Page 79 of Robin and Marian
Now that they had cell phone service, he’d be able to clear it up with one call to Alan, but his phone was in his tent. He hadn’t charged it for days. Either way, it was time to return to the real world. Everyone else had, especially the teenagers in the booth.
Marian touched his back. “Let’s go!”
She took his arm and they hurried down the steps, making the booth bounce behind them in their eagerness to leave. “I want something to eat that isn’t turkey,” Marian said. “I don’t want to smell it ever again.”
He understood. It didn’t bode well for them, however, since they had another shift tomorrow. They weaved between the booths, the afternoon sun filtering through the trees against their backs. The festival was a success, and he was pleased to see crowds cheering the games on the grass while sitting with their meals in the bleachers. The booths were crowded too—especially the weaponry booth. A compound bow with a shiny green finish caught his eye, and he took a detour to run his hand over it, letting out a reverent whistle. Hefting it with one hand, he thought how much better his chances would’ve been if they’d allowed compound bows in the competition. At least he would’ve stood a chance.
Marian reminded him about getting food, and he put the bow back just in time to catch someone at the corner of his eye taking pictures of them. He swung around to get a better look and the man took advantage of that to get another shot. He groaned. “I think we’re being followed, Marian.”
She turned and let out a surprised sound when she was also caught on camera. “They’re just advertising for the Mayfair,” she said, though she didn’t look so sure.
After getting caught in a media storm following his scandal, Robin was a little camera shy. He opted for walking away. Marian stuck to his side and they hurried through the crowd. He hoped that would get rid of their stalker, but glancing behind him, he saw that the number of their followers had quadrupled. Some held microphones. This was definitely the press. “Marian?” he asked. “Do you know these guys?”
Marian stopped to look as the festival-goers jostled them from side to side to get past. She turned grim. “They’re news teams from the Chronicle. Some of them war correspondents. What are they doing here?”
Guy was about to have his revenge, but maybe they could avoid it. Taking Marian’s hand, Robin ducked to the side, sliding between two food trucks and rounding a corner, slipping into the Events tent where the concerts were being held. A woman with raven black hair and green eyes stepped in front of them and almost caused them to bowl her over. She was wearing a tight skirt and heels. How had she ever caught up to them?
They backed up. “Elly?” Marian asked in astonishment.
“Elly Moon.” She extended her hand for Robin to shake. He didn’t. This was the gossip columnist at the Chronicle. He vaguely recognized her, but that had been a lifetime ago when he’d been famous for things that he didn’t mind.
“What are you doing here?” Marian asked. “I was covering this story.”
“Youarethe story,” the columnist said with a giggle and a whip of her hair. “When did you fall in love with Robin, Marian? Was it the joy ride in the convertible? Or the archery practice?” Did Elly have a crystal ball hidden somewhere? How did she know that stuff? She sent out a quick text and before too long a cameraman snuck up behind her, followed by another. “Robin King,” she exclaimed in delight. “It’s been too long. Where have you been hiding your beautiful self?”
“Prison,” he answered darkly.
She rewarded him with a piercing giggle. This was an ambush, of course, and before too long, he spotted his cousin at the fringe of the group, looking smug. He’d put his black hair in a thick bun at the back of his head and was dressed for the “impromptu” media onslaught in a gray suit jacket and dark blue polka-dot dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top. Robin was covered in grease… the contrast between their stations in life was obvious.
“Excuse me,” Robin said. “I’ve got work to do.” He attempted to leave and they blocked him. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“A few questions, cousin.” Guy slipped through his reporters, taking his time. “Is it true that you are behind this Mayfair?”
So he was trying to catch him breaking his parole? “Nope, I’m the grunt work. Are we done?”
Not yet.The war correspondent pushed forward now and pelted him with questions. “You can tell me. John Lite is your front man and you recruited investors in his name? You’re not planning on going back to your bad habits, are you? That could land you in prison again.”
Marian’s hands went to his arm and she tugged for them to leave, but Guy’s flunkies had put a fire in him and Robin set his jaw as the microphone was shoved into his face. “You want a story?” Robin asked. “Why don’t you ask your boss why he’s forcing the people in Nottingham from their homes?”
Guy’s smile turned tight. “I won’t be lectured by afelon.”
“Sure,” Robin said, gesturing wildly. “Don’t listen to me. We have other witnesses here. They’re all here, living in trailers.”
They had attracted quite the audience now and none of them looked happy to see the man who hadactuallyruined them. A few of them shouted out their insults. It was Guy’s just desserts since he’d done the same to Robin on his first night back. The twins were there with their phones, and Robin saw that they were recording this. He waited for the Chronicle to back off, but for some reason they thought they could still win this fight.
“Give me the mic,” Guy said. “I’ll answer this!” His reporters obliged him and Guy steadied himself for the confrontation before saying, “No one in this town is indebted to me.”
“Not anymore,” Robin said. The reporters were no longer giving Robin the microphone, but the band had one and he rushed to the stage to get it. He ripped it free from its stand. “What are you up to, Guy? A little insider trading? What Nottingham officials do you have in your pocket? Who’s the real thief here?”
He’d stunned Guy’s cameramen who’d helplessly recorded it all. Not that they’d use any of it. “That’s quite the accusation, Robin,” Guy said. “You going to accuse me of murder next?”He wasn’t too far off.Guy went on to lecture him, his British accent giving him an air of authority. “I’ve always given back to the community.”
“That’s right,” Robin said. “Your Global Kids for Veterans foundation. Name one person your charity has helped. A name. I wantonename.” He waited as his cousin shifted uncomfortably. “Oh?” Robin feigned surprise. “You don’t have one?”
Guy laughed, albeit weakly. Robin knew that his cousin was aware that Robin had found everything, but he must’ve also guessed why he was holding back. “What? Did this backfire on you?” Robin noticed that the reporters were already packing up their cameras and he scoffed. “That’s why none of this will end up in the press—you own them. TheNew England Chronicle, theNightly News,the Happy Journal, the…”
Someone cut off his mic, but it was officially a mic drop anyway. Robin would do it, except he didn’t have the money to pay for damages. That didn’t mean he was through with his cousin, though. He pushed through the crowd to get at him. Hands clapped against his back, but he didn’t stop for them. He was dimly aware of Marian grabbing at him. “No, Robin, stop. No more!”
The sight of his cousin’s derision drove him forward. “Keep away from my sister, Guy.” Robin grabbed the front of his elegant jacket. “If anything happens to her…”
