Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Alice’s Book Café, Freedom
E den
I take a sip of the Darjeeling tea, savoring its floral, grape-like flavor. It’s been served in Alice’s Book Café just how I like it without milk. This way, I can fully appreciate its flavor.
This was Mum’s favorite tea.
It makes me feel something complicated that I don’t fully understand to think of her, when I’m living so far away.
Shay calls it homesickness .
Yet my home is with Robyn now.
Can you miss your old home, when you have a new one?
Only a few more days to go, before I can send my first pay back to Mum and Dad.
Mine may not be as much as Shay’s, but Shay’s been as kind a brother as ever and told me this morning that we’ll send our pay as a lump sum to them.
So, they won’t be able to tell how much we’re both sending.
It made my cheeks flush with shame.
At the same time, it made me feel better.
We’re going to ask my parents to spend it on a holiday to somewhere like France or Spain. Otherwise, they’ll put it in savings or use it on something sensible like rent.
Mum and Dad have never been on holiday before. In fact, they’ve never traveled outside Guildford.
I didn’t think that it mattered.
Shay was the one who used to cry because he couldn’t go camping with the other kids at school or on day trips because our parents couldn’t afford it.
I was secretly relieved not to be put through the torment.
But then, I went on the road trip with Robyn and D’Angelo, seeing the beauty of the American states that we traveled through. I began to understand how large and life changing the wider world could be.
I want that for Mum and Dad.
“You look happy.” Robyn nudges me with her elbow. “You almost smiled.”
“Thinking.” I take another drink of tea.
“Dangerous.”
I’m dressed in leather trousers and a thick, gray sweater and long coat against the cold. I’ve wrapped my gray scarf around Robyn’s neck, however, because she forgot hers.
She’s dressed in ink stained jeggings and creased blouse, under her woolen coat.
My expression tightens.
It looks like Robyn pulled those clothes off her floor, rather than the carefully ironed pile of fresh laundry that I did for her.
She’s still struggling.
Robyn is sitting next to me at a table in the café, which is shaped like a mushroom.
The entire café is themed after the book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland .
The bookcases are built out of giant playing cards, while they’re guarded by chess pieces.
The café is styled like the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
White Rabbit sculptures pose by the door anxiously checking their watches. Vases of red roses stand in the middle of the tables.
My nose wrinkles at the rich, mingling scents of coffee, tea, and sweet pastries.
Only one other young man, who looks like a student in glasses and preppy shirt, is sitting at a far table. He’s buried deeply in a large book on the history of witch hunts.
This bookstore is my favorite place in Freedom.
When I was first learning to read, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was an escape for me.
I hoped that I’d fall down a rabbit hole into a magical world and never come out again.
D’Angelo told me about this bookstore.
“Books and tea,” D’Angelo said, casually. “It seems about your speed. I put some money into the business to help one of my friends set it up. It’s also small and quiet. People go there to buy a book and read it at a table over a slice of cake. Nobody will come up and talk to you.”
D’Angelo understands me without me needing to say anything.
How does he do that?
He’s right. I love it here. But I want to share it with Robyn today.
I’m going to buy her any book she likes for this week’s book club, after we’ve had this drink.
Robyn places down her coffee and picks up a sticky bun with eat me written on the top in white icing. “Great choice for our lunch break. I appreciate this, by the way. You were perfect last night, when I needed your support.”
I study her. “How are you now?”
Robyn takes a deliberately large bite of the bun to avoid answering for a long moment.
Then she answers, mumbling around her mouthful, “Holding on. Just. I called Cody earlier. He says that he’s fine, but I know my brother and he isn’t. Honestly, I want to do what’s right for him. He said that Mike’s been amazing. I’m relieved that Code has a husband like that. Wilder would have said it was all my fault and I should obey my dad, you know?”
I nod, grimly.
Rage rushes through me. I shutter my expression.
Robyn wipes her hand over her mouth, smearing the icing off her lips. “Anyway, Code told me not to screw up things between Dad and me. He doesn’t want to wreck my relationship with him. Plus, he knows how precarious things are for D’Angelo and Shay right now in the team. He made me promise to focus on that.”
I place down my teacup because it’s threatening to crack I’m holding it so hard.
Can I focus on killing coach?
I take a steadying breath. “Okay.”
Robyn gives me a wary look. “Okay what?”
“Just okay.”
“Hmm.” She narrows her eyes dubiously. “Save some of the anger that I can see in your molten eyes for Colton. The asshole worked the guys so hard that D’Angelo had to carry Shay home last night.”
My lips twitch.
From what my twin told me with a dreamy expression on his face this morning, it was D’Angelo who worked him hard in the showers afterward.
Shay’s legs weren’t working because of pleasure and not because of being pushed past his limits by a coach.
On the other hand, Colton is still a bully.
Shay’s been groaning with every step today, and that is Colton’s fault.
I think.
I hum noncommittally.
Robyn licks her sticky fingers. “Are you still working on the obsessive fans?”
My shoulders stiffen. “I don’t want my twin to see this shit.”
“Hey, we can be our players’ shield, remember?” Robyn’s gaze becomes concerned. “It’s bad then?”
I nod.
“The irony is that this has happened because of the success of the team, combined with my PR. The Rebels are the underdogs who have done good, and some people identify with that. Freedom is a poor town, and having their team succeed on a national scale has been awesome for boosting their pride. It’s an emotional thing.”
“I don’t understand. Why would that make you want to create fanart, which shows the players fucking each other? Make you threaten to kill them, if they don’t suck your dick?”
Robyn pushes her hair roughly behind her ear. “It doesn’t for genuine fans. The real fans are the beating heart of the Bay Rebels. But these other obsessive ones go beyond the boundaries, harass other fans, cross lines, and take extreme measures to get close to the players. That’s the difference.”
“They’re using the obsession to fill in the hollowness inside themselves,” I say slowly, as realization dawns. For the first time, I understand them, but also, see how dangerous they could become. “If they have a make-believe relationship with a celebrity, then it’s better than facing the empty, lonely truth of their lives.”
I know that truth.
I lived it for twenty-one years before Robyn.
Robyn is studying me with a look, which is almost like concern.
Why?
“Obsession is something that we all live with in different ways. D’Angelo knows that with his OCD, I was stalked and targeted by both Wilder and Melanie, and each of us were screwed by Gibbs’ obsession.” She shrugs. “Whatever reason this mystery person is doing this now, it has to stop. It’s fucking D’Angelo up. Plus, sending shit to our home is crossing a serious line into stalking. D’Angelo has hired his PI friend, Garcia, to track down who the main offenders are.”
“Is that legal?”
Robyn’s expression hardens. “I don’t give a fuck. They broke into our real life, while hiding behind their keyboards. They won’t think that it’s as fun, when we know who they actually are.”
I reach and cup her cheek. “My dark Robyn.”
She laughs. “Yep, and you’re dark Batman. Actually, I can see that.”
More like the Joker. I admire his dedication to seeing the world burn.
I flex my shoulders, suddenly aware of the phoenix tattoo on my back. It took a lot of painful sessions to have the symbol of my death and rebirth inked on my skin.
I pull back from Robyn. “I want to take you somewhere special, once you’re done here. Do you have time?”
Robyn looks surprised. “Special? Intriguing.”
I take a deep breath.
I haven’t spoken to anyone about this. It’s harder to get out these words than others.
Talking about my ink is like skinning myself alive. But for Robyn, I’ll do it.
She gives me the strength.
I take a deep breath. “My body never felt like it belonged to me. Even when I washed or touched myself, I could barely feel it. It was wrong because my body wasn’t mine. I would walk to my kitchen job at college past this tiny tattoo parlor. I became fixated on the idea that if I inked my skin — added piercings — like the men who I saw going in and out, then finally, I would own myself.”
Robyn’s eyes glint with tears.
“And you did. Your tattoos are beautiful, phoenix.” She glances at the student to check that he’s still not paying any attention to us, before she drops her voice to add, “Plus, you know that I love how sensitive your piercings make you.”
“So do I.” My cheeks tint with pink. “But I couldn’t afford the modifications. I finally built up the courage to go into the parlor and ask anyway. When the bloke looked over my pale skin, he said that I’d make the perfect canvas . He’d do the work for free, if I let him take photographs of them to advertise his work. I loved my time having the work done. The buzz of the needles. The slow transformation through pain. The tattoo artist didn’t speak. The people who drifted in and out were like me — shadows who didn’t exist in the same world as everybody else.”
Robyn is looking at me in wonder. “You never talk this much.”
The tips of my ears redden.
I turn away.
I knew that I’d get this wrong.
Why do I keep trying to act like a real person?
I’m shit at it.
“Hey.” Robyn snatches my hand, pulling me back to face her. “I’m not criticizing. I’m happy . I never want you to stop talking to me. It means a lot. It just made me realize that this means a lot to you too.”
I give her a long gaze, before I nod.
This next part is even harder.
I reach into the pocket of my coat and pull out a small, moleskin notepad. It’s part of the stationary that D’Angelo gave me the budget to buy as his PA.
I had the best time ordering my dream stationary.
At college, I’d stare longingly at the soft looking folders and notebooks that the other students carried, which bristled with color coded Post-it notes.
Now, I have an entire drawer of my own Post-its.
I’m proud of that.
I hold the notepad nervously in front of Robyn. “My ink is about my past. Pain. I want new ink that is only about now. Happiness.”
Robyn breaks into a smile. “That’s awesome.”
My gaze is piercing. “I want you .”
I flip open the notepad to show Robyn the new design that I’ve drawn.
I’ve been working on it for the last couple of weeks: A simple robin with its wings outstretched like it’s about to take flight.
Be free.
Robyn’s eyes widen.
Awe-struck, she reaches out, as if to touch the feathers of the red robin. Then she stops herself, although her finger traces over the air above the design.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers. “Is this…me?”
“I want you nestled between the roses and the thorns. You accepted my darkness, but I also have light now.”
“Phoenix,” Robyn breathes. She leans over to kiss me, lightly. “Are you sure?”
To me, this is the most intimate thing that I can offer her.
My body.
My soul.
This way, Robyn will be forever with me. When we’re apart, I’ll only have to look down at my arm, and my pretty Robyn will be there.
I stroke over the design. “If you are…?”
Robyn kisses me again. “You never need my permission to take control over your own body. But if you want to know how I feel, it’s blown away. Fucking honored. I love it.”
She’s smiling widely.
She must mean it then, right?
I relax.
“Freedom has a tattoo parlor on Main Street,” I say. “I have an appointment this afternoon. Jude has given me the time off. Would you come with me? I’ve always been alone for my tattoos before.”
“Try to stop me.” Robyn nuzzles even closer to me. “I’ll hold your hand.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Perhaps just watch.”
Unexpectedly, my phone rings.
I try to pull away from Robyn to answer it, but she makes a complaining sound and wrenches her chair nearer to mine.
Instead, I struggle to slide my hand into my pocket and answer my phone, as Robyn loops her arm around my shoulder.
Uncomfortable, I glance around and realize with relief that we’re now alone in the café.
I hold the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Are you still with Robyn?” D’Angelo demands.
I freeze.
Something’s wrong.
He sounds like he’s on the edge of a panic attack.
“Shall we come back to the house?” I offer.
“I’m not the kind of shit boss who gives you time off and then takes it back again,” D’Angelo replies. “I’m here with your brother. I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” Robyn yells across me.
Of course she’s been listening in.
She sounds as concerned as I am.
“I’m not in immediate danger,” D’Angelo qualifies in a way that makes me more worried and not less. “But another gift was just delivered to Captain’s Hall.”
“What is it?” My whole body feels like it’s tingling with pins and needles.
“A diamond Rolex.” D’Angelo’s voice is tight. “My favorite brand. Inside the box it reads: For my prince of devils from your corrupted angel. Wear this on Halloween. Then I’ll know that you think of me, as much as I think of you XXX .”