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The Trillhouse SinThology	By : Trillhouse Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 4586 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Like the zombieverse, Sin Adults is set in its own alternate timeline. An alternate future, specifically; twenty-one years on from the usual setting. In this timeline, BJ and Loan's unexpected pregnancy sets off a chain of events that leaves the once-unified family fractured and more distant than ever before. Years later, while those involved have moved on to live their own lives, those wounds have yet to fully heal.
This is a somewhat melancholy take on the future of the Sin Kids, and not in line with my usual canon; Reina, for example, does not exist in this timeline. What He'd Been Missing is also unrelated and set within its own timeline.

"Damn, she's cute." Lemy muttered as he watched his brother holding his infant child, wearing a gentle smile as the girl squeezed his finger. "What'd you say her name was again…?"
"Roberta," Bobby said. "We've, uh… we've been calling her Robbie." He added with a small chuckle.
"Robbie, huh." Lemy smirked. "I like it. At least you didn't call her, I dunno… 'Lala' or something." The three shared a small laugh at that; they never had been particularly fond of the family's insistence on themed naming. Bobby was lucky in that regard.
"So… how're you holding up, Loan?" Lemy asked the tired-looking woman leaning on Bobby's shoulder. She'd been noticeably delicate in her movements, which he could hardly blame her for… even considering how tiny the girl was, just the notion that someone could push out something like that seemed absurd to him. Loan let out a small sigh.
"I'm… recovering." She said. "The doctor said it'll take about a month… maybe more. But I'll be okay." Loan smiled as she looked down at the baby in her lover's arms. She gave the girl a little tickle on the tummy, making her laugh. "…I can't be weak anymore, you know…?"
"You never were." Bobby assured her, earning him a blush from his sister-girlfriend. Loan had always been a stronger person than she gave herself credit for. As painful as her past had been, she never let it truly break her… and Lemy knew fully well that it was due to her own tenacity just as much as Bobby's influence.
The young metalhead could only smile as he watched the two share a kiss. He could still remember the day Bobby had learned of Loan's pregnancy; the poor boy had been frozen in shock, and even once he'd regained his senses he'd been an absolute wreck over the situation. Loan had been no less distraught, and yet they'd decided to go through with it regardless. It was hard to believe that frightened boy was the same person sitting in front of him now. Even at the tender age of sixteen, he seemed to be taking to his new role as a father like a champ. And Loan was no different… it was as though motherhood was always meant for her.
"Do you want to hold her?" Bobby's offer snapped Lemy out of his thoughts.
"Oh, uh… sure." Lemy said with a grin, and Bobby carefully got up from the couch. This wasn't Lemy's first time holding an infant, of course… he'd held Lulu back when she was still a baby, and Lizy before that. Still, it had been a while.
"Here," Bobby said as he eased Robbie into her uncle's arms. "Just remember to support her head." Lemy nodded and did as he remembered doing years ago; neither of his siblings corrected him, so he could only assume he was doing it right.
"Hey there, Robbie…" Lemy said to his niece. "Nice to meet you." Robbie's eyes opened slightly and she looked up at him… or tried to, at least. Her eyes couldn't focus just yet. She really was a cute kid… she had her mother's fair skin, but Lemy could only assume that the wisps of hair on the girl's scalp would darken to match her father's black locks in time. She had freckles too, or at least the start of them; they too would darken as she got older.
It was a bit surreal. It was only truly dawning on him now that he was an uncle… hell, he was the child's godfather. The mere fact that he was even considered worthy of such a thing was more of an honor than he could ever express. He'd have to be sure to live up to the role, should the worst ever come to pass. Loan frowned as she noticed him discreetly wipe the corner of his eye.
"Lemy…? Is something wrong?" She asked. Her brother just shook his head.
"No… nothing at all. She's just, ah… she's beautiful." Lemy said quietly. "I'm really happy for you- OW!" He yelped in pain as the child grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged on it hard. "Ow, ow, ow… o-okay, c'mon now, just…" He tried to gently pry her fingers open, but she was surprisingly strong for an infant; she simply giggled at his pain. "G-guys, please… help!" Lemy pleaded with his siblings, who were laughing freely into their palms.
"O-okay, okay…" Bobby chuckled, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye before getting to his feet. It took little more than a light tickle under the armpit to make Robbie let go, and Lemy breathed a sigh of relief as his brother lifted her off his lap.
"Thanks…" Lemy sighed. "She's, uh, pretty dam- darn strong for her age." She began to fuss and whine, reaching out for her uncle as Bobby sat back down.
"Wow… I think she likes you!" Loan said happily.
"Or likes hurting you, at least." Bobby joked.
"Great… just what I need." Lemy groaned. "As if the girls in my life don't bully me enough as is…" Bobby and Loan laughed again.
"Come here, sweetie." Loan cooed as she gently took Robbie from her father's arms. "It's okay. Uncle Lemy will play with you more later." She began to rock the infant in her arms, and before long the little girl had drifted off to sleep.
Lemy's expression grew stoic as he watched the two with their child. They looked so happy, happier than he'd ever seen them in the past. They loved each other. They loved their child. And, no matter what the others thought, one thing was absolutely clear to Lemy: there was absolutely nothing wrong with this.
"Hey…" Lemy began a bit hesitantly. "Have… have you guys spoken to any of the others at all…?" Almost immediately, there was a perceptible shift in the atmosphere… Bobby and Loan's expressions grew troubled. With a small sigh, Bobby leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
"…Lupa called yesterday. She congratulated us… that was a bit surprising, honestly." Bobby muttered. "Lacy, Liena, Liby, your mom… aunt Leni did too, and Dad was there, of course. He's… been supportive, at least. But aside from that, no. We haven't." Lemy frowned.
"This… this really can't keep going on, Bobby. It ain't right."
"Look, we'd love things to go back the way they were… but it's not going to happen. You remember, don't you?" Bobby said. "They wanted us to get rid of her. They wanted us to get rid of our child. Do you have any idea how that feels?"
"They didn't… not all of them, at least. You know that." Lemy assured him.
"And yet nobody else spoke up. Nobody else defended us… nobody except you and dad." The bitterness in Bobby's voice was evident; Loan, however, simply kept her gaze focused on their daughter in silence.
"They're just worried about you, Bobby. You know that." Lemy said. "They just didn't think-"
"-Didn't think we were ready. I know" Bobby hissed. "But I would stand up for any of them. You know I would." Lemy gave a small nod. As timid as Bobby was, he'd always been willing to push that aside when it came to those he cared about.
"Look, I'm not saying you need to forgive them yet, bro." Lemy said. "Not… not right away, at least. But you should at least try to clear the air between you guys, you know? If not for your own sake, then for hers. She deserves to meet her family." His brother frowned and exchanged a glance with Loan.
"…I don't know." Bobby said quietly.
"Listen… I know things left off on a bad foot. But it's been months… I'm sure they're ready to move on from this. Besides…" A reassuring smirk crossed Lemy's face. "What you two have… it's beautiful. She's beautiful. And if the others see that for themselves, I'm sure they'll come around." Bobby furrowed his brow and chewed his lip in thought. "Look, I could set the whole thing up. You guys can come home, talk things over with them, and I'm sure everything will work itself out. Hell, I know it will."
"W-well…" Loan stammered. "Maybe… maybe Lemy's right. We should give this a chance, at least. Right…?" She glanced at her boyfriend, who was still sucking his teeth in thought; finally, he exhaled and gave a small nod.
"…Fine. Fine, we can try." He muttered. "If you can get everyone to agree, we'll do it. Just… I hope you're right about this, Lemy." His big brother smirked confidently and nodded.
"I know I am. Trust me… this is all gonna work out fine."

Cheers

"Cheers," The half-siblings said as they clinked their glasses together in a toast. Lemy took a small sip of his bourbon, wincing slightly from the burning sensation. It had been a long time since he'd had something so strong… quite frankly, he just wasn't able to afford the good stuff anymore. "Yeeeeahhh… that hits the spot," He said to his brother. "Thanks again, Bobby."
"It's the least I could do," Bobby replied. "I owe you one for watching Robbie today. Besides, we don't get to do this too often. I haven't even had a drink since the last time you were in town."
"Loan's still got that no-drinking rule, huh?" The roadie chuckled. His brother sighed and nodded.
"Well, not in the house, anyway," Bobby grumbled. "Can't say I blame her, considering… well, you know." Lemy frowned and nodded in understanding. Though he'd never been privy to the exact details, it was no secret that Lori had been a heavy drinker during her daughter's early childhood. It was hardly surprising that Loan would hold a negative opinion towards alcohol as a result. "Plus, it's not like I have much of a social life, and going to a bar by yourself is pretty sad if you ask me."
"I feel attacked," Lemy retorted, and the two men shared a laugh. They took a moment to sip their drinks before Lemy let out a sigh. "Well, looks like I'm gonna be sticking around for a bit, so you've got your drinking buddy back at least." Bobby cocked an eyebrow.
"What do you mean…?" Bobby asked. Normally, he'd be happy that Lemy was going to be around more… but right now, there was something in his brother's voice that told him this wasn't a good thing. Lemy frowned and took a drag of his cigarette.
"The Midnight Warriors are breaking up," Lemy explained. "They haven't gone public yet, but they've already split. Manager's just holding out in some stupid hope that they'll work out their differences, but they won't. So… I'm out of a job." Bobby's face fell, and Lemy had to avert his gaze. He couldn't stand to see that look of pity in his brother's eyes.
It stung.
"Shit, Lemy… I'm sorry," Bobby said softly. "I know you enjoyed working with them. I'm sure you'll find another gig soon though, right?" Lemy simply sighed and shook his head.
"Ain't that easy anymore, bro… ain't that easy." He muttered. "The fact is, times are changing… equipment's getting streamlined to the point where even a monkey could set it up. Last year, it was self-tuning guitars. This year it was compact, portable sound systems that sound even better than the full-sized ones. Set up in seconds. I guarantee you, next year they're gonna have fucking machines handling everything. Like this fucker right here," He spat, shooting a nasty look at the robotic bartender that had served him, not that it noticed of course. "…There's just no place in the industry for tech guys like me anymore."
"Oh…" Bobby frowned, staring down into his Long Island Iced Tea in thought. "Well… what about one of those indie bands? You know, ones that probably couldn't afford any of that new stuff."
"Tried," His brother grumbled. "Been trying for weeks. Only band that got back to me was called The Fist-Fucking Grandmothers, and quite frankly that's the last thing I want on my resume." Bobby couldn't help but snicker into his palm.
"That can't be real."
"Swear to God." Lemy chuckled. "Anyway, I'm calling it. Game over. Time to move on to… I dunno. Something." His face scrunched up again as he took another sip of bourbon. It burned, but it burned so good.
"So… you don't know what you're going to do?" Bobby asked.
"…I don't." Lemy admitted. He took another drag of his cigarette before tapping out the ash into a nearby ashtray. "But I'll figure it out. Always do, right?" His didn't seem particularly encouraged by those words; he was staring at Lemy with a focused, concerned gaze that, quite frankly, made him a bit antsy. "What?"
"How… how long have you been jobless?" Bobby asked. Lemy took another puff and exhaled, blowing out a plume of smoke.
"'Bout a month or so." Lemy muttered. "...Give or take."
"Jesus, Lemy-"
"It's fine. Don't… don't worry about it. Like I said, I'll figure this out." He said in a futile attempt to reassure his brother. Bobby simply shook his head, staring at the former roadie in disbelief.
"Figure this out…?! Lemy, how much money do you even have?" Bobby asked in a serious tone.
"Bobby, don't-"
"How much, Lemy?!" He asked again, louder this time. Lemy furrowed his brow, taking another sip of his drink before answering.
"...Around $800. Give or take." Lemy stared down into the bourbon, giving it a swirling it around slightly; he could feel the younger man's eyes on him, but couldn't bring himself to look. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw his brother getting out his wallet. "Bobby, no."
"I'm not letting you scrape by on $800, Lemy." Bobby stated plainly. He pulled several $100 bills from his wallet and offered them to his brother. "Here. Take it."
"For fuck's sake, Bobby…" Lemy groaned. "This is my problem, not yours. I'm not taking your money."
"If you don't, I'll rip it up." Bobby declared. "Take it, Lemy. I know you'd do the same for me." Lemy frowned, his eyes flicking from his brother to the money in his hand. Truth was, he did need it… he was barely getting by as is. With a sigh of resignation, he took the money.
"…Thanks." Lemy grunted as he put the bills in his own wallet. "When the hell did you get so assertive, huh?"
"Learned it from you," Bobby said before taking a sip of his Long Island. Lemy gave a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.
"Funny," He said. "Used t' be that I was the one looking out for you. Now you're the one looking out for me." Lemy scoffed and looked away, the bitterness in his voice evident. "…It's pathetic."
"We're brothers, Lemy." Bobby said plainly. "We look out for each other."
"Yeah, but I'm older. It's not supposed to be… it's not supposed to be like this. I shouldn't have to take charity from my little brother." Lemy muttered.
"It's not charity, Lemy." Bobby countered. "You're in a rough spot right now… there's no shame in needing a little help." Lemy sighed and looked at his brother. He'd changed so much over the years, though perhaps more mentally than physically; even pushing thirty, his baby-faced younger brother looked like he could have come fresh out of college. But beyond that, he was no longer the timid boy he had once been. Soft-spoken around most people, perhaps… but not timid. Then again, he supposed the pain of that day twelve years prior had changed all of them in one way or another, for better or for worse. Clearly, Bobby had used that pain to grow stronger.
Lemy, not so much.
"You really have grown, Bobby." Said the metalhead. "Seems like just yesterday that you were a trembling nervous wreck. Now you've got a career you love, you've got a woman you love, and you've got an amazing daughter. But me? I haven't changed a fucking bit. I'm still the same failure I always was."
"Don't say that. You're not a failure, Lemy." Bobby said with a frown. "You-"
"Y'know I never gave a shit about this roadie thing?" Lemy cut in. "I only did it because I could. Hell, it was all I could do. Tech, rigging, repairs... I'm good with that kind of stuff, but it ain't my passion. All I've ever wanted to be is a musician. I still practice, even now… and I'm still fucking terrible. It's all I'll ever be." He paused to down the rest of his bourbon in one go, grimacing and coughing from the burn. "Like I said… a failure." Bobby sighed, drumming his fingers against the countertop in thought.
"...You know… the only reason I am where I am today is thanks to you," The younger man said softly. "If it weren't for you, I'd never have told Loan how I felt. If it weren't for you, I'd have given up on writing after my first few rejection letters. If it wasn't for you, I'd… I'd be nothing."
"You're just saying that," Lemy muttered. His brother shot him an irritated glance.
"It's true," Bobby said in a serious tone. "You always pushed me to be more than I was. You taught me to try. You gave me something to live up to." Lemy took another drag of his cigarette in silence, so Bobby continued. "It was never about success or failure. It was about conviction. The Lemy I knew never gave up no matter how bad things got, and you never gave up on me either. It's time I do the same for you." Lemy frowned, taking a moment to mull things over. Finally, a small smirk crossed his face.
"You know, you never were just a brother to me. You were my best friend… don't think I've ever said that before." The metalhead chuckled softly, tapping out some ash into the ashtray. Bobby returned his brother's grin with one of his own.
"As if you had to." Bobby said as he took a sip of his drink. "Feeling's mutual, though."
"Gotta tell ya, I've missed this," Lemy admitted. "It's nostalgic, y'know? Feels like just yesterday that we were all shooting the shit at the old hangout, goofing off without a care in the world."
"Heh, yeah…" His brother said with a wistful smile. Bobby remembered the hangout fondly. To most, a rusty abandoned school bus would hardly be the sort of place one would want to spend much time… but to them, it had almost been like a second home. "Had some good times there."
"Damn straight. No parents, no sisters…"
"No Hayden, no Andy," Bobby chimed in, and his brother gave a small nod.
"Just good friends, good tunes, and good vibes. Remember that time Gwen gave you a-" Lemy began, only for the younger man to clear his throat loudly.
"...C-c'mon, Lemy…" Bobby muttered with reddened cheeks, much to the amusement of his older brother. "Besides, you're hardly one to talk. I still can't believe you and Lina went all the way at that dump."
"Yeah, Gordon sure gave me an earful about that one…" Lemy grumbled as he scratched the back of his head. "That guy was a neat freak, that's for sure. Remember when he thought he saw a roach?"
"Oh, God. He went ballistic," Bobby laughed. "He tore out half the seats trying to find the stupid thing."
"Yeah, that was a trip." The metalhead said with a grin. "Remember that time Lyle cut his hand on that bit of scrap? Between him, Gordon and you, I don't know who was freaking out the most." Lemy snickered at the memory and glanced over at his brother, only to find that the smirk had faded from the man's face. He was frowning, and had an unmistakable air of bitterness about him… and it was no mystery why. Lemy sighed and leaned forward to try and meet his brother's gaze. "C'mon, Bobby… still?" Bobby didn't answer, simply taking a deep breath through his nose and releasing it slowly. "I mean… you really haven't reached out? At all?"
"...I talk to Liena, and Lupa of course." Bobby said quietly. "And aunt Lisa, Lulu… even Leni, sometimes-"
"That's not what I asked."
"Well, that's my answer."
"Bobby-"
"Look, let's… change the subject," The novelist said, his tone leaving little room for argument. Lemy simply sighed and gave a small nod. He knew there was little point in pushing the issue right now… Bobby may have come a long way over the years, but he still had that stubborn side to him. "So… where've you been staying?" Lemy's face fell slightly.
"…In my van." He admitted.
"Not anymore," Bobby said. "You're staying with us till you get back on your feet."
"Bobby-"
"I'm not budging on this, Lemy." The younger man stated definitively. "You're not sleeping in a van, and that's that."
"You live in an apartment, man." Lemy muttered.
"It's big enough, trust me." Bobby assured him. "Our couch folds out into a bed. Way better than a car seat, I'm sure." Lemy gave a resigned groan and leaned back in his seat.
"Alright, alright… might have to hang around for a bit, though. Like I said, I've got no idea where to even start." Lemy said.
"Don't worry about it. I'll help you." Bobby said. "Besides… I'm sure Robbie will be happy to have her favorite uncle around. You mean the world to her, you know." Lemy chuckled; without a doubt the tough little girl was his favorite niece as well.
Granted, she was his only niece, but as far as he was concerned that still counted.
"I swear to God, one of these days I'll pay you back for all this." Lemy promised.
"Don't worry about that. This is the least I can do for you," Bobby smirked and patted his older brother on the back. "You'll get through this… I know you will. If Loan and I could get ourselves sorted out, you can too." His older brother smiled, taking one last puff of his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray.
"…Thanks, Bobby. I mean that." Lemy said sincerely. Bobby returned his smile before finishing off the rest of his drink.
"You don't need to thank me, either. Now then…" Bobby signaled the robotic bartender. "Hey, barkeep… one more of each, please."
[COMING RIGHT UP,] The 'bartender' paused a moment as it searched its database. [MR. LOUD.] Within seconds, the robot had prepared a perfectly mixed Long Island and poured exactly 42ml of bourbon into a glass; not a drop more, not a drop less. It swiveled around at the waist, setting down the drinks and taking the two empty glasses. [THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATRONAGE.]
"Thank you," Bobby needlessly said before raising his glass. "Cheers." Lemy smirked and raised his own.
"Cheers," He said as he tapped his glass against his brother's.

Writer's Block

"Daaad… hey, Earth to dad."
"Mmm," Bobby grunted, not really paying attention as he typed away at his keyboard. At the doorway stood his daughter, wearing her usual overcoat and an irritated scowl on her face.
"'Mmm?!' That's all you have to say?!" Robbie snapped. "Where the hell were you?!" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she waited for an answer… only to receive none. In fact, the man didn't even seem to notice that she was talking to him. With a growl of frustration, she stormed across the study to her father's chair. "Hey! Are you LISTENING?!"
"Not right now, sweetheart," Bobby mumbled as he typed, not glancing up from his screen for even a moment. "Papa's worki-" Before he could finish, Robbie grabbed the back of his chair and spun him around to face her. "Hey!"
"Don't you 'hey' me!" The girl barked. "You were supposed to pick me up, you jerk!"
"Roberta Elizabeth Loud! Do not call your father a… wait, what time is it…?" Bobby glanced at the clock, his brow furrowing as he saw it was only 2:17 PM. "It's… Roberta, what on Earth are you doing home this early?"
"It's a half day, dad… we got out at noon! I've been telling you all week!" Robbie shouted. "Do you have any idea how long I was waiting for you?!" As his daughter's words sank in, Bobby's look of confusion shifted to one of remorse.
"Oh… oh, geeze…" Bobby groaned and buried his face in his palm. He'd gotten so wrapped up in his writing that he'd completely forgotten he had to pick Robbie up from school, let alone pick her up early. "I'm sorry, sweetheart… I wasn't-"
"You weren't paying attention. Right," Robbie huffed, looking away from him with a scowl. "What else is new…" Her father frowned. Robbie was a tough and headstrong girl, far removed from her meek and soft-spoken parents… so much so that had she not inherited her father's black hair and freckles and her mother's fair skin, few would believe that she was their daughter at all. Perhaps it was that headstrong nature that made her rare moments of vulnerability all the more painful to Bobby.
"Robbie, I…" Bobby began, only to hang his head and sigh. "Why didn't you call…?"
"I did," The girl shot back. "You didn't answer." Bobby cocked an eyebrow.
"You… hang on," He said as he snatched his phone off his desk. "I never got any-" As he checked his phone, the man's heart sank; there were fifteen missed calls. Fifteen, twelve of which were from his awaiting daughter… not to mention a slew of unnoticed text messages. "...Oh, shit…" He muttered. "I had it on silent..."
"OH! You had it on silent! Great!" Robbie said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "Never mind that I had to walk my ass all the way over here, it was just a mistake. And here I thought you were just ignoring me! Well, glad we cleared that up!"
"You walked? Honey, why didn't you call Lemy?"
"Because he's busy with job interviews all day. You know, like you told him to do?!" She spat, making her father wince. "And before you ask, mom and aunt Lupa were at work."
"I know, I know… ugh." Bobby lifted his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Robbie was right to be mad at him… he'd messed up, bad. With another sigh, he lowered his glasses and looked at his daughter apologetically. "Robbie, I'm really sorry. I was writing, and I-"
"You think that's an excuse?!"
"No… no, of course not," Bobby assured her. "This is my fault, simple as that. I swear, I'll-"
"'I'll make it up to you'. I know," Robbie grunted. She knew her father was being sincere, and she knew he hadn't meant to brush her aside like that… he never did.
But it still stung.
"Whatever… I need a drink," Robbie said with a scoff, turning and skulking out of the room with her hands jammed into her jacket pockets. "Had a long walk, y'know?" Bobby sadly watched her go, then slumped back in his chair with a groan.
"Nice, Bobby… nice," The man grumbled under his breath, lightly beating his fist against the side of his head. He took a few moments to wallow in his own guilt before taking a deep breath through his nose and exhaling. He'd have to figure out a way to make things up to Robbie, but that could come later… for now, there was another matter to attend to.
Bobby frowned as he looked down at his phone. While the brunt of the missed calls had been from his daughter, there were also several from an 'Alan'. Alan Douglas, specifically... Bobby's literary agent, and the reason why he had put his phone on silent in the first place.
Alongside his many other projects, for nearly six years 'R.J. Loud' had been plugging away at one novel in particular: Memoirs of a Technician. Title pending. Something of a high-concept tale, told from the perspective of a lowly technician aboard an intergalactic freighter. It was one of his earliest ideas, and one he'd kept close to his heart for years… possibly even his magnum opus. Just a few weeks prior, he'd submitted his proposal to Alan. And now? Now, he was dodging the man's calls as he continued writing his third draft.
Bobby chewed his lip, his thumb hovering anxiously over his agent's name. Despite his best attempts to remain optimistic, he'd been through this song-and-dance far too many times before… he'd offer his finest work, work he had poured his very soul into, and time and time again it would be cast aside as though it were nothing more than rubbish. This time, he tried to tell himself, would be different. This time, his hard work would pay off. This time, people would finally be able to read the story he'd always wanted to tell.
So why was he hesitating?
Alright, Bobby… alright, he thought, taking a moment to collect himself. Just get it over with. Whatever happens, it's fine. Bobby took a deep breath and, finally, pressed down on Alan's name to return his call. His leg bounced anxiously as he waited for the man to pick up.
'Alan Douglas speaking,' A clean and business-like voice spoke through the earpiece.
"...Hey, Alan." Bobby said, trying his best to mask the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. "It's me."
'Oh, Robert! I've been trying to get in touch with you.'
"Yeah… I noticed. Sorry about that." Bobby spun back around to face his computer and tried to get back to work, as though it would distract him from the bad news he no doubt was about to receive. "Well, let's hear it."
'You don't sound particularly optimistic,' Alan said. His client merely gave a short, humorless laugh.
"Should I be?" He asked; Alan made a vague, indecisive noise that spoke volumes, and Bobby let out a sigh. "What'd they say?"
'Nothing, actually…' The agent said. Bobby stopped typing mid-sentence, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Nothing…?"
'Well, no…' The man paused to clear his throat. '...That is to say, I haven't actually spoken to a publisher yet. In fact, I only just finished looking it over today. Busy schedule, you know how it is.'
"Oh… I see." Bobby muttered. This was somewhat unusual… usually if Alan had any feedback or suggestions he'd reach out through email. "Well, what did you think?" For a few moments Alan said nothing, seemingly mulling over his words.
'Right, well. It's… different, to say the least,' Alan said in an unusual tone, as though forcing himself to sound supportive. 'Not quite what one would expect from the genre.' Bobby slumped back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He'd already begun feeling a pit forming in his stomach.
"...Is that a bad thing, Alan?"
'No, not inherently…' The agent replied. 'I just think it needs to be… REFINED a bit more before we can-'
"Look. Alan. Let's not beat around the bush, alright?" Bobby cut in, his voice quiet and sullen. "Just give it to me straight. What did you think." There was a heavy silence, broken only by Alan's faint breathing; after what felt like an eternity, the man gave a deep sigh.
'Alright. To be frank, I have no idea how you expect me to sell this,' Alan said plainly. 'Don't get me wrong, it's well-written, but-'
"But what, Alan." Bobby snarled.
'...BUT, if I'm being completely honest, it's just… I honestly have no idea what you're going for, here.' Alan said. 'I mean, who's this meant to appeal to, exactly?'
"It's cerebral science fiction, Alan." Bobby grunted, his fingers rapidly tapping against the armrest as he fought to keep himself calm. "It's a niche genre."
'You think I don't know that?' Alan retorted. 'There's cerebral, and then there's… whatever the hell THIS is. For God's sake, you sent me over a hundred pages of a mechanic talking to himself about repairs and space economics.'
"It's called worldbuilding."
'Rob, there's over fifteen pages dedicated to explaining some kind of… cyber capacitor thing.'
"Cyclonic reduction capacitor," Bobby corrected him. "It's a crucial component of the ship's… look, you're only going off of three sample chapters here. In the full story-"
'Does anything change?' The man interjected. 'Do things pick up? Is there any sort of call to action for our protagonist? Does anything HAPPEN in this story, Robert?' Bobby tried to answer, but all that came out was a faint croak. Suddenly, his mouth felt very dry.
"That's…" He began, pausing to wet his lips. "...I-it's a character study…" He heard another deep sigh through the earpiece.
'Right… case in point.' Alan's said. Bobby couldn't help but find his tone similar to that of a disappointed parent. 'Rob, listen. I like you. I wouldn't keep doing this if I didn't. But NO publisher would want to touch something like this. Hell, based on what you sent me, I doubt anyone could even get THROUGH it. There's no hook, no sense of pacing, no structure… there's a fine line between 'methodical' and 'boring', and you've crossed it in the first five pages.' Bobby grit his teeth and dug his fingers into the armrest. As much as he'd tried to prepare himself for disappointment, he hadn't been ready to have his work critiqued so harshly. That his agent's tone was calm and matter-of-fact, free from hostility or condescension, somehow only served to anger him further.
"...I've spent six years on this, Alan. Six years," Bobby hissed. "And you're telling me it's boring?"
'I'm telling you the TRUTH, Rob. You're writing for an audience that simply doesn't exist,' His agent replied. 'I've told you time and time again, this isn't what readers want. There needs to be excitement, something to capture the reader's imagination, especially in THIS genre. You've done it before, Rob… you can do it again. Why not continue Sons of Dawn?'
'Sons of Dawn'. Bobby clicked his tongue in irritation at the mere mention of it. It had been his second novel after Voice of the Cosmos, as well as his second-and last-to be published. While the first had received a somewhat mixed reception, Sons of Dawn had proven to be a moderate success, and to this day he still got fan mail asking him to continue the story. But they had been nothing more than generic space adventure shlock to him, the sort of thing one might find in an airport convenience store. He'd slapped both together in the span of a single year for no other reason than to get his foot in the door, and while he'd initially been pleased with the unexpected success, he'd long since grown to resent his early work. Was it marketable? Yes. Was it what he wanted to write?
"...No."
'Rob-'
"I'm not going to sit here and let you tell me what I should write. I'll fucking publish it myself if I have to."
'Robert, please, be reas-'
"I think we're done here, Alan." Bobby said before the man could get a word in edgewise. "Goodbye." Without another word, he ended the call. His nostrils flared with sharp, quick breaths, and it took everything he had in him not to hurl his phone across the room in anger. With a growl of frustration he haphazardly tossed the device onto the desk before leaning forward and burying his head in his hands. Rejection was one thing… he was more than used to it by now. But to have the very nature of his work torn apart so thoroughly hit far harder than he had expected and, quite frankly, he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so sick to his stomach.
"Sheesh, sounds like that didn't go well." The silence was broken by none other than Robbie, standing in the doorway with a curious expression on her face. "Turned down again, huh?"
"...How long have you been there, Robbie?" Her father asked. She simply shrugged and sauntered in.
"Long enough. Been a long time since I've seen ya so pissed off," The girl said calmly. She walked over to the desk, flicking a magnetically-floating model of the Enterprise and watching as it spun around in the air. "So what'd they say this time? Too emotional? Too complicated? 'Too optimistic for the current political climate' or whatever? That one's always been my favorite." Bobby sighed, removing his reading glasses and setting them aside.
"Sweetheart, please, not now." He grumbled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm not in the mood to-" He was cut short as Robbie leaned over his shoulder, her cheek pressing against his as she looked at his computer screen.
"'Gerald frowned as he withdrew the... tri-conductive relay processor… from the smoking chassis of the… quasi-biotic dexometrical… hex… nani the fuck am I reading, here….?"
"Roberta, language," Bobby snapped, gently pushing the girl away and minimizing the document. "Don't you have homework to do, or something?"
"Nah, not on a half day." Robbie replied with a shrug. "But hey, looks like you've got time for a break now, right? C'mon, let's do somethin'."
"I told you-"
"C'moooon. I'm bored." The girl grabbed onto her father's arm, tugging on it to try and coax him out of his seat. But the man wouldn't budge, jerking his arm from her grasp with a huff.
"Robbie. Please," He repeated, "Not now. Go play a game or something, alright? I'm sure Lemy will be back soon-"
"I don't want uncle Lemy right now," Robbie shot back, shooting her father an annoyed scowl. "We never get to hang out anymore. You're not busy, so-"
"I. Am. Busy." Bobby growled. His daughter fell silent, seemingly taken aback by his demeanor; He knew he was being cold towards the girl, but right now he was too worked up to deal with her. "Now, please. Go."
"Yare yare... you really are in a mood, aren't you?" Robbie grumbled, her father letting out an audible sigh as she flopped into a nearby chair. "Y'know, aunt Lupa's right… you are too uptight."
"Right, because she's so well-adjusted…" Bobby muttered bitterly.
"Hey, at least she has a real job."
"Writing is a real job!" Her father snarled. Robbie scoffed and shot him a cocky smirk.
"Then how come mom's the one paying the bills?" She joked; unfortunately, her father looked less than amused, and he had to shut his eyes and take a deep breath to calm himself.
"...Because, Robbie," The man hissed through clenched teeth. "This whole damn industry's run by idiots that wouldn't know a good story if it kicked them in the teeth. Now are you going to leave me alone, or-"
"Sounds to me like you're just not a very good wri-"
"That is ENOUGH!" Bobby roared, slamming his fist against the desk as he stood from his chair. The rage in his voice was enough to silence Robbie in an instant, and the amused smirk faded from her face as he wheeled on her with fire in his eyes. "I'm not about to let a child talk about me or my work like that, especially not my own fucking daughter!"
"G-geeze dad, chill!" Robbie stammered as she too stood from her seat. "I was just jok-"
"I am not a fucking joke, Roberta, and neither is my work! Now I'm not going to say it again: Get. OUT! Do you understand me, Roberta?!" For several moments neither spoke, nor moved… Bobby stood with his arm outstretched, pointing towards the door as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.
Robbie chewed her lower lip and averted her eyes, her face scrunching up as though she were fighting off tears, but Bobby didn't falter; then just as he was about to shout at her again, she let out a growl of frustration and snatched the lamp from her father's desk. She threw it with all her strength and it struck the wall with the loud CRASH of shattering glass.
"ROBERTA ELIZABETH LOUD!"
"Yeah! I know! I'm fucking grounded, what else is new?!" The girl spat, turning on her heel and storming out of the room. She paused a moment in the doorway to shoot one last glare over her shoulder. "...Asshole…" She muttered under her breath before skulking away to her room, being sure to slam the door so hard that a nearby picture crashed to the floor as well. For some time Bobby stood there, his gaze fixed towards the door, before looking down at the broken lamp lying on the floor. Finally he groaned and slumped back into his chair.
"Fuck's sake, Bobby…" He muttered to himself; Bobby ran his hand through his hair, sitting in silence as he let his heart rate return to normal. It wasn't like him to get so worked up, let alone to the point of screaming at his daughter, no matter how out-of-line her comments may have been. He knew she hadn't meant it, of course… she'd simply pushed the wrong buttons at the wrong time, and instead of handling it with maturity he'd exploded at her. Perhaps he was simply taking out his anger on her. In any case, he'd fucked up for the second time that day.
Christ, he wished Loan let him keep alcohol in the house.
Bobby let out a deep sigh as his gaze fell upon his monitor. Six years of effort down the drain… not merely dismissed, but downright savaged. Granted, it was only one man's opinion, but his criticism had been so thorough that even Bobby couldn't help but dwell on his words. Now that the anger had faded, he only felt a deep sense of inadequacy. He wondered if this was how Lemy felt about his own failures… a musician that couldn't play. A writer that couldn't write.
Pathetic.
Bobby opened up the document again and stared at it, weighing his options. Perhaps he could salvage it… cut back on the exposition, come up with some kind of plot, some point to the story he was trying to tell. But perhaps that was the problem… there was no point. There never had been. The stories he wanted to tell simply weren't what anyone else wanted to read. They were simply wasted efforts, and nothing more than that.
"...Fuck this," Bobby muttered. He took a deep breath and closed the document, clicking 'no' when it asked if he wanted to save.
Back.
Right click.
Delete.
Are you sure you want to delete this folder?
Yes.
Right click.
Empty recycle bin.
...Yes.
Once he'd done the same for his online backup, Bobby leaned away from the keyboard, withdrawing his trembling hand from the mouse. There… it was done. He wasn't sure how he should feel… part of him wanted to laugh, part of him wanted to cry, and another part of him wanted to vomit. Instead, he sat in silence with naught the tick of his wall clock and gentle hum of the AC unit keeping him tethered to reality. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there; perhaps five minutes, perhaps thirty, perhaps an hour. It was the growl of his stomach that finally snapped him from his stupor, and it suddenly dawned on him that he hadn't had so much as a bite to eat since breakfast.
"...Alright." Bobby unsteadily got to his feet. Before he could even think about food, he had to apologize for his behavior. As he made for the door, he felt something crunch beneath his foot: the glass from the lamp. He'd completely forgotten about it. "Thank God for slippers…" He said with a sigh of relief.
After a quick detour to the utility closet, he returned to his office and swept the brunt of the glass into a dustpan. He'd vacuum up the smaller flakes later. Once he'd dumped the glass and bent remains of the lamp into the trash, he made his way down the hall towards his daughter's bedroom.
"Robbie…?" He called, gently knocking on the door. "Can I come in?" No response. Bobby frowned and gave another knock. "...I'm not mad," He assured her. "I just want to talk."
"Go away," Came the muffled voice of his daughter from the other side.
"...I'm coming in," He said. Robbie said nothing further as he turned the handle and stepped inside. The room was dim, but with the light from the doorway he could see his daughter lying in her bed, completely covered by her bedsheets. "Robbie… are you alright?" Again, no response. Bobby frowned and approached the bed, nearly tripping over the girl's hastily discarded jacket in the process. "Look… I wanted to apologize," He said softly. "You were right. I was being an asshole, and I'm sorry." No response. The man sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Robbie, please," He pleaded, taking hold of the blanket. "Talk to… me…?" As he pulled the blanket aside, he found nothing more than a small pile of pillows lying beneath. He barely had a moment to process this before an attack cry rang out from behind him; he yelped in shock as his daughter leapt onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and wrestled him to the ground with a THUD.
"'Sorry?!' You really think that's gonna cut it?!"
"R-Robbie, get off…!" Bobby struggled in the girl's grasp, but he was far from a strong man; Robbie easily flipped him onto his stomach and sat down on his back before he could get back to his feet. The man cried out in pain as she took his ankles under her arms and bent back his legs, putting him into a boston crab.
"Or what?! You'll ground me?! Too late for that!" She snarled with a forced, aggressive drawl appropriate for a delinquent."You forget to pick me up, you yell at me, and now you expect me to just forgive you? Ain't happenin'! I ain't forgivin' ya till you're beggin' for it!"
"OW! Okay, okay! Please, I-" Robbie applied more pressure, earning her an even louder whine of pain from her father. "ROBERTAAAA! Please!" But the girl did not yield; knowing her, Bobby doubted she even intended to until she was satisfied. If he wanted to get out of this, he'd have to play by her rules. "F-fine…!" With a grunt of effort, Bobby managed to push himself upwards.
"Whoa…?!" Robbie gasped in surprise as she found herself being lifted upwards. She may have been strong for her age, but she was still far smaller and lighter than her father; once her feet were off the ground he twisted his body, flipping her off of his back with a yelp. He grunted as her back hit the ground and, to her surprise, she quickly found herself trapped in a cradle pin.
"Now what?" Bobby asked with a cocky smirk. "Let's see you get out of…?!" His apparent victory didn't last long; with an amused snicker his daughter managed to slip free from his hold and the next thing he knew, he was once again on his stomach, gagging as Robbie trapped him in a chokehold. That was it: he desperately tapped her arm in submission and she released him.
"Not bad, dad." Robbie said with a smirk as her father gasped and panted for air. "That's the first time you've pinned me in, what, two years?"
"Y-you…" Bobby managed to gasp out between breaths. "You're way too rough, you know that…?" Robbie simply shrugged, apparently unmoved by her father's plight. He tried to push himself up again, only to find himself pushed face-first down to the ground.
"Apologize again," Robbie demanded. Bobby sighed.
"...I'm sorry."
"For?"
"Everything," Bobby muttered. "Really… I mean that. I'm sorry." The girl narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips as she considered her father's words, then gave a small nod.
"...Me too," She said. Robbie climbed off his back and let him sit up, wincing as he rubbed his sore neck. "For the stuff I said… and the lamp."
"No, it's… ugh, hang on…" Bobby flexed his neck a bit, letting out a grunt as he heard a loud POP. "There we go… anyway…" He paused to clear his throat before continuing. "It's alright. Given the circumstances, anyway… I've been a real jerk, today. It's just…" He frowned and averted his eyes, taking a deep breath before shaking his head. "...I wasn't mad at you. I was just… mad."
"What happened?" Robbie asked; her father furrowed his brow, then groaned and flopped onto his back.
"What happened is that I'm a hack," He grumbled, raising a hand to massage his temples. "Asimov, Wells, Clarke, Ellison… my whole life I've wanted to be like them, you know? One of the greats. Hell, I even deluded myself into thinking I could be. But… I was wrong."
"Hey, don't… don't say that," Robbie said softly, inching a bit closer. "I mean, you got published before, right? It could happen again." Her father simply shook his head and gave a dry, humorless chuckle.
"Those were rush jobs, nothing more than that." Bobby muttered. "There was nothing special about them, hell, I barely even thought about them while I was writing them. It just... happened." The man scowled slightly, his tone growing bitter. "...I wanted to tell stories like the ones I grew up with. To make people feel the same way I did when I read them… and the only time I came close was a complete accident. What a joke." Robbie averted her eyes and pursed her lips in thought.
"Well… I won't pretend to know much about writing," She said, scooting to her father's side before lying on the ground beside him. "But maybe that's the problem?"
"...Eh?" Bobby pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at his daughter with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… maybe you're thinking too much," The girl suggested. "You always told uncle Lemy that he was so worried about what he wanted to be that he ignored the things he was actually good at… maybe it's the same for you?" Her father furrowed his brow in thought. "Y'know… you always were good at making things up off the top of your head. Remember those bedtime stories you used to tell me?"
"...Prince Nebula." Bobby chuckled, a nostalgic smile crossing his face. "How could I forget?" He used to lie with his daughter at night, weaving tales of an alien prince and his quest to save the galaxy from the evil Baron Galacticus. They'd been simple, cheesy stories, made up entirely on the spot despite their ongoing narrative. But nonetheless Robbie was always eager to hear what adventures came next for the intrepid prince, and Bobby had cherished those moments above all else.
"Well, those always meant a lot to me, soooo… I dunno…" Robbie muttered, "Maybe they could mean something to other people too?" Bobby stared at the ceiling in silence, mulling over his daughter's words. Putting his old bedtime stories into writing was something that he'd never even considered. He still remembered them well enough, and it wasn't as though he had anything to lose.
"Not a bad idea…" Bobby sat up with a grunt, then got to his feet. "...It's something to consider, at least. But that can come later… right now, all I want to do is spend some time with my daughter."
"Really…?" Robbie asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "But I'm grounded…"
"Tell you what," Her father said with a grin, offering the girl his hand. "You don't tell your mom I forgot to pick you up, and I'll forget about the lamp… that thing was ugly, anyway. Deal?" Robbie looked at him in silence for a moment, then grinned and took his hand.
"Deal." Her father helped her to her feet and she dusted herself off.
"Now I don't know about you, but I could go for a burger… what do you say?" He offered. "And maybe afterwards, we could swing by the comic shop."
"Seriously?! Damn, I should break shit more often," Robbie said with a snicker as she followed her father out of the room, being sure to pick up her jacket along the way.
"...Don't push your luck," Bobby huffed, shutting the door behind them. "And watch your language, okay?"
- 8
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