3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Robinson
Robinson kept his phone available to take notes, but it didn’t seem particularly necessary. Not for the way this talk was going. Chuck had certainly made the meeting notably more somber than anything they’d done since they started filming, but everyone seemed to be taking it in stride. Even Evander was a bit more reserved than usual. Mason kept up the effort to lighten the conversation, and as expected, he was threading the needle well: not letting the meeting become depressing, but also holding room for the emotions at play.
Robinson mostly focused on Chuck, though. He was…strapping. It felt more than a little old-fashioned to refer to someone unironically as strapping. Also felt odd since usually it was a “strapping young lad,” and Chuck had to have at least ten years on him. But he was broad-chested, with muscular arms. Silver in his beard, and bright hazel eyes. So bright they almost looked unnatural.
They’d gotten a little detail in the briefing, but Chuck simply sounded broken. Not sure at all what he was supposed to do, or even seemingly what he wanted. The kind of “vibes-based home improvement” that he’d heard Aras go off about more than once, but he was actually holding his tongue just fine.
Robinson had been there. Not with the same level of grief, but when he’d finally moved into his own place after getting out of jail, nothing had felt right. He knew how he wanted his apartment to feel, but getting there felt like jumping over Mount Rainier on a pogo stick. He didn’t even know how to begin.
The actual solution had been annoying and painful, and would never have occurred to him. But maybe he could save Chuck a little bit of confusion and heartache. So Robinson shifted positions to face Chuck head-on. “You have friends or family in the area?”
Chuck raised one eyebrow. “Friends. Andrew’s sister and a couple of his cousins, too.”
“Have they come over since he passed?” Robinson hated talking about it so matter-of-factly, but there was no real value in beating around the bush. Especially since, uncomfortable as it might be, they had to consider this was a TV show. Getting to the point was part of making decent content. “Other than helping out right after, I mean. Just for something social.”
Chuck looked up at the ceiling and blew out a long breath. Robinson waited, ready to backtrack if it was too far. Then Chuck looked back down and shook his head. “Nothing social. I’ve been going to work and coming home. The boys sometimes go hang out with their friends, but not as much as they used to. We’ve all turned into homebodies a bit. A lot.” He shrugged. “Hasn’t felt right.”
“Would you be willing to host some people when this is all done?” Robinson sighed. “I think it’ll help. It’s your call, but no amount of paint or plumbing or new lights is going to make this feel homey.” Robinson felt his own tension rising, and saw Chuck’s shoulders tightening and rising up toward his ears.
Luckily, Mason stepped in, placing a hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “We don’t have to make any big plans. Or any plans, if you’re not comfortable.”
Chuck nodded, and some of the tension slipped away. Not all of it, but some. “I’m sorry. It’s just…jeez, I didn’t expect this all to be so hard, and I’ve been a terrible host.”
Robinson’s belly tightened hearing that and he almost opened his mouth again to try and calm Chuck down. But last time, he’d just set Chuck on edge. Better to give him at least a little bit of wait time in-between unsolicited opinions.
“You’ve been a perfectly reasonable host.” Eliza, standing in the corner, took a step closer. “We’re here to help you, not to hang out and drink beer.”
Chuck…didn’t laugh, but he pushed a little air out of his nose and smiled.
Eliza took one more step forward, until she was in line with the rest of the crew. “We do need to talk about the boys. We can keep them off camera if you’d prefer, but it’s going to be a lot easier if we can include them sometimes instead of trying to film around them. Plus, if I can be blunt, having them in the episode is going to be a better product, especially with the reactions at the end when they see the new place.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem.” Finally, Chuck looked relaxed, and the smile on his lips eased higher and wider. “They’re all twitterpated thinking they might be on TV. I’m making them do their homework, but if we wait long enough, I’m sure one of them will sneak down here needing help so they can scope everything out.”
Eliza nodded and opened her mouth, but—
“Hey, Dad?” A teenage boy, thin and with messy black hair, stepped down the stairs, stopping halfway down. His eyes widened as he scanned the room, and he completely failed to hide his smile. Someone was going to have to teach him to get away with stuff better at some point, because he was probably fifteen, and he was clearly not skilled at lying. Probably a good home life.
Robinson smiled at the same time Chuck did. Then Chuck looked over his shoulder. “You can come down. Everyone, this is Nick. He’s my middle child, so he won’t be offended if you forget his name.” With a groan, he stood.
Robinson happened to be positioned just right that Chuck standing up put him at ass level. Like the rest of his body, Chuck’s ass and thighs were broad, filling out his jeans remarkably well. It was a fleeting thought, instinctual, and Robinson wasn’t going to act on it. Still felt a little weird. They were here because Chuck was a widower, and he clearly wasn’t handling it well. Robinson didn’t need to get any interest in the guy. Not even fleeting, instinctual interest.
No matter how temptingly tight his jeans looked.
Luckily, the temptation and interest faded as Chuck passed by and went over to Nick. “What’s up?”
“I…need help with my computer.”
Chuck raised both eyebrows. “Your computer. Nothing to do with the TV show we’re working on down here?” He craned his neck and looked up the stairs, though at what, Robinson couldn’t see. Not that he had to wonder for long. Chuck stepped back, shaking his head and smiling. “All right, urchins. Get downstairs since you’re not doing your homework anyway.”
Robinson couldn’t help but grin as two more boys tromped downstairs. The younger one looked a lot like Nick, and the older was on the shorter, bulkier side, with dishwater blond hair. But he took the lead, stepping in front of his two brothers and shrugging to his dad. “We in trouble?”
“You’re not in trouble. Think we could use some input from the other people who live in the house anyway.” Chuck looked back over his shoulder at the rest of the crew and the camera people. “That okay?”
Robinson looked over as Eliza scurried to Vince’s side. They muttered back and forth, shaking heads, nodding. Then they both seemed to agree on something and Eliza stepped away. “We can shift this from a meeting to a little mini-tour. With the client this time.”
That was a pointed reminder for the crew no doubt. They usually did their first walkthrough alone, making any comments they wanted since there was no one around to hear it. Extra pointed, since she glared right at Ozzy and Evander when she said it.
Robinson hopped to his feet and stretched, shifting his hips side-to-side to work out any remaining stiffness or kinks. Frankly, he was pretty happy to be moving and working again. He could relax just fine, but when it was work time, he preferred to make himself useful. Plus, a tour of the place would be a lot more useful for figuring things out.
Plus, Robinson could try to recover from making Chuck feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t some clinical grief psychologist or whatever. But he knew he was a damn good plumber.