Robby (Cooper Construction Book 3)

by Jen Davis

  —R

  He’d looked into getting a Plus account a year before, but he just couldn’t justify the sixty bucks when it could be spent on diapers or food. But a free trial wouldn’t hurt. Worst case scenario, he’d lurk online, hate it, and never come back.

  It only took a few minutes to fire up the PlayStation and get the trial set up. Scratches and dings covered the console—he’d bought it used at GameStop—but it worked fine. A quick search later, he’d found Robby and sent out an invitation to connect.

  Thankfully, he was playing one of the only two games Matt owned.

  The headphones sprang to life with a cacophony of voices. He teetered on the verge of pulling the device right back off when he heard Robby speak.

  “Matt! You made it.” He sounded downright happy about it.

  He forced himself to answer. “Hey, Rob.” It was the best he could do. Too many strangers in the conversation.

  Playing with real people didn’t change the dynamics of the game much. He still killed his targets, only now he focused his kills on the other team. Robby tried to engage with him a few times, but he only managed a few grunts.

  About thirty minutes in, his phone chimed with a text.

  Robby: Wanna break off to a private party? We can stay on the team and just have the two of us on the headset.

  Matt shot back a thumbs-up emoji and set up the two-way connection. It was a relief not to have so many voices in his ears.

  “Shoulda realized the noise might be too much, man. Sorry.”

  “Nah.” Matt shook his head, even though no one could see him. “It’s fine. Thanks for the invite.”

  They fell into the game, and at first, only Robby spoke, but as Matt’s discomfort fell away, he found himself answering more and more.

  The conversation centered entirely on the gameplay, which helped. Like, “Look out for the sniper,” or an occasional, “Bull…I totally hit the target.”

  Before he realized it, the clock had ticked past midnight, and he found himself downright yelling at the screen when their team won by the skin of their teeth.

  “Great job, man.” Robby’s words were a little slower than usual. “I’ve got to sign off, though. I’ve been up since five.”

  He glanced at the clock. Normally, he would have gone to bed hours ago. “Sure. It’s cool.” He winced. Hopefully, Robby hadn’t heard the disappointment in his voice.

  Robby hummed. “Hit me up if you want to play tomorrow. I’ll be on around four.”

  “Later.” He’d barely said the word before Robby disconnected.

  Climbing in his bed, he considered his plans for the next day. He’d bring diapers to Patty’s in the morning, a perfect chance to check on his son. Job hunting in the afternoon. PlayStation with Robby when he was done.

  A total break from his regular monotony. His skin tingled with excitement.

  He fell asleep, dreaming of a real-life military mission, Robby at his side, taking down the enemy with a partner who had his back.

  Chapter SIX

  Matt

  The visit to Patty’s place could get the day off to a great start or a terrible one, depending on the state she was in. The complex was a little sketchy, but neither he nor she could do anything about it.

  Time and age had warped the gray siding on the front of the building. It was relatively small, with two units upstairs and two units beneath. Cracked, old, green paint and rust marred the metal railing along the second story. Patty had one of the downstairs apartments.

  Dread pooled in his stomach when he knocked. Who would answer the door—normal Patty or the fire-breathing one? His poor mama was still scandalized over the poison Patty spewed at the house the other night.

  He didn’t have to wait long. The door opened to reveal his old friend, freshly showered, her braids pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore jeans and a Gorillaz T-shirt.

  She cocked her hip and smirked when she saw him standing there. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

  He held up the pack of Pampers. “Thought you could use these.”

  Grunting, she stepped aside to let him in.

  He could smell a trace of cleaning products, which tracked with the absence of dust and grime in the small living space. Whatever her mystery job was, it obviously didn’t pay much, but at least Patty did her best with the place she had.

  Jimmy sat in the playpen Matt had purchased for him, just below the light fixture designed to hang over the kitchen table Patty had pushed to the side. He babbled to himself while stacking several colorful plastic blocks.

  “You can put them on the kitchen counter.” She gestured to a clear spot next to the sink.

  He did as she asked, then unzipped the diaper bag on his shoulder. “I brought some milk and a few things I thought he might like.” He put the half gallon in the fridge, which was mostly empty, except for a McDonald’s bag, rolled at the top, and a few slices of cheese.

  The pantry didn’t look much better, though there were a few cans of SpaghettiOs, some dry rice, and a box of off-brand cereal. He added three bags of instant mashed potatoes—Jimmy’s favorite—along with cans of green beans, chicken, and tuna. The cabinet still looked a little bare when he was done, but it was an improvement.

  “You don’t have to do all that, you know?” Patty rubbed at the back of her neck. “I’ve got a job. I just haven’t been to the store yet.”

  “I know, Pat.” He almost reached out to her but pulled his hand back at the last minute. “Any word on a permanent schedule? I can help out with childcare if you need it.”

  She waved him off. “My shifts are mostly at night. It makes more sense for Jimmy to stay with my mom.”

  He swallowed his disappointment over the fact she didn’t offer to let Jimmy stay with him. He didn’t have time to fight again. At least the job seemed to be making her happy. Not only was it good for Jimmy, but Patty had been his best friend for years. He wanted it for her too.

  “Antoine and I broke up.” She folded her arms, almost daring him to call it a good thing.

  No way he’d step onto a landmine like her love life. But it was a good thing. And it explained why she’d been in such a foul mood last night. She was better off without him, though. He didn’t treat her right, but she took it. Maybe she thought she had to, to keep him. But the Patty he’d grown up with had always been tough and independent. Matt liked her better that way—at least when she wasn’t trying to bust his balls.

  “I’m sorry if you’re sad about it, but I’m glad you’ve got a job that makes you happy.” He poured as much encouragement as he could into his smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

  Patty held up her hand, and years of habit had him shutting his mouth so fast his back teeth clacked together. “It’s just not the life I thought I was going to have, but it’s getting better. It’s going to keep getting better.”

  “Good,” he murmured. Patty had dreamed of becoming an illustrator for graphic novels. She’d had amazing talent too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her with her pencils. And he wasn’t touching the subject with a twenty-foot pole. “Thanks for giving me time with Jimmy next weekend.”

  “Whatever,” she grumbled. “Give him a kiss and go. I’ve got shit to do.”

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. He swept up his son and swung him around, his chubby little legs flying behind him.

  “Da! Da-dee!” Jimmy’s unabashed happiness to be in his arms always took his breath away.

  He stopped spinning and hugged his boy to his chest. “Are you having a good morning with Mommy?”

  Jimmy bounced enthusiastically in his arms. “Bami. Bami. Bami.”

  That was new one. Matt raised his eyebrows at Patty.

  She sighed. “He’s talking about Bambi. We’ve watched it like ten times this week, including once this morning. It’s his new favorite.”

  “Hey,” he ventured. “I heard they might be releasing a new Serenity mini-series.”

  She shook her head.
“It’s just a rumor. They’re done with the comic. It was never as good as the show.”

  Firefly had always been a favorite of hers.

  “But it’s canon. You know if there’s more to the story you can’t turn it down.” He grinned.

  “Stop trying to butter me up with nerd-talk.” Patty smirked. “Now, go.”

  Though his heart wanted him to stay longer, he released his son back into his playpen and gave Patty a small salute. “You need anything, just call.”

  “I will. And, hey, I’m sorry for saying all that shit in front of your mom. I’ll apologize to her the next time I see her.”

  His mom would forgive her. She loved Patty like a daughter.

  From Patty’s place, he set out for the first of three bartending jobs he’d found online before he left home. His search terms had actually come back with four hundred seventy-six hits, but he’d spent an hour paring them down, first ruling out any requiring previous experience, then those which specified hours he would be on the construction site. Even if none of the places on his list worked out, he still had plenty other choices.

  He wasn’t in the market for a dance club or anywhere the music would be too loud or the place too packed. Big crowds could mean more money, for sure, but he had too much to learn, and he knew this would already be a trial by fire. If it got too hot, he’d burn alive.

  He picked places with names he equated to a bar guys might go to chill: Frank’s Place, The Spot, and Closing Time.

  The Spot was closest and from the outside appeared just as he’d expected. A small standalone building, almost like a shack with two tinted windows, both with turned off neon signs boasting beer brands. One car sat in the modest parking lot, and as Matt approached the door, he caught the muted sound of music seeping out. He didn’t realize it was R&B until he walked inside. An old Luther Vandross song.

  Inside, a single elderly guy in a worn overcoat sat on a barstool, sipping a drink from a highball glass. His eyes never looked up from the scarred wood of the bar; the dark skin of the hand he had wrapped around his drink peeked out from fingerless gloves. Only the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed his awareness of Matt standing behind him.

  “Can I help you?”

  He started at the woman’s voice. Intent on the man, he hadn’t even noticed her on the opposite side of the wraparound structure.

  As she stepped out of the shadows, he could see she was a heavyset white woman in her forties, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore black jeans, a red tank-top, and a suspicious expression. “Sir?”

  “Yeah,” Matt mumbled, his eyes making a quick survey of the room. He caught sight of two empty tables on the far side of the room, but the dim light kept him from making out too many details. “I’m here about the bartending job.”

  She raised her eyebrows, two hand-drawn black arcs above her eyes, and swept a critical gaze from his head to his feet. “Pay’s five dollars an hour, plus tips. Weekend days only.”

  His eyes returned to the old guy on the stool. If this was the average daytime clientele, he doubted he’d get too many tips. He could make more money working at McDonald’s. But how to get out of here without being rude?

  The discomfort must have shown on his face because the bartender waved him off. “Didn’t think so. Get on out of here.”

  Okay. Next stop.

  Closing Time turned out to be nestled between a Mexican restaurant and a sporting goods store at a strip mall. The parking lot only had a few open spaces toward the back, but there was no telling how many of those people were eating, shopping, or day drinking. Steeling his shoulders back, he covered the distance to the door in long strides.

  Though some kind of coating on the window kept him from seeing in, when he crossed the threshold, he realized the effect only went one way. He could see clearly back out into the parking lot, and, more importantly, sunshine mingled with the overhead lighting, illuminating every corner of the room.

  Like The Spot, the bar was shaped like an oval so it faced both sides of the room, but the similarities ended there. The space was bright and clean, the dark wood of the bar, unmarked. Red pleather covered the barstools, and booths lining the left side of the room had matching upholstery. The right side featured four tall, round tables and four dart boards, two of which were currently in use. Two old-style arcade games stood in one corner and two women shot pool all the way in the back.

  He counted about twenty people, most on the right side, but one couple shared a basket of fries at a booth. The room smelled like chicken fingers.

  Everyone looked to be around his age, except for the man behind the bar who greeted him with an easy smile. The crinkles around his eyes and the gray in his hair made him look close to fifty. “What can I get you? Longnecks are two for one right now.”

  He returned the man’s smile, though he doubted he projected the same ease. “I’m here about the job.” He held out his hand and the guy shook it. “Name’s Matt York.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Matt. I’m Tom, and I sure am glad to meet you.”

  Turned out, Tom owned the place and served as both bartender and short-order cook for the time being, since two of his employees ran off together, leaving both of their significant others behind.

  Tom rubbed at his clean-shaven jaw. “Tell me you’re not interested in any relationship drama.”

  He most definitely was not. He had enough drama to last him a lifetime. “No, sir. I’m just trying to earn some extra cash to help take care of my mom and my son.”

  Tom’s friendly smile somehow grew even warmer. “A family man? Oh, I like to find guys like you. How old is your boy?”

  Matt pulled his phone out of his back pocket and lit up the home screen photo of Jimmy. “He turned one in November.”

  “Looks like my grandson.” Tom beamed at Jimmy’s photo and thumbed Matt’s attention to a picture posted on one of the beams.

  Tom didn’t look black, but the child in the picture was. And sure enough, he did remind Matt of his own little boy. “Yes, sir.”

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Shows me you’re responsible, which is what I am looking for. I only ask for you to be on time, to treat my customers well, and not to make trouble.” He pulled out a clipboard from under the bar, and it made Robby’s face flash behind Matt’s eyes. “Just fill out this application, and if it all checks out, you can start tomorrow. It’s just weekend days for now. Okay with you?”

  It was perfect. He found himself mouthing along to the Beyoncé song playing from the overhead speakers as he worked on the form. He even chuckled as he handed in the paper and caught sight of three guys reenacting the dance moves from the video.

  He left with a promise to return the next morning at eleven for his first shift.

  The next two hours disappeared with a hastily prepared turkey sandwich and a crash course on a website Tom recommended, learning some basic drink recipes. He was studying so intently, he nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone alarm went off.

  Four-fifteen. Robby had told him four o’clock. Fifteen minutes was not rude, but not desperate—or so he told himself as he fired up his PlayStation. He’d barely put on his headset before a message popped up on his screen from Robby inviting him to play.

  When he accepted, Robby’s familiar voice welcomed him back. “I’m so glad you’re here. My team is getting its butt kicked.”

  “Let me get into position.” He quickly got his character into place to provide cover fire. And just like the night before, he fell into an easy rhythm with his co-worker, and their team came out on top when the time ran out.

  “Eat dirt!” Robby crowed as the scores popped up on the screen. “You rock at this, Matt. How long have you been gaming?”

  “Always. Long as I can remember. But we all grew up on PlayStation, right?”

  Robby didn’t answer.

  He tried again. “What about you? Were you playing Final Fantasy when you were a kid or were you always into shooters?”
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  “I didn’t play until I was older. My family—the town where I grew up was kind of cut off. Nobody had a PlayStation. Most people didn’t even have internet. It was too rural.”

  Matt wanted to ask what he did to entertain himself without gaming or the internet, but something in Robby’s voice made him suspect the questions would be unwelcome. Like he’d done so easily all of his life, he was tempted to let the silence prevail.

  No. Not this time. “You’ll never believe it, but I took your advice.”

  “Huh?”

  That’s right. Reengage. “About bartending. I picked up a side-job. I start tomorrow.”

  “Awesome!” The pride in the way Robby said it was almost palpable. The stumble in their conversation was forgotten.

  “I’ve been studying some of the basic drink recipes, but if anyone asks for something I can’t find on the website, I’m screwed.”

  Robby made a noise of disagreement. “You can Google anything. It’s going to be great. Don’t worry.”

  “I hope so.” He exhaled. “I really need the money. People are depending on me.”

  “Like your son.”

  “Yeah. Jimmy. And my mom. I’ve got to do right by them.”

  “If anyone can, it’s you.”

  An ember of pride burned in his chest at Robby’s encouraging words. For the first time, he thought maybe he could.

  ***

  Robby

  Robby cursed himself silently for gushing, but the way Matt talked about being there for his son, well, the kid was lucky. He braced to get shut down, but instead, Matt chuckled.

  “Thanks, Rob. It’s nice to have someone believe in me. I’m really glad we’re hanging out.”

  It was a good thing Matt couldn’t see the blush burning his cheeks. No way he’d be able to hide his swelling crush face-to-face. They played another hour or so before the timer beeped on his phone. As much as he’d been feeling better, he’d promised himself he’d attend another meeting tonight.