A/N: This fic contains potentially triggering subject matter including but not limited to: suicidal references, gun violence, sexual trauma, homelessness, drug abuse, depression, homophobia, and cancer. It may contain inaccuracies. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading!
BOOK ONE - PART TWO - CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sam stuffed the last donut into her mouth and walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. She had slept in very late—it was mid-afternoon, and she was just now waking up. She went to the fridge and poured herself a glass of orange juice, which she gulped down immediately.
Then Robbie walked in. For a second, he seemed surprised to see Sam there, until he remembered she was staying—probably indefinitely. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize the kitchen was… occupied. I'll come back later." He whirled around and headed back the way he came.
Sam rolled her eyes. She hadn't forgotten that this guy was terrified of confrontation. "Hey, dude!" she called after him.
Robbie stopped and turned around. "Yes?" he asked, confused.
Sam lowered her second glass of orange juice from her mouth and said, "Are you busy right now?"
"I'm taking a break from work. Why? Did you need something?" Robbie seemed bewildered by the fact that she was even speaking to him.
"Yeah. You got a car?"
Robbie had several parked in the garage. "Yes," he replied tentatively.
"Is there any way you could drop me off somewhere real quick?" Sam asked. She would've preferred someone else, but Robbie seemed to be the only person available at the moment.
"Uh, sure. I guess I don't see why not. Where did you want to go?" Robbie asked, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter.
"I was just wondering if you could drop me off at the medical clinic me and Cat went to yesterday. I left my bike there and I wanted to pick it up," Sam explained.
"Medical clinic?"
"Yeah. I don't remember the name. It's the one Cat always goes to."
"Must be Dr. Gatlin. Yeah, I can give you a ride; it's only, like, a ten-minute drive," Robbie agreed, motioning for Sam to follow him. "C'mon, let's go to the garage."
Sam was intrigued. She hadn't seen the garage yet. She trailed Robbie through the large house and through a door. Then he flipped a switch on the wall. The garage was massive. There were at least a dozen cars—expensive cars—lined up, side-by-side in rows. When Robbie noticed Sam gaping at them, he chuckled and said, "Like my collection?"
Sam scoffed. "Dude, are you kidding? This is—those are—" She paused suddenly, then looked at him curiously. "Did Cat buy you all of these?"
"Oh," Robbie motioned to a particular car, "No, she bought me the Tesla for Christmas last year, but I bought the rest." Robbie continued leading Sam through the garage until they arrived at a different car—a silver Lamborghini Aventador. He climbed into the driver's side and motioned for Sam to get in. Sam was staring at the door handle like she was afraid to touch it, lest she leave dirt or fingerprints or something on it—this car was worth over half a million dollars and hadn't even hit the market yet. Robbie saw her hesitating and said, "It's okay. Get in."
Sam shakily opened the door and climbed in. She shut it once she was inside—the seat was very comfortable. She tried not to touch anything as Robbie opened the garage door and pulled out of the driveway. Once they were out on the street, Sam finally gained the courage to speak again. "Hey, uh… can I ask you something? What do you do, exactly?"
With his eyes on the road, Robbie replied, "Oh, I'm a screenwriter. I write scripts. Usually for movies, but sometimes I do plays or TV shows too."
"Huh. Sounds… boring. It must really pay, though," Sam remarked, looking around at the interior of the car.
"Boring?" Robbie smirked. "You seen that new movie, Fairyfighters?"
"Yeah?" Sam responded. The women and children's shelter had held a public movie night last month, and Sam had seen it then. She rarely got to watch movies anymore, so it had seemed fantastic, even though it was rated PG. When Robbie didn't answer, she eventually put the pieces together. "Are you saying you wrote that?"
"Yes. My partner and I," Robbie confirmed. "It's been our most successful work to date."
"Jeez!" Sam was seriously impressed. Then something occurred to her, and she said, "Who's your partner?"
Robbie was confused as to why Sam was trying to act interested in his life, but he didn't mind the attention. "Well, his name's Bryson Karter. We've been working together for almost five years."
"Working together, huh?" Sam casually asked, "So… how long've you guys been playing hide the sausage?"
"Jeez!" Robbie scoffed, his face growing a bit warm. "You really haven't changed, have you, Sam?"
Sam chuckled. "Answer the question, man."
Robbie cleared his throat. "Fine, but try and keep it under the radar. Bryson and I have been together for about two years."
"And you just got engaged to Cat six months ago?" Sam asked, trying to work it all out in her head. It really wasn't the most ideal situation.
"Um… yeah. I'm not sure what all she told you about it, but it was all staged. She was waiting for you to come back for so long that her fans started questioning her sexuality," Robbie explained. "And Jade's already bi, and her record label didn't want to represent a lesbian group, so her and I just figured we'd make it easier for everyone and get together."
"And it worked, I'm assuming?"
"Oh, yeah. It squashed the rumors right away. We just have to be really careful to stay closeted, or else the whole thing's gonna blow up," Robbie told her.
"Hmm. And you…" Sam hesitated, "You've slept with Cat?"
Robbie's eyes went wide. "She told you about that?"
"Not really about it. Just that it happened," Sam replied.
Robbie was leaning away a little like he was bracing himself for a physical beat-down of some kind. "Yeah, we, um… tried. A few times." Sam lifted her hand to scratch her shoulder and Robbie flinched away, gripping the steering wheel and whimpering.
Sam snorted with laughter. It was pretty hard to see this guy as a threat. "Dude, would you relax? I'm not mad you were with Cat. Jealous, maybe, but not mad." She paused with thought. "If you guys didn't like it, why'd you do it multiple times?"
"Uh… it would probably be more appropriate for Cat to talk to you about that," Robbie stammered. Then he stated, "Don't worry; it won't be happening again."
Sam gave him a strange look. "Why the hell not? Cat's fucking gorgeous. And you obviously haven't always been exclusively gay. So, what happened?"
Robbie sucked his lips in. "Again, you should probably ask Cat that. I mean, I'm not denying that she's extremely beautiful. There's just… a lack of sexual attraction."
"For you or for her?"
"Both," Robbie answered. Sam continued to stare at him expectantly, waiting for more information, so he sighed. "Alright. I don't want you to take this the wrong way and start calling me sexist or whatever, but, uh… vaginas are repulsive."
Sam laughed, surprised. "Well, I strongly disagree," she responded, then added, "But I feel the same way in reverse, so I guess it makes sense."
"Honestly, I think Cat usually prefers guys. But you've always been the exception to that," Robbie assured her.
Sam smiled. "Thanks. Cat trusts you, so… I guess I trust you too. But if you ever hurt her or cross a line…" She rolled her shoulders out and clenched her fists.
"Well, consider it the same the other way around. If you ever break her heart again I might just—"
Sam laughed. "Oh, please. I could kill you with a butter sock."
Knowing Sam's reputation, Robbie didn't take the threat lightly. "Whatever. Just… be good to Cat." He pulled into the parking lot for the doctor's office and stopped beside the curb.
"Thanks," Sam said as she opened the door and climbed out of the car.
"You'll be okay from here?" Robbie asked, concerned about her wellbeing. He didn't think Cat would be able to handle losing her again. "Do you need, like, money or something?"
Sam turned around. "Money?"
"Yeah." Robbie grabbed his wallet and pulled out two $100 bills. "Here. Is that good?"
Sam's jaw was working wordlessly. It had been years since she'd held this much money at once. "Are—are you sure? I mean, this is…"
Robbie misinterpreted her reaction and pulled out another $100. "There. Better?"
Sam scoffed and stammered out, "Yeah—yeah, that's great. I appreciate it. Thanks." She closed the car door and tucked the cash into her pocket.
"See you later at home," Robbie told her, and then drove off.
Sam watched him go with a small smile on her face. She had money. And she had a home.