Page 10 of Robin and Marian
He brightened at that and tapped the wall of the cubicle behind her before leaving. “You look good,” he said.
“Guy!” Her editor exclaimed behind them. “Tell me you’re not going!” She blocked both Marian and Guy in the cubicle. Ana was a woman who dressed in the highest fashion at work and expected her employees to do likewise, even though none of their readership could possibly care. She swung her blonde Farrah Fawcett curls behind her shoulder and bobbed her head in a series of nods as if to catch up on what she’d missed of the conversation. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do for you, Guy.” She grasped his arm firmly.
His eyes were on Marian. “Thereisactually. I mean, you’re a reporter, Marian, aren’t you?”
“Y—yes?” Marian stammered, confused.
“Come to Nottingham and cover my grandfather’s retirement party in a month. It’ll be the story of the year.”
Ana smiled broadly. “What an honor. He’s retiring?”
“Yeah, I’m as surprised as you.” Guy was full of confidence now that Ana was there to touch his arm and nod. “And now I’m hosting the party of the year to celebrate it. It’s taking place during the May Day celebrations in Nottingham.” He turned to Marian. “You know how seriously that town takes the holiday. They party for a whole week.”
“Yes!” She’d missed the celebrations since she’d moved away. They’d been the highlight of her elementary school days. After that, Scarlett had kept her updated every summer. She grew excited. “Don’t they hold a Mayfair too?”
“Not this year, sadly; the town doesn’t have the… resources, but Richard still has something planned every day to make up for it—banquets, the fire wheel, the maypole, bands. His party will last as long as they did before, and Marian?” He reached for her. “I want you to be my special guest.”
Marian didn’t know what to say. Clearly, Guy had ulterior motives for wanting her to come. She was flattered, but unsure. Could he really be as bad as Robin? Was anyone? A look of uncertainty crossed his handsome face when she hesitated. Guy was a dashing British gentleman who’d always treated her with respect. For a moment she toyed with the idea of accepting his proposal until she remembered her full schedule of puff pieces for the next three months. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t possibly break away.” His eyes filled with concern, and she hastened to explain, “Ana’s already given me my work assignments.”
Ana gaped like a fish when Guy glanced over to her for confirmation. “No, no, she’ll go. We’ll clear her schedule. This is far more important.”
Guy raised a brow at Marian for confirmation. She let out a surprised laugh. This was much more appealing than looking for another job. “Well, in that case, I’m in.”
He grinned with a touch of giddiness and headed for the door, his expensive suitcoat lifting with his arm when he pointed at her. “You won’t be sorry, Marian. You’ll love the changes I’ve made to Nottingham, especially to my new place. I’ll give you the best room in the house.”
Marian stared after him, suddenly not sure if she was making the right decision. As soon as he left, both Ana and the gossip columnist were on her back. “You were going to say no? He owns this place!” Ana waggled a finger at her. “If he wants you to go to the moon with him, you run and buy the ticket before he changes his mind.”
Elly shook her head, staring after him. “Plus… how can you deny that sweet face?” She picked up a notebook, looking sly. “You still have it bad for Robin, don’t you?”
Marian took a quick intake of breath. How did she…? Never mind. Guy’s was a very sweet face. His expressive mouth and almond-shaped eyes—though darker—were the image of Robin’s, and it haunted her. Was that what Elly wanted to know? Probably. Robin’s was a sweet face too, though he’d used those eyes and mouth more for smiling. Was he smiling now?
She excused herself to find her phone. Only one question burned through her reporter brain. There was a bigger story here. She felt it. At least, Marian justified it as that, but really, she had to know what had happened to Robin. It took her one call to the prison and another to a shaken literacy teacher to get the full story. She hung up, breathing heavily. Robin was at it again. Her fingers landed on the keyboard and they didn’t lift until later that evening when she had the whole thing written out on her screen. Skimming through it one last time, she pulled away and called up her editor. “Ana, remember four years ago when we broke the story on Robin’s arrest?”
Ana sighed, allowing her irritation to slip into her voice, “Of course I do!”
“Our newspapers were sold out for a month.”
This time, Ana didn’t dismiss her as quickly. “Go on.”
“I’ve got a story on Robin that will do that again.”
Chapter 4
Ahole in the wall of cinderblocks opened and a guard spoke through it. “You’ve got a visitor.”
Robin looked up from his cell. A visitor? Was this more press? That had been the extent of his visitors the full four years he’d been in the clink—sometimes a psychologist who wanted fame for getting into Robin’s head or a love-struck loon who’d cut out his face from all the magazines and taped them all over her bedroom walls. He smirked at the memory. Non-family members weren’t allowed entry anymore.
Robin had thought that Scarlett would’ve at least visited, maybe with Midge, since she knew he was innocent, but she must’ve felt too ashamed to see him here in her place. It had hurt in the beginning, but he’d come to understand it as time went by. After a while, he hadn’t wanted her to see him like this. Robin had grown meaner and leaner, his arms corded with muscle and prison tats; he was hairier and uglier. He’d done it to survive this place.
Judge Hereford had thrown the book at him; there hadn’t been a merciful bone in his body when he’d refused to send Robin to one of those white collar prisons where he’d only brush elbows with other delinquent celebrities with high-profile cases. No, Robin had been taken to a maximum security prison, where he fought to stay alive with the worst sorts of thieves, rapists, and murderers imaginable.
Had it not been for “the King” of the inmates who’d seen his viral video in the cafeteria and dubbed him amusing enough to keep alive, Robin wouldn’t have lasted his first few months. Eventually Robin had formed his own clique and used them as a barrier from the others so he could keep to himself. Most of these men he’d gained a begrudging respect for over the years, but he’d turned against them all when he’d kept that literacy teacher alive. It was why he was now in atypeof solitary confinement with Tuck.
Tucker Field sat on the other end of Robin’s cement cell, his fingers tapping against the ground, his mouth moving in prayer, and his head bumping against the wall as he tried to keep up with the thoughts circling through his head. He was in his early twenties, a genius, and as squirrelly as they came. The lanky kid was in for hacking government secrets—all from his parents’ basement. He’d been assigned to maximum security because, as he said,theywanted him dead. Everyone called Tuck “The Friar,” which might’ve been Robin’s fault. But after Tuck found religion inside and tattooed a big cross over his chest with a concoction of soot mixed with melted Styrofoam, it just fit.
“Solitary confinement?” Tuck laughed, startling Robin as the thought suddenly struck him as funny. “It’s not exactly solitary confinement if we’re here together. Why’d they do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Robin said, feeling testy, “probably because everyone else wants us dead.”
