Robby (Cooper Construction Book 3)

by Jen Davis

  “I’ve got to sign off, but I can’t wait to hear all about the new gig on Monday.”

  “I won’t leave out a single detail. I promise.”

  The plan, small though it was, made him feel ten feet tall as he drove downtown. The feeling convinced him he really didn’t even need the meeting, but he went. Other than Thomas, there were all new faces. Only two of the folding chairs were open tonight.

  The dragon always did ride hard on a Saturday.

  Robby didn’t have much to share tonight, but he introduced himself, then settled back to listen to others offer their truths.

  One guy who started taking Oxy after a car accident and couldn’t stop.

  A nurse who lost her license swiping pills from a locked cabinet.

  A kid who stole from his parents to buy heroin.

  Then a small, dark-skinned, androgynous person stood, clad in jeans and a gray sweatshirt. A twisted scarf covered their hair. But what struck him most were the big brown eyes, fringed with dark lashes. Those eyes looked older than time. “My name is Sara, and I’m an addict. The first time I took pills from a stranger was after my first night sleeping on the street.”

  Robby’s heart sped up, knowing how the rest of the story would unfold.

  Only, it didn’t. Sara clamped her mouth closed and retook her seat so quickly, the front legs of the chair lifted briefly from the floor.

  He had to talk to her. Let her know he understood.

  It took all of his patience to wait out the rest of the meeting, but as soon as Thomas called it a night, Robby made a beeline to her at the table with the stale coffee. Her eyes hardened instantly when she realized he’d sought her out.

  “See something you like, doll?” The sharp edge in her gravelly voice reminded him of dozens just like it he’d heard over the years. The kind that said a good offense was the best defense.

  He held up his hands. “I just wanted to introduce myself. See if you could use someone to talk to.”

  She scoffed. “Talk, huh?”

  “Yeah. And to make sure you had somewhere to sleep tonight.” How many nights had he wondered where he’d find a safe place to rest?

  “You’re precious, but yeah. I stay at the Q-Center next door.” She cocked her head. “And no, I’m not inviting you to join me.”

  “Q-Center?” She had to be talking about the place with the pride flag in the window he’d seen the other night.

  Sara sighed. “Yes. Q. Like queer. It’s a community center—and a place to sleep sometimes for people who need it. A safe place.”

  His gaze skittered across the room before focusing back on her. “A safe place might’ve made a real difference for me a few years back. I’d love to see it.”

  The heroin-kid swiped a couple of cookies off the table before stalking off.

  Sara watched him for a moment before glaring into her coffee cup. “I told you it wasn’t an invitation.”

  “I don’t mean tonight. Tomorrow maybe? I’m not looking to make you feel unsafe in your home.” But something inside him practically shouted he needed to see it firsthand.

  “Nothing is driving me out of there. Not you. Not anyone. They won’t let me stay in the women’s shelter anymore. Not since some asshole outed me as trans.” She gulped down more of the burnt brew. “It’s not safe at the men’s shelter. And the streets—”

  “I know. Nobody is safe there.”

  She gave him a skeptical once-over. “You know firsthand?”

  He grimaced, and she didn’t wait for further confirmation. “Yeah. I see it now. You hide it really good, though. The hustle.”

  The hustle. It had been years since he’d hustled anyone. “I guess you could call it that. Don’t like to think about it much.” Draining the dregs of his own coffee, he set the cup on the table beside him and immediately regretted it. He needed something to do with his hands.

  “Can’t say I blame you.” She gestured for him to follow her to a sofa on the perimeter of the room. The blue upholstery was worn, but the comfortable cushions welcomed him.

  Sara’s frank gaze bore into him. “You’re pretty. I’ll bet it was a blessing and a curse.”

  No way he would go there. “It got me out of the cold but nowhere I wanted to stay. I got out, though. Found my place. You can too, you know. I’d like to help you if I can.” He rubbed his toe over the long fibers of the patchwork rug in front of him. “Or maybe just be a friend.”

  “And you want what, exactly, in return?” She lifted her chin.

  How many times had he sat on the other side of a conversation like this one, waiting for the other shoe to drop? How many of those offers to help had come without strings?

  None.

  “I don’t want anything from you.” He slid an inch or two away from her, his left hip hitting the arm of the sofa. It didn’t make a big difference in the space between them, but the movement made more of a statement than his words ever could.

  She shook her head, blinking rapidly, then shrunk into herself. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Guess I’m not exactly your type.”

  He fought the urge to scoot back toward her, to offer her comfort. Touch was far too easy to misunderstand, though. And besides, if Sara’s experience had been anything like his own, she’d had enough uninvited contact to last a lifetime.

  Instead, he clasped his hands together on his lap. “I didn’t come here to get laid.” He wasn’t mean about it, but he said it as firmly as he could. “I’ve got everything I need at home. I don’t want your money or your shoes or your body. Do you understand?”

  “Everyone wants something.” The way she said it tugged on memories he scrambled to shove down.

  “I want to see the center. Learn what they do there. Maybe I can help people…like me.” He released his grip on his own fingers and held out his hands in front of him, palms up.

  In his heart, he knew there was only one way to convince her. He had to show her they were the same. Even trying to speak the words felt like fingers squiggling around inside him.

  Sara snarled. “Spare me the Dudley-Do-Right routine. I don’t even know what I’m doing here talking to you.” She gripped the arm of the sofa and pulled to her feet.

  “I get why you don’t believe me. Everyone wanted something from me too. I only had a place to sleep if I earned it. On my back, on my knees, or on my belly.”

  Finally, Sara’s frigid stare softened, and he felt flayed open.

  The words caught in his throat, but he pushed them out. “I did things that still turn my stomach. There’s some stuff I don’t even remember, and I don’t try because it’s better left dead and buried. You get me? But I made it to the other side. You can too.”

  She grunted. “To where? My own mama didn’t want me. Who out there is going to…unless I give ‘em a reason?”

  His heart surged. God put him in this place for this purpose. “You are the reason.” She needed to hear that friends could be real…not everyone wanted to use or abuse. “My family didn’t want me either, but I’ve made a new one. Let me tell you about my best friend, Brick.”

  Chapter SEVEN

  Robby

  Robby always arrived first at the construction site each morning, at least the one where Kane and Brick were working. He probably shouldn’t fashion his day around seeing his friends, but he spent time at the other build with Cy, Evan, and Will too, just not as much.

  And today he’d see Matt. He grinned. They could be gaming together again tonight.

  Brick wandered in, his hardhat already strapped on. “Looks like somebody is having a good morning.”

  Robby motioned to the box of donuts he’d set out on the makeshift counter when he’d first arrived. “Krispy Kreme has that effect on me.”

  “Bullshit,” Brick mumbled, one of the sugary treats already crammed in his mouth. “Only one thing makes you all goofy-looking.” He swallowed. “One person.”

  Kane shoved his phone in his back pocket and swiped a donut for himself. “No kidding. It lo
oks like you took my advice and made friends with the guy. Is he living up to all your hopes and dreams?”

  “He’s nice. We have fun together.” And maybe if he and Matt could be friends, it would help him get over his hopeless infatuation.

  “You need to get out more, brother.” Kane leaned against the island. “Seriously, meet some new people. Broaden your horizons.”

  Robby thought back to his night at the club and shuddered. That was a bust, but Kane probably had a point. “How? Where? You make it sound so easy. But a meat market is not the answer.”

  Brick made a strangled noise against the back of his hand. “Meat market?”

  “Don’t pretend like you’re a prude,” Kane scoffed. “Or do you think Robby’s one? It’s you who is always saying he’s not a kid, brother.”

  The telltale reddening of Brick’s neck meant Kane had hit the nail on the head.

  Robby stared at him in disbelief. “You think I’m a virgin?” He laughed at the absurdity of the idea, but there was no joy in it. “Do you have any idea the kind of stuff I had to do just to survive when my parents kicked me out?”

  Brick’s face paled, and Robby could’ve kicked himself.

  “I’m sorry.” He forced a smile. “Forget I said anything.”

  “I understand better than you think.” A haunted look reflected in Brick’s eyes.

  He couldn’t imagine his badass friend ever feeling as trapped and desperate as he’d once been, but he recognized the truth when he saw it. He nodded his understanding, then looked away.

  “So, the club scene is out.” Kane broke the tension as if the other men hadn’t just nearly bared their souls. “What do you like to do for fun?”

  “I play PlayStation.”

  Kane frowned. “You meet people playing games?”

  Matt entered the room quietly and pulled a water bottle from the cooler on the floor.

  As he turned to walk away, Robby reached out, his hand touching Matt’s arm for a split second. “Hey, wait. How was your first day at the new job?”

  Matt paused, then glanced from Brick to Kane before ducking his gaze. “It was fine.”

  Brick waved his hand at nothing in particular. “We’ll let you get back to it, Robby.” He turned to Kane. “Come give me a hand upstairs.” The big men made their way out of the room with the subtlety of two drag queens at a burlesque show.

  Or maybe it was only obvious to him, because Matt didn’t give them a second look. Instead, he let out a breath, and his shoulders relaxed. He ventured deeper into the kitchen and cocked his hip against the counter. “It was so much easier than I thought it would be. Most people ordered beer, really, or simple drinks like Jack and Coke. I only had to Google three times.”

  “Awesome!”

  Matt grinned. “I didn’t have to talk to anyone, except to say thanks. And the best part? I walked out of there with a hundred and fifty bucks in tips, which isn’t even counting what I’ll get on my paycheck. You know how much this is going to make a difference to my family? One weekend in tips will pay my mama’s light bill.”

  He’d never seen Matt so animated, so…happy.

  “I owe this all to you, Rob. I would have never thought of bartending on my own.” Matt reached out for Robby’s left hand with his right one and pulled him closer before wrapping his other arm around for a brief hug.

  It ended in a second, but the contact lasted long enough for him to learn the feel of Matt’s body against his own. Almost exactly the same height. Maybe a little more muscle mass, but not too big and not too small. And the smell of him, fresh cotton and man.

  He gripped the island to still his shaking hands.

  Matt’s grin froze into place, seconds after he stepped back. “I—I mean, uh, sorry.” He held his hands up in front of him. “I didn’t mean to—”

  His heart fell, and something hard and angry rose in its place. “What? Touch me?” He did mean to enjoy it. Dammit! The hug had been…amazing, and he’d ruined it. Or Matt had ruined it. Either way, the other man’s reaction practically screamed hands off.

  Robby scoffed. “Don’t worry. I get the message loud and clear.” He gestured to the area around him. “This is my dancing space. That is yours.”

  Matt’s forehead wrinkled, the mangled Dirty Dancing reference obviously lost on him, and it only drove up Robby’s embarrassment…his anger…at himself—and at Matt, who was a much more convenient target.

  “I can control myself around you, Matt,” he seethed. “Gay people do it all the time. And you won’t catch it. Your manly man-ness is safe.” With the words still hanging in the air, he hugged his clipboard to his chest and walked out without looking back.

  Not even an hour later, Robby wished he could take it all back. Still, he hid out in the trailer like a chicken all day—even skipping lunch—until Matt left to go home. Then, he rushed to catch Brick before the big man climbed inside his blue Chevy pick-up.

  His friend narrowed his eyes at Robby’s fast approach. “What’s wrong?”

  “I, uh, think I outed myself to Matt. I think I might have also accused him of being a homophobe.” The more he thought back on the entire interaction, the more he was sure he’d overreacted.

  Brick leaned against the cab and laced his hands over his stomach. “Did he deserve it?”

  “Probably not. He gave me a hug and kind of froze up afterward.”

  “And?”

  He covered his eyes with his palms. “There’s no and…just me always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “So, apologize.”

  Robby uncovered his peepers to see Brick looking at him blandly. “How am I supposed to face him? I quoted Dirty Dancing.” He banged the heel of his hand against his head.

  “I—I’ve never seen that movie, but I’m sure it can’t be as bad as you think. All I’m saying is if you fucked up, own it. Apologize. If he’s really your friend, it will be enough.”

  Apologize. He could say he was sorry. It would suck, but it was the kind of thing his mama always called a natural consequence. Those were the times she didn’t have to punish him, because the way something worked out would be punishment enough.

  Like the time he climbed Mrs. Peterson’s tree without permission, then fell out and landed on his backside. He couldn’t walk right for days.

  Or the time he tried his father’s bourbon and ended up with his head in the toilet, begging God to make the misery end.

  He’d earned his lumps back then, and he earned them now. He could only hope he hadn’t poisoned their seed of friendship before it ever really had the chance to bloom.

  ***

  Matt

  If he didn’t need the money so damn much, Matt would have called out sick from work, just so he wouldn’t have to face the almost-friend he had so deeply offended. Of course, it would have only delayed the inevitable, but at this point, he would take any reprieve he could get. With things messed up with Robby, the world had turned upside down. Unfortunately, being able to afford food for his mother trumped his urge to hide under his covers, which was how he came to be here, casing his work site from the car.

  No sign of Robby yet, which was unusual, but Brick’s pick-up was parked along the curb.

  He opened his car door. Closed it. Sunk down in his seat.

  What were the chances the big guy knew what happened?

  Hell, he barely knew what happened. The most important part, though, he’d hurt Robby with his bumbling, self-conscious bullshit.

  He’d been so excited about his job, and Robby had been happy for him. Then he made the colossal mistake of putting his hands on the other man.

  But the touching wasn’t really the mistake, was it?

  It all went bad when he had realized how the touch had affected him. When his body responded against Robby’s lean strength, and the man’s damn wavy hair brushed against his cheek.

  He’d frozen. God only knew what kind of look he’d had on his face. Did Robby see how horrified he’d been?

>   Obviously, but for all the wrong reasons.

  Fuck.

  Robby was gay.

  And now he thinks I’m judging him for it.

  Finally, for the first time in—forever, really—he had made friends with another guy, and he fucked it up because he was getting a boner.

  He’d be excited it had finally happened if he weren’t so damn embarrassed.

  Why did he have to be so bad at…people?

  Peeling away the fingers he had clenched on the steering wheel, he opened the door again, this time forcing himself to relinquish the safety of his sedan. This was just like any other day. He’d say he was sorry and retreat back into the quiet solitude the job had always given him.

  It didn’t matter if he wanted to tell someone about the drunk guy who serenaded his girlfriend on top of a table at the bar. Or how he couldn’t wait to try the new free download from PlayStation, which would be available tonight.

  Keeping to himself wouldn’t be the end of the world. He was good at it. It came easy. Or at least, it always had before.

  Simple. He’d just keep his mind on his work. The seams in the ceiling sheet rock where he’d spread joint compound yesterday needed sanding, and if he wanted it to look smooth, he’d have to do it by hand. Too much pressure would gut the mud into valleys, not enough and the whole thing would look lumpy.

  He abandoned the car and tackled the master bedroom first. Situated out of the way, no one would cross his path unless they made a point to do it.

  Setting up the extra-tall ladder, he alternated sanding with double checking his work with a flashlight. Earbuds piped his favorite Otis Redding and Sam Cooke playlist directly into his brain. “I’ve Been Loving You” never failed to transport him to another place entirely.

  A tug on the left leg of his khakis brought him back to earth. Popping the bud out of one ear, he glanced down…and almost lost his footing when he met Robby’s gaze. He disentangled from the music entirely and carefully descended the ladder.