The Last Day For Rob Rhino

by Kathleen O'Donnell

  Rob whistled through his gap. “Christ on a cracker. I’ve never seen anything like this.” He rubbed his eyes.

  Claire leaned on a desk. “I can’t deal with it now. I need to get this memorial over with. It is what I came here to do remember?”

  “Still with that damn revenge scheme.” He put his glasses back on, turned back to the screen.

  “I think I’m heading upstairs. I’ve had it for one day.” Claire could see the stars out the office window. They’d missed dinner.

  “Hey, Claire. Who’s Connor?”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Claire felt a ripple wave through her, not of fear exactly, something else disturbing, uneasy. She made short work of the space between her and Rob.

  “Connor is Liam’s brother.” She sat back down in her chair, a heavy flop. “What the hell are you looking at?”

  Rob stayed focused on his computer. “There’s a bunch of emails between him and Andrew.”

  Claire almost shoved Rob out of his chair to see.

  Looks like the adoption might be on again.

  Thought that died with Liam.

  Ellen will take ten million to ride off into the sunset, leave the baby.

  Claire’s already challenged vision blurred. She could hear Rob’s blood rushing. Or was it her own? Rob’s arm around her kept her from falling. She glanced at him to make sure he wouldn’t leave even though she knew he wouldn’t. He nodded, pulled her closer.

  Don’t forget, you’re not supposed to know she’s bald.

  Keep her stoned. She might be easier to deal with. Her purse is full of all sorts of shit.

  Not sure what’s going on with her. Should be easy to control her with all the drugs.

  I don’t know if I can do this. She was my brother’s wife. She doesn’t seem so bad.

  You want the kid, right?

  Claire started to cry.

  I don’t know where she is. She won’t answer my calls. Her voicemail is full. She’s not at the hotel. My mother says she’s staying with friends.

  She doesn’t have any friends.

  Rob hugged Claire close.

  “You sure have bad taste in men.”

  ****

  Who knew Jordan would have such good taste in men?

  Steven turned out to be an actual lawyer in real life. Not too swishy either. He hadn’t liked the idea of Claire calling Andrew directly. He wanted to handle it all for her. He wanted to press charges, blah, blah, blah. Claire didn’t want to. Steven hadn’t liked that either. Whatever Steven learned in law school, he must’ve missed catching a clue class.

  Claire did a shitload of stuff no one liked. He might as well get used to it.

  “I hope you’ve had some time to come to your senses,” Andrew said indignant.

  “Yes, I have. And I’m the one with a proposition for you.”

  “You have a proposition for me? I think you should worry about yourself and not me.”

  “Of course you do.”

  This was fun.

  “How about this, Andrew? Are you sitting in front of your computer?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  Ron Rhino sat across from her, gave her two thumbs up for courage.

  “I’m emailing you a couple things.” She had her finger poised over the send key. “You and Ellen go fuck yourselves with her kid. I will pay her... say... zero. Starting now. And I’ll consider not bringing you up on extortion charges. You can also refund me all the money I’ve paid her and you for the past year.”

  Rob clapped his hands together with no noise. Smiled his big missing tooth, goofball smile.

  “That’s crazy. Extortion? Refund? I don’t know what Meg told you but she’s as delusional as you are. And what Ellen’s case has to do—”

  Claire could feel his distraction over the phone.

  “I don’t know who you—” His voice sounded farther away. “What the fuck... where in the hell—?”

  “Get your emails?”

  “Where did you get these?”

  Claire wondered if he was as purple-faced as he sounded. She looked at Rob Rhino and mouthed, “We got him.”

  “Does it matter?” Claire felt like laughing but refrained. “You can sell that kid to anybody you want, but I’m sure as hell not paying for it.”

  “Claire, it’s not like that.” Andrew stumbled for excuses. “Liam just tried to right a wrong, his brother couldn’t have kids, he—”

  “And you can tell my loser brother-in-law I’ll see him in hell.”

  After a couple beats of silence and some heavy breathing Andrew said, “You’ll hear from my attorney.”

  Claire smiled. “I doubt it. And before I forget. You’re fired.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Claire cleared all thirty-three messages from her cell phone. Listened to them too. Most were from the kids, Conchita, a couple from the travel agent, three from Meg (that poor woman). Claire felt her slate washed a little cleaner. Sure she missed all her drugs, her booze, but one day at a time, one hour or minute. Plus she still had Guillermo’s number. The yoke around her neck that had been Andrew, Ellen, and her kid was gone. Maybe Claire could carry on.

  She’d taken her daily dose, doled out by Doctor Rhino, watched Wheel of Fortune again, (how Rob always got it right with only three letters filled in was a mystery) and nodded off on her side of the tricky loveseat. Rob shook her awake, mumbled it was time to call it a day. She dawdled in front of her bedroom door until he disappeared ahead of her off to bed. Unusual for him to trot off without a backward glance. He liked to helicopter over Claire a lot longer.

  She could resist the call of the wild no more. Her Chanel flats moved over the thick Persian runner without a sound. Claire could see light from under his closed door, a van Gogh night out the window ahead. Even the sky looked more picturesque from this house. Without hesitating she knocked.

  The door opened wide, startling her.

  “Is something wrong?” Rob Rhino said.

  Claire looked over and around him ignoring his question to get a good look inside. It wasn’t a bedroom. It was, from what she could see, more like an office or a library.

  He stepped back, mercifully not undressed. “Come in, come in.”

  “I... I’m sorry. I’m invading your space... or something.”

  She tried to think of a reason why she’d be there. Why didn’t she think of something before she knocked?

  “No, it’s fine. Come sit. This is my private office. And bedroom over there.” He pointed a dwarf-like finger.

  She followed his outstretched arm to the adjoining room off to the side. She walked farther in. The room looked like an affluent history professor’s space seen through the eyes of an overpaid designer. The thick rug, the marble mantelpiece over the fireplace, the ornate yet masculine mahogany desk that sat opposite it, and the deep burgundy colored walls lined with bookshelves filled with hardbound books and knickknacks. Nothing tacky. Behind the French vanilla leather wingback desk chair, hung a near life-size painting of a woman with a magnificent head of auburn hair.

  Gloria. Had to be.

  “This is where I keep my sanity.” He waved one arm around the spacious room. “Excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting ladies.” He gave a lecherous smirk, led her onward.

  Claire felt herself blush but wasn’t going to miss out. The giant four poster bed nearly swallowed the small room. What a mess. Towels on the floor, magazines (Time and Newsweek, no porn), newspapers (Wall Street Journal, New York Times, no small-town Gazette for him), and empty soda cans. The bed wasn’t made and looked like an army slept in it. No clothes. He owned one outfit and he wore it.

  “Now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” Claire said.

  “What?” Rob said.

  “I expected your whole house to look like this. This I can wrap my brain around.”

  Rob laughed. “Yeah, I bet you can. I try to keep my mess contained. Having a regular maid helps.” Rob glanced around his wreck of a bedroom. “
Gloria hated my sloppiness.”

  Claire reached over and touched Rob’s arm. Small comfort.

  They stepped back out and Rob led her to one of the other two matching chairs that sat in front of the fireplace.

  Rob nodded his head toward the painting. “Wasn’t she beautiful?”

  It wasn’t a widower’s fond remembrance. It was fact. Especially for a man with a face only his grandma could love.

  Claire got up to get a closer look at the painting. “Looks like a wedding dress.”

  “Impressive guess. Yeah, I had this painted about five years ago from one of our wedding photos.”

  Gloria looked like a seventies bride. Cream colored gauzy cotton maxi dress. They were called way back when. She’d have looked like Stevie Nicks if she’d had a tambourine. Her skin skimmed cream perfection. And that hair. Long auburn curls worn loose almost to her waist. Claire reached for her own head. Nope, nothing. She sat back down.

  “This is the only likeness of Gloria in the whole house?” she said.

  There were no photos of her anywhere. How had Claire not noticed that before? Too busy on the lookout for porn.

  Rob fiddled with the armrest rivets. “Yes, it is. I don’t think I need too many reminders.” He scratched at something on the leather. “Besides, this house is all about the business. She hated it. It’s why she started taking drugs. To deal with it.”

  Rob got up, bent down behind the desk. Claire heard a suction sound and glass shaking around. He came up with two root beers.

  “There’s a refrigerator back there?”

  Rob smiled, nodded. “Under the desk, a mini one. Never know when I might get thirsty.”

  A loveseat and a desk that did tricks.

  “You live here only part of the year, right?” Claire said.

  “Yeah. LA the other part.” He gulped his root beer. “I hate it there. It’s depressing.”

  “Southern California is great. I live there you know, just a couple hours north of LA,” Claire reminded him. “You could visit me when you’re there.”

  Rob laughed, looked surprised. “Seriously? You’d want me to show up at the door?”

  Claire bristled. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Claire Corrigan. What would the neighbors think?”

  “Fuck the neighbors.”

  He brightened. “Can I?”

  ****

  He seemed melancholy.

  She looked closer at his paunchy face. Everything drooped more. His hair was greasy, stringy, gray at the roots around his temples and near his bald spot. He’d let himself go far more than usual. Now he looked his seventy years, even in the soft light. His hula girl shirt was stained and wrinkled, jeans torn, his bright green clogs scuffed and dirty. Claire didn’t have to inhale too deep to get a good whiff of him. He could’ve been the homeless man she thought he was at the airport. Why hadn’t she noticed? First Gloria’s pictures, now Rob’s decline. Guess they had to be on fire for Claire to pay attention.

  It didn’t take a Mensa candidate to figure out what was on his mind.

  “We’re a pair aren’t we Rob Rhino?” Claire ran her finger around the lip of her root beer bottle. “You and what happened with Gloria. Me and what happened with—” She stopped. Still she couldn’t say it. Not sober.

  Rob shut his eyes, leaned back in his chair.

  Claire’s tears ran before she could beat them back. “I tell myself I didn’t remember it, the brakes. I didn’t remember in time. I’d been drunk, stoned. He’d driven it lots of times after, it’d been fine. How could I know it’d be that day? I was so angry when he got in the car. As soon as he drove off... I somehow knew he wouldn’t come back. I let him go anyway.”

  “Claire, it was an accident. Your head doesn’t work when you’re fucked up.” Rob’s eyes stayed shut. He didn’t lift his head. “You’ve got to put it behind you. You have to get better. You have a lot to live for—yourself, your family.”

  “I could say the same to you, Rob Rhino. You need to put Gloria behind you, get well. A lot of people need you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Claire Corrigan. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t look fine to me.”

  “Is that why you came in here?” He opened one eye, shimmied a caterpillar brow. “To nurse me?”

  “I came in here because I’m nosy.” What’d she have to hide? “You’re a porn star for Chrissake. I wanted to see in here.”

  Rob let out a bark-like laugh. “That’s priceless, Claire Corrigan, priceless.” He smoothed back his rat’s nest hair. “You must be disappointed.”

  “I am. No whips, no chains. Your reputation’s ruined.” Claire stared him down. “But don’t change the subject.”

  They sat for a few minutes, swigged their root beers, looked at the marble mantle with the expensive bric-a-bracs on it. Her stomach churned, the root beer sat at the bottom of it and bubbled up like lava.

  “I’m tired. I’d like to call it good, retire.” He leaned his head back again, closed his eyes.

  “Well, didn’t you plan to eventually?” Claire said surprised at the subject change.

  “Plan? There’s no porn plan.” Rob opened his eyes a slit to see her. “It’s not an old man’s business. I’m not supposed to still be in it.”

  “Is anyone older than Hugh Hefner? He’s still in.” Claire remembered Jordan telling her about the pictures of Rob and Hef at the Mansion online.

  “Only guys like Hefner and Guccione, God rest him, hang around past their prime, and Jesus, Flynt. Who wants to end up like Larry? They’re pathetic. But they were never on screen. I’m the worst.” Rob picked his head up off the back of the chair and sat up straight to emphasize his point. “I’m sick of talking about my cock. At my age it’s pitiful.”

  “You’re probably not going to get too much sympathy.”

  Rob slumped back again. “No, probably not.” He fiddled with his squirrely moustache. “Who knew it’d turn out like this? Like you said now I’m a brand. A corporation.”

  “Heads of corporations retire.”

  “Gotta walk away sometime.” Rob shut his eyes again. Tears seeped down his withered cheeks. “I don’t want to keep it going anymore. It was all for nothing, didn’t mean a fucking thing.” He spun his big head in her direction. “It didn’t turn out the way I thought it would.”

  Claire reached across the divide between their chairs and put her hand on his.

  ****

  She stayed long enough to finish her root beer.

  “You’re meeting with the priest tomorrow?” Rob said.

  She nodded, stood up to leave.

  “Freddie Eddie’s gonna take us.”

  “Us? I can drive myself. My rental is just sitting there.”

  “You’re still weak as a kitten.” Rob stood up too. “I’m going with you. Father McKinley from St. Theresa’s is a friend of mine—”

  “Let me guess. He’s really a porn star.”

  “Now that’s funny.”

  Rob stood poised for battle. A battle Claire knew she’d lose.

  “I want to go early, check out the crypt site,” she said. “See if it’s all kosher.”

  Claire stopped in front of the bookcases by the door and squinted to read some of the titles. She expected history books but was surprised to see books with titles like How to Win Friends and Influence People. She took a better look—Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus, The Secret, and I’m OK, You’re OK. There were more, but she stopped.

  “You’ve got the self-help market cornered,” she said.

  “It’s never too late to make improvements,” Rob said.

  Claire got closer to see better. There were several books on the topic of manic depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia. She glanced at Rob Rhino from the corner of her eye.

  “I got those from the rehab center. They come in handy for my volunteer work over there,” he said too fast.

  “Do you mind if I skim throu
gh a couple these?” she said.

  “Help yourself.” Rob Rhino laughed at his own lame joke.

  Claire stood. She didn’t want to go back to her room yet. His kicked-dog gloom made her want to stay. He said he kept his sanity there in his private rooms. It seemed to Claire it’s where he kept his sorrow, the weight of his guilt. As soon as he crossed the threshold it came at him like a blowtorch.

  She thought about offering to sit with him, stay and talk longer, but didn’t know how. Reaching out, offering real comfort wasn’t her thing. She didn’t have the faintest idea what could ease his suffering, or her own for that matter. A pat on the hand was about the only item on her empathy menu. The words stayed in her mouth.

  “Okay then. Good night,” she said finally.

  She took a couple steps with the books in her hands, stopped and turned. He was still standing in the doorway. She went back, dropped the books, embraced him, and didn’t wrinkle her nose at his pungent aroma. He put his arms around her. She could feel the heaviness of his belly pushed against her, his sweat through his hula girl shirt. His mouth brushed her neck. He could’ve kissed it if he’d wanted to. Her breath quickened, she pressed into him.

  “Claire Corrigan, are you trying to seduce me?”

  Ten insults flew to her lips, but she kept them there. All the blood left her face only to race back. She held him at arms-length, blurted accidental truth.

  “What if I am?”

  He didn’t smile. He looked as serious as Claire’d ever seen him. “You’d only break my heart.” He kissed his fingertips then touched her cheek. “Good night, Claire Corrigan.”

  ****

  A long day stretched into a long night. Claire grabbed her pillow so she could pull the coverlet down, a piece of paper that had been stuffed underneath it fluttered to the ground. With a quick glance, she could see it was a copy of a newspaper article. The bold headline hit her brain with a pop. Her hand jerked with a life of its own to the faded bruises on her throat.

  80s Adult Film Star Found Dead

  By Gerald Hill

  ________________________________

  PENNSYLVANIA - Elaine Chester,

  better known to fans of Adult Entertain-