Chapter 6

SIX

It was unbelievably stupid, but it wasn't the first time Toby had refused to back down from a stupid challenge. Like that time in year six when he'd accepted a dare to ride a skateboard all the way down the handrail of the concrete stairs in front of the school and had ended up in hospital with a broken arm and suspended for a week.

"How does this whole thing work?" he asked the kid running the game, who was far too amused with Toby and Robbie coming forward for Toby's liking.

Toby didn't especially like that a crowd was already forming to watch the contest either.

"It's simple," the kid said, walking Toby to the back corner of the fenced-off grassy space. "First, you put on the padded armor," he said, pointing to an assortment of thick, padded vests that looked like they'd been constructed out of old cricket keeper's pads. "Then you each sit on one of the horses."

He gestured to the heart of the game. Two parallel tracks had been set up on the grass of the closed in area. At either end sat what looked like giant rocking horses, only without the rockers. Instead, they'd been fastened to rolling tables that ran along the tracks. Each one was vaguely painted, red and yellow on one side, blue and green on the other.

"We roll you down the tracks," the kid went on, nodding to a couple other young volunteers who manned the game, "and you try to hit each other with those noodles."

He pointed to a barrel filled with pool noodles that had been painted silver. Whatever thoughts Toby might have had about how desperately Health and Safety would disapprove of the game vanished at the sight of the noodles. He could smack Robbie as hard as he wanted with one of those—and he really wanted to pummel the bastard—and he wouldn't hurt a fly.

But then the kid went on with, "After a couple of passes, you get off the horses and move to hand-to-hand combat. We've got these babies for that."

He proudly stepped to the side and grabbed a pole with thick pads on either end that made it look like a giant cotton swab. Toby had seen similar things on that modern day gladiator show on telly, and he'd always wanted to try knocking someone around with one.

The morning was looking like it would turn out alright after all. He was more than ready to take Robbie the snobbie down a couple pegs.

"Suit me up," he told the kid playfully.

A crowd had definitely gathered by the time the kid, Lionel, helped him into some of the padded armor. As much as Toby would rather have continued his battle with Robbie in private, there was a certain degree of satisfaction in having an audience for the moment when he showed off that he was stronger than he looked. It reminded him a little of afternoon school yard fights when the cunts who had picked on him had walked away with bloody noses for their troubles.

At the same time, as much as he wanted to stick it to Robbie, there was something unsettling about the interactions they'd just had. Whether Robbie saw it or not, Keith was a total wanker. And yet, Robbie was clearly still eating his heart out over the man for some reason. He wasn't the sort Toby would have looked twice at, what with his slippery way of talking and the obvious disregard he had for Robbie's feelings.

And Toby knew all about lashing out when you felt vulnerable. He didn't mind being Robbie's punching bag, because it meant he could punch right back. But as he finished donning his armor and peeked to the side to watch Robbie finish up with his, Toby definitely noted the overly serious frown Robbie wore and the tension that tightened his otherwise perfect body.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Lionel called out, playing up to the crowd that continued together. "I present you with this epic joust between Sir Toby of Tillman and Hawthorne's very own master potter, Robbie the Wheel Hawthorne!"

The crowd got into it right away, cheering and applauding as the other two assistants came to escort Toby and Robbie to their mounts.

"Play up for the crowd," the teenage girl who had taken Toby's arm encouraged him. "They love that."

Toby immediately got into character. He preened and held his arms wide, inviting the crowd's adulation and waving his hands to encourage it. Right away, he decided he would be the anti-hero, the one the crowd loved to hate and hated that they loved. He played into that by making a face at Robbie, who was clearly the traditionally handsome and noble hero, and by blowing a raspberry at him.

The crowd loved it, laughing and cheering. Robbie obviously didn't love it. He was all frowns and focus as he waved once to the crowd, then let the other assistant help him on his "horse".

As soon as Robbie met his eyes, Toby shook his head, as if disappointed. In a way, he was disappointed. In the last few days, if he'd learned anything, it was that Robbie was a pulsing mass of potential who was being held back by something. After meeting Keith, Toby felt like he was zeroing in on what that obstacle was, but he still couldn't figure Robbie out.

Robbie had everything that he'd never had. He'd been raised with money, a loving family, and a place in the world. As far as Toby was concerned, he was wasting everything, and that was the greatest sin anyone could be guilty of.

Maybe a knock upside the head would snap the bastard out of whatever gilded chains he'd tied himself up in.

"Gentlemen, take your positions!" Lionel called out.

Playing up to the crowd, Toby immediately turned around and showed Robbie his arse. He even patted it for good measure.

The crowd roared with laughter. Well, all except that one family who had overheard him cursing earlier. It was like they were following him around, like the charity workers who had been assigned to help his mum when he was growing up, but who only ever made anyone they looked at feel like shit.

Toby straightened and moved around to sit on his rolling horse.

"You're doing great," the teenager giggled at him.

Robbie didn't think so. If the glare Robbie was sending him from across the grass was any indication, he was about to be hit hard with a pool noodle.

Good. Toby welcomed it. Robbie would probably develop cancer or an ulcer if he didn't let loose some of the anger he was clearly clamping onto anyhow.

Whatever expectation Toby had of flying across a jousting field in a glorious spectacle was flattened as the teenage girl got behind the fake horse and pushed. She wasn't a delicate English rose or anything, but she had to put in a lot of effort to make the horse roll sedately along the track at a laughable pace. Again, Toby understood why no one was particularly concerned about anyone getting hurt in the game. It was actually a little embarrassing how slow they moved.

All embarrassment was forgotten when Toby and Robbie met in the center of the tracks. The serious, furious look in Robbie's eyes was too much, and the way he held his pool noodle like it was an actual lance made Toby want to roll his eyes.

Instead, Toby took advantage of the three seconds when the two of them were close enough to swing his noodle at Robbie and bash him across his body a few times before they were too far apart to reach each other. Robbie hadn't even tried to swing at him.

Once they'd passed, Toby twisted to look over his shoulder. Robbie had done the same. He wore an indignant look that had Toby laughing out loud. The man was an absolute wanker. If he took himself any more seriously, he'd probably burst into a pile of dust.

When they reached the end of the track, in order to turn the horse around, all the teenage girl had to do was pop the head off and move around to attach it to the other side. Toby laughed and swung around to face the other way once she did.

"Ingenious," he said.

"It saves a lot of time," the girl said, almost apologizing.

For half a second, Toby's mind filled with ways the family could expand the joust and make it into more of a draw. He could think of half a dozen blokes from his younger days would love a chance to beat on each other like medieval knights for fun.

He didn't have much time to think about that. A moment later, and the girl was huffing and pushing him back down the track so he could have another pass at Robbie. The crowd was definitely enjoying themselves, but judging by the look in Robbie's eyes when they met a second time, Robbie wasn't.

At least with the second pass, Robbie took a few swings. He even landed a few blows across Toby's shoulders, including one from behind once they were past each other. Toby barely felt the impact.

The third pass was much the same, except that Toby was actually starting to have fun. His motivations changed from wanting to wipe any sort of smug grin off Robbie's face to just wanting to enjoy himself as he donned a rugby helmet for the next part of the fight. He swung the giant swab thingy around as soon as it was handed to him, then walked to meet Robbie in the middle of the grass in front of the tracks.

The game was a laugh. It was original. Not even the biggest, fastest roller coaster Willoughby Entertainment could build could come close to the excitement of standing toe-to-toe with someone and attempting to beat their brains out with a big, soft toy.

That was what Duckie and the rest of them would never understand, and that was why Toby was determined to be successful at this job, no matter how big of a prick Robbie was. Even if it meant Duckie lost out on a deal because of him, he would still be proud, knowing Toby had done his job well.

That thought vanished as soon as Lionel called out, "Ready, set, duel!"

It had been so long since Toby had gotten into a proper fight. As much as he'd dreaded them as a kid, he'd sort of missed the rush of adrenaline and the focus that combat brought with it. He and Robbie circled each other for a minute, tying to gauge each other's strengths and weaknesses. Robbie definitely had the size advantage, and by the look of his arms, throwing pots had made him strong. But Toby was quick, and he never, ever gave up.

He made the first swipe, swinging his swab around to thump Robbie's side.

Robbie's eyes went wide, and a moment later, when he landed a return blow against Toby's hip, it was obvious that surprise came from how much harder the swabs hit than the pool noodles had.

"Give it up, Robbie!" Toby shouted, playing for the ever-increasing crowd. "The castle will be mine!"

Robbie didn't respond with words, but his eyes narrowed, and a fierce determination entered his eyes that was downright sexy. Robbie swung at him again, but Toby blocked it before trying to get in another blow himself.

Neither of them were going to get anywhere. Not with the padding they wore and the clumsiness of their weapons. But it was cathartic to keep trying, to keep hitting and dodging. Toby loved the pump of his blood through his veins, loved the way he had to fight to catch his breath. He'd never played team sports in school, even though he'd tried to sign up for them, because he'd been bullied and teased too much for even trying. It had gotten even worse when word leaked to his school mates that he liked cock.

But throwing himself into the duel, jumping back and forth and taking swipes at Robbie made him wish with his whole heart that he'd been able to take part in something. He'd always been a team of one, so that was nothing new, but the cheering and approval of the crowd was a feeling nothing could replace.

Robbie, on the other hand, seemed to shrink in on himself as the battle continued. His rugby helmet looked awkward on him, even though he was built strong enough to play any sport. He was concentrating too hard on Toby, but Toby sensed an enormous amount of self-consciousness from him all the same.

Of course a blue-blooded nob like Robert Hawthorne, Jr. wouldn't know his way around sports equipment. His lot was more used to equestrian events and golf than anything that might actually lead to sweating.

Using the surge of old frustration that came with those thoughts, he swept at Robbie's legs. Miraculously, he actually managed to knock Robbie to the ground.

The crowd cheered, and some booed, but Toby ignored all of that.

"You okay, mate?" he asked, hurrying to stand over Robbie, ready to help him up if he needed to.

Robbie glared up at him, but it was the cry of, "Oy! Isn't that just the way of things. The aristo's just beating up on the common man, as always."

Anger tore through Toby that had nothing to do with Robbie or the fake fight they were engaged in. He jerked his head up, searching for whoever had dared to insult him that way. They had no idea who he was or what shit he'd gone through to get to where he was now.

He didn't find the heckler. Before he could, Robbie swung his swab thing hard, knocking Toby down.

Toby wasn't ready for the hit and sprawled to his back. If that wasn't bad enough, Robbie pushed himself up to his knees and threw a leg over to straddle Toby's waist, pinning him.

Instead of turning it into a wrestling match and trying to push Robbie off, Toby grinned up at him. "I knew you wanted to get me on my back," he purred.

Robbie growled, face red, dark hair sticking damply out from the edges of his helmet, and grabbed for Toby's swab. Toby gripped it harder, preventing Robbie from taking it.

Without missing a beat, Robbie found another way to disarm him. He tugged on the swab again, and while Toby was distracted with trying to hold onto it, Robbie bent down and kissed him hard, right on his open, panting mouth.

Toby's brain stopped functioning. The kiss went on longer than it should have. His body responded to every half-entertained, wild fantasy he'd had about Robbie in the last few days. His cock perked up like it might actually get some action. In the back of Toby's mind, he registered that the crowd was going nuts over the trick move, but he didn't care. He just wanted to keep kissing Robbie.

But then Robbie pulled back roughly and stood, taking Toby's swab with him. He stood over Toby, raising the swab in one hand as the crowd cheered and applauded for him.

Toby's heart sank, and all the anger that he'd successfully shoved aside so that he could have fun rushed back on him.

It was always the same. Nothing would ever change. He could fight as hard as he could, looking like he might win for a few seconds, but the rich and privileged would always drag him down again. And they'd cheat to do it, offering him something he wanted only to yank it away again.

As soon as Robbie stepped back, Toby rolled to the side, then pushed himself to his hands and knees before standing. He hated the feeling of losing. Not just losing a silly game that no one really cared about. He hated knowing that the deck was stacked against him and he couldn't win, no matter what he did.

"I'm done with this," he said to no one in particular, marching back over the tracks to the corner where spare armor and weapons were kept. He fumbled with the buckles of his padding and helmet, anxious to get them off.

"Now you're just being a sore loser," Robbie said as he joined Toby in the back corner.

"You cheated," Toby hurled at him. "Your kind always cheats."

"My kind?" Robbie asked incredulously, yanking off his helmet. "What kind are you talking about? Artists?"

"You know what I mean," Toby seethed at him.

"You're the one who started playing to the crowd," Robbie argued. "I was just following your lead. Or are you upset that someone else got the applause instead of you?"

Toby had just yanked his padding off, and he threw it to the ground in front of Robbie's feet without a word. His helmet came off and was thrown down on top of it a moment later.

The problem was, Robbie was right. He'd started something, and when it didn't go his way, he'd taken it personally. It was a bad habit he'd thought he'd overcome. That only made it worse, really. Robbie Hawthorne had gotten under his skin so badly that he'd dredged up everything about himself that he'd tried to push aside.

"I don't want to do this anymore," he said, shoving a hand through his hair, then turning to walk off.

Even that felt like a defeat. It was what he did when he lost. He turned around and walked away instead of fighting when it really mattered.

Only this time, he didn't get a chance to storm off to lick his wounds.

"That was sensational," Mr. Hawthorne said, heading toward them through the edge of the crowd. "You guys were fantastic."

It wasn't Mr. Hawthorne that had caught Toby's attention, though. Standing on the edge of the crowd, as if they'd been there the whole time, watching the spectacle, were Keith and John.

Toby glanced back over his shoulder to Robbie, who stood panting and frustrated, watching Keith and John as well. So that's what the kiss had been all about. Robbie hadn't been trying to tempt him, he'd been playing it up for his wanker ex. Toby didn't know whether to feel insulted or impressed by Robbie's daring.