“Of course, you didn’t. The police did. I’m still your father.”
Robby drew his knees up to his chest and circled his arms around them. The man—Jebidiah—examined him as if he could see inside, see Robby’s intentions. It was strange seeing him again after three years, but he looked much the same. He still wore those same black trousers, the same white collared shirt buttoned all the way to the top. His brown beard was more salt than pepper, and his hair was thinning at the top. The only difference Robby could see was how the lines around his eyes and forehead had deepened to grooves from hard labor under the sun.
“You’re not my father. You said so yourself.” He looked to the officer. “Give him back his money. I’ll just stay here if it’s all the same to you.”
“Kid, we can’t keep this jail cell closed just for you all day. Just ‘cause he posted your bail doesn’t mean you’re required to go with him. But I highly recommend you not stay here. You spent the night calling a lot of people in your drunken stupor. I can only imagine the amount of press outside. I suggest you overlook this little family squabble and maybe take the back exit.”
Robby’s blood curdled at the idea of accepting anything from that man, but if he could get to his wallet, he would pay him back and then he could walk away. For good. He sighed, forcing himself to his feet, only then becoming aware of the coolness around his midsection. He stumbled to the sink in the corner, splashing water in his face before looking at himself in the shiny metal surface that acted as a mirror. He frowned at his reflection.
His caramel-colored hair stood up in all directions. The skin around his hazel eyes appeared puffy and swollen, his eyes themselves bloodshot. He had a split lip and blood on his earlobe. He wore tight black jeans with rips down the front, leaving his skin peeking through, and white high-top Versace sneakers, but it was his top that left him racking his addled brain. He wore a black crop top hoodie that said ‘meow’ in large white letters. The sleeves were long, revealing little pink and white paw prints where they hooked over his thumbs. Had he been wearing this when he left the house last night? There was no way.
He stared at his exposed midriff and the two black stars now tattooed on his hip bones. Those had definitely not been there yesterday. Fuck. He dug his palms into his eye sockets, desperate to remember anything. Anything at all. But there was nothing. He sighed, turning away from the mirror, cringing as the officer gave him a once over and a smirk. He walked past his father without a word, refusing to acknowledge his presence just as he’d done to Robby three years ago.
They stopped at the desk where a pretty uniformed woman with deep umber skin and wild black curls handed him a large clear plastic bag with his belongings, a slightly star-struck look on her face. He smiled at her, and she smiled back reflexively. “Thank you,” he managed.
Once in the lobby, he freed his phone from the bag to call Jasmine, his publicist. She was the closest thing he had to a friend.
“Obi, at least let me drop you at your apartment.”
He didn’t want that man knowing where he lived. He opened his wallet and found his debit card, walking to the ATM in the corner of the precinct. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s not about the money. Come back to the compound with us. We can talk. All of us. Your brothers and sisters miss you.”
“You haven’t worried about me for years. Nothing’s changed, Father.”
He saw his father step closer from the corner of his eye, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “But it has. Your mother saw you…with that girl. She seemed a bit loose of morals, but we are willing to take her into the fold. We’re just so happy—”
Robby’s lip curled as he cut his father off, raising his voice high enough to draw the attention of the few stragglers milling around. “Happy about what? Happy that I’m heterosexual? Well, plot twist. I’m not. I was just…experimenting. I’m still super gay, Father. Lots of gay sex. All the time. Can’t get enough dick.”
His father’s face flushed an unhealthy red. He snatched Robby’s arm, shaking him hard, saliva flying from his mouth as he spit his words at him. “That’s enough. I will not stand here and listen to such…filth.”
Robby shook his father off his arm. “Go home. There’s nothing for you here.” He withdrew the maximum the ATM allowed and stuffed it into his father’s hand. “We’re done now. Leave me alone.”
“Wait—” his father started.
A shrill female voice cut him off as she hurried down the hallway from parts unknown. “Robby? Oh, thank God. We thought for sure somebody would have made you their bitch by now.”
Robby blinked at the dark-haired girl running toward him with purpose, taking in her black leather romper, red suede thigh-high boots, and obviously fake red fur coat. She looked vaguely familiar. Her companion more so. “Wyatt?” he asked.
Wyatt gave a half-wave, his smile almost shy. “Hey. Elijah asked us to come rescue you from prison.”
Robby’s heart skipped a bit. “He did?”
It wasn’t Wyatt that answered, but the girl. Wyatt’s best friend…Magellen? Charlemagne. Charlie. Her name was Charlie. He narrowed his eyes as she spoke as if that might help him focus on her words. “Yeah, he said you’d been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Yeah, said you asked him to rescue Casanova and that you’d been kidnapped. It took hours for us to track you down. All we knew was that you were probably being arrested.”
Casanova. “What time is it?” He scrambled for his phone. “Oh, God. It’s four o’clock in the afternoon. Casanova needs his meds. He needs to eat. He’s…delicate. Oh, God. He’s been alone for hours.”
Robby could feel the tears coming, and the last thing he wanted was to fall apart in front of his father and two virtual strangers.
Wyatt put an arm around him, squeezing him in a side hug. “Hey, relax. Linc sent somebody to rescue Casanova after Elijah’s phone call. Don’t let anybody in here see you fall apart. It will be all over the news.”
Charlie crowded his other side, effectively blocking him from the onlookers. “Are you ready to leave? We have a car waiting out back. We’ll take you to Linc’s office so you can get your dog, okay?”
He gave a nod, sagging against Wyatt. To his credit, the older boy didn’t let go, just steered him towards the hallway, which turned out to be the station’s back entrance.
