’t possibly sing for her.  It would be too embarrassing.  He was surprised that she had asked.  It wasn’t something he would have thought she’d do.

Rollie got up and went back over to the guitar.  He carried it to the bedroom and sat down on the bed.  Lifting it out of the case, he began to play a few notes from songs he had learned long ago.  He then closed his eyes and tried to remember how that song Angie had loved went.  His eyes still closed, Rollie hesitantly began playing it, remembering more as he went along.  Then the words started coming back to him, and he began to sing.

Angie pulled up to the loft.  It hadn’t taken as long as she thought it would.  Fortunately, the water had not leaked into her apartment, so there had been no mess to clean up.

Angie went in, stopping on the threshold when she heard the sound of the guitar.  With a smile, she quietly shut the door and moved toward the stairs.  Her foot was on the bottom step when some very familiar notes began drifting down to her.  Stopping, she listened as Rollie began to play Right Here Waiting, pausing here and there as if trying to remember how it went.  Trying not to make a sound, Angie crept up the steps and to the bedroom.  Rollie was sitting on the bed, his eyes closed.  The song was coming easily to him now and his hands were moving unerringly over the strings.  She was just about to say something when Rollie began to sing.  Amazement stilled her tongue.  He had a wonderful tenor voice, equally as good as many professional singers.  Why did he think he wasn’t any good?

As he sang, the expression on Rollie’s features was peaceful.  But then, as he got to the chorus, she saw a change.  A look of sadness came to his face.  His voice quavered slightly, and she realized that he truly was singing the song to her now.  She listened to the words and what they meant.
 

Wherever you go,
Whatever you do,
I will be right here waiting for you.
Whatever it takes,
Or how my heart breaks,
I will be right here waiting for you.

The look of sadness remained on Rollie’s face as he moved into the second verse.
 

I took for granted all the times,
That I thought would last somehow.
I hear the laughter, I taste the tears,
But I can't get near you now.