Page 22 of Robin and Marian
He turned to leave and Tuck pulled a fry from his sack and threw it at John’s back. It landed in his hair and just stuck there. John reached up and pulled it out, swiveling to confront Tuck.
And just like prison, Robin got in his way. “Okay, John, don’t!”
It was the wrong move. John’s pent-up frustration burst against Robin and he threw him against the wall, choking him. “You ruined everything! Why did I trust you?”
Robin couldn’t breathe. His body jerked and all his pretty resolves melted in an instant. He lobbed his right fist into John’s nose like he was a shark and it did the same trick.
John’s hands loosened on him as he fell back, holding his nose as it gushed with blood while Robin twisted from him, digging his elbow into John’s gut on his way out. Little John stumbled backward, barely catching himself before he tripped over the fallen mop. “Oh, you’re a tough guy now?” His meaty hand went to the mop.
Robin’s heart sunk at that. “Oh! C’mon!” Someone needed to tell John that this wasn’t prison.
Swinging the handle like a staff, his old friend came at him. Robin tore off his brace—it impeded his thumb too much. Looking around for anything to defend himself with, Robin dove into the utility room, dragging out a broom just in time to block the mop handle coming at his face. His eyes squinted at the pressure in his wrist. This was nothing like when they were younger. John wasn’t holding back. It was like Robin was going up against “the King” himself—and just like that, Robin went back to his prison tricks. He twisted the broom to knock John against the face, snapping him back.
John dropped his mop and Robin hoped that had ended it, but he was sorely mistaken, as John ran at him and caught the handle to wrestle the broom from Robin’s grip. To let go would mean a severe beating, so Robin held on. When John couldn’t shake him loose, he threw Robin across the hall with it. He landed on the cement floor and slid down the hallway to the archway in the view of everyone in the courtyard. A cry met Robin’s unusual entrance, dashing his hopes of not getting caught. Richard wasnotgoing to be happy.
Robin held up a hand to John. “Okay, cool it. Stop. Stop!”
It didn’t make a difference. John slid his foot under the mop and flipped it into his hand with exaggerated finesse. Then he reached over and snapped off the end of the mop, leaving a jagged edge in its place.
This was happening. Thinking back to his first fight in prison, Robin scrambled to his feet and rammed the end of the broom against the rough wall, cracking off the straw head just in time to meet John’s makeshift staff swinging down on him.
Maybe they could pretend they were reenacting a medieval jousting tournament.Or not.The force of John’s staff drove him back, making him crash against the refreshment table, and all that food tumbled over his posh jacket. Another punch—this time to the ribs—and Robin was on the table, gasping as the cups overturned and spilled under him. Smashed cream puffs sank into his back. Feeling a metal plate dig into his shoulder, Robin slid it out from under him and used it to block John’s fist, which only seemed to anger the beast. He came at him again and Robin slapped him across the face with it.
John was on top of him in an instant. Robin kicked him off, grasping for the broom handle and standing to face him. John matched his every move so that they were both fighting on the table, their sticks cracking as the fight escalated dangerously. The ex-convict was on full display for the gasping crowds. John was showing exactly where Robin had been these past four years, and if Robin kept it up, that was where he would be before the night was over.
But there was no stopping this. The fierce man was out of control. He walloped Robin on his hurt wrist and Robin let out a pain-filled grunt the same time he felt it twist wrong. It would be worse now. Another whack sent him rolling off the table as a searing pain shot through his arm, nearly blinding him. He grimaced against it.
“Robin, watch out!”
He didn’t see where the warning came from, but he saw John coming at him again. Letting out a shout, Robin tugged at the tablecloth with his good hand and slid it out from under John. It sent the large man toppling off the side of the table. Before John could get to his mop handle again, Robin jumped him and started swinging his fists in blind rage.
“Robin! Robin! Robin!” That was Marian. He felt her hands on his shoulders and he looked down at John and stopped punching. The big man rolled away with an oath. He’d had enough.
Robin dropped back, feeling the table against his shoulders and listening to the screaming. Most of it was directed at him. This would not end well. He wiped the blood from his face and glared down at his throbbing wrist.It had almost healed!
Marian knelt next to him, trying to help him. That, hehadn’texpected. She rolled up tablecloths to make a pillow of them, her fingers soft on his arm. It was the one difference from prison. Her touch, and the fact that he didn’t have to wait for the paperwork to get this taken care of. He shouldn’t get used to it. “What were you thinking?” she asked.
Rolling his head to the side to look at John at the other end of the grand table, he noticed the man’s unflinching stare on him—or rather on his wrist—and he looked concerned. Robin hadn’t been prepared for that.
“Robin!” Midge dashed around him, looking impressed. “That’s my nephew!” he shouted out to anyone who would listen. “He’s a cage fighter!”
Marian cast Robin a look of reprimand. His blood heated, though it was more from her nearness than anything else. She tucked a drink into his good hand and started to dab at the blood on his face as the other guests gawked and pressed in behind her. Missy and Sean, the twins, had their phones out, so Robin guessed he’d be the star in another viral video. Old Man Pete, as Tuck called him, haggled with his ex-inmate, and Robin wondered what bet they were settling now. As soon as Tuck was through with him, he made his way to Robin, setting his bags of food next to Robin on the floor. He smirked at John. “You owe me a hundred.”
Robin glared at him. “You idiot.”
John squinted up at him. “You’re really the pastor?”
“Yes, my son.”
Marian shifted uncomfortably next to Robin, and Robin thought her guilty conscience was adorable. Maybe that meant he’d had the sense knocked out of him. Tuck knelt next to John, looking more interested than helpful. “You got anything broken?”
“Get away from me!”
“Marian!” Elinor’s voice was reproving over them. “What are you doing withhim?”
Robin was surprised when Marian pretended like she couldn’t hear her aunt. Maybe she couldn’t as she fretted over Robin. Her aunt wasn’t the only one who showed alarm. Guy came over, a line creasing his forehead. He turned his wrath on Robin. “Is this what we’re getting from you now? You going to pay for all this? Or do you expect Richard to do it?”
Robin glowered at him. “It’s better than stealing. That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it? All these people’s homes?”
