Chapter Eleven

Theo

Robbie had looked so haunted through lunch. Even though he tried really hard to stay focused, pretend he was interested in the details of Abi’s wedding, I knew him. I knew every sound he made, every expression, every gesture. And when his eyes glazed over or he paused in his eating, I gently pulled him back. I’d been spending the better part of a year watching Robbie.

Aside from his physical attributes, I’d noticed a curious change in myself since having a boyfriend. Before Robbie, I had never cared too much about a guy’s preferences, their lives. But apparently when you love someone, it comes with this whole range of giving a shit if they’re happy or not. And when Robbie is happy, it’s like sunshine. He basks in each new experience, savors the little things, and his smile lights up the room. So, as I was sitting there watching him feed himself his favorite burger without actually tasting it, I ached. How fucked up is that?

“Is it that bad, sugar?” We had been sitting in the driveway for a solid five minutes with Robbie staring off into space.

He jumped when I spoke, and his eyes darted around, obviously taking in that we were home. And had been for a while.

“I’m fine.” He pushed a breath out and ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. It was a cute gesture that he had just started doing in the last few months. Kind of like how he pressed his lips together after I kissed him. Or how he nibbled gummy bears’ heads off first. Man, I have it bad.

After a few moments, he said with resolve, “I think I need to practice. I need to get this Command stuff down.”

“You can practice on me,” I offered, chuckling at how his eyes bugged. “Listen, it’s not like you’re going to tell me to go jump off a bridge or anything.”

Tears welled in his eyes and he covered his mouth as a sob escaped him. As he shook his head vigorously, he said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Suffice it to say I was more than a bit freaked out. I ran my hand over his shoulder. “Hey, Robbie, talk to me. Please.” I got out of the truck and made my way around to open his door and pull him into an embrace. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to Command anyone. Ever. I…I know what it feels like. I don’t want to do it. I want it to go away,” he managed in a small voice that was punctuated by gasps for breath.

“Hey, sugar. I got an idea… The Commands you endured when you were a kid were horrible. A way to control you, right?”

Robbie nodded miserably, and I felt an agonizing pang. I really just wanted to help him, though I had no mystical or magical means to do so. Hell, even Kat wouldn’t have an answer for this. But, being the manipulative sort, I did have a plan.

“And what happened with Brent—” I started and sighed when Robbie’s head dropped in shame. “First off, wasn’t your fault. He was being a jackass. Second, was an accident. But what if, just try this one on for size…what if you could use your Commands to do some good?”

Robbie blinked in confusion, sitting back up to lean against the seat of the SUV.

“It seems to me that all of the examples that you’ve had so far have been bullshit. Your mother, Edna, hell, even Abi last year. You haven’t been shown that your Commands could actually be used to help anyone, but I think they definitely could be. You see Kat with her blood magic, me with my technomagic. Why can’t you with your voice magic be the same?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Has Maggie showed you how to do Commands yet?”

“Kind of. She talked to me about the basics, I guess. How to clear my mind, but also use emotions to impose my will on someone else.” He shivered, his lips turned down in a look of disgust which marred his fine features.

“Okay, so what are your plans with her tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But…she told me the only way to turn this off is to learn how to control it.”

I nodded softly, caressing his hand.

Robbie studied the sky. It was obvious he had something on his mind, but I wanted to give him the space to say it. Finally, after a while, he said, “You know I won’t experiment on you.”

I sighed heavily and shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I do know that.”

“Is it right for me to experiment on anyone?” he asked, more himself than me.

“I don’t see why not. I mean, if things go wrong there’s Maggie. She’s here for you. That’s why she’s here now. For you,” I emphasized, cupping his face and leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on his temple.

“Okay,” Robbie said, and I studied him.

When he didn’t expand on the idea, I pressed. “Okay, what?”

His features settled eyes set on mine, he said with resolve, “Okay, I have a plan.”

My eyebrows had to have touched my hairline with surprise. Chuckling low, I asked, “All righty. Wanna let a fella in on it?”

“Let’s go to San Francisco. That Starbucks in the Mission,” he said, leaning back into the car and buckling his seatbelt.

I knew the one. We had been there a few times when wandering around. After I climbed back into the driver’s side, we took off again. This time for the Mission District of San Francisco.

After finding safer parking (because parking in the Mission is always an adventure), we found the caffeine haven in question. Robbie had explained his plan in the car, and luckily the ideal-looking vagabond was sitting outside panhandling. The man’s name turned out to be George, and we spent a few minutes talking before the three of us entered the coffeeshop. After securing everyone’s drinks, I slipped a lesbian couple fifty bucks to give up their table, telling them the absolute truth that my boyfriend was in college and going to talk with the homeless dude about changing his life. Sure, the details didn’t quite string together, but they didn’t care. I’d just kept them in tacos for a few days. Yes, pun intended.

“So, George, tell us about yourself,” I started, setting the caffeine in front of him. Even though this was his idea, Robbie sat close to me on my side of the table, his attention shifting rapidly between George and me.

“What do you want to know?” he asked with a rotted-tooth grin. George was wearing mismatched clothes: a tweed jacket over a holey Raiders shirt, paired with jeans and teal Converse high-tops that had seen better days. He was carrying an old duffle bag stuffed full of whatever. The interesting thing about George was that while he smelled stale, he didn’t have the funk that a lot of the transients of San Francisco have.

“Well, as we mentioned, Robbie here has considered a career in the helping professions. And so, we thought it might be good to talk to someone who could use some help.”

“You still paying twenty dollars, right?” George asked suspiciously, both hands wrapped covetously around his cup.

Figuring we had a limited time with George and kicking myself for not springing for the largest cup of joe, I said, “That’s right, man. Let’s cut to the chase. We’re not buying, but I am curious: What’s your poison? Meth, crack, alcohol? What do you have cravings for?”

To my surprise, George cackled and seemed to relax. “Man, I do it all! Recently got a craving for brown sugar.”

“Hey, Robbie, maybe you can talk to George about his craving?”

Robbie had just taken a sip of his white chocolate mocha latte and gulped. He looked like he might fall into a fit of coughs but caught himself. His eyes huge with understanding, he nodded.

“I… Hello,” he said, looking between George and me.

“Howdy,” George leered.

“What’s…brown sugar? Not, umm, for your coffee, right?” he asked quietly. His obvious discomfort gave me a sliver of doubt that this would be helpful.

George let out a loud enough chortle to draw attention from around the room. He leaned across the table and breathed a halitosis-filled cloud our way. “Heroin, kid. Got a taste of it in Quentin a few months back, and ya know what they say about chasin’ the dragon.”

Robbie shook his head, obviously not knowing what “they” say. “Have you ever thought about quitting?” he asked apologetically, not wanting to offend.

George sat back and rolled his eyes. “Have quit a hundred times, kid. A hundred things in a hundred different ways. Been through all the programs. Thought the best place to get dried out could be locked away for a few years, but nah. More shit in prison than out on the streets. Whatever, right? Doesn’t matter anyhow.”

A bit more empowered, Robbie leaned his forearms on the table. “But, if you’ve been to programs, I mean, why haven’t they worked?”

“Cuz I’m a fuckup? I don’t know. Mama beat me, ran away at thirteen, been in and out of the system, yada, yada, ya know? A shrink once told me to stop blaming everyone but me. So, guess none of that matters and it comes down to I’m just a fuckup.”

Robbie sucked on his lower lip thoughtfully. “What would you do if you did quit? Like, for good, if you didn’t have the cravings anymore?”

George got a faraway look in his eye. He didn’t speak for a long while, and Robbie cast a glance my way but remained quiet. After a while George said, his voice forlorn, “My baby’s mama said I couldn’t come back till I was clean. I’d like to see them again, ya know? Georgie is nine now. I haven’t seen him in, what…damn, six years? Talk to them from time to time. I never had a dad, so I wanted to be there for him.”

Robbie’s jaw was open, and he blinked away tears. “You will never use drugs again, George,” he said, and I do not lie when I tell you that I felt that. It was a damned good thing I had on my watch that dampened Robbie’s abilities against me. Hell, I might never want to drop E, take a bump, smoke a joint, or even drink whiskey.

George was motionless, his eyes huge and locked with Robbie’s with an expression of amazement. It was the look of someone who had just realized something for the very first time and was partially still in awe and partially wanting to act.

Robbie wasn’t done. He reached across and grasped George’s grubby hand with its dirt-encrusted-nails. I inwardly cringed at the need for disinfectant. Robbie was staring into the man’s eyes with such an intensity that I had never seen. “You can be with your son. You will never want to use drugs again. You’ll want to be with him, to take care of him and his mom. And you’ll get a job and support them in all ways.”

I placed a steadying hand on Robbie’s knee under the table, and he jolted, letting go of George’s hand as he looked at me and shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He exhaled his automatic response then frowned. “I…” His eyes opened wide with the realization of what he’d just done.

“So, I was thinking, George, Robbie, how about we put you up in a hotel tonight, so you can get cleaned up? Maybe buy you a couple new sets of clothes? Where do Georgie and your ex live?”

“They’re…they’re in Fresno,” George said, not looking away from Robbie as he spoke.

“You think you want to maybe go see them tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said with resolve, finally tearing his eyes away from Robbie.

I thought for a moment and asked, “Think you’ll ever use again?”

“No, man. I will never want to use again. I want to be with him, take care of him and his mom.” His voice was inflected just enough that he didn’t sound like a mindless automaton, but the fact that he had all but mimicked Robbie made my hackles rise.

“Good deal.” I pushed back from the table. “Come on, looks like we should help this man out with a couple changes of clothes, maybe a meal, and room for the night where you can get cleaned up.”

“You serious?” George asked, his gaze one of awe that shifted from Robbie to me.

“Hell yeah. You swear you won’t use again?” I asked, standing.

George snatched his duffle and began rummaging through it, pulling out a Pringles can and thrusting it at Robbie who reluctantly accepted it. He glanced at me, and I took the can and popped it open to see the rig and pouch I had anticipated finding. George pushed across a packet of rolling papers and a baggie of hashish. He then hunted around in the bottom and came up with a small handful of pills of various shapes and sizes. I palmed the additional drugs until George seemed content with his frantic purging, then deposited the lot in the nearest trashcan.

George followed us back to the truck, his demeanor completely changed. He whistled lightly and had a small spring in his step. He was talkative the entire way back to Santa Rosa, telling us all about his son and plans for what he would like to do as soon as he saw him again. We swung by Walmart and helped George pick up some toiletries and several new outfits before taking him to a Best Western. I left Robbie in the car as I got George settled and promised him we’d be back for dinner.

When I got to the car, Robbie was staring straight ahead. He had been quiet for most of the ride, staying loosely engaged with George, but now he looked paler than he normally did.

“Umm, hey, sugar,” I said cautiously.

“Theo.” He swallowed hard. “We need to go get Maggie. I…I know I messed up.”