Chapter 6 Robin #4
“I did. However, I’m pretty sure that dress didn't come with a jacket—you’re not special, everyone else is in costume Robin.
Take it off.” There's such distaste in how he says my name and he takes a slight step towards us, away from Aya.
She's completely oblivious to the viper in her keep.
I'm momentarily stunned at his abruptness, and it becomes very clear he knew how uncomfortable this dress would make me feel.
He's right, I’m not special. Not amongst literal models.
A strong feeling of wrongness hits me and I’m suddenly struggling to breathe.
Memories pummel into me, days spent in silence whilst he ignored me as punishment for whatever I had done to upset him.
The silent treatment would burn a fire in my veins, scorching me worse than not being able to solidify in my mind what I had possibly done wrong.
Days could roll into weeks and then he’d return to paying me attention, like he hadn’t dropped completely off the face of the earth.
I really thought I was over this, over his treatment of me, but maybe I had a long way to go like my therapist had tried to gently remind me.
Wren speaks before I can try to muster anything from my dry lips.
“You wouldn't deny my poor wife her husband’s jacket, when she's cold would you?
I mean we're in character,” Shrugging casually he puts his tattooed hands into his pockets.
“Pretty sure she can wear what she wants, right Corb?
It's just a little game after all.” That smirk I had started to like was nowhere to be seen now, the entire muscle in his jaw practically throbbing.
As Aya leaves her brother, her arm returns to his shoulder and I hope her presence is enough to simmer down this tension.
His eyes bore into Wren and after what feels like the longest minute of my life, he puts his own hand over hers and they turn away like we hadn’t even spoken.
I can’t help but let out a relieved breath, because this time I welcome his silence, if it means he leaves me alone.
We watch them find an empty table on the grass and she slips onto his lap, adjusting herself to watch the band.
I can’t help wondering what she’s like; if she’ll sing or just mock the concept like I know he will.
She looks radiant and content sitting with him, unaware of the monster he is.
WREN is still quiet as he leads me down the patio, hand on the small of my back as we walk towards where the guys are sitting at a larger round table.
It accommodates at least eight and is situated the closest to where a bar has been set up, as well as hanging lights just off the swimming pool and guest house.
Phin had mentioned they planned to find a groundskeeper who can live in the small house, but as Lily slips out from the periwinkle door, setting off the bungalow's front light, I assume they haven’t hired anyone.
We reach the table at the same time, her cheeks flushed slightly, meaning she’s probably a couple of champagne glasses in at this point.
I realise apart from greeting me when I arrived at Nightingale house, I haven’t seen much of her today and god do I want some familiarity right now.
Signalling to the two free seats next to her brother, she waves me off, her eyes darting down to where Wren’s tattooed hand rests on my skin.
Heat stings my cheeks and the overwhelming urge to force distance between us takes over me as I round the table, sitting next to Merle.
The mental gymnastics I keep putting myself through is already exhausting, but what would she think if I allowed myself to lean back into his touch?
Wren grimaces, but the expression is gone in a flash as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods to the bar. “Does anyone want a drink? I’ll go make some. Wife?”
“Wife?” She scoffs at him, her hands settling on her hips as she glares.
“Yes? The soul that fits mine, my missing part, the eternal flame in my heart.”
“You’re so stupid.” Phin snorts.
He really needs to stop and all jokes aside, one thought won’t stop bouncing around my head—I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. I remind myself of Wednesday night. I remind myself the way I felt being leered at by the bouncer. That all happened because Wren wanted to have some power trip. I read endless fan forums of just how much he keeps things casual, so why would I be any different? He’s probably just being nice to try and get me into bed with him, or piss off Willow by shamelessly flirting with me.
I don’t have a clue what’s happened between them—what if this is some sick sex game they play?
I’m nothing special. People like him only amuse people like me with their attention, I’ve been told that before.
Stop trying to get attention to deflect from how boring your life is.
“Robin?”
My head snaps up to meet Phin’s worried blue eyes, his hand reaching out across Merle to me, and instinctively my fingers twitch to reach over to squeeze it.
My eyelashes flutter like dusting the bad memories away, as I tightly smile.
Putting my hand into the blazer’s inside pocket, I bring out the red character card and wave it at Lil.
“Our characters are married. We’re Mr and Mrs Wilson.
” I stuff the card back in a pocket as she huffs.
“Well that’s weird. You don’t know each other.
” There’s something more behind her words, as she gives me an accusing look.
Her finger waves fall over one shoulder and I can see strands of gold fibres, the dying sun making it shimmer.
She really has gone full throttle on the gold theme, just like her brother.
I don’t say anything and thankfully there’s motion on the makeshift stage area made of rugs, where Corbin now stands, taking a microphone from its stand.
“Lovely. I’m going to get us some drinks.” Wren gruffly mumbles, stalking off towards the bar without looking at any of us.
“As everyone is here now, I thought I would explain how the game is going to work. After this,” he waves a hand around him, looking at the band with a bemused look.
“We’ll sit down for dinner and the game starts.
The first murder will be committed tonight and then all weekend we’ll be looking for clues.
” He pauses for a long moment as he takes in each guest now watching him, a smirk growing on his lips as a cold shiver runs down my body.
When our eyes meet, I somehow have the feeling that his words could solely be for me.
“Secrets are going to be revealed and they are very true. Each of you here has a secret hidden in the house or grounds. Each secret is accompanied by a clue of the game, leading you to the next set of clues and secrets. If you find your own secret, fantastic. You can keep it to yourself or share it, I don’t care.
If you find someone else’s secret, it has to be revealed to the group.
” He takes a long sip of his whisky that sits in his free hand, as the game rules settle in amongst us all.
I squirm under his gaze that is still on me, before he breaks it to hand the microphone to the nearest guest musician, saunters off the rugs.
Taking Aya's hand, he plants a kiss to it and sits back down, shuffling her back onto his lap.
Phin rakes a hand through his hair and sighs, just as Wren returns and plants a glass with ice into his waiting hand, to which he guzzles it enthusiastically.
He hands Merle a beer, puts a can of diet cola down in his spot and leans over to place a tumble of dark liquid in front of me.
The ice clinks against the glass, and I can see it’s garnished with orange peel and a cinnamon stick.
I bring the cool tumble to my nose and sniff, the citrus and cinnamon hitting me, as well as the faint hint of rum.
It smells devine. Taking a sip, I hum my approval, slightly amazed that he’s made me a drink I really like.
It tastes heavenly, with the perfect ratio of alcohol to what I assume is cola.
His non-alcoholic choice of drink grabs my attention and a passing notion intrigues me.
Whilst we all started on the champagne since arriving, he turned down both myself and Lily offering him the bottle.
At no point did anyone offer him a glass, but Phin did offer to make him another coffee at lunch.
He didn’t take a welcoming drink either, so whilst I feel slightly buzzed with only having a couple so far, he is perfectly sober.
I think Wren doesn’t drink alcohol.
Placing the glass down, I push past my reservations and give him a soft smile.
“Thank you.” Ruffling the hair at the back of his neck, he gives me a small smile and nods, sitting down just as Cardinal grabs the chair next to me.
He wears a grey three piece suit that emphasises his muscles, the fit perfect for his body, as if he's more used to wearing attire like this than casual wear.
His dark hair and short beard are both smartly groomed, but look pretty much the same from when we picked him up from the station.
“I’m sorry, but your brother is a fucking arsehole.” He says, putting his bottle of beer down onto the table.
Without hesitation I move forward, slamming my palm down next to it, making him jolt in his seat.
“Right!” I stretch out the word, and to my astonishment Wren bursts into laughter.
Eyes wide, he smacks his hand over his mouth, like he can’t believe I pulled him out of whatever distant brooding he was doing.
Holy shit, did he get my joke?
I can’t help but look back at him with wide eyes too, because usually no one other than Phin understands how much I really love pop culture. I could speak in movie quotes alone if I was left to my own devices.
“Did you just Glinda him?” He asks, removing his hand as a grin sneaks onto his face.
“Did she just what? No. You know what?” Cardinal twists in his chair, pointing his finger at me like a teacher warning their student. “You stop this now Drew. Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” He wiggles his finger tips at me like he’s casting a reverse hex, and my own smile twists in bemusement.
“Drew? My name’s Robin. How could you forget after our magical ride together?” I ask, causing Wren to nearly spit his drink out. Beside him Phin starts to howl as the tips of his ears turn pink. Picking up his beer bottle, he raises it to his lips, shooting a pointed glare in the guy's direction.
“She means the fucking car ride here.” Taking a long sip of his beer before continuing, he motions to me, “You’re a crime writer, right? You wrote a mystery, like Nancy Drew.”
“Nancy Drew is a teenage sleuth.” I reply, biting my lip to keep from laughing at him.
“Same thing isn’t it?”
“No. I’m an author, she’s a fictional character who is a sleuth,” I make a forwarding motion with my hands, unable to contain a giggle. “She solves mysteries.”
“Well I don’t fucking know! Sounds like the same thing to me.” Cardinal chides.
I shake my head as he slouches back in his chair, nursing the rest of his beer.
Patting his knee, I place my other hand on the brim of my chair, ready to propel myself out of it.
“Thank you for the pet name Cardy. I’ll be sure to use it when I sign us both up to sing Fergalicious.
” I say before pushing up, unable to stop a cackle of laughter escaping as I leave the table.
Band karaoke was created whilst Phin was at boarding school, but he brought it over to my own dorm whenever he got the chance to sneak over for the weekend.
We weren’t allowed boys in our rooms, but the house mothers were pretty poor at checking.
He’d always go out of his way to invite what seemed like the entire floor; making friends for me, in his own way to make sure when he left, he knew I had people to depend on.
The music grows the closer I reach the band, eyeing the sign up sheet where it lays upon discarded flight cases.
I’m not actually going to sign us up to sing together, but I do want to put my name down for some good old Fleetwood Mac.
Lil and the girls are already there, flicking through the list of songs the band have approved they can play.
Before I reach them though, I’m twirling, giving the table I just left a large grin.
I’m taunting him, but it’s Wren that my eyes fall upon.
His hair is tousled as his hand lingers in it, eyes like dewy grass meeting mine.
My grin almost falters as I take in how his lips are pursed and I feel entranced, continuing walking backwards, further towards the loud music starting.
“I swear to god, I’ll sing Fergie over my dead body!” Cardinal nearly screams across the grass.
“Pretty fitting at a murder mystery party don’t you think.” Phin remarks, nudging Wren who doesn’t retort. He’s not the only one who looks torn, I realise Merle was unusually quiet and sits fiddling with a coaster until it flutters to the grass in pieces.