Day Nine: David Boreanaz is a difficult roommate (14,616)

Yikes, the challenges of week 2. I spent today writing a long (for me) chapter of Rogue-ah's story with some backstory about how she came to be roommate's with Corolla.

It was a circuitous route that allowed me to draw some inspiration from some of my favourite things happening in the other EsNoWriMo novels right now. It became a strange history of the roommates who had lived in Rogue-ah's condo.

Here, Rogue-ah is remembering her brief time living with David Boreanaz:

That’s when she learned that David was not “over” the departure of his former roommate, Taylor Kitsch. The two had been drawn to each other as friends because they each so good looking in their own unique ways. But alas, that is not a good basis for a friendship. Soon they were embroiled in an escalating feud that reached a fever pitch at the 2080 Celebrity Hockey Tournament for Children’s Cancer Research. The two had thrown down over an icing call, punching and struggling ineffectually on their skates. That was the end. Taylor had packed up his things and without a backwards glance, stiffing David on that month’s rent.

Taylor’s loss was Rogue-ah’s opportunity to leave behind the makeshift shack she was living in under the overpass. So while she enjoyed the spartan two-bedroom apartment with its protection from the elements, she could have lived without David’s ongoing muttering “Jeez, Kitscher, I’ve seen softer hands on a rock”, or “What is this, Kitsch, the Stanley Cup Playoffs?” When he got really worked up, he’d shout into the empty room, “I’ve seen better wheels on a canoe!”

It was no doubt hard on both of them living together, as Rogue-ah didn’t even know what icing was, and no matter how many times David patiently explained it to her, she simply could not retain the allegedly simple rule. “That’s when you have to shoot the puck to the quarterback?” she might ask, and David would storm out of the room in a funk that would last for hours. Finally, it proved too much for him and he just left one day saying, “I’d rather have a hundred flies in my mouth than be your roommate.” Inspired by Kitsch, he had stiffed her on the rent and she never saw him again. She liked to think that he went in search of Taylor and that they were able to patch things up.

I'll end with an excerpt from near the end of today's writing day, as I try to move the story forward into a collision course with Doug Ford:

The crew leader was a tall, white man, with wide shoulders, a shaved head hidden under a baseball cap and a well-trimmed beard. His yellow coveralls were clean and pressed and the pant cuffs were folded up in a fashionable pinroll. Pinto was more agitated than usual, puffed up with a nervous energy, never a good sign. Rogue-ah’s stomach, already filled with homicidal butterflies, started to eat itself.

He glared at the crew. “We are receiving a great honour today,” he announced. “We will be serving Doug Ford himself!” He looked around defiantly, daring any one of them to cry. None of them dared, but their response was far from enthusiastic.

“There was some damage done last night in Doug Ford’s living quarters in the Underground. All of the downtown crews have been called in to help with the cleanup and repairs. This job is going to take all day, so if you had other plans, you can forget about them.”

Rogue-ah suppressed a protest. They’d been working overtime for weeks to prepare for yesterday’s Wall Day, and today of all days she could not afford to be stuck at work.

“And one more thing,” Pinto added. “Security will be supervising us while we’re in the Underground.” Even he could not feign indifference, as nervous sweat slid down the side of his face.