Page 26 of Bobby Green

Dex caught Reg by the arm and pulled him to a rolling stool that Bobby had seen John using during the shoot. “C’mon, man. I’d let you lay down on the bed, but Bobby here shot a ton, and that’s sorta gross. I’ll get Kelsey in here to change sheets, okay?”

“Don’t want to be a bother,” Reg said through chattering teeth. “Thanks, Dex.”

“Not a bother.” Dex ruffled his hair affectionately. “I’ll have her bring some water and some ibuprofen.”

“I like Advil better,” Reg mumbled, and although Dex grimaced, he didn’t correct him. Reg leaned back against the wall, and Dex hit the intercom switch next to the door.

“Kelsey? No, sweetheart, don’t put me on hold. Dammit.” He turned to his clothes, folded loosely on the same shelf Bobby had used, and pulled his phone out of his jeans. As he punched in the receptionist’s number, he grimaced at Bobby. “Go shower first,” he muttered. “The quicker we get him in bed, the better.”

Reg was not too tired to guffaw like a little kid, and Bobby caught Dex letting a smile slip through.

Like a mom.

But not like a lover.

Bobby thought he was starting to get it, but he still had a long way to go.

REG’S HOUSEwas a small two-story ramshackle affair off Marconi. The rest of the neighborhood wasn’t bad, and the house next door smelled seriously of cat pee, but this place was an eyesore. Bobby grimaced from the cab of the truck as he watched the porch tremble under Reg’s weight.

“Stay,” Reg said easily. “Eat. You only had one Quarter Pounder—we both know you want the other two.”

Bobby munched doggedly, hoping tomorrow he’d get to go to one of the buffet places Dex had recced, and studied Reg’s habitat more closely. Somebody needed to do some work on this place before it crumbled down around Reg’s ears, but Bobby got the feeling Reg would need a little bit of help with that.

As Reg paused at the doorway, seeming to listen, one hand on the knob, Bobby wondered how many other things Reg would need a little bit of help with. Reg frowned, steadier now that he’d taken some ibuprofen, and opened the door slowly before rushing in. He slammed it behind him, and Bobby, curious, lowered the window and listened.

He heard a woman yelling—and then some thumping and a clatter. He paused, his hand on the door handle, and then everything went quiet. He’d gotten out of the truck and was walking up the drive when Reg stuck his head out the door. He had a blossoming bruise on his eye.

“Give me a minute,” he called. “I’ll be right there.”

Bobby gaped, running to the door, but when he tugged on the handle, it was locked.

Oh Jesus.

What was going on in there?

He stood stupidly, heart pumping, for interminable minutes. His hands shook, and he regretted the half a sandwich on the seat of his cab. Finally the doorknob twisted and Reg came out, sighing gustily and leaning against the door.

“She’s asleep,” he said, dragging air into his lungs like a swimmer. His face had waxed white, and he had tear streaks under his red-rimmed eyes. “God. She must have spit out her sedative this morning.”

Bobby just stared, mouth opening and closing, not sure of what to say.

“Will she be okaynow?” he finally managed. Bobby didn’t even know whoshewas.

Reg grimaced and held up two bruised fingers. “Yup. Almost ripped ’em off, but I got the pills down.” He closed his eyes tight. “We’re close to the easy part,” he said like he was trying to convince himself. “It gets bad like this before she starts taking them on her own. She just….” He looked at Bobby apologetically. “She hates it that she can’t be… benormal, you know?” Reg shook his head. “No, you don’t know. Because I’m making no damned sense.”

He wobbled, and Bobby reached around behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Reg leaned on him trustingly, obviously grateful for the help.

“Sister?” Bobby hazarded. He’d never had a sister—but for all he thought Keith Gilmore was a skeezy bastard, he knew Keith would go to the wall for Jessica in a heartbeat.

“Yeah,” Reg mumbled. God, he was weak. “Sleeping again. She’ll sleep until at least eight. I should maybe get here earlier. Eight. So she doesn’t get mad, you know?”

“C’mon,” Bobby urged. “You got seven hours—let’s get some medicine, and you can sleep six of ’em.”

Reg chuckled roughly. “You’re a good guy, Bobby. Where you goin’ when you leave?”

They approached the truck, and Bobby helped maneuver him into the cab. “When I leave where?”

Reg laid his head sideways on the bench seat and looked at Bobby through sky-blue eyes that were both sad and trusting. “When you leave Johnnies. All the smart guys do. Even Dex—today was his last hurrah in the sack. Smart guys don’t stay in porn forever, you know?”