38. Chapter 38
Chapter thirty-eight
Robinson
It wasn’t any longer of a day than usual, but it was sure a more boring day. The kind of dull and repetitive that scratched away at Robinson’s nerves and wore him down bit by bit. So he didn’t feel bad at all hitting up the hotel bar for a beer. Or two. He was almost done with the second—it was a particularly fruity heffeweisen. The selection was nothing compared to back home in Washington, but this one in particular would be worth looking into. And I don’t even like beer that much . After the first one, he’d even asked the waiter for info on it so he could look into ordering some when he got back home.
Of course, I could have it more readily if I came over here to see Chuck.
Robinson thrust that line of thinking to the side as fast as he possibly could, which was unfortunately not fast enough. He still fully formed and understood the thought. Which meant he got to feel bad about it and finish off the last quarter of his second beer. It was a little more bitter on the finish than he necessarily preferred, but the slight buzz smoothed out any unpleasantness that might have brought to the party.
Robinson really considered a third beer, but he’d become a lightweight ever since he got off the meth. Three beers and he probably would feel it in the morning, and even though it was going to be the same easy, tedious stuff as he’d done today, he’d really rather not do it hungover.
So he paid up his tab, left a nice tip, and meandered his way toward the elevators.
That was the plan, anyway. In reality, he made it three steps away from his table and saw a familiar face cross his path. Ryan. Chuck’s oldest. He was dressed in a heavy hoodie and was stumbling, but he stopped and made eye contact with Robinson.
Then he stumbled faster away, like he was heading back outside.
Fuck me, I shouldn’t be getting involved in this . His feet were already moving, because he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was going on. He’d been a teenage boy stumbling away from people he thought knew his parents before.
Robinson wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t catch up. He didn’t grab Ryan, but he pulled up next to him, keeping pace. “Ryan? Something going on?”
“Oh, uh, no. Just didn’t want to bother you, you know?” His words were halting, his cheeks were red, and he was almost making eye contact.
Getting confirmation of what he suspected was…troubling. Upsetting. It was a mirror of himself at that age, but it sure as hell wasn’t as fun seeing some kid do that as it had been doing it.
Robinson hesitated, then made the call and placed a hand on Ryan’s elbow. “All right. How about you and me go sit down, you drink some water, and we have a little talk?”
Ryan’s eyes widened and he swallowed, then swept the hood back. “Don’t tell my dad. I…”
“Sit. Water. Talk. And I’m going to tell Chuck. That’s just the way it works.” He gave slight pressure, and luckily, Ryan didn’t fight him, following along to one of the sitting areas in the lobby. The restaurant was busy, but the rest of the space was pretty dead, so it wasn’t hard to get some privacy. Robinson fetched two cups of ice water from one of the dispensers—wouldn’t hurt him to stay hydrated either—then sat across from Ryan and sighed. “You sober enough for a conversation?”
Ryan didn’t say anything, but he reached into his front pocket and pulled out a pint of vodka. It was only half full, but that meant it was also half empty.
Robinson took the bottle and stuffed it behind him so hotel staff or passersby wouldn’t see an adult with a teen boy holding a bottle of vodka. That’d be a hell of a scandal for the show . Then he leaned forward so he could keep his voice down. “I’m begging you to tell me you weren’t drinking that straight?” He wanted to keep it light…but he also wanted to suss out how bad this might be. If he was slamming straight vodka back, then he would need to get hold of Chuck ASAP instead of letting this conversation go for a while. He would rather the latter, just so Ryan could have a chance to calm down before facing up to his dad, but he had to do this the right way.
Ryan rubbed his hands down his cheeks with a sigh. “I got together with some friends, since we’re out of the house. We had sodas for mixers.”
That was at least some salve, but not as much as Robinson was hoping for. He couldn’t help but think this was not normal. Ryan was the one spending time with him the most of all the boys. Maybe I said something or did something . Robinson wasn’t going to let that spike of panic out. He needed to get Ryan to chill—he was currently looking around like someone was going to swoop in and arrest him—and then get him to his dad. “Drink your water.”
“I’m sorry.” Ryan shook his head. “I know this is all wrong and illegal and whatever.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me. I think it would be better if you didn’t get drunk, but pot meet kettle. I just got done downing a couple beers.” Robinson looked him over, and Ryan was at least holding eye contact, now. He still had that glassy-eyed look and redness in his cheeks, but he looked calmer. So Robinson figured it was time to bite the bullet. “You think you’re ready for this talk with your dad?”
Ryan tensed, hesitated…then nodded. “Guess I have to. Need to learn to be sneakier.”
“Yeah, that’s really not the lesson I hope you take from this, and I think you dad would agree.” He pulled out his phone. “How’s the room setup? Your dad have his own room?”
Ryan nodded. “I’ll show you where it is.”
Ryan got up like a man heading for the execution chamber. Robinson could recognize the bit of dark humor in it—everything was so much more important when you were a teenager—but it came with no desire to even smile at it. Robinson had a…complicated relationship with his own addiction, to say the least. He had his own fond memories of some of it. Some of the most fun memories he had were from when he was high as balls. But he could only look back happily on all that now, when he basically had his shit under control. Seeing it reflected in someone as young as Ryan was absolutely not complicated at all: he hated it. It wasn’t like he knew Ryan that well, but better than pretty much any other kid. He didn’t spend a lot of time with children, so this was close to new territory for him. He felt pretty damn protective for Ryan being someone else’s kid.
As they headed into the elevator, Robinson shot off a quick text to Chuck.
Hey. Coming up with Ryan. Need to talk .
He didn’t want to reveal any pertinent information in an impersonal text message, especially since they were actively on their way to talk to him in person.
When the elevator opened up, Robinson realized they were staying on the same floor as the crew. Have to be extra careful not to run into him, then .
Chuck walked out of a room down the hallway, but stopped when he saw them. He was obviously worried, brow furrowed and mouth carved into a frown.
“Shit,” whispered Ryan.
Robinson patted him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. He’s concerned, not mad.”
“Yeah, right now.”
They closed the distance and Chuck looked Ryan up and down. “Are you okay?”
“Why don’t you head into the room?” Robinson wasn’t super comfortable taking charge of Chuck’s son, but Robinson also wanted to prep Chuck.
Chuck only got more worried when Ryan walked past him, but he did let the door close most of the way, only holding it open with his heel. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.” Robinson pulled out the half-drunk pint bottle. “He was pretty obviously drunk. I mean, he still is.”
Chuck took the bottle. Then sighed. “Damn. Um, thanks. I’m sorry for involving you.”
“You didn’t involve me.” His belly clenched tight and he figured it was better to apologize himself. Maybe that would make him feel a little bit better. “I’m sorry. I…maybe I mentioned something in passing or wasn’t thinking when I was talking, and he got the idea that this was a good idea. I don’t know. But I’m sorry if he picked this up from me.”
“Robinson—”
Chuck reached a hand out, but Robinson took a step back. “Go on. He’s nervous as hell and drunk. I’m okay. I’m just sorry.” Then Robinson stepped away to head back to his room.
And to sink into his own panic.