Authors: Mandy Baggot
“Yeah, so? What of it?”
“I forgot you used to call me that.”
“Don’t go getting all sentimental. I thought we
weren’t talking about feelings. How are the Panthers going? You
talked tactics with them yet?”
“Tonight. We’re going out to Taboo,” Robyn informed
them.
“Jeez! Taboo! That takes me back! Haven’t been there
for years. I can’t believe it’s still going.”
“Thought it would be a good distraction from
tomorrow’s game. Give them some bonding time, let them kick back a
bit,” Robyn told him.
“What’s Taboo?” Max questioned, leaning forward in
his bed and peering over at them.
“What’s Taboo? Max! Shame on you, old man! You never
been?” Eddie called.
“What the Hell is it? A bar or something?”
“A strip club. You want to see the girls they got
there, Max!” Eddie remarked excitedly.
“Apparently, they have a room for ladies now, with
men on stage,” Robyn informed him.
“Hell no! That’s all wrong!” Eddie exclaimed.
“Why?”
“It just ain’t natural.”
“Women like men appreciating them,” Max added.
“Leering at them more like,” Robyn commented.
“They earn good money, we like looking at them,
everyone’s a winner,” Eddie told them both.
“So when we going?” Max asked with a chuckle as he
opened the bag of raisins and sprayed them across the bed.
“Never, unless you get your blood pressure down. I’ll
give you a blow by blow account when I come in next,” Robyn
said.
“Not of the men’s room though…we don’t wanna hear
nothing about that,” Eddie answered.
“Roadhouse opens next week. It’s almost decorated and
I have plates coming today,” Robyn informed her dad, finishing the
doughnut.
“Plates? We had plates. Why do we need new plates?”
Eddie questioned.
“Dad, it doesn’t look like you’ve served food for
years. I’ve had to get a company in to steam clean everything. New
plates have a motif on them,” Robyn told him.
“What sort of motif?”
“It matches the sign. ‘Eddie’s Roadhouse’ written on
a huge burgundy baseball cap,” Robyn informed him.
“Sounds great,” Max replied, chewing up raisins.
“Sounds expensive,” Eddie said grumpily.
“I’ve paid. I’ve paid for everything,” Robyn assured
him.
“On a mechanic’s wage? You’re still a mechanic,
right?”
“Sometimes. I work in the office mainly.”
“In the office! Did you hear that, Max? My daughter
works in an office!” Eddie exclaimed proudly.
“Punches holes in things and does filing, I bet,” Max
muttered.
“Must pay well, though,” Eddie said.
“Something like that. Listen, I’ve spoken to the
doctor, and he’s really pleased with your latest tests. He reckons
you might be able to have the operation next week,” Robyn told
him.
“And that’s a good thing?” Eddie moaned.
“Dad, do you want to be stuck in this bed with him
next to you forever?” Robyn asked.
Max was now doubled up having another coughing
fit.
“Hey, what d’you mean? I’m good company. Tell her,
Eddie,” Max spoke through the coughing.
“I guess you have a point, Buttercup,” Eddie
agreed.
“So, what’s on the menu today?” Robyn asked, picking
up a menu card.
“Dunno. Some God-awful shit, I expect.”
“Baked fish with tomato and basil, new potatoes, and
green beans. That sounds nice,” Robyn said, smacking her lips
together.
“You were never a good liar, you hate that shit,”
Eddie reminded her.
“It’s good for you,” Robyn retorted.
“Yeah, unlike chips and dips, which is probably what
you got on your menu,” Eddie replied.
“Actually, I had pasta last night,” Robyn informed
him.
“Ugh! Like worms, that is, Italian worms. Gives me
the heebie-jeebies,” Max announced, shivering.
“How do you put up with this all day? I only come for
an hour, and I want to smother him with his pillow by the end of
it,” Robyn said.
“If I could get out of this bed, I would do it for
you,” Eddie remarked.
She had a dirt mark on her cheek. Her sleeves were
rolled up and half of her hair was hanging out of its ponytail. He
had to put his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop himself
from trying to rub the mark away. Since she had told him about the
rape, he found himself wanting to try and look after her. She’d
obviously been through it, her mother was gone, her father was in
the hospital, and her aunt and uncle had spawned the offspring of
Beelzebub. Who did she have? But then again, it was none of his
business. He didn’t do involvement any more. Did he?
“See! What do you think of the décor?” Robyn
asked.
It was lunchtime, and she had invited Cole to the
roadhouse to see how work was progressing. So far Nancy had proved
invaluable. She had completed a stock check, ordered tablecloths
and napkins, and phoned back all the beer suppliers, knocking them
further down on price.
“It’s great. Wow, this looks like something out of a
Western film,” Cole said, admiring the surroundings.
“God, does it?! Don’t say that! I wanted traditional
but not old fashioned. Is it old fashioned? Milo! Cole thinks it’s
old fashioned. Do you think it’s old fashioned?” Robyn called out
to her bartender.
“Robyn, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s homey, you
want it to be homey right? It isn’t old fashioned, it’s retro,”
Cole told her quickly.
“I want you to be honest with me. Don’t save my
feelings, tell me how it is,” Robyn ordered him.
“It’s great. It’s homey, it’s smart, it’s
comfortable, and it’s traditional. It’s everything a good roadhouse
should be. It’s…unpretentious,” Cole said positively.
“Unpretentious. I like that. Yes, it is
unpretentious, isn’t it? Milo, do you think it’s unpretentious?”
Robyn called.
“Absolutely, ma’am,” Milo shouted back.
“He keeps calling me ma’am lately. I’ve told him to
call me Robyn, but he can’t get his head round it. So, come on
then, get behind the bar,” Robyn ordered Cole, ushering him
forward.
“I knew it!”
“You knew what?”
“I knew this wasn’t an invitation for lunch and a
look at the décor. This is a test,” Cole responded.
“I don’t know what you mean,”
“You want to see if I can work a bar before you give
me a job here,” Cole remarked.
“Absolutely not. I just fancy a nice pitcher of Bud
Light with the sandwiches Nancy’s making, and Milo hurt his thumb
in the stock room this morning. He needs to rest it,” Robyn
insisted, making big eyes at Milo.
“Bad thumb, huh?” Cole said, eyeing the bartender
with suspicion.
“Yeah, I, er, dropped a barrel on it,” Milo
replied.
“Let me see,” Cole said, trying to get a good look at
his hands.
“That’s not necessary. I’ve assessed the injury and
rest is all that’s required. Milo, go and see what Nancy’s doing
with the sandwiches,” Robyn ordered him.
“Yes, ma’am,” Milo replied, hurrying out toward the
kitchen.
“Don’t you think I’ve worked a bar before?”
“You said you worked somewhere that sounded campier
than Graham Norton. I’m not sure it’s a real place,” Robyn
answered.
“Who’s Graham Norton?”
“Actually, I Googled it. Your old bar does not
exist.”
“No, not now. It got shut down and they made it into
a Chuck E Cheese,” Cole replied.
“Oh,” Robyn said.
“But if you want me to show you what I can do, fine,
bring it on,” Cole said, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.
“I’ll have a pitcher of Bud Light, please, a Jack and
Coke, and a glass of red wine,” Robyn ordered, jumping up onto a
bar stool.
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like ice in the Jack and
Coke?”
“Please.”
“And a large wine?”
“Regular, actually, but liking your style.”
Cole began to pour the beer, turned around and
grabbed a bottle of whiskey, added ice, a dash of Coke, and a
squeeze of lemon. He found the red wine and poured a glass before
the pitcher had reached the top.
“There, ma’am, and that will be…I would tell you, but
I don’t really work here and I don’t have a card for the cash
register,” Cole said, lining up the drinks in front of Robyn.
“Hmm,” Robyn said, eyeing the pitcher and the
glasses.
“What does ‘hmm’ mean?”
“I don’t think there should be more than half an inch
of foam at the top of the pitcher.”
“There isn’t!”
“That’s almost an inch, Cole.”
“I don’t think you know what an inch is.”
“Excuse me. Who is the boss around here?”
“The boss you may be—just didn’t realize you were
shaping yourself on Stalin.”
“That’s insubordination.”
“So fire me.”
“You don’t have a job yet.”
“I might decide I don’t want one, given the décor is
so old fashioned.”
“Whoa! That’s below the belt and you said it wasn’t!
Is it? Tell me honestly,” Robyn urged.
“I’ll tell you that there’s not more than half an
inch of froth on that pitcher, the red wine’s good, and the Jack
and Coke will be the best you’ve ever tasted.”
“You put lemon in it, for Christ’s sake. What if I’d
had a lemon allergy?”
“I’d expect you to be wearing a big sign round your
neck. Taste it,” Cole urged her.
Robyn picked up the glass and took a swig.
“It’s disgusting,” she said, downing the rest of the
drink in one go.
“You’re a liar.”
“You’re full of yourself.”
“Back atcha.”
“Can you make another one?” Robyn asked, holding the
glass out to him.
“That depends. Do I get the job?”
“I suppose I could make an allowance for the extra
foam just this once—but don’t let it happen again,” Robyn said,
shaking a finger at him.
“Cheese and dill pickle and sliced pork and apple
sauce, just like you asked,” Nancy announced as she arrived from
the kitchen with a tray full of sandwiches.
“These look great. Did you make these?”
“No, sugar, I got a biker gang out the back with a
liking for sandwich-making. Of course I made ‘em. Hey! Who are you,
honey? You’re cute,” Nancy remarked, looking admiringly at
Cole.
“Cole.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s cute. Cole, this is Nancy, Nancy,
this is Cole. Apparently, Nancy’s going to be my step-mom in three
months’ time. I haven’t had my bridesmaid invitation yet, but we’re
trying to bond,” Robyn informed him.
“Nice to meet you. So, you married?” Nancy asked,
getting close to Cole.
“No, he’s not, but you nearly are. Back off,” Robyn
warned her.
“So, meeting him’s fast work for someone who’s only
been in town this week.”
“We’re not dating. I’ve got someone in England.”
“Have you?” Cole asked.
“Oh my! Looks like this beautiful relationship is
about to hit the skids,” Nancy remarked.
“You told me you didn’t have a guy,” Cole
repeated.
“I don’t, not really,” Robyn said awkwardly.
“You said you didn’t do dating.”
“I don’t. I…” Robyn started.
“So what is it then?” Cole wanted to know.
“God, what is this! Now who’s behaving like
Stalin?”
“You said you weren’t seeing anyone, now you say you
are. Which is it?” Cole asked.
“Why do you care so much?”
“I’m just intrigued why you’d hide it.”
“Well, go and be intrigued by something else. Find a
cure for herpes or something. That’s what you do all day, isn’t it?
Or are you toying with the idea of taking a diploma in being an
ass?” Robyn asked.
“Touchy,” Nancy remarked.
“And no one asked your opinion on it, either,” Robyn
snapped.
“Fine. I’m going to help Milo with the delivery.
Enjoy your food,” Nancy said before disappearing out the back.
“So, who is he?” Cole pressed.
“Jeez! There is nobody. I just said that to shut her
up. Man! What’s with you?” Robyn exclaimed.
“You’re lying to me,” Cole said, watching her.
“I’m not! I do not have a boyfriend,” Robyn insisted,
sinking her teeth into a pork roll.
“Then what do you have?”
“I have a guy I sleep with now and then, okay?” Robyn
blurted out.
“I think that’s called a boyfriend.”
“It isn’t like that. I don’t care about him.”
“You don’t care about him?”
“No.”
“So you sleep with him, but you don’t care about
him.”
“That’s right,” Robyn admitted.
“That doesn’t sound right at all.”
“He’s my boss—at the garage. He likes me and, well,
he looks after me,” Robyn stated.
“Jeez, Robyn! He pays you for sex? Man!”
“Don’t say that. He doesn’t do that.”
“Well, that’s what it sounds like to me.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation. It’s none of
your business. Perhaps this house sharing wasn’t such a good idea
if it means we have to tell each other everything.”
“So you like this ‘having sex for money’ arrangement,
do you?” Cole questioned.
He looked angry. His eyes bored into her. They didn’t
look so attractive now, they looked accusing. Robyn swallowed and
looked down at her plate.
“Listen, sometimes people have to do things to get on
in life. I needed Clive to get on in life,” she tried to
explain.
How did she explain what she’d done for the last nine
years? It wasn’t normal, she knew that. It wasn’t how ordinary
people led their lives, but that was all she knew, and it was
better than the loneliness and the complete emotional
isolation.
“And now? Do you still need him to get on in
life?”
“He’s paid for all the improvements to the roadhouse.
What do you think?”
She raised her eyes to meet his, and he shook his
head in disgust. Suddenly she felt very small and very sad. She put
down her roll and pulled self-consciously at her hair.
“You’re judging me, and that’s not fair because you
don’t know the whole story.”