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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Contains mature content

The Cockney Canuck - 121. Chapter 121 Nicola Takes Over

I watched Jo as she paced the tiny room reading notes from her clipboard and biting the top of her pen. I wasn’t in the best of shapes. My eyes were sore, and my voice hoarse. I grabbed a handful of the tissues she gave me and dragged them across my face trying to scrub away the drying tears, then took a long gulp from a bottle of water, only to spill most of it down the front of my shirt.

It was Jo who called an abrupt end to the session with ten minutes still remaining of our allotted time. She said I was emotionally disorientated, whatever that meant, and told me I had to rest. We would meet the following day after school for round two.

I was learning how she worked. She didn’t have time to beat around the bush or look for comforting words to make me feel better. Her questions were direct, and her appraisals honest and blunt. It was a clinical approach which often lacked sensitivity, but it worked, and after a hesitant start, I found her easy to talk to.

It was just as well, because Jo wanted to know everything about me from the very beginning, even my closest guarded secrets, and nothing was off-limits.

Talking to her helped me to realise the gravity of my situation and why Walter had been so keen to seek her assistance. I was in a bad way without fully realising it, and dangerously close to adding my name to a growing statistic which was worrying parents, teachers, and politicians alike.

Jo worked for the Northumberland School District, covering a vast area of Southern Ontario and described herself as a trouble-shooter. Officially she was an educator rather than a health worker and operated strictly within the county’s high schools with authority more akin to a social worker than a therapist. Her brief was simple. With teenage suicide rates across the country soaring to all-time highs, Jo and others like her were tasked with trying to curb a disturbing upward trend. It was a big ask. They were under-resourced, overstretched, and given unrealistic targets.

Jo wasn’t concerned with politics, and her maverick style did little to endear her to the middle-class conservatives who ran the school district. It was her rebellious nature, though, which appealed to me the most, coupled with an uncanny, almost frightening resemblance to my mom.

Any concerns I might have had about wasting her time were quickly dispelled as Jo began unravelling the complex mess which was suffocating my brain. The fact that my name had been added to the list of endangered species could not be overlooked. I wasn’t there by accident. I ticked all the boxes and Walter must have known it. I was, without doubt, suicide material and I had already come within a hair’s breadth of proving it.

I tried to explain to Jo how I felt when I was standing at the end of the pier with Nicola. My emotions, the distinct lack of fear in the face of such obvious danger, and the warm, comforting feeling that drew me closer to the edge, before being yanked back by my sister. Jo listened intently to every word as if it was the single, most important thing in the world to her, and at the time it probably was.

Her eyes rarely left me. She studied everything I did, perhaps looking for tell-tale signs in my body language. Something which would give her a heads up on my mental condition and help her make that all-important assessment. The one she really had to get right.

“You did good, Robbie. Today was a huge step. How do you feel now?”

“Tired.”

She walked over to stand in front of me and rest her hand on my shoulder. It was something she did quite a lot as I talked, a slight physical contact which I found reassuring rather than intrusive.

“The first session is always difficult, sweetie. I’m proud of you. It’s not an easy thing to do.”

It wasn’t difficult, either. Jo made it easy by carefully prodding me with the right questions and skilfully steering me in the direction she wanted me to go. She gradually chipped away at the walls, and then stood aside as the dam cracked and finally burst.

Years of bottled frustration and bitterness were released in an unexpected torrent of tears and anger. It was the most emotional hour of my young life, but it felt like we only just scratched the surface.

The first session delved into my childhood. My earliest memories, moving to England, the death of my father, and my mom’s illness. I lived it all again as I talked and choked my way through a period of my life which no one in Canada knew about. The wounds hadn’t healed at all. Nicola was right, almost a year to the day and I still hadn’t even started to come to terms with her death.

I still blamed her for leaving me, even though it obviously wasn’t intentional, but I saved the brunt of my anger for my dad. A man who I had no recollection of, but blamed for everything wrong in my life.

I blamed him for their divorce even though I had no knowledge of why his marriage to my mom lasted less than three years. I blamed him for not wanting anything to do with me despite fighting a bitter custody battle, and for not visiting me, even though I was on the other side of the Atlantic. Most of all though, I blamed him for being an alcoholic, for crashing his car when he was drunk, and for dying before I got an opportunity to ask him why he couldn’t send me a single birthday card.

Jo considered his absence in my life to be a prominent contributor to a troubled childhood I never realised I had, but she refused to apportion blame. Instead, she questioned the legality of my mom’s decision to take me to England. A move which Jo believed should have been blocked by the courts. Knowing my mom, it was almost certain she did this without my dad’s consent and probably even without his knowledge. I would never know for sure, and I didn’t want to find out.

She allowed me to draw my own emotional conclusions on a subject which had tormented me for as long as I could remember. My dad was an easy target. It made more sense to despise a faceless man who I had no feelings for than the woman who up until recently had been my only family.

I had to concede it was possible the divorce wasn’t entirely his fault and probable that he once cared enough about me to want to fight for custody. Losing his wife and only child may even have contributed to his drinking problem, leading to his premature death aged just forty-four.

I was ten years old when he died, but my mother waited a year before telling me. For some reason, she wanted me to be in secondary school, perhaps believing I would be better equipped to deal with it. It made no difference; he meant nothing to me. As far as I was concerned, I never had a father and that rule still applied, even after the adoption.

Six years after his death, I still wasn’t ready to forgive him and doubted if I ever would, but talking to Jo that day helped wash away at least some of the hatred and anger. I didn’t feel any immediate benefit, but it was a move in the right direction.

“It’s gonna take time,” said Jo. “You’ve had a lot of upheaval in your life, and it looks like it’s just been swept under the carpet. Those issues don’t go away on their own. Your adopted parents have probably done more harm than good. No offense sweetie, but you lucked out in that department. I guess you already know that.”

“I had my suspicions.”

“Maybe we can focus on them tomorrow. Walter told me you've had problems with your new dad.”

“He’s not my dad.”

“You were adopted, that makes him your dad, Robbie. At least on paper it does. It’s something you’ll have to get used to.”

“Whatever.” I looked at my watch. There was five minutes to go but I was ready to leave. The conversation was becoming uncomfortable. Talking about Don always made me nervous and I found it impossible to hide my anxiety from Jo. She was watching me again; leaning against the wall with her arms folded. It was a while before she spoke.

“Has Don ever hit you?”

“No.”

“Has he ever abused you sexually?”

“No, of course not.”

“It’s not as unusual as you might think. Do you wanna know why I’m asking you these questions?”

I suppose it was the dire consequences of failure that kept Jo focused and her attention to detail made it impossible to hide anything. She had been carefully scrutinising me from the moment we met, but it wasn’t until we were preparing to leave that she asked about the faded marks on my neck. The small scars where Alex dug his nails into me had nearly healed, and no one in the school had even noticed them. For Jo, however, they were potential clues that couldn’t be ignored. I was suddenly faced with the prospect of having to lie to her, and it was too late to change my original story.

“It happened when I passed out. I must have fallen onto something.”

“What did the doctors say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“They were more interested in my head at the time. Trying to work out why I was passing out.”

She stared at my neck, making me nervous, and in turn, my edginess gave me away. I could almost see her mind working as she circled the room while looking again at my hospital notes.

“None of this makes sense,” she said. “I don’t understand how those marks could have been caused by you falling over.”

She was interrupted by the buzzer, a welcome sound that signalled the end of the school day. On this occasion though, it was followed by a weather warning from the principal. Heavy snow flurries were expected later that afternoon. After school, activities had been cancelled, and students were advised to go straight home.

I was looking forward to seeing the snow again, but for Jo, the message was an irritating distraction. She glared at the mini speaker on the wall as she tried to recover her train of thought.

“Did they find out what was causing the blackouts?”

“No.”

“Then maybe they were looking in the wrong place, they should have looked at your neck.”

She moved towards me to take a closer look, and I instinctively stepped back, turning my head to the side in an attempt to hide the evidence. My actions only confirmed her suspicions and made her even more determined. I knew what she was thinking; it was something she had suspected from the beginning.

“Can I go now, I’m gonna miss my bus?”

She ignored me as she continued reading my hospital notes. “So those marks on your neck happened after you passed out?”

I shrugged. “I guess. I was unconscious at the time.”

“That’s what it says in the report. But I would have said the opposite.” Jo leaned against the desk, chewing her pen before offering her own, far more plausible explanation. “I think your blackouts may be psychological and in this case directly related to whatever happened to your neck.”

Her assessment was pretty much spot on. I suppose it wasn’t exactly rocket science, but I was still surprised at how quickly she managed to work it out. The game was up. so I pleaded dumb.

“I don’t understand.”

“Trauma or extreme anxiety can also trigger blackouts. I’ve known it to happen before. It’s possible the clues were right in front of them.”

“Who?”

“The doctors, of course.” She dragged her chair over and sat down directly in front of me. We were close enough for our knees to touch and way too close for my comfort. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

“What?”

“Don’t get a hard-on, kid. I’m talking about your neck.”

I didn’t have a lot of choices, so I sat still and allowed her to slowly place her fingers over the tiny scars until she positioned her hand around my neck exactly as Alex had done. Then she looked me in the eye. “Is this how it happened?”

I looked away, resisting the urge to tell her the truth, even though my tortured mind was begging for the relief I knew it would bring.

“I’m gonna miss my bus.”

“Don’t sweat, I can give you a ride.” She stood up and grabbed her jacket. “It wasn’t an accident, was it? Those marks were caused by someone’s nails. I’m surprised no one picked up on it before.” She didn’t wait for an explanation; my brief silence was all the confirmation she needed. “Now we know what happened, we just have to work out why. Whoever did this to you wasn’t being nice. It must have hurt?”

“I can’t remember.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t really expecting you to tell me so soon.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, but I understand why you feel the need to lie. It’s nothing new, everyone does it.” She picked up her bag and threw it over her shoulder. “I guess we should get you home before this snow arrives.”

“So, do you still wanna see me tomorrow?”

“Of course. I just hope there are no fresh marks on you.”

“I know what you're thinking, but Don’s never hurt me. He shouts and makes me cry and stuff, but nothing else, And he’s not into boys either. He’s a womaniser.”

Jo looked happy with my explanation; she seemed to know when I was telling the truth, just like she knew when I was lying.

“I’m only guessing, sweetheart. That’s all I can do until you decide to tell me. It’s my job to keep you safe. That’s my priority at the moment.” She pushed the door open and held it for me as a group of boys rushed past.

The corridor was busier than usual. The impending snow had provided an unexpected boost to an otherwise drab Monday, and I found it difficult to talk over the high-pitched squeals of excited young voices. We were heading in the opposite direction to everyone else, ducking and diving to avoid the oncoming traffic as it filed to the exits and the line of yellow buses.

“It’s not what you think. I’m not in any danger.”

“If I thought you were. I wouldn’t allow you to go back there today.”

I wasn’t expecting that answer, and I had to wait for a couple of girls to pass between us before I could find out what she meant. “You can do that?”

“I only have to make a call.”

I wondered who she had to call.

‘A judge, the chief of police, some kind of government agency maybe’?

Whoever the official was obviously had complete faith in Jo’s assessment of a potentially dangerous situation and was prepared to act on her advice, without a second opinion. In effect, this gave her almost total control over me, but oddly, I rather liked it.

I still had time to catch the bus, but Jo insisted on giving me a ride. It gave her a little more time to question me, and an opportunity to see where I lived, but first, she wanted to meet Mr Andrews.

I sent Nicola a quick text to let her know I wouldn’t be on the bus and then watched as Jo breezed into the reception turning every head. She stood out more in an all adult environment, and some of the looks from the teachers and parents were priceless.

It was almost worth the doom and gloom of manic depression to see the expression on Miss Pringle’s face as Jo strolled up to the counter and asked to see the principal. While the school secretary looked ready to press the panic button and hand over the keys to the safe, I kept as close as I could to my newfound minder. I wanted everyone to know this crazy, badass chick was with me.

I thought she was the coolest person ever, even cooler than my mom. Jo was younger than she would have been and talked a lot more, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

If I needed a second opinion, it was written on the face of Mr Andrews. My mother’s former fiancée looked a little unsettled when I introduced them, although I wasn’t sure if it was the facial resemblance or her biker type image that shocked him the most. Whatever it was, he kept his thoughts to himself as he asked Jo how it went.

“I obviously can’t discuss anything we talked about,” she said. “But I think we made some progress.”

Mr Andrews gave me a pat on my very popular shoulder and some words of encouragement, but I wasn’t listening. My attention was taken by the television on the wall behind him. They were showing live images from Toronto, which was already under a blanket of snow. The volume was turned down, but clearly, this was more than just a snow flurry. There were sixteen lanes of stationary traffic on the four-oh-one, and flights had been grounded at Pearson Airport.

“This is quite bad,” I said, but the only person watching was Miss Pringle. She turned to me with a smile that looked foreign on her face.

“Looks like there’ll be no school tomorrow,” she said. “I take it you're going home with your mother.”

“My mother?”

Miss Pringle pointed to Jo.

“Oh, err, yes,” I said. “She’ll be taking me home.”

The storm was now taking up all of the news on the television and severe weather warnings were in force all the way to Nova Scotia. The graphics showed it heading east along the lake from Toronto to Kingston and somewhere in the middle, too small to warrant a name on the map was Cobourg.

*     *     *

We were halfway to my house when the snow began falling. I had already received a text message from Nicola asking me where I was, but nothing from Sue.

“It’s a pain in the backside,” said Jo, but for a boy who had yet to experience a full Canadian winter, it was still a novelty.

“I wonder if they’ll let me go outside.”

“You must be crazy,” she said, and then realised her mistake as I stared at her. “I didn’t mean that literally, kid. It was just a turn of phrase.”

“It’s okay, I know I’m crazy. That’s why you're here. They only send you to the worst cases. I know that now.”

Jo was a little uncomfortable. She didn’t enjoy being put in the hot seat, but she wouldn’t lie.

“You're right, I only go to the worst cases, but it doesn’t mean you're crazy.”

“This list that I’m supposed to be on. Am I on it because I’m gay?”

“It’s one of the factors. Gay teenagers are statistically more likely to harm themselves. It’s a numbers game, we’re not discriminating, it’s just expedient. We don’t have much time to get it right. Sometimes it’s too late.”

There was a sadness in her voice when she spoke. It was the first and only time she let her guard down, but it made her more human and helped me appreciate how difficult her job was.

We only met a couple of hours earlier, yet it seemed as if I had known her all my life. It wasn’t surprising. When I looked at her driving, all I could see was my mom.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“You were looking at me, I can see you.”

I turned my head to stare at the road ahead, the snow was now coming down quite heavy and starting to settle. Everything in sight was turning white.

“I can’t help it,” I said. “I already told you. You remind me of someone.”

She laughed. “Okay, who is it. Some evil monster on a video game you're playing?”

“No, my mom.”

Jo waited until we stopped at the lights before reacting. “I’m sorry, kid. I wasn’t expecting that one. I’m not sure what to say or whether it’s gonna be a problem or not.”

“Sometimes you even sound a bit like her, but with a different accent. It’s a little scary.”

“Geez, I guess it is.”

“Not all the time, just now and then.”

“Right.” She was deep in thought and hadn’t noticed the lights changing. I was going to tell her, but the car behind beat me to it. Three long honks of his horn reminded Jo that she was supposed to be moving, but a fourth was probably unnecessary. It earned the driver a fiery rebuke from my counsellor as she leaned out of the window. “FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!”

I sat in my seat, looking ahead and smirking to myself. “That certainly told him.”

“It’s not funny, kid.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Yes, you are, I can see you.” Then she relented and turned to smile. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. It’s not me you were shouting at. You scared the shit outta that guy though.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“He deserved it. What house is yours?”

I pointed to the front of my house, and she duly parked across next door’s driveway. Both were now covered in snow, and Don’s car was still missing.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Wait, before you go.” She switched on the interior light and began searching through her bag. It was a filled with crap just like her car which was new but littered with paper, books, and empty coffee cups. I hated the mess but waited patiently as she pulled a business card from a bag of clutter.

“If you need me, then call. I don’t mind what time it is; my phone is never switched off. If you get my voicemail, then I’m talking to someone else but leave a message. I really will get back to you as soon as I hear it.” She put her arm around me. “I like you, kid. I prefer to be woken up in the middle of the night than have to face bad news in the morning.”

It took me a few seconds to realise what she was saying, and when I did it sent a chill up my spine.

“I’ll call if I need you. I promise.”

“Good, because if you hurt yourself, it fucks up my chances of promotion. And that’s not good. It’s not good for me, and it’s definitely not good for you.”

It was a fair conclusion, but she didn’t need to worry, the dark clouds had already blown over, and the mere thought of standing at the end of the pier now scared the hell of me. Convincing Jo, of course, would take a little more time.

As we sat in her car talking, my next door neighbour appeared at the end of his driveway. He was a real busybody, and I knew why he was there. He was worried, thinking Jo was going to park in front of his entrance and block him in.

When he saw it was me in the passenger seat, he gave me a friendly wave, but his expression changed when he saw Jo. It made me feel uncomfortable, and I found myself apologising for him.

“Don’t sweat. If I had a penny for every strange look I got from people like him, I’d be a millionaire.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“No, if anything I get a kick outta making them feel uncomfortable.”

“Well, just for the record. I think you're pretty and you're an excellent counsellor, I already feel a lot better.”

“Thank you, Robbie. You can be a bit of a charmer when you wanna be. Are you sure you're gay?”

“Quite sure,” I said, but my cheeks were heating up as I opened the door. “See you tomorrow after school.”

I watched Jo’s car fishtail on the snow-covered road as she pulled away before turning to my neighbour to ask if he was okay. “You do know there’s a storm coming?”

“Yes, I know,” he said. “Was that your teacher?”

“No.” I began trudging up the driveway, then stopped and turned around. “She’s my girlfriend.”

‘Nosy git. At least it wasn’t the police this time’.

*     *     *

Indoors, Nicola was preparing the evening meal. She called me into the kitchen to tell me that her mom was unwell and had gone to bed.

I guess the combined stress of dealing with a cheating husband, suicidal son, and two missing kids had finally got the better of Sue and I felt a little sorry for her. I was the only one of those four to make it home that day, and Nicola sounded relieved that I made it before the storm.

“What happened to your face?” she said.

I looked in the mirror conscious of the fact I had been crying. “Nothing, why?”

“You're smiling; I haven’t seen you do that in a long time.”

“He has a girlfriend,” said Amy. She was sitting by the living room window watching the snow and holding a pair of binoculars. “I saw you getting out of her car.”

“Spying on people isn’t nice,” I said. “And she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend.”

“And a girl.”

“Who are you working for?” I walked over and asked if I could see the binoculars. “Where did you get these from?”

“They’re dad’s.”

‘Really. Who has he been spying on’?

I was surprised at how powerful they were. Despite the heavy snow, I could see quite easily into the house opposite. I wondered what else I could see as I followed the brickwork up to the bedroom above the garage. I was certain this was their son’s room. He was a couple of years older than me and had already left school. The lights were on, but the curtains drawn.

‘Maybe another time’.

“Who are you stalking?” Nicola made me jump and then laughed at my reaction.

“Nobody. There’s no one even worth stalking around here.”

She eyed me suspiciously before dragging me into the kitchen by my sleeve. “Well, you can help me with dinner then instead. So who’s the girl who gave you a ride?”

“Not you as well. That was Jo, my new counsellor. She’s really cool.”

“Jo’s a woman?”

“Yeah. She’s got tattoos and a stud in her nose. She’s wicked.”

“Oh, really? Maybe you should leave that bit out when you tell mom. Can you slice vegetables.” She handed me a knife and pointed to a pile of carrots and greenery. “So what did you talk about?”

“Suicide,” I said as I held up the knife to study the blade. “How sharp is this thing?”

Nicola’s eyes looked as if they were about to leave their sockets. She reached over and snatched the knife from my hand. “Maybe I should do that. You go and rest.”

“But I wanna help you,” I lied.

“Another time. Daniel can help instead. Tell him to get his lazy ass up here.”

Despite her tough exterior, I found Nicola even easier to manipulate than Sue, and I had to chuckle as I jogged downstairs to break the bad news to Daniel and then take his place on the sofa.

*     *     *

The storm hit Cobourg just after six with high winds and heavy snow causing widespread, but not serious damage. Our house survived intact, and our only inconvenience was a five-hour power outage. It was hardly an emergency, but a test of resilience for three teenagers stuck indoors without television or internet access and with limited phone reception.

Nicola was completely lost without Facebook, and Daniel displaying symptoms of Xbox withdrawal, but we managed to survive using old-fashioned conversation, and a board game from a different era. I never once imagined myself playing Monopoly by candlelight with my new siblings, but it passed the time and produced an unexpected result.

After advancing my dog to Broadway, I put my hands on my head in dismay. “That’s it, I’m finished. Unless Nicola can lend me some money.”

“No chance.”

“I’m out then.”

“So am I,” said Daniel. “You're totally ruthless, Amy. How did she even get all that property anyway?”

My little sister revelled in her cunning victory aided by some dubious decisions from Nicola. The girls high-fived before Amy was escorted to bed with a satisfactory grin across her grubby face. I received a sticky kiss as our paths crossed on my way to the front window.

“Blimey, has anyone looked outside lately?”

Even Daniel—a veteran of Ontario winters—was surprised by how much snow had fallen in such a short time. Enough to raise the front garden almost to the level of the concrete porch.

“No school tomorrow,” he said. “The buses will be cancelled.”

‘Typical. One day back and I’m off again’.

“I’m never gonna get the credits I need to graduate. Especially now that Rory’s discovered sex.”

Daniel chuckled as he stood next to me, looking at the snow. We rarely got this close anymore, and he smelled different. Not the usual musky Daniel smell but something cleaner with a hint of fragrance.

‘Is he wearing aftershave’?

It was one of many subtle changes I noticed since he started seeing that girl and I wondered if Daniel had recently joined the same club as Rory. It seemed like everyone was doing it except me.

“The house will start to get cold after a few hours,” said Nicola. “So wear t-shirts and socks in bed. And I want you both up for breakfast at the normal time. Even if there’s no school. You guys will need to shovel the driveway.”

Daniel hated it when his sister was in charge, and I remembered a time when it bothered me too, but not anymore.

As for Jo, I was thinking about her for most of the evening and well into the night. I couldn’t get her out of my head, but unlike my usual restless nights, this time I was excited. I couldn’t wait to see her again, even though I knew she would be on my case about the scars on my neck.

I wondered what Don would make of her. It seemed inevitable that their paths would cross at some point and then he would try to intimidate her like he did with everyone else.

‘Good luck with that one’.

He would be making a huge mistake. I was confident she would be more than a match for Don or any of his cronies. With Jo on my side, I didn’t need to fear him ever again.

That night I went to sleep with a smile on my face. I wasn’t out of the woods just yet, but for the first time in a long while, I could sense things were going to get a lot better.

If you enjoyed this chapter, then please take the time to leave a comment below and follow the story. Members are invited to discuss the story and characters with others, and there is a discussion on the forum via the link below.

http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/42134-the-cockney-canuck-by-dodger/

In the next chapter, Robbie’s recovery is threatened by the return of an adversary.

Copyright © 2017 Dodger; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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35 minutes ago, Israfil said:

Perhaps Jo is related to his mum somehow.

Jo is Don’s drag alter-ego?
;–)

I know Don’s mental health was shaky at best, but that would be a Hollywood version of the effects of psychological stress! It only happens in books and movies. And Hollywood* is a deeply misogynistic and homophobic place filled with straight men who are terrified of being seen as effeminate.
 

* The LGBTQ-dominated West Hollywood is a separate political entity. Hollywood itself is a district within the city of Los Angeles. But in this case Hollywood refers to the TV and movie industry rather than the geopolitical location.  ;–)

7 hours ago, droughtquake said:

The only problem with Jo helping Robbie to resolve his issues is that it means the conclusion to The Cockney Canuck is imminent!
;–)

Of course that also means the sequel, The Cockney and the Canuck can begin (the story of Robbie reuniting with Tom)!
;–)
 

Go Team Tom!
;–)

No comment.

7 hours ago, droughtquake said:

Jo is Don’s drag alter-ego?
;–)

I know Don’s mental health was shaky at best, but that would be a Hollywood version of the effects of psychological stress! It only happens in books and movies. And Hollywood* is a deeply misogynistic and homophobic place filled with straight men who are terrified of being seen as effeminate.
 

* The LGBTQ-dominated West Hollywood is a separate political entity. Hollywood itself is a district within the city of Los Angeles. But in this case Hollywood refers to the TV and movie industry rather than the geopolitical location.  ;–)

Interesting. You've obviously had a sneak preview of the next chapter.

6 hours ago, droughtquake said:

Best lines ever!
;–)

Jo doesn't know yet about Robbie's erectile dysfunction.

6 hours ago, droughtquake said:

Will we ever discover the identity of the person who shoved Robbie down the stairs? There seems to be one suspect now who didn’t seem to have a motive at the time…
:–(

All will be revealed.... eventually.

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20 minutes ago, Dodger said:

Interesting. You've obviously had a sneak preview of the next chapter.

Jo and Don have never been seen at the same time. Their cars have not been seen at the same time either, although Don has had plenty of time to acquire a new car and litter it with food wrappers and other debris! And Don is Robbie’s mother’s closest surviving relative.

Because Donnie is going to have to pull off a Mrs Doubtfire if he hopes to ever reunite with his family!
;–)


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