MANIC: Rook and Ronin, #2 Page 3

  "And keep an eye on Ellie for me. She's got her opinion on this job and she's not letting it go."

  "Why, though? I mean, where'd she even get the idea?"

  He sneers at me. "Please, Ronin. The last time the three of you were together I bailed you out of jail."

  "Hey." I throw up my hands in an innocent gesture. "Those charges never stuck." And before I can stop it, before I can hold it together to prove that I'm not that guy anymore and Elise has nothing to worry about, I grin.

  No.

  I chuckle.

  Antoine sneers again. "You better stop that right now, Ronin."

  I grin wider. "You have to admit, it was perfect, wasn't it?"

  And even though Elise would verbally castrate him if she was here and saw it, Antoine grins widely as well.

  Because Spencer, Ford, and I got away with a whole load of shit back in college.

  And if we wanted to, we could do it again.

  Chapter Five - ROOK

  I wake up to Ronin's kiss.

  "You came," I croak out in a sleepy voice.

  "You doubted me? Rook, please. You should know me better by now. I'm reliable."

  I open one eye and snort. "Maybe with most things, but not when it comes to Clare. Every time you ditch me it's for her."

  "Not true. I never ditched you, I just have to take care of things. Antoine's been good to me, Clare is his niece, and all that aside, I like her. When she's not high and freaking out like a psycho, I like her. She's nice and she's funny. You'll like her too, Rook. Once she gets well again, I mean."

  "Maybe," I say, but that declaration doesn't make me feel any better. In fact it makes me feel worse.

  "Love what you've done with the place, by the way."

  I open my eyes and remember the cameras. "Yeah, well, I'm good at getting by, right? I'm sure they can still see me over here in the corner, but at least it's not in full-on spy mode anymore." He kisses me again and then gets up. "You're leaving already?"

  "Gotta go, sorry. Elise is already down in the garage waiting for me. I'll call you when we get there. Keep your phone on you, OK?"

  I nod and then he's gone.

  And I'm pretty sad about that. Even though I've been telling myself for months now that I'm number one, I don't need anyone, and settling back down is the worst possible option for me, I'm starting to have doubts.

  Ronin is nice. He's more than nice, he's good. Not everyone is good, but these people are. I can feel it. Sure, Antoine is a jerk sometimes, and it pisses me off that he mostly speaks French and makes Ronin translate, but he's still been pretty cool. I should probably make an effort to learn some French, that way he could talk to me like he does Billy in a mixture of both languages, because it's obvious he only speaks English when he has to.

  And even though Elise is a real hardass, she's nice too. She's firm when she has to be and gentle when she thinks I need it. I could do a lot worse in the world than these people, even if they make their money off erotic modeling. I'm one of them now anyway, right? I'm an erotic model. I haven't looked online, but Ronin did and he said those TRAGIC photos hit Japan a few days ago. That's where those TRAGIC people were from. The photos were for serial book covers and the first one with the cherry tree shoot is already for sale. There's ten in all and they are releasing the story in parts. Each week a few chapters go out with a picture of me on the cover. From Sweet to Tragic, that's the theme.

  Hopefully the books flop and no one reads them and sees me on the covers, but with my luck I'm sure this author is the Japanese version of EL James. At least they are confined to Asia right now. Ronin said they have no immediate plans to distribute the books in the US, so, phew. Dodged a bullet there.

  I laugh at this because it's ridiculous to be worried about my body on the cover of erotic romances in Asia making their way over here when I'm about to be photographed naked with thirty bikes. This will probably turn into full-page ads in major motorcycle magazines, maybe billboards around freaking Denver for Spencer's shop, not to mention the nude walk of shame down the Sturgis strip and the private performance to end the rally in August. And then I get the pleasure of reliving every moment in hi-def on the Biker Channel next spring.

  I decide to let all this shit go. What can I do? The contract is signed, the painting starts tomorrow, this is my last day off for three months. I should go back to sleep and enjoy it.

  I take my own advice and pull the covers back over my head.

  No one pounds on my door today. No one calls on my new iPhone I bought with all my new money either. But it's only four PM, maybe Steamboat is a long drive? I grab my phone and bring up the Internet, then type in 'drive time from Denver to Steamboat'.

  It says about four hours. He should've been there by lunch.

  I drag myself up, then barely catch myself before undressing in front of the camera. I sneer up at my spies and grab some clothes and go in the bathroom to clean up and dress.

  The studio is busy but not bustling too bad for a Monday. Usually it's crazy busy, but this STURGIS contract is taking up the whole summer, so I guess Antoine had to cut back on other stuff. I do catch a glimpse of Billy and he waves from across the room. I wave back. He's not as bad as I thought. Ronin and I went out with him and his on-again off-again girlfriend a few times. If you picture what kind of life a male model lives, Billy fits that stereotype perfectly.

  Ronin is the complete opposite. He's not a big drinker, he doesn't do any drugs at all, but he does gamble a little at a place in the mountains called Black Hawk. That place is not far—I know because I've gone with him once. I'm not twenty-one, so pretty much all the fun stuff up there is off limits to me.

  It sucks being underage when all your friends aren't.

  Antoine and Spencer are chatting next to a bike on the far side of the studio and when Antoine sees me, he waves a hand, gesturing me to come over.

  "Hey, Rook," Spencer says as I approach.

  "Hey, what's up with you guys today?"

  "This is our first bike, Rook," Antoine says. He points to the Shrike bike. It's not anything extraordinary, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with that information.

  "Cool," is about all I can manage.

  "We'll photograph this bike tomorrow, just the one," Spencer says. "So you and I can get used to each other. It'll probably take me most of the day to get the artwork right, then Antoine will want to fuck with the photo gear, so just one bike tomorrow. But we're hoping we can do more than one for each session after that."

  "Oh? Sounds like a lot of hours."

  "It will be," Antoine says. "Long days, but Spencer's decided he can be more efficient with his projects, use the base paint and only change the colors on some, to get the catalog shots over with quickly."

  "Yeah," Spence chimes in, "I need to get the fuck back to Fort Collins and work on the Raven on the weekends, so the sooner we can get these catalog shots done, the better it'll be. I have a lot of work to do still. Plus, I need to spend some time on the final design for your body. After painting you up for the catalog shots I'll be pretty familiar with it, so I can plan better."

  "Uh-huh, sure. Sounds like a plan to me."

  "So what we were thinking, Rook"—Antoine picks it up again—"is that we'll shoot for a week getting as many bikes down as we can, then take the weekends off while Spencer works up at his shop."

  I shrug. "OK." I mean, really, like I have a choice? I'm the hired help. I'm a walking billboard sign.

  I leave them there talking about bikes and stuff and hop down the stairs to get some food from Cookie's. I don't know why I continue to go over there, I have a ton of money and I could eat anywhere I want, but I like that place. And it reminds me of Ronin. I miss him already. I sigh as I press the button at the crosswalk that leads to the diner, then wait for the light to change before making my way across the street.

  I enter the diner and the hostess is Cindy. She recognizes me and nods, so I take that as I'm a regular now and I can seat myself at the
back booth that is reserved for Ronin's girls. God, how that bugged me when I first met him. Having to come in here and declare that I belonged to Ronin was humiliating, especially since all that stuff with Jon was so fresh.

  I feel better about it now, plus I don't say that anymore. I don't have to. They know I belong to Ronin.

  I grin at that as I take my seat, then grab a menu and start looking it over for something different. A shadow appears at my booth and I'm just about to tell the waitress I'd like the turkey club on a Kaiser roll when I realize it's Ford.

  "Can I help you?" I ask rudely, then check myself and smile.

  He smirks back and takes a seat across from me. "Rook, I had no idea you enjoyed diner food."

  He's dressed in a suit, just like he was last night, and his day wear looks just as expensive as his evening shit. "Ditto, Ford. You look like a French restaurant kinda guy to me."

  Cindy does appear then and I order the club while Ford asks for a coffee.

  "What do you want?" I ask.

  He tsks his tongue. "Why are you so combative with me?"

  If this asshole thinks he's gonna win this little game of wits with me, he's mistaken. I might not be college-educated and produce reality shows—yet, I secretly say in my head—but I'm not a fool either. "Look, Ford, I already know you never wanted me on the show, so save it. I know you don't like me."

  I pretend to people-watch and ignore him as Cindy brings him a coffee.

  "Well, that's not what's going on here, Rook," Ford says after Cindy leaves. "I do like you. You're pretty to look at, that's for sure. And I know that Ronin and Spencer both like you, so why would I not like you?"

  "Then why are you being a jerk to me?"

  "When was I a jerk?"

  "Oh, Rook," I say in a fake voice, "You're underage, right? So sad, you have to drink water at dinner. Save it, OK," I say, returning to my normal voice. "Because I already know you don't want me on the project. You think I'm too young."

  He smiles and it disarms me for a second. He's got nice teeth. Teeth, Rook? I shake my head a little as he starts talking again. "You are too young. If I were Ronin I'd forbid you from doing this contract."

  "Forbid me? Pfft. Ronin is not in any position to forbid me from doing anything."

  "No? I thought the two of you were together."

  "If you mean are we dating, then yes. But he's not my keeper, Ford. I make my own decisions, thank you."

  We sit in silence for a while. He looks around, interested in anyone but me, so I take out my phone and check for missed texts and voicemail. It's pointless, I have the ringer on and it never went off, but I check anyway to pretend like I have something else to do besides talk to Ford. I'm the modern-day version of the girl sitting by the phone. I snort a little at that, because pining women have come a long way if you think about it. We can go out and have fun and impatiently wait for our boyfriends to call all at the same time.

  Cindy appears again and slides my plate over to me. Ford is still nursing his coffee and covers the top of it with his hand to keep her from filling it back up. I thank Cindy and then start eating. I feel like a starving lumberjack. I barely ate any of that French shit last night at dinner and then I forgot to eat when I got home. Add in my missed breakfast and I have to stop and thank my lucky stars Ronin didn't want to weigh me this morning. I probably lost a few pounds. He's a total freak about the models losing weight and if it's me losing I can only imagine the freakout would triple.

  "So let me get this straight." Ford continues the conversation from ten minutes ago, like he's been pondering my answer the whole time. "Ronin is your boyfriend but he's not allowed to tell you not to do harmful things?"

  I shrug. "Yeah, I guess. We're dating but he's not my father, Ford. I think I can identify harmful things just as well as he can." This is a total lie. I was stuck in an abusive relationship for three years and the guy almost killed me before I finally figured out I needed to leave. But I don't want Ford to know any of that, so I play it cool and just take a bite of my sandwich.

  "Hmmm…"

  "Hmmm, what?" I say with my mouth full. Maybe I can gross him out and make him leave me alone.

  "You're close to his type, but not quite."

  What's this guy's deal? "OK," I say, still chewing. "I'll play. What's his type, Ford? If I'm not it, then what's he usually go for?"

  "Clare. She's his type, Rook."

  "Oh, well"—I swallow—"something tells me the whole junkie thing's not working for him these days."

  "No doubt. But she wasn't always a junkie. She went to school with us for a while my senior year. Her mom died and her father wanted her to go to school in the US, so Antoine let her come for a summer and then decided to keep her here. She and Ronin have been tight for a long time now. He crushed on her hard for a while back in school. Then Mardee came along. He wanted her more, I suppose, so Clare was forgotten. But they're all forgotten eventually, so Mardee became just another junkie. He likes the lost ones, Rook. He likes to swoop in and save them. Or think he's saving them, because let's face it, his track record is pretty bleak. But you have a little more sense to you, and I always thought Ronin liked the dumb ones, you know? The ones who don't know any better. Or the young ones."

  I just stare at him with my mouth open.

  "You come off as pretty smart, plus you don't seem to have any life issues that he can fix, so I just can't picture the two of you together. The only thing that interests him is your age from what I can see. Unless you have some secret fucked-up life I don't know about."

  "Wow, Ford, you're a total asshole, aren't you?"

  "If you say so," he says, continuing on like my opinion of him hardly matters. "I guess it shouldn't surprise me that he's allowing you to do these nude modeling contracts because that makes you need him. He's your manager, right?"

  "You know he is," I sneer.

  "Well, if you were dating me," he says standing up and reaching for his wallet. "I'd forbid it. It wouldn't even be up for discussion. And if you did go and sign a contract without counsel, one that required you to pose nude several dozen times, I'd have ripped Spencer a new asshole if he didn't talk you out of it." He throws a twenty down on the table as he waits for my reaction.

  "Food's free here," is all I have to say.

  "Nothing's free, Rook."

  And then he walks out.

  Chapter Six - ROOK

  Ford's words sting. Like bad.

  Because not only am I young, too young to do anything fun with everyone else Ronin hangs out with, I'm also pretty fucked up in the life department. I mean, that was my whole deal, right? I was tragic. So tragic they had a campaign with my name on it. So fucking tragic I was living in a homeless shelter when I turned up here.

  My appetite is gone after four bites of my sandwich and my stomach roils with the thought of eating anything else right now. I grab my phone off the table and leave the diner, walking slowly back to the studio. The doors are locked since it's after hours so I key in my code and then start to walk up the stairs, but change my mind and take a seat on the bottom step. I can hear a whole bunch of shit going on up there—lots of people here still. But I feel pretty alone.

  I basically have no friends.

  I have Ronin, but he's a boyfriend, so I'm not sure if that counts. Plus he's far away.

  I have Elise, but she's more like a boss than anything else. Plus she's far away too.

  I have Antoine, but he's… I don't even have another relationship to compare Antoine to. I can't even imagine in my wildest dreams of approaching Antoine and asking him if he wants to catch a movie or something.

  None of the other models talk to me. Val, that tiny blonde girl who walks around naked every chance she gets, is sorta nice. But she's never asked me if I wanted to do anything after work. Plus, she's on vacation with almost everyone else while we do this STURGIS contract.

  Billy is OK, but I'm too young to participate in his brand of fun.

  Spencer is really cool actu
ally, but he's running like four companies. He's got a bar, the Shrike Bikes, the TV show, and the painting. He's got no time to be my friend.

  And that's pretty much it as far as my social circle goes. It's pathetic. And even though Chicago holds the worst memories of my entire life, I suddenly wish I was there so I could at least attempt to look up an old friend. Maybe Stacy Juniper who was my foster sister for almost a year at one house. Or even some of my old foster parents. They didn't all hate me, some of them just had bad luck, not enough time or money to keep other people's kids. Stuff like that.

  It's dangerous to have only one friend, who in this case for me is Ronin. Dangerous because you start to depend on them too much.

  "Rook! There you are," Antoine calls from above. "Come up to the third floor, we have to go over the show details."

  "Yeah, OK." I drag my ass upstairs and when I get to the third floor it's just Ford, Spencer, Antoine, and me.

  "Are we ready, then?" Ford asks me.

  "Sure," I reply, even though I have no idea what we should be ready for.

  "OK, command central for the show is down here." He waves his hand and we all walk forward, then Antoine opens the door and waits until we all enter before pulling it closed behind him.

  It's a huge room, not as big as the studio upstairs, and the ceilings are only ten feet tall instead of two stories, but it's still pretty big. There's nice light coming through the windows even though it's starting to get dark outside, and there's a table and a shit-load of art supplies packed onto of one of those red tool boxes professional mechanics have.

  "This is where I'll do all the painting, Rook," Spencer says. "So you can have some privacy, then when I'm happy with the art, we'll go upstairs to shoot."

  I nod out an OK.

  "Over here, Rook"—Ford takes over—"is the production center for the show. All painting sessions will be recorded."