Taking Charge (5 page)

“Oh whatever! Sor-ry!” Sierra yelled in Robyn’s
face.

Then the girl turned and ran up the hallway toward
the bedrooms.

“Sienna, go and change and maybe you can have a
brownie before bed,” Pam suggested, smiling at her other
daughter.

“More sugar just before bed?” Bob raised an
eyebrow.

“Oh, it won’t hurt this once. Now Robyn, is there
anything I can get you? Some coffee? A brownie?” Pam asked.

“No, honestly, I’m fine. I mean, I’m good. I think
I’ll just go to bed if that’s okay,” Robyn said.

“Of course, honey. You’re in the guest room. You
remember where it is, don’t you?” Pam asked.

“Yeah, thanks. Well, goodnight and thanks for the
meal and for picking me up and everything. I guess I’ll see you in
the morning,” Robyn said, gathering up her luggage and heading down
the hallway.

“Goodnight, honey. Let me know if you need anything.
There’s a clean towel on your bed and there’s a new toothbrush and
toothpaste in the en-suite,” Pam called after her.

Robyn entered the room, dumped her bags in the
corner, and leapt onto the big double bed. It was covered in a
thick quilt with huge floral cushions. She kicked off her tennis
shoes and lay back. There was something to be said for Pam’s
whimsical taste in decoration; it was both comforting and
comfortable. She had always felt more at home at Pam and Bob’s
house than she had in her own. Pam and Bob had spats, usually when
Pam objected to the amount of ice hockey on the television or to
Bob spending both days of the weekend fishing, but their
“discussions” had nothing on the arguments her parents used to
have. They had always started small and escalated into full scale
war. Glasses were smashed, her mother would cry, Eddie would holler
until he almost turned blue, and Robyn had hidden in the basement
until it was over.

She closed her eyes and turned onto her side.
Childhood wasn’t something she looked back on or wished she could
repeat. Childhood was something belonging to other people that she
had missed out on and envied.

Her stomach was so full she felt as if she might
burst. She had eaten her own body weight at the Old Country Buffet,
and seeing her dad had been testing to say the least. She should
feel tired, but the truth was, she didn’t feel settled enough for
sleep. There were far too many thoughts running through her
head.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and looked
through the list of contacts. She picked one and set it to
dial.

“Hello,” the female voice answered.

“Sarah Gorski, what are you doing in a nightclub?
Haven’t you got work tomorrow?” Robyn greeted.

“What? I’m not at a nightclub. Who is this?”

“Oh, I like that. It hasn’t been that long since I
called you. Have you forgotten me already? I thought we were
friends.”

“Robyn? Is that you? Where are you?” Sarah
questioned.

“Aunt Pam’s.”

“No way! I don’t believe it! How long have you been
here?”

“Flew in today. Listen, are you busy? Wanna meet
up?”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Crap, Robyn. I’m at the garage picking Mickey up
from work.”

“Well bring him with you.”

“But I promised him pizza tonight. We’ve got coupons
that need to be used up and everything,” Sarah responded.

“Bring the pizzas.”

“Well, where were you thinking of meeting?”

“Eddie’s.”

“You are kidding?”

“No, why? Don’t tell me even you and Mickey don’t go
there any more.”

“Robyn, it’s turned into a dive! The only people that
go in there now are the motorbike gang and anyone with an armful of
tattoos,” Sarah explained.

“Have you seen this Nancy lately?” Robyn asked.

“Not lately, not since Eddie got ill.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s very blond and she smiles a lot, mainly
at men.”

“Not ideal stepmom material then. Not going to be
teaching me needlework any time soon.”

“The whole place smells, and it doesn’t even do food
any more.”

“What?! Why hasn’t anyone told me about any of this?
I may be on the other side of the world, but it’s just a telephone
call away.”

“You don’t return my calls,” Sarah replied.

“Have you called? There must be a problem with my
voicemail,” Robyn said quickly.

“It’s really changed, Robyn.”

“Right, well, I need to see it for myself. You and
Mickey meet me there.”

“Robyn, I…”

Robyn ended the call and got off the bed. She caught
sight of herself in the mirror and let out a sigh. She was back and
not everything was the same.

There was another phone call she should make, but she
couldn’t face that just yet. She was here now, back in her old
life. There wasn’t room to think about anything in England. Her dad
needed her, whether he wanted to need her or not, and she had to
focus on that.

She rubbed her eyes, swept her hair back behind her
ears, and unclasped her baseball cap from the handle of her
backpack. She put it on, stuffed her feet back into her tennis
shoes, and headed over to the window.

She pulled up the blinds, quietly opened the window,
and hoisted herself up onto the ledge. If she told Pam she was
going out she would only worry. Having two children, each with an
unrivalled death stare, was enough worry for anyone. The wind
chilled her as she slipped out and she reached back in for her
sweater before closing up the window.

It was time to meet Nancy.

It was a fifteen minute walk to Eddie’s Roadhouse on
Shaver Road and, when Robyn arrived outside, she hardly recognized
it as the buzzing diner it had once been. Lined up near the front
entrance were half a dozen Harley Davidson motorcycles, and in the
parking lot were two very run-down RVs that looked like they had
people living in them.

From inside, Robyn could hear the sound of ZZ Top
blaring out and the barking of what sounded like half a dozen
dogs.

She pushed open the doors and stepped inside, only to
be overwhelmed by the rather obvious scent of marijuana.

The place looked like something that had been blown
up and then haphazardly put back together. Through the gloom of
smoke, everything looked filthy, tired, and tattered. Some of the
chairs were broken, the seat covers in the booths were ripped, and
the wallpaper was peeling away everywhere you looked.

There were a group of men in one corner, clad in
leather jackets. They wore bandanas on their heads and each had a
denim-skirted woman on their knee. They seemed to be playing
cards.

A group of teenagers were huddled around the pool
table, and a middle-aged couple were dancing by the jukebox, almost
undressing each other. There were four dogs in the middle of the
bar, barking and running in circles, slobbering on everything they
came into contact with.

Behind the bar was a guy who barely looked old enough
to drink himself. He had blond hair that curled tight to his head,
and he was wearing a black t-shirt that had seen better days. Robyn
sat up on one of the bar stools and beckoned him over.

“What can I get you?” he asked, giving her a creepy
smile.

“What’s your name?” Robyn asked, raising her voice
over the music.

“Milo.”

“I’ll have a Bud Light please, Milo,” Robyn ordered,
taking in the grime on the bar top before deciding against leaning
her arm on it.

The bartender popped the cap on the bottle and set it
in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said, looking at the lip of the bottle
before taking a swig from it.

“You’re welcome. So, you on vacation?” Milo asked,
leaning on the bar and gazing at her.

“Nope.”

“Oh, I thought, because of your accent and all…” Milo
began.

“Where’s Nancy?” Robyn asked, looking over at the
teenagers as they began to tussle with each other, using the pool
cues as swords.

“She’s out back,” Milo answered.

“So who’s in charge out here?” Robyn asked him.

“Why that would be me,” Milo announced proudly,
sticking out his chest in a desperate show of authority.

“Ah, I see. So, you let customers smoke pot, bring
dogs in, and fight with the pool cues, do you?” Robyn
questioned.

“Well, I…you ain’t a cop are you?” Milo asked,
suddenly looking concerned.

“No. I’m from a much higher authority than that, and
I want you to tell them to leave. All of them,” Robyn ordered
him.

“Me? You want me to ask them to leave? I…I can’t do
that,” Milo said, shifting from one foot to the other and looking
highly uncomfortable.

“Well, I thought you said you were in charge here,”
Robyn responded, fixing the bartender with a stare Judge Judy might
use toward a time-wasting plaintiff.

“Yeah I know, but I meant serving drinks
and…and…fixing the jukebox and stuff,” Milo replied.

“Oh, just serving drinks and doing maintenance, huh?
Well then, you’d better go get Nancy. Tell her Eddie’s daughter’s
here to see her,” Robyn said, waiting for the shock to hit his
expression.

Milo’s jaw very nearly hit the countertop, and she
was sure it was all he could do to stop drool from dripping out of
his mouth.

He stumbled from the bar, knocking into a crate of
empty bottles on the way. When he’d regained his balance and
trotted off, Robyn turned to survey the rest of the cliental. It
wasn’t pretty.

The youths by the pool table now had one of the girls
dancing on top of it, and the bikers had been joined by the
middle-aged dancing couple. In the furthest corner, near the door
to what had been the kitchen, was a disheveled, bearded man in a
dirty coat and woolen hat, slumped over the table, seemingly
asleep.

Within a minute or so, Milo returned to the bar.
Following close behind was a peroxide blonde, tottering on too high
heels, wearing a denim mini-skirt and crop top that were at least
thirty years too young for her. Hideous large hooped earrings hung
from her ears and on her arms were an assortment of cheap bangles
and bracelets. Her blond hair was piled high on her head and some
curly tendrils snaked down at the side of a face that was thickly
plastered in make-up.

“This is Nancy,” Milo introduced quickly.

The woman stepped forward, chewing gum and toying
with the ugly gold necklace she had around her neck.

“This ain’t Eddie’s daughter! You shitting me, Milo?
Who is this? Some girl of yours? You trying to give me a freaking
heart attack?” She turned her attention to Robyn. “Nice try,
sweetheart. Want a drink on me?” Nancy offered, cackling loudly and
leaning close to Robyn.

“Don’t you mean on Eddie? If you’re handing out free
drinks so readily, maybe that’s why business isn’t so good,” Robyn
replied, trying to avoid looking at Nancy’s cleavage as it bounced
up and down in her face.

“Listen, missy, what business goes on here is my
business,” Nancy informed her, narrowing her eyes.

“Is that so? I thought Eddie Matthers was the owner,”
Robyn retorted.

“Yeah? So? Eddie’s my guy and when he’s not around,
I’m in charge. You got a problem with that?” Nancy questioned,
staring at Robyn.

“Yeah, actually I do. This is supposed to be a
roadhouse and it used to serve food. Where’s the food?” Robyn
asked.

“We’ve had problems. Anyhow, who do you think you
are? Coming into my roadhouse trying to throw your weight around,”
Nancy demanded to know.

“He told you who I was. I’m Eddie’s daughter, Robyn.
And your presence here is no longer required,” Robyn said.

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are, but you ain’t
Eddie’s daughter. She lives in England,” Nancy answered, her mouth
furiously working the gum up and down.

“I got a flight,” Robyn responded.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should really leave, because until this place
has had a thorough revamp, we’re going to be closing,” Robyn told
her.

“Okay, enough’s enough. Come on, out of my bar,”
Nancy said, teetering forward and approaching Robyn.

“I think you’ll find it’s more mine than yours. What,
with me being Eddie’s next of kin,” Robyn replied.

“Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that. Where’s your
proof?” Nancy hissed, moving up close to Robyn.

“I went to see him today, room two zero nine. That
enough for you? Thanks for keeping things ticking along, well…kind
of…but I’ll be taking over now,” Robyn said. Her voice was steady
and controlled.

“Look, sugar, I’ve been running this place for the
last year and I don’t answer to nobody…least of all someone I ain’t
met before,” Nancy spat.

“Well, I told you, I’m Robyn Matthers. There, now
we’re introduced. So, are you going to kick their asses out of here
and close the door on your way out? Or are you going to let things
get ugly?”

She slipped down off her stool and squared herself up
to the woman. It wasn’t such an easy task when she was in sneakers
and Nancy was in platforms that could rival a stilt walker.

“Milo, call the cops,” Nancy ordered the bartender,
her eyes not leaving Robyn’s.

“No need, Milo, already done. They’ll take one step
through the door and arrest the biker group for drug possession.
And, you know, the gang might just hold a grudge if you don’t
forewarn them about the imminent arrival of the police. Although I
don’t really know them, they don’t look like the type of people to
get on the wrong side of,” Robyn told her.

“Those cigarettes are medicinal,” Nancy said, holding
Robyn’s gaze.

Robyn let out a laugh.

“You’re not serious!”

“You’re really Eddie’s daughter?” Nancy asked
again.

“Yes I really am, and I’m taking over the
roadhouse…ooo, is that a siren I hear?” Robyn asked, cupping her
hand over her ear and leaning toward the door.

Nancy hurried over to the table of bikers, whispered
something into the ear of the most bearded man and, within seconds,
the cards were dropped to the table, chairs were being pushed back,
and the owners began rounding up their dogs.