Taking Charge

by Mandy Baggot

  “Girls, I can hear everything you’re saying. Now you apologize for being rude to Robyn and do as your mom tells you,” Bob spoke sternly as he came out of the garage with Robyn’s case.

  Sierra let out an agitated sigh and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Sierra, I’m warning you,” Bob threatened.

  “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.

  Chapter Five

  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 w
elcome. 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.

  “Turn the jukebox off and start cleaning up. I’ll get rid of the school kids and the hobo,” Robyn ordered Milo.

  “Are the cops really coming because…” Milo began, looking uncomfortable.

  “Milo, do you want to keep your job?” Robyn questioned.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then get cleaning up!”

  The door opened almost cautiously, and then Robyn caught sight of Sarah for the first time in nine years.

  Her friend seemed taller, but she had the same familiar dark, wavy hair that sat around her shoulders. She wore a gray business suit, and black designer glasses rested on her face. She was an adult. Robyn should have expected it, but hadn’t. Part of her thought Sarah would still resemble the picture she had in her head—a sixteen year old student wearing a spaghetti-strapped sundress and Converse sneakers.

  “Hey! About time! I thought I was going to get a beating from the Hells Angels,” Robyn joked as she smiled at her friend.

  “Robyn! It’s so good to see you!” Sarah said. She rushed to the bar and put her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly.

  “You too,” Robyn replied, patting her on the back.

  “There were motorcycles roaring up the road. What’s happened?”

  “That was the biker gang. I’ve taken over. You’re looking at the new manager of Eddie’s Roadhouse!”

  “Mickey! Jeez! What have you been feeding him? You’re so…wide!” Robyn exclaimed as Sarah’s stocky, tawny-haired boyfriend entered the building.r />
  “Can I take that as a compliment?” Mickey asked her.

  “Of course. Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Robyn said, smiling at her friends.

  “Listen, we ran into…” Sarah began as the entrance door opened again.

  Before Sarah could finish her sentence, Brad walked into the bar. Robyn felt her stomach tighten as she looked at a taller, more muscular version of the boy she had left behind. He was still athletic in build, but had filled out a lot since high school. He was broader, and his blond hair was shaved close to his head. His eyes were still as blue as the ocean, though, and he smiled the second he saw her.

  “…Brad,” Sarah finished as he walked up to the bar to join them.

  “Hey,” Brad greeted, looking at Robyn with something close to admiration in his expression.

  “Hey, wow, everyone must eat a lot of greens around here, you’ve all gotten massive,” Robyn stated, her cheeks flushing.

  “Whereas you don’t look any different,” Brad said, smiling bashfully.

  “That’s because I’m not different, at all. Just the same old Robyn! God, well, this is so weird,” Robyn said.

  “Where’s Nancy? Is she here?” Sarah asked, setting the pizzas down on the countertop.

  “She left with the biker gang, temporarily, I expect. She didn’t seem like the type of woman to take things lying down. Well, perhaps some things, if you know what I mean, but I don’t want to think about that. Anyway, now all I need to do is get rid of the sleeping tramp and the teenagers. Who wants to help? There’s a Bud in it for you,” Robyn offered.

  “Just one?” Mickey asked.

  “Okay, a pitcher then. This is my dad’s profits we’re talking about.”

  “Leave it to us,” Brad assured her, and he headed off toward the group of teenagers who were now sitting down playing Spin the Bottle.

  Robyn let out a heavy sigh and took a long swig from her bottle of beer.

  “It’s so good to see you, but we could have met somewhere nicer. This place smells really bad,” Sarah remarked, opening up a pizza box and taking out a slice.

  “I know,” Robyn answered.