Robin paced the length of the flat, passing the green ottoman three times before Morgan cleared his throat at her worrisome behavior. He sat in the corner of the room, the front door behind him, with a coloring book and a sixty-four box set of crayons. "You're right." Robin told him. "I need to just call and make sure that nothing is wrong. I mean, it's ridiculous for me not to have phoned until now. I'm sure Adam is just swamped and, for my store to get any kind of attention is definitely noteworthy." Robin prattled on, bouncing the phone from one hand to the other. She pressed in the ten-digit number and waited for the other line to pick up.
"The Port Charles Insider, no one knows Port Charles better. This is Becca, how can I help you?" The voice was impossibly chipper. No one was naturally that happy.
"Good afternoon, Becca. This is Robin Scorpio. I was hoping to get in touch with Adam Czerwinski." Robin explained, hoping her voice sounded just as pleasant. Silence greeted her request. She began to wonder if maybe the entire profile piece had been an elaborate hallucination brought on by Courtney's cooking and too little sleep over Morgan's situation. She was about to repeat herself when Becca finally responded.
"Oh, let me transfer you to our editor Cruz Rodriquez. He'll be able to sort out this entire situation for you. Please hold."
"Okay." Robin said unnecessarily since Becca was no longer on the line. Morgan had returned to his strategy of coloring within the parameters of the picture. Three beeps sounded in her ear and then a distracted, if not completely bored, voice came on the line.
"This is Cruz Rodriguez. How can I help you?"
"Hello, this is Robin Scorpio. I was just calling to follow-up with one of your photographers, Adam Czerwinski." Robin explained. She could thank Anna for her impeccable manners. How many etiquette classes had she been forced to attend since childhood?
Seated at his desk, Cruz shot an irritated look in Becca and Axe's direction. They couldn't have given him some warning with this? Axe caught the evil glare Cruz was shooting him and shrugged his shoulders, a grin belying the apology he was trying to send. Cruz flipped him the bird. Sometimes it just paid to be the boss.
"Robin. Hello. I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you on the phone. I really need to invest more money in training my staff properly." He was desperate, hoping he could stall her long enough with small talk to disguise the fact that his photographer had in fact flown the coop.
"That's quite all right. I hope I'm not keeping you from something important?" Her voice rose a bit at the end, proving that it was in fact an implied question.
"No no no. Nothing that can't wait. If anything earth shattering occurs, I can always yell 'Stop the presses!' It's the perk of being the boss."
"I'm learning how hard it is to be the boss, so I can understand. I'll get straight to the point. I can only assume that you know why I'm calling. Your newspaper called me a few weeks ago saying that you wanted to do a spread on my bakery, Sweet Indulgence. There was an interview about a week ago, but then, nothing. We set up a meeting to take the shots this morning, but he never showed up." Robin informed him. She wished her business didn't need the exposure as much as it did, otherwise she never would have had to call the boss of the PC Insider and whine about his employee.
Cruz sucked in his breath. He couldn't exactly say he knew Robin well. He had only been at her wedding to laugh at Patrick in a tuxedo and score free alcohol. He certainly hadn't seen her in the six months since her divorce from Logan and Logan's flight from responsibility. So why was her directness such a shock to him? He had at least had passing conversations with her for five years. Yet another reason to kill Adam whenever he found him. He was making him forget entirely simple things.
Adjusting his tie, Cruz raised his eyes heavenward. "Listen Robin I'm just going to level with you. I assigned Adam to your story, because he was the best photographer I had here. He was the only one who could have done your piece the justice I think it deserves."
"'Was?'" Robin chewed uncertainly on the word. "Is he no longer a part of the magazine?" She guessed, having to restrain herself from throwing the telephone. So much for etiquette classes. She should have thanked him for his frankness.
Cruz silently planned out a new way to cheerfully murder Adam. At his last count he was up to 758. This would make way number 759. "Your guess is as good as mine. To tell you the complete truth, Adam has not shown up today and he's not returning my calls or pages. My gut says he got a better job offer and he took it, forgetting to let me in on the plan. He's a talented photographer and I knew he was going on to better things. I just thought he would have let me know about it first."
"A professional is only as good as their word. I've dealt with people like him in the past. Ohh, I should have known better. He was so suave. You do have a replacement, don't you? I mean someone with a little less ego and a little more drive?" Robin didn't care how desperate she sounded.
Fewer egos? Patrick certainly didn't qualify in that regard. More drive and talent certainly. And there was the little fact that Cruz hadn't exactly figured out yet how to get Patrick to do the job. Even the actually having the replacement figured out thing was suspect at this point. As appreciative as Robin had been with his honesty so far, Cruz doubted she would appreciate this much. Besides, didn't she share a mutual loathing society with Patrick? Telling her Patrick was his top pick to be the replacement photographer probably would result in getting the story buried and him scrambling to fill a gaping hole in the layout.
He decided to take a "less is more" approach. "I am in the process of re-assigning all of his unfinished assignments to other photographers and calling in some contacts I have in the freelance field when I need to. I will find someone who matches your reputation for perfectionism perfectly.
"That's perfect! Do you have a time table by chance? Or a name?" Robin added.
So they were actually going to run the spread. Robin felt like jumping up and down but the six-year-old to her right might not like that, so she kept her feet on the ground. From what little she had known of Cruz Rodriguez before now--and what little she still knew of him--he was a dedicated, cut-through-the-red-tape kind of guy and that made him perfect for his position. Robin had read in one of the rival magazines about how The Insider was suffering several staff losses and had been for who knew how long. Why the magazines would pick on it was beyond Robin's comprehension. Some people were just spiteful. He was promising to find her a replacement, saving both their asses, but what guarantee did she actually have? Adam Czerwinski had promised her a lot of things. Hell, Logan...
This was not the time to think about him. She almost couldn't think about Cruz's intentions without remembering that he was a friend of Logan's. From what she knew, he was close to Patrick Drake as well. The name left an acidic taste in her mouth. Where Logan had lacked in confidence and stability Patrick made up for in ego and self-assurance. The divorce hadn't been a pretty one, and, unless she was just way off base, the photographer was bitter about her role in the whole thing. What had he expected her to do, climb into the bed with Logan and his slut and join them? For Christ's sake, she was tired of his mindless accusations!
"I don't have a name for you just yet." Cruz silently vowed to go to church straight away for the lies he was telling Robin. "Several of my candidates are currently out of town on other assignments. As soon as they come back into town, I will call you myself and set up the time for the shoot." Drinking yourself into a stupor to celebrate your mother's life with your jackass of a brother counted as an assignment right? And surely he could come up with some reasonable story to get Patrick to do him this favor by the time he rolled back into town?
"Should I leave you my number so that your photographer can contact me or just call back?" Robin inquired.
"Please give me your number. I feel partially responsible for this mess so I will take care of arranging everything." The less exposure Patrick and Robin had to each other before this shoot, the more likely the chance Cruz stood to actually get it accomplished. Even when Patrick realized the deception, Cruz knew his friend well enough to know his professional pride would keep him at the shoot until it was complete.
Robin recited the number for Cruz, thanked him for his help, and hung up. She turned to tell Morgan the news, but his spot was empty and his mess had been picked up . Blowing out a breath, she let the smell of fresh-brewed coffee draw her into the kitchen.
"Hey Pint Size. Want some?" Courtney offered up a mug in Robin's direction. Coffee was the one thing Courtney could do well in the kitchen.
"Yes please." Robin answered dramatically, reaching for the offered mug.
Courtney went to pull down another mug from the shelf, this one emblazoned with the saying "If God wanted us to be morning people, She wouldn't have invented coffee". As she poured the cup, she looked down at her feet. "Morgan, you want some coffee buddy?" she asked with a laugh.
Morgan climbed onto the counter and buried his face in the Funnies section of the morning newspaper. It was the one thing he and Robin shared, their love of comics. He dropped the paper on the floor and stared at his aunt. He made a grab for the cup, lifting off of the counter too fast, and he flew forward. Courtney managed to catch him before Robin even knew what was happening.
"Oh my Go--goodness, Morgan. Are you all right?" Robin sounded like a mother hen, fretting over her fallen child. Morgan smiled at Courtney and hugged her tightly. He adjusted his blue jean overalls and got to his feet, retrieving the paper and skipping around the kitchen as if nothing had happened. Robin's face had lost all color when Courtney addressed her. "I'm sorry. What did you say?" She asked her roommate.
"I said he's fine. He's tough. Just like me, right Morgan?" Courtney put down her mug and began to mimic the muscle men poses they always laughed at when flipping past fitness competitions on TV. Morgan smiled and Robin could feel the urge to laugh rising up in her. The image of her tall blonde roommate acting like a muscle-bound behoment from the world of wrestling was comedy of the highest order.
"I can always count on you to make me laugh." Robin smiled into her coffee. "What are you up to tonight?"
Courtney twisted a piece of hair behind her ear and shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing concrete as of yet, but there maybe a karaoke competition happening at Lane's house tonight." Courtney looked up from her paper, her blue eyes shinning. "You and Morgan can come if you want. Lane's niece is visiting and could watch Morgan. And you know the dogs love Morgan. Plus Lane is a Disney freak. He'd have a great time." Courtney paused and fixed her gaze on Robin. "So would you, Roby."
"I have a lot of work to get done tonight, but you're welcome to take Morgan." Robin answered, busying herself with refilling the sugar packet jar. It was mostly true. She had a business to keep from going under. She had responsibilities.
"What do you have to do? Alphabetize the spice rack again?"
"I only did that because you hid some of them from me." Robin argued.
Courtney rolled her eyes. "Let me guess you're doing something that you are convinced will keep the bakery open and away from the brink of foreclosure."
"That's not it at all!" Robin countered, sticking out her tongue. Courtney's request wasn't ridiculous to say the least. Robin had been divorced for six months, and, most women in her situation would be taking any opportunity presented if it got them out of the house. She wasn't most women. She didn't crave male attention. She didn't strive to pick out a perfect outfit for clubbing...she hadn't gone clubbing more than once and that was back when she and Courtney had been in their first semester of college. She wouldn't have fit in now, that was for sure.
"Roby, you have not gone out to do anything fun since you kicked He Who Shall Not Be Named to the curb." Normally Courtney would have given Logan a more colorful description, but she was editing for the young ears in close proximity. "He took five years from you. Don't let him take anything more from you. Don't let the You-Know-What win."
"This isn't a competition, Court." And yet, it was. She couldn't stand the idea of Logan being happy without her. She wanted him to suffer as she had suffered. She wanted him to be uncertain of his worth to the opposite sex. She wanted him to wake up in the middle of the night to find no one beside him in his cold bed.
"Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you'll find someone who actually believes you." Courtney walked over to Robin's side of the counter and sat down. "Roby, I promise not to let you leave with any loser and that the bakery will not cease to exist if you have one night of fun."
"Promise?" Robin challenged in a light voice. She was doing it. She was going forward with some kind of haphazard plan. Oh God, she was terrified!
"Cross my heart hope Logan to die" Courtney responded cheerfully, her hand up in an approximation of a Boy Scout salute.
Robin giggled and headed upstairs to get ready. Courtney had only left her an hour to shower and get changed. No way was she going out anywhere in her white button-up suit!
Courtney offered her nephew a wink. "Looks like we won that one, didn't we Morgan?" The six year old merely smiled and returned his attention to the funnies.
Ten minutes into her shower, Robin's weary body began to sizzle with anticipation. Should she blow-dry her hair? No. The weather had been awfully humid lately, so she wasn't going to take any chances with her hair. Slapping a moderate amount of gel into her right palm, she brought her hands together and worked the chemical through her wavy mess of curls. Then, she got to work on her makeup, and almost cried when she saw what a difference a little mascara made to her plain complexion. When Courtney found her, she had thrown almost every outfit she owned onto the bed, unable to establish which would be the most appropriate.
Courtney laughed. "I thought we didn't have hurricanes in New York"
"Help!" Robin begged, throwing her hands into the air, completely baffled at the situation that lay in front of her. "I don't want to look like an old woman, but I burned all of the clothes I bought during my marriage. Is there anything in here that would pass for twenty-four instead of forty-four?"
"Lord, we don't want that. Follow me." Courtney motioned Robin down the short hallway towards her own room and closet. She flung open the door and threw her arms open wide. "Help yourself."