Is this anything? The idea floated in my brain after ep 5. Do I continue?
You held your hair with one hand while Robert slid your coat into place.
With a turn, you held out your arms and asked, “Well? Do I look presentable?”
It was the nicest outfit you’d ever owned, even if it did feel suffocating – but that was more to do with the circumstances. The plum coat had a floral lining that matched your fit-and-flare dress so perfectly the pattern aligned when your lapel was facing out. Finished with satin gloves and the first jewellery set Robert had gifted during your intense, yet brief, courtship.
Reaching out to smooth your lapel, Robert gave you a smile that came nowhere near his eyes.
“Lovely.”
“Gee,” you said, rolling your eyes, “careful on those compliments or my head might get big. Then I’ll just up and float away.”
“You’re beautiful.” He clarified. “But you’re lovelier still when you’re happy.”
Touching the corner of your mouth, he said again, “You know you don’t have to do this?”
“You’re the one who said this was the best course of action!” You laughed. “The most logical solution to sate their curiosity. Once and done. Get it over with. Feed the machine before it consumes us…”
“I recall.”
“We can’t all have a body double waiting in the wings, you know.” You huffed.
“I should have arranged one.”
“The press found our marriage licence, then they found me. It’s not your fault.”
“I should have predicted it.” Robert said, refusing your absolution.
The elevator chimed with impossibly impeccable timing.
You knew what the fake Mr House looked like. Like the rest of the world, you believed that was the real man. The Robert you met was just a regular man. Well, maybe not regular. He had his eccentricities. On only your second date he told you he’d run some numbers – you never did find out what sort of numbers – and come to the conclusion that you were going to be his wife.
Fortunately the same numbers must have told him not to propose then and there or you might have run screaming.
It wasn’t until you accepted a proposal that he revealed the truth.
Now the old-real Mr House stepped out, greeting the actual Mr House and for a minute your pulse thumped behind your eyes.
Victor must have sensed it because, while they chatted, it rolled over with a martini on a tray.
“Thank you, Victor.” You said, taking a sip.
Robert guided his double over, scrutinising the man as he introduced you.
“This is my wife.”
You both shook hands.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Both you and the double waited for a long minute while Robert continued to stew, only exhaling when his eyes moved away to the bank of screens behind him.
“Did you see the investors on your way up?” Robert asked, leaning into the railing as he scrutinised the recorded feed of the casino floor.
“I did.” His double confirmed. “They’re not happy.”
“Why?” You asked. “Were they sad we didn’t invite them to the wedding?”
You were joking, but both men nodded. At your expression, Robert clarified: “Appearance is everything to these people. I’m not surprised they view it as a snub.”
“Then there’s some concerns about leadership.” His double added. “The influence of an unknown party has some of them worried.”
“Am I the unknown party?” Turning to Robert, you asked, “Do I have influence?”
He smiled gently. “Up here, yes. On the business, no. No offence darling, but you have a humanities degree.”
“And an intense fear of math.” You intoned, nodding solemnly at the body double.
“I think meeting you will put their minds at ease.”
“Take good care of her.” Robert warned one last time.
“This way, Mrs House.” His double said, holding out an arm to hold the elevator doors open while you entered.
“You can just use my name you know.” You said, moving to the back.
Robert’s double body pressed the button for the casino floor and you both watched the real Mr House – who was staring fixatedly at his double – vanish from view.
“I’m not sure…” he said, running a finger behind the collar of his shirt, “if that would be appropriate.”
“We’re meant to be acting as a newlywed couple, won’t it sound weird if you keep calling me Mrs House?”
“Mr House has his peculiarities.” He replied with a nervous look at the ceiling. There was probably a camera installed up there.
“Fine. Use something generic then like… aren’t all husbands supposed to call their wife ‘dear’? ‘Yes dear.’ ‘No dear.’ That sort of thing.”
“Would that make you more comfortable?” He asked, sounding a bit too much like your Robert for a moment for you to believe the words were his own.
“Well, yes.”
Robert must have been talking in his ear because it took a while before he replied.
“That will be fine. In public.” He hastened to addend.
“And I’ll just call you Robert.” But even as you said that you grimaced. Robert was your husband. “Maybe I’ll just call you ‘dear’ too.”
“Robbie works as well.”
You nodded. That would do. Just different enough for you to separate them in your mind without attracting attention from anyone else.
“How long have you been doing this again?”
“Ten years, Mrs… I mean.” Robbie huffed. “Ten years, dear.”
Glancing at the floor indicator, you laughed. “You only have six more floors to get that right you know.”
Robbie rolled his shoulders back and forced himself to relax. “Don’t worry. I’m good at getting into character.”
“Well I appreciate having you with me. I’d hate to do this alone.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Robbie said, tightening his tie, “I know how to keep the wolves at bay.”
