Page 63 of Thrown

Toby laughed. “Mate, none of this is me. It’s Heath Manfred and The Brotherhood.”

“It’s you,” Robbie said, gazing adoringly into Toby’s eyes. “I have a feeling it’s always been you.”

Toby grinned from ear to ear, sideswiped by the sentimentality of Robbie’s words.

Before he could reply, though, the gaggle of aging queens stepped down into the front hall from the corridor.

“Well, what are you waiting for, young stallions?” George called out to them.

“We’ve got a day to save,” Benny added.

Toby laughed and took Robbie’s hand as they hurried to join them. He had absolutely no idea what was about to happen, but whatever it was, he had a feeling it was going to be a once in a lifetime moment of pure entertainment.

NINETEEN

Robbie hadno idea what was going on, but against all odds he was enjoying every second of it.

“Shouldn’t we have a fine champagne on hand if we’re rushing off to save a family’s estate from certain doom?” George asked as the limo made the final approach to Hawthorne House, using the same tone of voice he might use at his club to inquire whetherThe Timeshad been delivered yet.

“Every good, English estate house worth its salt has at least a dozen bottles readily available at any time,” Benny replied with absolute certainty.

“I’m not sure that’s true for Hawthorne House,” Robbie apologized. “The house was converted into an arts center and school years ago.”

“An arts center, you say?” George asked with a smile, then turned to Michael and said, “Forget champagne. They’re likely to have some very fine marijuana on the premises.”

Beside Robbie, Toby snorted into laughter, tipping his head back and making the most joyful sound. When Robbie stared at him, eyes wide, Toby stopped laughing, blinked, and asked, “Well? Do you have a stash of weed at Hawthorne House?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a reply,” Robbie said, crossing his arms and staring straight ahead as Toby laughed at him. Knowing his dad, there was probably a secret marijuana greenhouse on the property somewhere.

All thoughts of illegal substances fell to the wayside as the limo pulled around to Hawthorne House’s front door, drawing a huge amount of startled attention from the students and other community members on their way to and from classes, and Robbie spotted Charles Duckworth’s BMW in the parking lot.

“He’s already here,” he told Toby with a dark scowl, climbing out of the limo as soon as it had stopped.

“Who, Duckworth?” Toby asked, following him. He’d obviously seen the car as well, but he seemed more energized than worried by it. “Let him try whatever he wants, we’ve got the cavalry with us.”

He spoke with confidence, but Robbie turned to watch five elderly queer gentlemen trying to exit the limo with varying degrees of grace or difficulty.

“Blast it, I’ve grown unused to pushing myself up from a low position,” Benny said as he rocked a few times to gain the momentum to stand from the car.

“What, not used to being on your knees anymore?” George asked, then laughed at his own joke to the point where he sent himself into a coughing fit.

Freddy, who Robbie had yet to hear say a word, frowned and shook his head at George, then leaned in to help Benny the rest of the way out of the car.

It was all completely mad, but after seeing The Chameleon Club and hearing the confidence in Heath Manfred’s introductions earlier, Robbie clung onto the belief that the gentlemen he ended up shuffling inside the house like he would guide and direct some of his younger primary school students might be able to help them.

The sense that everything was some sort of comedic adventure stopped immediately when Robbie spotted his dad arguing with Charles Duckworth through one of the office’s windows.

“Looks like the endgame has already started,” he murmured to Toby, gesturing for him to bring the older gentlemen to the office.

“How dare they start without us?” Toby said with mock offense.

Robbie grinned at him. He couldn’t help but think that Toby would fit right in with the other gentlemen who followed after them, bright looks of invigoration on their faces, in about sixty years or so.

That thought was fleeting, and when he reached the office door, which was closed for a change, and opened it, he was hit with a blast of shouting.

“And if you think we would ever capitulate to threats like this, then you have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Dad was shouting at Duckworth while Rebecca and Early stood off to one side, looking panicked.

“Ihave no idea whoI’mdealing with?” Duckworth laughed incredulously. “You’re the delusional hippie here. You have no idea what Willoughby Entertainment is capable of. You have no idea whatI’mcapable of.”

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