-The Luckiest
Part Three
"What if I'd been born
Fifty years before you?"
Robbie has always been good at school. Honestly, he doesn't understand why other kids have such trouble with it. He's been firm in his belief that all of the answers to every question – be it in English, math, science, or what have you – are easily attainable if one simply searches for them with the appropriate material. Formulas, literature, textbooks; it's all right there if you just know where to look and how to manipulate the tools you have to produce the correct answers.
Tori Vega, however, is something Robbie is not good at. Tori Vega is about as easy to read as a brain surgery instruction manual, concocted with equations Robbie doesn't even know the names of, and a thousand layers of complicated poetry and essays and books – volumes of stories and dreams and songs –written in her eyes, in the lines of her hands, the slope of her lips. She's not something Robbie can just dissect and understand like some dead frog in his Biology class and she's not a script he's able to study and memorize for an audition. Tori Vega is a girl and girls have never been Robbie Shapiro's expertise.
Andre took him on a blind date once about a year ago when they were sophomores. Of course, Robbie didn't know at the time that they were going to the bowling alley to meet girls because if he had, he more than likely wouldn't have come. And he probably wouldn't have brought Rex with him. As it was, he walked into the neon streaked building with Rex propped against his elbow. Robbie has never seen Andre nervous; he is just a naturally calm guy, and unlike Robbie, he had never had a problem with being around girls. It was like there was no difference, like hanging out with Beck or Sinjin or any other dude. Andre is always cool. But as soon as Robbie saw the two girls – an Asian girl with a flowery skirt and a tall blonde with big teeth and a loud laugh, his legs turned to rubber and Rex felt like a brick in his arms.
"Andre, you didn't –" he started, but Andre shushed him with an elbow digging into his ribs, whispering sharply for him to relax, that they were just girls and he desperately needed to get a girlfriend. Robbie really couldn't argue with that bold truth, so he had shuffled over to the little table where the two girls were all smiles and waves and Robbie sat down with the puppet's head turned into his neck, trying to swallow the lump of nerves in his throat, rattling like an earthquake was erupting inside of him.
The girls had been nice enough, though, like most people, raised their eyebrows in peculiar curiosity when Rex spoke for the first time. It was something funny and clever, Robbie's sure, and everyone laughed while Robbie tried to disappear behind the doll's head. As the evening progressed (and he made a sufficient fool of himself every time he was up to bowl, where he hit no more than two or three pins at a time) he did get to talking to the Asian girl, whose name turned out to be Rebecca. She seemed just as nervous as he was, but at one point, when the lights were darkened and the alley was lit only by the streaks of green and blue lining the aisles, she dared to take his free hand in his lap.
"How she could ever like you is totally ridiculous," Rex said, the words soft under the music pulsing from hidden speakers. "You're an incompetent, stupid little shit that's going to go absolutely nowhere in life and –"
"What did you say?"
Rebecca's eyes were kind. Or maybe it was just a trick of the lights and all. Robbie stood up, his sweaty hand unsticking from hers as he stepped away. "I gotta go," he told them, and left without another word, just Rex's voice repeating himself over and over.
Stupid little shit.
Needless to say, Robbie never saw Rebecca again, and Andre never asked to take him bowling after that. If anything, the one thing Robbie took away from that fiasco was an even closer bond to Rex, who became both the only person he could be himself around (which was nobody) and the person who destroyed him the most.
With those girls at the bowling alley, there was nothing more than the fact that they were girls, pretty girls, which scared him off. That's a simple concept. Robbie is a smart guy. Him plus pretty girls equals disaster and a louder, more crude Rex.
But Tori isn't that simple because she's not just a pretty girl.
She's Tori.
And he's buying dinner for her.
"Pick me up at six, okay?"
She's smiling at him in the parking lot of Hollywood Arts. There's a whole crowd of people walking around them, kids leaving in their cars, music blaring from somewhere, and she doesn't even care that everyone can see her talking to him. It baffles Robbie, who shifts Rex against his chest with a tight smile. "Do you care if I bring him?"
He doesn't want to, particularly. He doesn't enjoy having Rex around. Being a ventriloquist lost its appeal after Robbie discovered he couldn't censor, let alone silence, the bad person inside of him. Once he found out that Rex was almost a separate entity, a completely different person from himself that he had little control over, he didn't much care for the art anymore. But as much as he doesn't want to and the idea doesn't appeal to him, he knows he can't function as well without Rex. He doesn't know what to say, where to put his hands, what to do with the rest of his body – it's just easier and makes him feel better knowing that the bad person locked within his bones can at least be seen in his lap.
Tori's smile wavers as her eyes dart down to the doll. "If he promises not to ruin the evening."
"Can't make those kinds of promises, sweetheart." Rex's head swivels to glare at the Vega girl, who makes a face at him before splitting another smile up at Robbie.
She doesn't get it. She doesn't understand.
This is who is hiding inside of him.
"So, six o' clock?"
"Yeah. Okay. Yes. I'll be there." He clicks his mouth shut with effort as she waves at him and turns away, bouncing toward her car. Her wave of brown hair flutters like kite-tails behind her. He watches her in silence, the doll hot around his hand.
"You're going to fuck this up because you don't deserve a girl like her."
Robbie's brow twitches over the rim of his glasses. "Shut up, Rex."
To his surprise, the puppet remains silent the entire drive home.
/
"A date? Honey, that's so wonderful."
Robbie's mother is a soft woman with a permanent smile on her face, her hair a few shades lighter than her son's and smelling of coconuts when she hugs in him in the kitchen. His lanky arms rest around her back as his father claps him on the shoulder, a loud crack probably leaving an impressive bruise behind.
"What's her name, Bob? Are you going to bring her home to meet us?"
When he manages to detach from his mother's arms, he faces his father, whom everyone has always insisted is just an older copy of himself. They're both so tall and skinny it's almost awkward. His father's curls aren't so tightly wrung anymore and his glasses are a tad thicker than they used to be, but the same goofy smile and long nose holds a younger Robbie in their reflection.
"It's our first date, Dad. She's not my – she's not my girlfriend or anything."
"Yet." He winks at his son.
Rex is propped in one of the kitchen chairs and Robbie meets his blue, painted eyes. He doesn't speak – not out loud – but Robbie hears him.
You don't deserve her.
/
Robbie knows where Tori lives but he kind of wishes he didn't so he would have an excuse to be late.
His stomach curled in knots, the ventriloquist slowly pulls his car into Tori's driveway. The patrol car in her garage alarms him somewhat until he remembers that Tori's dad is a cop which only serves to throw him even nearer into a nervous breakdown. He twists to face Rex, the dark-haired puppet sitting in the middle, hands flopped lifelessly to his sides.
"This is crazy," Robbie says.
Rex says nothing.
"I'm going to throw up."
Silence.
"Tell me I'm worthless."
Rex does speak up then. "You're worthless. You're the most worthless human being on the planet. You're nothing. You're a stupid shit and she deserves better."
Robbie blinks. Nods. Turns around and faces Tori's house.
He climbs out of the car.
Her dad opens the door. He's as tall as he is broad and set into his eye sockets are the same variation of brown that Tori possesses. Robbie stutters an introduction, his sweaty palm swallowed into Mr. Vega's, and then he's ushered inside.
He's been in Tori's house before, has already met her parents – hell, he kissed her sister. Twice. The elder sibling in question is sprawled in a less than graceful position on the couch, headphones shoved into her ears, and her face slathered in what looks like white frosting. Two slices of what looks like cucumbers are balanced on her closed eyes.
"I didn't know people actually did that," Robbie says before he can stop himself, but it sends Mr. Vega into a short fit of laughter.
"Trina's a real hoot. Those aren't even cucumbers, they're pickles. She thinks they're the same thing."
Robbie laughs nervously and the two men turn to the sound of footsteps on the stairs and Robbie's breath catches in his throat like an engine trying to turn. She's not wearing anything fancy – it's not like they're on their way to prom or anything – but, man, Tori can make a trash bag look like it belongs on the runway. Her jeans are dark and her top is purple, the ruffled center poking out from a darker violet colored jacket. A gold flower dangles against her throat on a thin chain that disappears behind her long curls of hair.
"It's a school night, so no later than ten, Tori."
But she's looking at Robbie. He had spent nearly an hour going through his closet and ultimately decided he hated everything in it. Settling on a pair of nicer, dark jeans and a white v-neck his mom bought him a few months ago but he had never worn, Robbie didn't think he came off as particularly handsome, but the way Tori's looking at him, with her lips slightly parted and her hands hovering, empty, over her stomach, it's almost like he is.
You're not.
Robbie blinks once, breaking Tori's trance, and she shakes her head as she descends the rest of the stairs. "What, dad?"
"No later than ten. You got that, Robert?"
"Yes, sir, absolutely, sir."
"You're going on a date with Shapiro?"
Trina's sitting on her elbows, pickles on the humps of her breasts. One headphone is pinched between her fingers, still grinding music.. Her ghost-white face makes her full lips and narrowed, suspicious eyes look like some kind of mask. Robbie swallows hard, stepping back, feeling like he should apologize and leave for even being in the same room as them. The tone of her voice is almost exactly like Rex's, only considerably more feminine.
There's a smart girl.
Robbie swallows the standard 'shut up' on his tongue.
"Shut up, Trina," Tori scowls, readjusting her purse under her arm. "At least I have a date, unlike some pickle-stinking sister I happen to know."
Trina makes a face that's not really visible under the cream. "Whatever." She shifts her eyes to Robbie and gives a slow shrug. "He's a good kisser, anyway."
Mr. Vega shoots a bullet at Robbie with his eyes.
"Time to go." Tori's hand is hot as it clenches around Robbie's wrist, dragging him out under the orange Hollywood sky.
"I didn't – Trina was just – we had an audition, it wasn't what you think or –"
"Robbie." Tori spins as they reach his car, her smile subtle and soft. "Breathe."
He does. A long, slow breath fills up his lungs and floods out of his nose.
"Better?"
"Yeah."
"Good." The hand on Robbie's wrist slivers down, her palm pressing against his. "Now, you've got a deal to hold up and a dinner to buy me. I'm starving."
Before Robbie can remember that gentlemen open doors, Tori's already in the passenger seat. He slips inside, fumbling with the keys briefly. The engine purrs to life and they're off, Tori's house disappearing around a corner.
"Hey, Rex." Tori's twisted in her seat, smiling at the puppet.
Robbie blinks when the puppet doesn't reply.
He blinks again when nothing replies.
"What, is he mad at me?"
Robbie's eyes flick away from the road for a moment, resting on Tori's soft, tanned face, and then to Rex in the rearview mirror.
"Just not talkative today, I guess." He takes a deep breath. "So, where do you want to eat?"
Tori pats her abdomen. "My stomach is screaming for pizza. That okay with you?" She turns to face him, her hands folded on her knees.
And she's smiling and it's beautiful.
"Yeah." Robbie smiles and when he tightens his hands on the steering wheel, they're not sweating anymore.
A/N: To be honest with you, I didn't think this story would get so long. Or layered. Like I mentioned in the first chapter, it was supposed to be a oneshot, but now that I've seen Rori, I can't unsee it. It's tattooed on my heart. Robbie and Tori forever. Who knows? Maybe the rating will change. Dun dun dun!
Reviews are delightful, as always.
