All Through the Night: A Troubleshooter Christmas (24 page)

“You're, like, the most well-adjusted person I've ever met,” Robin said.

Jules laughed as he took his hand back. “Yeah, I don't think so…” It was the perfect segue.
Speaking of well-adjusted people, one of which I don't consider myself to be, considering my issues of intense jealousy…have you noticed that I haven't been able to watch any of the filmed footage from
Shadowland
?

“I have nightmares about my mother,” Robin said. “Usually a couple times a week.”

That was news to Jules, and he sat up. “Really? About…the car accident?” he asked.

“No,” Robin said. “I, um…have these nightmares where she, um…hits me.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Jules said. “That's an awful thing to dream.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed, looking down at the blanket. “I'm pretty sure I dream about it because, well, she, you know, used to. Hit me. Not very often. Maybe once a month. Not because I'd done something wrong, but just…kind of randomly.”

Dear God. Once a month for eleven years was
not very often
?

Robin looked up, meeting Jules's eyes only briefly before looking away again. “It was when she was drunk, so—”

“Don't make excuses,” Jules sharply cut him off. “There's no excuse for that. None at all.”

Robin nodded, the muscle jumping in his jaw. “Yeah, I know.” He shifted so that he was lying down, his head on his pillow, as if telling Jules about this had exhausted him. “It was funny,” he continued with his eyes closed. “I was talking to Sam, months ago, and it just kind of slipped out, you know, about my mother. And he told me that I had to tell you. But I've been putting it off because…” He opened his eyes and looked at Jules. “I guess I didn't want you to know. Like, Jesus, aren't I already screwed up enough without throwing child abuse into the mix?”

“Ah, baby,” Jules breathed, as he pulled Robin close, wrapping his arms around him. “No. You're not responsible for that. My God…”

“I don't know what I was so afraid of,” Robin said as he held Jules just as tightly. “I know you don't think I'm perfect and you love me anyway. I know this. So why am I scared to talk about it? And why am I still so hurt by that stupid note that my father wrote? Why does that make me feel so goddamn sad?”

“Because you have an optimistic soul,” Jules told him, his heart in his throat. “Because you know that everyone deserves parents who take care of them, who protect them. Because you believe that fathers should love their sons the way my father loved me.”

Robin's eyes filled with tears. “The world you grew up in was so different from mine.”

“Well, you're in my world now,” Jules whispered.

“I have a really vivid memory,” Robin said. “I don't know, I must've been…maybe eight? And I was just…coloring, I think. I remember I was trying to be quiet, because my mother was on the phone. But she was really upset and…She threw it, and it hit me, but then it hit the floor and it broke, and God, she slapped me so hard. I think I fell and hit my head because I got a bloody nose. And that really freaked her out, and she did what she always did after she hit me like that. She started to cry and to hug me and to tell me how much she loved me. And I'm just bleeding, all down my shirt, but she's too drunk to help me. And I look up, and I see my father. He's standing out on the porch, on the other side of the sliding glass door, like he was about to knock. And I knew, from the look on his face, that he'd seen the whole thing. And do you know what he did?”

Jules nodded. He could guess, but he couldn't speak past the lump in his throat.

“Yep,” Robin said. “He walked away. He fucking
walked away.
”

Jules just held him.

“He avoided me for years after that,” Robin continued, his voice tight. “And then, when my mother died, and I had to go live with him…He never spoke of it. Like it had never happened. Or it was somehow my fault. Maybe I keep dreaming about it because I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it was that I did that was so wrong.”

“You dream about it because you were traumatized,” Jules told him. “Oh, Robin…”

“I think you're right about not having nightmares because you process the information properly,” Robin said. “You never blame yourself for things you're not responsible for. You're so…secure in your…you-ness. You know who you are, and you like yourself. God, Jules, you have an accurate read on your abilities and skills—you see yourself as part of the picture, instead of, like, a blot on the picture. A stain.”

“Is that really how you see yourself?” Jules was both bemused and horrified. “As a
stain
?”

Robin shrugged. “No. Yeah. I don't know. That's not quite right…It's more like,
you're
part of this massive group doing tai chi, and you're in perfect sync, in harmony with the entire world. You just move effortlessly, like you've got a place, a role and you understand it and are at peace with it. Meanwhile, I'm over here doing the watoosie, in the middle of a stampeding herd of buffalo. At least that's what it feels like.”

“Can you really do the watoosie?” Jules had to ask.

Robin managed a laugh. “What do
you
think?”

“I think you could do anything that you want to,” Jules told him. “Absolutely anything at all.”

Robin shifted to face him, to gaze into Jules's eyes. “God, you have such faith in me,” he finally whispered.

“I'm amazed by you,” Jules admitted. “I know you see yourself as broken, but…I see only incredible strength. To have survived what you survived and still be so alive, so…joyful. So, yeah, I have faith in you. Infinite faith. And every time I turn around, I discover that I love you even more.”

The tears were back in Robin's eyes, but instead of turning away—the way he always did, because he hated to cry in front of anyone, even Jules—he hung in.

“I like being in your world,” he told Jules. “I think I'm finally ready to leave mine behind and, um…I was wondering if you'd mind if I…” He cleared his throat. “Took your name next Saturday. I won't if you don't want me to,” he quickly added, no doubt because of the utter shock on Jules's face.

“No,” Jules said. “I'm just…surprised.”

Back when they'd first gotten engaged, they'd had about a ten second conversation about potential name hyphenation. Some gay couples combined their last names when they married, but Chadwick-Cassidy or Cassidy-Chadwick just seemed too unwieldy. Keeping their own names had seemed the way to go.

“Chadwick's some…dick who walked away from his kid,” Robin told Jules now. “I'd rather be a Cassidy.”

“Won't the studio want to…Have you talked to your agent about this?” Jules asked.

“No, but they'll want me to keep the Chadwick as a middle name, at least for a while,” Robin said. “I'm okay with that—Robin Chadwick Cassidy. Maybe eventually we can phase the Chadwick out, go to Robin C. Cassidy and then just…Robin Cassidy.” He smiled, no doubt at the expression on Jules's face. “It does have a ring to it, doesn't it?”

Jules managed to nod.
Robin Cassidy…

“It's okay with you?” Robin asked, as if he actually thought Jules might not want to share his name.

“It's very okay,” Jules told him.

Robin kissed him. “What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked.

Jules just shook his head as he kissed Robin back.
Robin Cassidy…

It could wait.

PART SIX

attack of the evil twin robot

T
HURSDAY
, D
ECEMBER
13
L
OS
A
NGELES
, C
ALIFORNIA

S
OMEONE HAD BEEN IN HIS CONDO
.

Adam had been home for about ten minutes when he saw the pictures that had been left on his kitchen table.

They were Polaroids—who the hell used Polaroid instant film these digital days?

At first he thought it was something his cleaning lady had left behind, but then he saw what they were pictures of—one was a handgun, the other was ammunition, both bullets and clips.

Go back where you came from
had been written on the bottom of the photo of the gun in creepy psycho-style printing. The son of a bitch had signed it, too.
Jim Jessop.

The hair went up on the back of Adam's neck as he grabbed the remote control and muted the TV that he'd turned on when he'd first entered his kitchen. He stood absolutely still, held his breath and listened.

But it was hard to hear much of anything over the pounding of his heart.

Get out of the house.
Adam could hear Jules's voice in his head, an echo from all those times they'd discussed personal safety. Jules wasn't just possessive, he was obsessive about safeguarding what was his.
If you ever think someone's broken in, get out, get to safety and call the police from there.

After a while, Adam had tuned him out, but apparently, some of what Jules had said all those years ago had stuck.

He grabbed the photos and ran.

 

A
RLINGTON
S
TREET
C
HURCH
B
OSTON
, M
ASSACHUSETTS

“Any questions?” Pastor Stevens asked, as Jules's pants started to shake.

Shit. He hadn't turned his cell phone all the way off as they'd gone into the church for the rehearsal, because there was trouble brewing again in Afghanistan. He hadn't mentioned it to Robin, who no doubt had figured it out for himself, on account of Jules having to “just run in” to the office this morning, on this, the first day of his three week leave of absence.

Jules could feel Robin's eyes on him now, as he stepped aside and took out his phone and…

Nice. It was Adam. What a surprise that
he
would call, two days before the wedding.

Jules slipped his phone back into his pocket and smiled at Robin, who didn't look any less worried.

“I got a question,” Sam was saying. He and Alyssa were standing up for Jules as his best men, so to speak. Jane and Cosmo were doing the same for Robin. “What happens if Jules's mom can't get out of Chicago?”

His mother had been flying into Boston from her home in Hawaii, and her connecting flight out of Chicago had been delayed due to bad weather in Milwaukee. The storm had swiftly moved east and now nothing was leaving O'Hare. Forecasts had lake-effect snow crushing Chicago until well into Saturday morning.

“We'll have to postpone the wedding.” Robin didn't hesitate. “We'll wait until she
does
get here.”

“Actually,” Jules said. “I spoke to Mom this morning. I think she's trying to hire a dogsled, she's that determined to get here. But in the event that the snow doesn't let up…Sweetie, she doesn't want us to postpone.”

“Tough shit,” Robin said and winced. “Excuse me, Pastor. Jules. This is a beautiful church, and I understand that we only have access to it for a limited time on Saturday, but…I'd rather get married at the Dunkin' Donuts on the corner if it means that your mother can be there.”

“I'm with you,” Jules said, as Sam stepped aside to either make or take a phone call, Jules wasn't sure which. “I want her there, too, and I'd rather, you know, have the Coffee Coolatta and Turbo Hot decor, if it means she
can
be, but…You should probably talk to her. She made it
very
clear to me that the President's attendance is more important to her than just about anything.” His mother was very aware that Bryant's attendance was an endorsement of equal marriage—of Jules and Robin's right to have the same rights as everyone else in America. “She was adamant.”

Robin nodded. He'd gotten to know Jules's mom pretty well over the past few months, so he understood adamant. But he didn't like it. “Then what
is
our backup plan if she's not here to walk down the aisle?” he asked.

“Some couples choose to enter the church by these doors,” the pastor pointed to two arch-shaped doors on either side of the church. “When the music starts, you would both step out and meet at the altar. The wedding party could process as planned, with the two of you standing at the front of the church.”

“Works for me,” Jules said.

“Your mother just…better get here,” Robin said as Jules's phone, again, began to shake.

 

L
OS
A
NGELES
, C
ALIFORNIA

Adam could get a restraining order against Jim Jessop.

He sat in the police station, staring at the officer who'd just made that genius suggestion.

“Nobody knows where Jessop is.” He managed to keep from shouting. “What good is a restraining order going to do? No one's going to be able to find him to warn him away from me.” As if a restraining order ever worked in the first place. It was just a piece of paper. It didn't create a bulletproof shield. “Look,” he said. “Jessop broke into my house. He committed a crime. These pictures are proof.”

“They might've been evidence,” the police officer said, “but you removed them from the scene, so…” He shrugged, obviously enjoying himself just a little too much.

So Adam took out his cell phone, and accessed its voice recorder. “This is Adam Wyndham and it's Thursday, December thirteenth, and the man, Jim Jessop, who's made it clear via e-mail that he's stalking me, left a Polaroid of a deadly weapon on my kitchen table. Apparently Officer Rolande, that's R-o-l-a-n-d-e, first name Frank, is amused by my attempt to report this crime.” He shut and pocketed his phone, smiling sweetly at the police person. “This way, after this nut-job kills me? The studio will know exactly who to sue.” He gathered up the photos. “Thanks so much for your time and concern.”

As Adam left the police station, he tried calling Jules again, but again, Jules didn't pick up.

Goddamn it, what had his life come to that the only people who would care if he were murdered were those who worked for the studio that currently employed him? And, face it, they'd only care about recouping the losses from having to replace him halfway through a movie shoot.

No one would miss him. No one would mourn.

As Adam stepped onto the sidewalk, the hair on the back of his neck was on full alert again. Damn it, ever since he'd run out of his condo, he'd had the creepiest feeling—as if someone were watching him.

It was probably his overactive imagination. Except he hadn't felt this while he was safely inside the police station.

He stood there on the corner, uncertain, flipping through his cell phone address book. There was no one to help him—no one who didn't charge him by the hour, like his good friend Lawyer Bob.

Adam gave up and tried calling Robin's phone. No answer.

Of course not.

This was his fault. Somehow he'd become the boy who'd cried wolf.

He knew Jules would believe that Jessop had broken into his house and put those photos on his kitchen table. He knew Jules would see those photos as a real threat, as the serious danger that they were.

The problem was in getting him to pick up his phone.

Adam tried Jules's number again, and was pushed right to voice-mail.

He snapped his phone shut and stepped off the curb, hand held high to flag down a miraculously empty approaching cab.

He climbed in. “LAX,” he told the driver, even as he opened his phone, and dialed his travel agent. “Yeah,” he said as the line was answered. “I need to catch the next flight out of L.A. to Boston, Massachusetts.”

 

B
OSTON
, M
ASSACHUSETTS

“Lemme get this straight, Squidward,” Sam said with a laugh as he sat in the coffee place that was around the corner from Jules's house. They had a couple hours before the rehearsal dinner was set to start. Alyssa was back at the house, napping, and Robin was…off doing whatever Robin did when his sister and her family were in town. “You're worried—because you're having the best sex of your life. I'm sorry, but that's pretty fucked up.”

But Jules wasn't laughing. In fact, he wasn't just upset, he was also embarrassed, so Sam tried harder to understand. But it did not compute.

“What aren't you telling me?” Sam asked him.

But Jules stayed silent, staring down into his mug of coffee, apparently unwilling to go into any detail more specific than “best sex of my life.”

“This isn't locker room talk,” Sam reassured him, and Jules actually smiled at that.

“At least not any locker room that
you
hang out in,” he pointed out. But his smile faded and he still hesitated.

So Sam said, “This is between you and me. It goes no further. I won't even tell Alyssa.” He leaned across the table, lowered his voice. “You know, past few weeks, I was struggling with some kinda weird shit myself. Everything I did, it seemed that Lys ended up pissed off at me. There was obviously something going on with her hormones, from the pregnancy? I told you about that. But when I tried to talk to Alyssa about it—like,
hmmm, guess we need to find you someone to kill—
she got even madder. And then I realized—it was like this fucking eureka moment—that she was frustrated. I'm talking sexually. Which, in hindsight was partly my fault. A lot my fault. But she was always so tired in the evening, and mornings were kind of questionable, with her varying nausea levels, and then we were at work…and I made the mistake of thinking,
okay, she's pregnant, I guess I'm just never having sex again.
” He laughed. “Instead, she's walking around pissed off because she wanted to, um, get it on during what she considered to be inopportune times of the day. And hey, you know me.
Inopportune
isn't in my vocabulary. In short, I installed a new lock on her office door. I say,
Tracy, hold Alyssa's calls, I got an important matter to discuss,
and…” He shrugged. “Problem solved.”

Jules was hiding his smile behind his hand. “Sex in the office,” he said. “That's…so not Alyssa.”

Sam nodded. “Little Miss Do-No-Wrong is very happily breaking some of her rules. Thank God.”

They sat in silence for a moment, just sipping their coffees, Jules not eating the cookie he'd bought. He looked tired, as if he still wasn't doing too well when it came to sleeping.

Of course, the potential problems in A-stan were adding to his tension—to Robin's as well. It was going to be rough for Robin when Jules went back out into the field. Sam's own anxiety levels had been through the roof when Alyssa had gotten back into the game after a near-death experience.

“Your turn,” Sam finally broke the silence.

Jules looked up at him. “You really want to hear this?” he asked.

“Is it more embarrassing than me not having the sense to know that Alyssa would
never
want to not have sex?” Sam asked him.

Jules managed a smile. “It might be.”

“Well, good,” Sam said. “Then I won't be the only fool sitting at this table.”

Jules cleared his throat. “I've been trying really hard not to let it bother me,” he said. “The fact that Robin's playing this character. Joe.”

“You haven't talked to him about this?” Sam couldn't believe they were still dragging
that
shit through the mud. “What's wrong with you? I thought talking things out came with the gay gene.”

“I'm afraid to bring it up,” Jules admitted. “And it just keeps getting more complicated. Joe Laughlin's a great role—I see that, I know that. I just…It was different when Robin was Jeff O'Reilly. Yes, he did a lot of love scenes, but it was always with women and…”

“Now he's doing it with men,” Sam said. Okay, bad word choice. “Acting,” he reiterated. “He's not really…You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, thanks so much. But you're right—it
is
acting. I know that. I do.” So why was he saying it as if he were trying to convince himself? Jules went on. “And the pilot hasn't been sold yet, it may not even be bought so…Who am I kidding?” He rolled his eyes. “If it doesn't get picked up by HBO, Showtime's gonna grab it. Robin is amazing. And, Sam, God, I know that he loves me.”

“But?” Sam asked.