“Don’t wait up,” Jake added, and wondered, as the guy repeated the number again, why he was not surprised that double-trouble mocha mama had a bunch of guys on a string.
The Platypus guy had hardly hung up the phone when it was ringing again. “Robbie, it’s your grandpa. You’re not in jail again, are you?” Grandpa laughed roundly at his own joke. “Well, I talked to the police, and they say it looks like the fire was probably an accident, so I guess no one was trying to kill you. Okay. Bye now.”
Big surprise there. But at least it explained the fire.
It was almost a half hour before the next call came. “Robin, it’s Bec. Hey, Mom said your office burned down and you were arrested for hitting an officer! God, what are you doing? Listen, I know you are having a bad day, but I really need to talk to you. Bud is already gone! That asshole didn’t have the decency to wait until I got home, just left Grayson with his mom—”
The sound of a large object crashing onto the floor in the bedroom covered up whatever else sister Bec might have said, as well as a string of very colorful profanities. Another crash, then Robin’s muffled shout. “Rebecca, are you there? Hey, I did not hit an officer! God, is that what Grandma is telling everyone?”
The shouting was suddenly crystal clear as the door to the bedroom was flung open, and Robin Lear emerged in her pajamas, her hair a riot of dark walnut–colored corkscrew curls spinning off in every direction. Oblivious to Jake, Robin and dozens of Curious Georges marched blindly down the corridor to the dining table, ear to the phone. “God, no, of course not!” she cried, falling into a chair. “I just sort of mouthed off to him, and—I was not drinking! Why does everyone keep asking me that?” She vigorously scratched her head.
Jake lowered his brush, aware that he was unable to keep from looking at her as she exclaimed at the fine of seven hundred fifty dollars for driving without a license or insurance. She was, admittedly, a very attractive woman in a wild, Curious George sort of way. She had slender feet, bright red toenails, and elegant hands. Her hair, while a little on the enormously untamed side, was actually very becoming on her, framing her ivory skin in dark brown curls. And her eyes were electric blue, which also seemed fitting, the lashes dark and thick, and her lips . . . well now, those were a pair of lips.
He watched her as she talked on the phone, still oblivious to him, her free hand slicing and dicing savagely into space as she expounded on her night in jail. Somehow, the conversation shifted to Bec’s woes with someone named Bud. Robin listened intently, squinting at the wall in front of her, exclaiming over and over again, without hesitation, that Bud was a huge prick. And then her voice changed again, to a soft, almost vulnerable voice, and she asked nervously, “How’s Dad?” Whatever she heard seemed to sadden her. Her shoulders slumped; she nodded, finally said, “I know. Yeah, I know.”
But Jake had the strong feeling that she really didn’t know, and against his better judgment, he felt a little sorry for her.
When Robin finally said good-bye, she carefully placed the phone down, rubbed her fists in her eyes, and looked up. That was when she saw him standing there, and she blinked, surprised. “What are you doing?”
“Working.”
She blinked again, nodded as that registered somewhere in her brain. After a moment, she asked, “Where’s my coffee?”
“Where are my doughnuts?”
She gave him a sheepish smile. “Okay, sorry about that. But I only had a couple. I was starving! Anyway, that was hours ago.”
Like the coffee wasn’t? “You ate more than a couple. You ate four.”
“Four?” she exclaimed, shocked. “Ohmigod, how many calories is that? Wait! What time is it?”
Confused, Jake glanced at his watch. “Quarter to five.”
“Oh jeeeez.” She sighed and ran her hands through her curls, making them look even bigger. “Shouldn’t you be wrapping it up for the day?” she asked, impatiently gesturing in a “wrap-it-up” way.
“Sorry, but I lost a little time going for coffee this morning,” he said, looking pointedly at the cup full of the cold mocha crap still on the table, “and I’m not to a place I can quit just yet.”
The phone rang; Robin started, glanced at the phone, then at Jake. It continued to ring, but she made no move to answer it, and shrugged. “I’m not in the mood to talk,” she said by way of explanation and let the phone ring until the answering machine picked up.
“Robin Elaine, this is your father! I know you are there, I just got off the phone with Rebecca! Now pick up the goddamn phone!”
Robin Elaine moved so fast that Jake unconsciously jumped back a step. She lunged at the phone, and in the process, sent the coffee sailing from the table across the tiled floor.
Chapter Six