MANIC: Rook and Ronin, #2 Read online

  "I know," she pouts. "But I can't help it. When you say stuff like that it scares me. It feels invasive."

  I lie back down and pull her close. The bike ride can wait. "It's not, though. It's normal."

  "I don't like people talking about me, it bugs me." She stops and turns her head to look me in the eye. "It really bugs me."

  "Well, you're not gonna be able to avoid it, Rook. Your face and body will be all over the world soon. You're in a reality show, you're on book covers in Japan, and a half a million people are gonna be talking all about you at the rally."

  She wrinkles her nose at this.

  "So I think it's OK if I ask Spencer what's going on. I'm still not sure what to think about what you said last night, about being turned on. I mean, I get it. I've been there. I get turned on too. But I've never had to talk about it with a girlfriend because the only other model I dated who was working with us at the time was Mardee. And I already told you, I was not all that nice to her. I never got jealous over her jobs."

  Rook leans over and kisses me softly on the lips. "Sorry," she whispers into my mouth. "I just wanted to be honest. I just wanted you to tell me what it means. I want you, Ronin. Not Spencer. Not Billy. You."

  "Yeah, well, I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not sure what it means."

  "See, that's why Billy was so helpful. He told me it means nothing." She throws her hands out a little to illustrate her point. "He said he's always turned on, that's what Antoine wants and expects. But that it's meaningless. Even when he sleeps with the girl after, he says. It's meaningless."

  "Huh." Billy's a fucking whore. The absolute last guy I want giving my girlfriend advice on what is and isn't normal in an erotic photo shoot. "You wanna do the bike ride?"

  "Yeah, it sounds fun. Besides, I think I need to get out of this place for a while. I never go anywhere. I might need to buy a car."

  "Why?"

  She shoots me a dirty look.

  "No, I mean, why buy one? I have two cars I never use. Just take one when you need it." Her silence tells me she's got a problem with this. "Rook, I swear, if you say something stupid like I need my own car so you can't control me, I'll handcuff you to the bed and show you what domination really looks like."

  Her whole face screws up in disgust. "Don't joke. You know that's never gonna happen, right?"

  "Yeah, I figured. But that doesn't mean I can't picture you like that. Your bottom bright pink from being spanked." She blushes and I am immediately hard. "Sounds fun, doesn't it?"

  She doesn't answer that either way.

  Progress.

  Chapter Twenty - ROOK

  The evening with Ronin passes much too quickly. And he was right, as usual. Lookout Mountain has an amazing view of Denver. It's not even that far away, it barely took us thirty minutes to get to the freeway exit, but the winding road that climbs up the side of the mountain—foothill, Ronin corrects me, he scoffs at me when I call these rolling hills mountains—takes a whole lot longer. But I don't mind. I enjoy the vibrations of the bike beneath me. I press my helmet up against Ronin's leather jacket and gaze out at my new hometown as dusk takes over.

  By the time we get to a little pull-out along the road, it's almost dark and the city lights down below are twinkling.

  Ronin and I both look the part tonight. Matching leather jackets, courtesy of the Chaput closet, faded jeans, and black biker boots. My hair is in braids to keep it under control, and Ronin has one of those WWII helmet knock-offs for protection, but I'm wearing a proper one with the full face guard.

  When I'm no longer pressed hard against Ronin's heat, I notice the chill. It's almost always pleasant down in Denver at night, but we're a couple thousand feet higher now, so the temperature dips as soon as the sun disappears over the peaks.

  We don't stay long. I know enough about bikes to understand what a ride is and what it isn't. It's not a way to get somewhere, it's about enjoying the journey.

  It's fitting for me, really. The journey is the only thing that counts because once you reach your destination, there's always somewhere else to go. Another journey to take.

  Life is like that too.

  I took a journey when I left Chicago. I struggled with homelessness and hunger. I feared for my safety and eventually, that journey ended with Antoine, Elise, and Ronin.

  And now I'm on a new journey. I'm not sure where I'm going just yet. Maybe college. Maybe somewhere else.

  Maybe a family with Ronin—someday.

  I know that's what Ronin wants, he's not kept it a secret about how much he wants a family. And I'm starting to think about what that means for me and what I might have to do to get it. I'm not on board yet, so I don't ponder it too seriously. But I watched Antoine and Elise when we were up at Granby Lake and it's nice what they have. They know each other so well and they're still very much in love.

  I'd like that, too.

  Someday.

  But I'm only nineteen. It's just way too soon to think about forever, and all thoughts of marriage make me feel a little sick. I like Ronin. Might even love him. I think he might be the one for me. But my life just started. I just got here and my past is still very fresh. It's not far away and simple—it's nearby and complicated. Very, very complicated. I'm not ready for the things he wants and I'm definitely not ready to face the issues that still need to be resolved in order to move forward in a serious relationship. Maybe I'll never be ready for kids. I'm not even sure about that.

  I sigh into Ronin's back as he turns into the parking garage below the studio. We stopped at an Italian place in Golden to eat, and my day is finally catching up with me because I'm dead-ass tired.

  I hand my helmet to Ronin and he locks everything up in the garage lockers, and then we take the elevator up instead of the stairs.

  He knows I'm tired.

  I like this about him. He made an effort to understand me after I told him what happened in Chicago. He pays very close attention to me. He's the perfect man so far. And I like that.

  Most of the time, anyway. Tonight is one of those times. He likes to be in control but that's men for you, I guess. He's not controlling in a bad way, not like Jon was. Ronin comes off as a concerned partner.

  When we get to the studio I try to walk up the stairs to his place, but he tugs my hand over to the terrace.

  "Awww," I moan.

  "Sorry, Gidge," he whispers into my ear as he opens the door. "But we have time for a swing, if you want."

  "I do." God, can he be any more perfect? We walk over to the cherry trees and I plop down on the swing as he takes his position behind. He pushes me and my whole experience here at Chaput Studios comes rushing back with the wind as it whips my hair around.

  "So, opinions on Ford. You guys getting along better yet?"

  "I guess. He's OK."

  "How about Spencer?"

  I twist around as the swing goes back so I can catch a glimpse of Ronin behind me. "He's funny."

  Ronin laughs. "Yeah, he is. He's not a bad guy."

  "Is Ford?"

  "I hate Ford. Really, seriously, hate his fucking guts."

  I'm not surprised. But I am surprised he told me that. Ronin is a professional and the relationship we have with Ford right now is business. Which means what he said was unprofessional. "Wanna tell me about it?"

  "Nah, he's not worth it." Ronin stops the swing and takes my hand so we can walk back to my apartment. "Ford said they want you up on Fort Collins this weekend to film you hanging out with Spencer."

  "Oh, that sucks. I figured I'd have the weekend off."

  "Yeah, me too. But Ford—never mind."

  He stops. Maybe because we're at my door or maybe because he realizes he's not supposed to talk shit about a client.

  Either way, I don't push it. "Are you coming up there with me?"

  He cups my face in his hands and kisses me tenderly on the lips. Just a small, slow kiss with no tongue. "I wouldn't miss it, Gidget. We'll ride up in the truck after breakfast."

&nbs
p; I kiss him back a little more forcefully.

  He laughs and pulls back. "I'd love to take you in there right now and make love to you, Rook. But I have some work to do and want to call and check on Clare before bed. So I'll come by in the morning, OK?"

  "OK," I say, nodding.

  He leans in and kisses me softly again. All the urgency of our earlier tryst is gone and now it's just easy and long. I kiss him back and then lean my head on his shoulder. "I love you," I whisper.

  His fingers thread through my hair and he kisses me again, only this time it's on the top of my head. A protective, emotional kiss. "I've never dated a girl like you, Rook. You are everything I want. I love all your parts. I love the wary parts, the defiant parts, the independent parts, and your innocence and vulnerability. I want you next to me and when you're not there I feel like a part of me is missing. I'm so in love with you, Rook. So fucking in love with you, it scares me."

  "But it's a good scary, right?"

  He chuckles. "Yes, definitely a good scary." He turns, holding my hand until the last possible second, our fingers not quite willing to let go, and then he slips away and goes back to the studio.

  I go inside and plop down on my couch and flip on the TV and channel-surf for a while. It's been a long day, but a good one. It's still pretty confusing. I'm not sure what to make of my job. I'm not sure if getting painted up naked and kissing other guys as part of work is cheating or not. If I was on Ronin's end of things I'd certainly be jealous. And I'm sure he is, but he's got a lot of self-control.

  He deserves lots and lots of points for that and I gladly stack them over in his positive attributes column in my head.

  I'm pretty sure he's pissed off about Ford and Spencer making me go up to the bike shop this weekend, but he handled that well, too. We haven't had time to talk about the next job Spencer wants to offer me, but I'm open to considering it. It's not modeling, and that's good. I don't want to model any more. I've had enough. This contract will pay me a lot of money and I bet if we really do get a whole season of shows on the Biker Channel that will pay pretty well too. Granted, the show is about Spencer and his bikes and body painting, but if I wasn't an important part of that I wouldn't be Spencer's first choice. Plus, by the time that contract comes up I'll sorta be famous all on my own. They'll have to offer me something nice, or else why would I take the job?

  They don't know how much I hate this naked stuff. In fact, I should stop whining about it so they think I want to take another job, that way I'll have a better chance at negotiating more money if I do get the contract. I could just tell them how much other offers would pay and make them match it.

  I smile at this and then turn the TV off, change into some shorts and a t-shirt, and slide into bed.

  Exhausted, but not scared. Warm and cozy in my relationship with Ronin, but not stifled.

  And very much looking forward to my future. I'm up for it, I think. I'm ready for the journey to start again. I'm dying to learn new things, and see new places, and meet new people.

  I just hope I can do all those things and be at Ronin's side at the same time.

  Chapter Twenty-One - ROOK

  I'm ready right at five this morning but Ford never comes to my door. I can see him out on the terrace, sitting backwards at one of the stone picnic tables on the side of the building, not facing me. He's just kickin' it, like he's got all the time in the world. I watch him for a couple minutes to see what he does if I don't come out. He never checks his watch or even hints that he's waiting for me. Just sits, his arms resting comfortably on the table, his legs stretched out in front of him.

  I open my door and he looks over at me and then gets to his feet. "I was beginning to wonder."

  "Wonder what?" I ask as I walk over to him.

  "If you would show up or blow me off because you have Ronin to run interference now."

  "Hey, a deal's a deal, right? And besides, I was watching you for like five minutes and you never once looked like you cared if I came or not."

  "I'm not forcing you to come."

  "Well, technically, Ford, you are. You asked for this deal and I agreed."

  "Yes, but do you really think I'd put the cameras back in if you refused to run with me?"

  "Yeah."

  He looks over at me with a crooked grin on his face. "I wouldn't, Rook. So if you'd like to skip out, feel free."

  I say nothing, just follow him over to the studio door. He holds it open for me, and we walk down the stairs and cross the street. We go to the upper level seats this time and Ford doesn't say a word. Just sets his watch, to time himself I guess, and takes off running up the stairs.

  For some reason starting at the bottom and going up seems harder to me. When we run the lower stairs we start at the top and it feels different going down. I trudge up, walk over to the next set, then stomp back down. I'm not as winded as I was the first day, so by the time Ford stops to check his time and head back towards me, I've covered a significant number of rows. I watch Ford's expression as he runs towards me. It's flat. Well, no, not really flat. It's more like a grimace. Like he's determined or something.

  When he gets near he stops to catch his breath, leaning over like he always does, like he's about to heave. "Why do you run like that, Ford?"

  "Like what?" he asks, uprighting himself briefly, then bending over again. He's so sweaty it drips off his face and plops to the ground.

  Surprisingly, this does not gross me out. "Like you're trying to catch someone."

  He doesn't look up this time. "Maybe I'm running away from something?"

  I shake my head at him. "No, I don't think so. You're not someone who runs away."

  He smiles and straightens up, his breath back to normal now. Which means this guy is in awesome shape. Because if that was me, I'd be on the ground gasping like a fish on the beach for like an hour. "You're right. I'm not running away. I never look back, I only move forward."

  "Interesting," I say before I even realize the words are coming out.

  "What's interesting about it?" He moves forward towards me, his eyes locked on mine. When I back up I find the wall behind me. I press against it as Ford takes a few more steps towards me. "Are you a runner, Rook? Or a chaser?"

  I swallow because he's very close now, only a few inches. He's as tall as Ronin, easy. So I have to turn my head up a little to match his gaze. "A runner," I whisper.

  He places his palms against the wall on either side of my body, but he keeps those few inches between us. "Do you look back?"

  I shake my head, still transfixed by his stare. "No," I say, gulping a little bit of air. "Or, at least I try not to."

  He removes his hands and waves me towards the door that will lead inside to the breakfast burritos. "And how successful are you at moving forward right now?" he asks as we pass through the door and walk down the lobby hallway that curves around the stadium, following the smell of food.

  "Well…" I let out a deep sigh. "I'd say average. I'm not dwelling, but I'm not over it yet, not completely, anyway."

  He stops walking and grabs my hand. "Over what yet?"

  I laugh it off a little and shake my hand free. "I've had a rough life, Ford. I'm new money."

  "Ah," he says, like I just gave away a piece of vital information. "So that's why Ronin likes you so much. You are damaged."

  "Hey, that's fucking rude. I'm not damaged. I had a problem, I took care of it, and now I am moving forward."

  "Then you're a chaser, Rook. Own it, if that's what you are."

  "I'm neither, Ford. Or, maybe I'm both at the moment. I'm not ashamed that I ran. It was the best decision I ever made."

  "How did you get here?"

  "Where?"

  "This moment in time. How did you end up here, inside Coors Field, running with me? Where did you grow up?"

  It takes me back a minute because I'm so used to Ronin avoiding my past. I watch Ford's eyes as I consider if I'll answer him and he waits me out. Not making a move, not making a sound. Just c
alm. He exudes patience.

  "Chicago," I finally say.

  "OK, now tell me how you got here."

  "I walked across the street with you."

  He chuckles a little under his breath. "Did you fly? Drive?"

  "Bus."

  "Ahhh. That makes sense. So why Denver? What made you want to come to Denver of all places?"

  "Well…" I go over to a table near the windows and Ford follows me. We sit across from each other, him facing the sun, and me with my back to it. "I was actually on my way to Vegas but I was sitting across the aisle from these boys going to Denver. And they were watching South Park on their tablet the entire ride." I stop to laugh because I love South Park. "And that stupid Cartman, he gets me every time, so I was eavesdropping, trying to listen for him to say one of his funny lines."

  Ford's serious expression falters and he smiles with me.

  "Anyway, they were talking about how those guys who made South Park went to the university in Boulder and since my dream has always been to go to film school, I figured it was a sign and maybe Denver was where I was supposed to end up, so I took a chance on fate and just… stepped off the bus."

  I wait for Ford to say something but he just shakes his head and smiles.

  "What?"

  "I went to Boulder and majored in film."

  "Hmmm. That's sorta weird."

  He stares at me, his eyes bright as his mind takes this in. "Fate, you say?"

  "Well, weird, at the very least."

  "So you were compelled to get off a bus in Denver because of South Park and the CU Boulder film department?"

  "Yeah, that's how it happened. I had nothing to lose, ya know? So why not? Why not take a chance here?" I shrug. "It seems to be working out OK."

  Ford stands and I stand with him. "Thank you for telling me that, Rook. It's a great story."

  "No problem. I'm hungry now, can we eat?"

  He smiles and we start walking down the corridor towards the smell of food and when we get close to it Ford guides me over to a table with his hand on my back. I take a seat but he stays standing. "I'll get your food. Stay here."