The Varlet and the Voyeur
Or a puppy.
From: William Moore
To: Josey Kavanagh
Subject: Details and timeline
Dear Josey,
Thanks for meeting with me yesterday. It was so great meeting you. I want to finalize the details of our roommate arrangement over email so everything is spelled out and we both know where each other stands and there are no miscommunications about what I expect so that expectations are clear.
I propose the following arrangement:
1.You try your best to be at the apartment whenever I’m home (obviously, school comes first and this might not always be possible). I’m most tempted at night, when the apartment is quiet, so feel free to make noise until you go to bed. I read a lot, but I won’t mind the sounds you make. Have you ever read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn? There is this one passage where she talks about the world being hers for the reading, that poetry is for quiet companionship, biographies are for when she wanted to feel close to someone, and adventures are for times when she is tired of the quiet. I’ve been reading a lot of adventures lately.
2.You live here rent free, and
3.I cover all your school expenses, and
4.I pay you a salary of 3k euro every month for expenses.
5.Commitment / term of 6 months minimum.
Does this work for you? I’ll be happy to pay you more if you think you need more pocket money.
You should move in this Saturday. I have the day off and will help. Looking forward to seeing you soon.
-Will
From: Josey Kavanagh
To: William Moore
Subject: re: Details and timeline
Hiya Will!
Thanks for your email. ????
It was great to meet you yesterday. I’m excited to move in and get started watching Netflix because you’re not going to be watching anything else! ???? (Note: the rest of this sentence was deleted because I made a really bad joke, but I didn’t know it was a bad joke until after I read through the entire email. Thank God for the delete button!! I wish speaking out loud came with a delete button. How awesome would that be?)
Regarding your items, I think all of those sound great, EXCEPT item number 3. Free rent is plenty, and I’ll accept your offer of covering my school expenses because I’m desperate to continue in the program, but I really want to get a job for pocket money and savings. I’ve been thinking a lot about my life and I realized I am terrible at interacting with people. I think it’s because my parents have always been my main source of socialization, and—let me tell you—that is not a good thing. They love me, have always been supportive, but they never … taught me how to be normal, you know? Everything I did was just perfectly great, and I think I needed some correction sometimes. Does that make sense? Some boundaries, some instruction, some “Don’t tell people about your unibrow! THEY DON’T WANT TO KNOW!!!” Instead I was indulged and encouraged in all things, and in retrospect, I truly think that’s been to my detriment. (Note: a super large paragraph was deleted here because, upon review, it was waaaaaay too much information you probably don’t want to know) I believe I need to get out there and practice interacting with normal people. You are obviously a normal person, but you’re just one person. If I *have to* get a paying job then I’ll be forced to interact with lots of normal people every day. I have an internship and I plan to talk to them about finding a paid position, maybe something including receptionist duties, so I already have a lead. And I’m determined to improve my social skills! Practice makes perfect, except with murder, because then you’d have to kill *a lot* of people, and that’s terrible (I went back and forth about whether to delete this joke, but decided to leave it in as Eilish confirmed you’d think it was funny).
I’d like to move in on Friday if that’s okay with you. I have a paper and two exams on Monday, so I’d like to be settled in for the weekend so I can get some quality study time. Please don’t feel like you need to help me move in! I can handle everything myself. All I need are the keys and I can figure the rest out.
Thanks again for taking a chance on me. I won’t let you down, I promise!
Wishing you the best,
Sweet dreams,
Take care,
G’night roomie,
Sincerely, Josey
From: William Moore
To: Josey Kavanagh
Subject: re: Details and timeline
Josey,
Friday is great! fine, but I wish you’d let me help you move your belongings.
I understand your desire to get another job and meet new people even though I think you’re completely wrong about yourself. However, if your job interferes with your availability when I’m at home, then we’ll you’ll have to decide whether you want to stay on here as my roommate and quit the other job. I really need you here in the evenings.
The entire point of this arrangement is having someone here when I’m here. Therefore, though I support your desire to interact with more people, even though I think you’re great just as you are and shouldn’t change a thing, if your job interferes and you decide to quit it, I’ll be happy to compensate you for lost wages and give you a monthly salary.
-Will
From: Josey Kavanagh
To: William Moore
Subject: re: Details and timeline
Okay! That’s fair.
If the job interferes with my availability and responsibilities to you, then I’ll quit and we’ll work out a salary—but not €3000. That’s waaaaay too much. My needs are simple! And I’m a good bargain hunter, believe it or not. I’ve always been this way, clipping coupons for my mam or finding deals for my dad. Finding the lowest price can feel like a game. The key is to stock up on non-perishables when they’re on sale and use a good coupon to get a certain figure off the grand total.
I guess I’ll see you Friday night. I can make dinner to celebrate if you want, but no problem if you already have plans. If you’re free, let me know if you have any dietary restrictions. I make a mean vegan quinoa dream bowl!
See you soon,
Sincerely, Josey.
P.S. How do I get the key? Should I swing by your work? Or one day after work?
From: William Moore
To: Josey Kavanagh
Subject: re: Details and timeline
I’ll give the key to Bryan and make dinner for both of us to celebrate on Friday. You should be studying.
Looking forward to seeing you then,
-Will
Five
@JoseyInHeels: In his last life, my dog was a mischievous pixie sprite who specialized in trouble making, mayhem and general tomfoolery ????
JOSEY
I had the key to my new digs in my pocket and a spring in my step.
Then I tripped over someone’s discarded Coke bottle and almost face-planted into a signpost. I recovered quickly though, chancing a look around to check if anyone saw. There was a couple sitting on a bench who tried to cover their laughter. They’d clearly witnessed my epic fail.
Oh well.
I straightened up and continued to the on-campus kiosk for my usual midmorning snack. I perused the selection of oat bars when my eyes landed on a tabloid newspaper headline: Kinky Flanker Paid Floozies.
My heart thumped when I saw a picture of Will leaving the rugby team’s training center. His expression was stern, and he definitely didn’t look happy to be photographed. I bit my lip and tried to resist the temptation to buy a copy and read all about my new roommate’s sexy exploits.
The man on the cash register saw where I was looking and let out a low whistle. “It’s always the quiet ones. I read the story this morning. A real eye-opener, I tell ya.”
I glanced at him, then impulsively picked up a copy, alongside a pecan oat bar and an energy drink. I needed something to keep me awake during my next class, since I tossed and turned all last night, too excited about moving into Will’s place to fall asleep.
Now I wondered what I was getting myself into.
 
; I guess I should just read the story and find out.
I paid for my items and headed to class. I hadn’t really made any proper friends in college yet. On my first week, I approached a group of fellow veterinary students and introduced myself. When one of them, Felicity, complimented another, Karen, on her perfume, and Karen replied that it was actually a new deodorant, I launched into my aforementioned speech about preferring men’s deodorant over women’s.
And yes, succeeded in making things weird. They’d been avoiding me ever since.
It made me feel a little lonely, but I guess I wasn’t really here to make friends. Also, since most of my classmates had gone straight from school to college, the majority of them were still teenagers. It was only a couple of years, but it still felt isolating.
I was a Millennial and they were Generation Z.
Perhaps the twain didn’t mix.
I took a seat near the back of the room and cracked open my newspaper. Luckily, I had a few minutes before class started, because I was keen to read the article. My emails with Will had been a minefield of Should I say that? No, don’t say that, he’ll think it’s weird. Oh, just say it, it’s funny!
His responses had been polite yet reserved. I couldn’t get much of a read on whether he liked me, or simply tolerated my personality.
Most people fell into the latter category, but I tried not to let it get me down. I couldn’t censor who I was. Well, I could, but that would be exhausting.
I brought my attention to the paper on my lap.
This week it was revealed that flanker for the Ireland rugby squad, William Moore, has been engaging in lurid sex acts with paid prostitutes. Our source, who has chosen to remain anonymous, claims she and a fellow sex worker were paid by Moore for their services. Moore brought both women to a hotel room and encouraged them to perform sexual acts on one another while he watched.
Heat rose on my cheeks as I glanced around. The class was starting to fill up and I didn’t want to get caught reading the story. I quickly scanned the rest.
She went on to detail how this arrangement continued for several weeks before Mr. Moore informed her he would no longer require her services. She claims Mr. Moore never engaged in sexual acts with either her or her co-worker, preferring only to watch.
“It was definitely weird and very kinky,” our source says. “I’ve never had a client request this particular type of service before, and when I recognized who he was, I was flabbergasted. He told me he’d been doing this for years. I asked if he was worried about being caught and he claimed he wasn’t. He said he didn’t feel he was doing anything wrong.”
I sucked in a deep breath, then closed the paper when my professor entered the room. I folded it up and put it in my bag, but my mind raced. I couldn’t stop thinking of Will hiring prostitutes. It just seemed so unlike him. I really couldn’t picture him pulling up to the side of the road, some lady wearing a short skirt and thigh high boots leaning down as he lowered the window.
Then I thought of him bringing her and another sex worker to a hotel room and my stomach twisted with unease. I didn’t like thinking he had that side to him. Not the voyeurism, but the paying prostitutes part.
Could he be arrested? Or was it all hearsay?
I tried to focus my attention on the whiteboard, where my professor brought up a diagram of a luxating patella. My aunt’s Chihuahua had one of those. It’s a congenital defect where the groove for the kneecap isn’t deep enough, resulting in dislocation. Surgery is the best cure.
I jotted some notes down.
Mostly occurs in toy breeds, less common in cats. Sometimes caused by a form of blunt prostitutes.
I read back what I wrote and, embarrassed, immediately scribbled out the last word, replacing it with “trauma.” I really couldn’t get this whole story about Will out of my head. It was just so disconcerting.
What if he succumbed to temptation and ended up bringing women home one night? Would I have to come storming out of my bedroom with a broomstick and shoo them from the apartment?
I tried to push the thoughts from my head and pay attention to the lesson. Later that day, Eilish drove me over to Bryan’s place. I didn’t have much luggage, since I hadn’t yet returned to my parents’ house to collect the rest of my things. I wanted to give them another week to feel bad about what they’d done. Then I’d go over, forgive them, and all would be right with the world.
Our arguments never lasted long, but this was a big one. Sure, it was juvenile, but my hurt feelings required them to suffer just a little bit longer.
“Did you read the story about Will?” I asked Eilish as she helped me with my stuff. I had Rocky on his leash, and he kept straining, entirely too excited about taking the stairs. Will’s apartment was several flights up. There was a lift, but we decided we could use the exercise.
Eilish nodded. “I refuse to believe it. Will’s just not the type. He would never hire a prostitute.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s so strict, such a rule follower. You know how I’m always complaining about how I never have enough towels at work? Well, it’s because the guys—the team—they take the towels home. But not Will. He always, always brings them back. And he’s like that with everything. Even Bryan takes towels, drives me crazy.”
“But weren’t you surprised when Bryan told us about his voyeurism? Maybe the rule following is all an act.”
“Voyeurism is one thing, paying prostitutes is another. Firstly, it’s illegal. Secondly, I can’t see him taking advantage of vulnerable women like that. I’m not sure if I told you, but before I got together with Bryan, Will and I actually went on a date. He was a complete gentleman.”
I blinked at this. Will’s affection for Eilish suddenly made sense, and I got a weird pang in my chest. Not because I wanted him to think affectionately of me, but more because I just wanted someone to think of me fondly. Eilish was the sort of woman who unwittingly gained admirers wherever she went. I was the sort to gain suspicion and funny looks and avoidance…and demands I apologize to middle-aged men’s girlfriends for presuming they were their granddaughter.
“Well, one date doesn’t give you the full view of a person. People can pretend to be one way, then they’re completely different behind closed doors.”
“True. But, again, I work with him on a weekly basis. I feel I know him almost as well as Bryan does, and they lived together. He once lost a pen from Jenna—the trainer—and he bought her a pack of twenty to replace it. He has the lowest number of fouls—for the season and over his career—in the entire league. I’m telling you, there’s something off about that story.”
“You think they fabricated it?”
Eilish pursed her lips. “If not all, then at least some of it.”
When we arrived on Will’s floor, I pulled out the key Bryan gave me and opened the door into a spacious, airy apartment. Aside from the bedrooms and bathrooms, it was completely open-plan. One side of the living area was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, which led out to a large rooftop garden. There was a big corner sofa in the middle of the room, a flat screen TV on the back wall, with shelving on either side. I let Rocky off his leash to inspect his new digs while I checked out the photo frames.
One showed Will with a man who I presumed was his grandfather. He had his arm around Will and their smiles were closed-mouthed. I always found something odd about people who smiled without teeth, like they weren’t comfortable enough in their happiness to smile fully.
The next photo was a group shot, with a farmhouse and neighboring barn in the background. It reminded me of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, because everyone in the picture was male, wearing plaid, and they definitely looked related.
I was so engrossed in studying the pictures that I didn’t notice Will had appeared and was chatting with Eilish. I met his gaze and he glanced between me and the pictures on the shelf.
All I could think about was prostitutes, seedy hotel rooms, and kinky fetishes.
&nb
sp; I walked over to join them. “Hey, I didn’t know if you’d be home.”
“I just got back a half hour ago,” Will replied. His eyes darting over my shoulder when he continued, “What is that?”
I turned around and saw Rocky jumping off Will’s sofa and onto his coffee table before landing on the floor. He picked up a large male gym shoe with his mouth, then darted off down the hallway.
“That’s my dog, Rocky. Sorry about your shoe. I’ll just go grab it.”
Will blinked. “I thought it was a rat.”
Eilish elbowed him. “Hey! Rocky’s no vermin. He’s a delight once you get to know him.”
I looked at Will. “I promise he won’t be any trouble. He’s fully house-trained and he sticks with me most of the time. You’ll barely notice he’s here.”
He scratched the back of his head and I sensed he was torn. When I said I had a dog he was probably imagining a golden retriever or German shepherd. Something that weighed a little more than eight pounds.
Finally, he replied, “Fine.”
Eilish gave him another nudge with her elbow. “You rugby men, so eloquent. Listen, Josey, I’ve got to go collect Patrick from his playdate. Do you need help with anything before I go?”
I shook my head. “Nope, all set.”
“Great, call me if you need anything,” she said, coming to give me a hug before she left.
The door clicked shut, punctuating her departure. Will and I stood side by side. My first thought was to say something, but I was trying to resist my urge to fill every silence with chatter. My cousin, Grace, told me it was my most irritating quality.
Her most irritating quality was telling it how it was, or more precisely, being mean. Next time, that was going to be my comeback.
“I’ll show you your room,” Will said, and I followed him down the hallway. We passed by his room and the door was open. The first thing I noticed was his bookshelf. It was impressive, stuffed full with what looked like antique books.