Manic
Page 21
"Did you talk about having Spencer between your legs drawing bikini bottoms?"
Spencer rushes Ford and they both crash through the flimsy partition pretending to be a dressing room. Spencer throws a punch that lands squarely on Ford's jaw, and a split second later Ford is back up on his feet and he pounces on Spencer. They grapple on the floor, landing punches and doing weird shit with their legs, trying to get the upper hand. All the crew on the other side of the room and Team Spencer start pulling them apart. Team Rook keeps filming.
They both stand there, breathing heavy, red-faced and lips bleeding. "Out!" Spencer growls. I've never pictured Spencer mad before, but right now he's scaring the shit out of me. He looks like he might kill Ford.
When I look over to Ford, he's the complete opposite, his tie a little crooked, but generally, he looks calm. Spencer's anger barely touches him.
I think I have a new respect for Ford.
Antoine and his team enter just then and he is roaring, not really in French or English, but a strange mixture of both. He's talking to Spencer and the only word I really catch is stop.
I look over to my team and they look just as scared as I feel.
This studio has one rule. Just one. And that rule involves the word stop.
"Are we done for today?" I ask Antoine.
"Yes. Put your clothes on, go home, and call Ronin. Now."
I do as I'm told. Fuck these guys. I don't know why every single f**king time the men around here get in a fight everyone always acts like it's my f**king fault. I stomp away like a baby, my team doggedly following, then leave them all outside when I go back inside my apartment. My phone is still on the night table next to my bed, and when I wake it up I have seventeen missed calls.
No voicemails.
I press redial for Ronin's phone and he answers on the first ring.
"Shit, Gidget, it's about time!"
"Sorry, I keep forgetting to keep it on me. You're never gonna believe what just happened!"
"Let me guess, Ford and Spencer?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"We have history, that's all. I don't even know why Spencer took this gig, he knows Ford will just piss him off."
"Antoine called stop, so I guess we're done for today."
"Well," he laughs. "That's a first. What'd they do? Get in a brawl?"
"Yes, Spencer charged him like he was Juggernaut. He kinda scared me, Ronin."
Ronin breathes out slowly on the other end and I can't really tell if he's frustrated with me, or just trying to remain calm. "He'd never hurt you, Rook, OK? He never would."
"Well, I just want this contract to be over. Can't you call Antoine and tell him to let Spencer finish these outfits today?"
I can hear Elise talking in the background, then a muffled noise, like Ronin's covering up the phone. "Yeah, OK. I'll have Elise call him. We won't be home until Sunday, Gidge, so just hang tight, OK? Clare's not doing well, she needs us right now. She really needs Antoine, to be honest, but he's got the contract. It's just really f**ked up."
Sunday? I privately pout, then immediately feel guilty because Clare is physically sick trying to get over her addiction and I'm just caught up in my own stupid decisions. "Don't worry about me, OK? She's way more important than this job."
There's a loud knock on the door and I peek down the hallways to see who's there. "Ford's at my door, I guess I better go."
"All right, Rook, call me before you go to bed, OK? Antoine said he's taking you to dinner tonight, so don't let Ford or Spencer talk you into anything."
"OK."
"I miss you real bad, ya know that, right?"
I smile into the phone as Ford's knocking becomes pounding. "I miss you a lot, too. I really do."
"See ya Sunday. Love you."
I sit there, my mouth hanging open, wondering if I'm supposed to say it back. But before I can decide, I hear the line click off. He didn't wait to find out.
I let out a long breath.
Then smile.
I'll be ready next time.
Chapter Twelve - ROOK
"What can I do for you, Ford?"
He runs his hand through his hair and grimaces. "I'd just like to apologize, I was out of line. I'll keep my mouth shut from now on. Antoine has revoked the stop order. We can proceed."
Well, that's not what I was expecting, but nonetheless, just looking at him is pissing me off. "You know what, Ford? I don't really care why all you guys hate each other, I really don't. But I'm just trying to make a living. This is a job, Ford. A job I actually need, or else I wouldn't be doing it. So if you ass**les can't control yourself, just don't hang around, OK? Because the next time you guys fight in front of me, I'm calling a lawyer to see how difficult I can make your life, you got it? Maybe it's too late to quit, but I promise you, I'll make you regret you ever met me if you try this shit again. I'm not interested in your big-brother routine, I have a boyfriend, I'm not looking for your brand of friendship, so butt the f**k out!"
He just nods as I walk past and hurry across the terrace, trying not to smile at Team Rook as they hide their chuckles, and then hoof it back down to the art room.
Ford does not follow.
Antoine is still half-yelling at Spencer, in French, so apparently he understands him, and Spencer's expression is a cross between irritated, angry, and embarrassed.
Spencer rushes Ford and they both crash through the flimsy partition pretending to be a dressing room. Spencer throws a punch that lands squarely on Ford's jaw, and a split second later Ford is back up on his feet and he pounces on Spencer. They grapple on the floor, landing punches and doing weird shit with their legs, trying to get the upper hand. All the crew on the other side of the room and Team Spencer start pulling them apart. Team Rook keeps filming.
They both stand there, breathing heavy, red-faced and lips bleeding. "Out!" Spencer growls. I've never pictured Spencer mad before, but right now he's scaring the shit out of me. He looks like he might kill Ford.
When I look over to Ford, he's the complete opposite, his tie a little crooked, but generally, he looks calm. Spencer's anger barely touches him.
I think I have a new respect for Ford.
Antoine and his team enter just then and he is roaring, not really in French or English, but a strange mixture of both. He's talking to Spencer and the only word I really catch is stop.
I look over to my team and they look just as scared as I feel.
This studio has one rule. Just one. And that rule involves the word stop.
"Are we done for today?" I ask Antoine.
"Yes. Put your clothes on, go home, and call Ronin. Now."
I do as I'm told. Fuck these guys. I don't know why every single f**king time the men around here get in a fight everyone always acts like it's my f**king fault. I stomp away like a baby, my team doggedly following, then leave them all outside when I go back inside my apartment. My phone is still on the night table next to my bed, and when I wake it up I have seventeen missed calls.
No voicemails.
I press redial for Ronin's phone and he answers on the first ring.
"Shit, Gidget, it's about time!"
"Sorry, I keep forgetting to keep it on me. You're never gonna believe what just happened!"
"Let me guess, Ford and Spencer?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"We have history, that's all. I don't even know why Spencer took this gig, he knows Ford will just piss him off."
"Antoine called stop, so I guess we're done for today."
"Well," he laughs. "That's a first. What'd they do? Get in a brawl?"
"Yes, Spencer charged him like he was Juggernaut. He kinda scared me, Ronin."
Ronin breathes out slowly on the other end and I can't really tell if he's frustrated with me, or just trying to remain calm. "He'd never hurt you, Rook, OK? He never would."
"Well, I just want this contract to be over. Can't you call Antoine and tell him to let Spencer finish these outfits today?"
I can hear Elise talking in the background, then a muffled noise, like Ronin's covering up the phone. "Yeah, OK. I'll have Elise call him. We won't be home until Sunday, Gidge, so just hang tight, OK? Clare's not doing well, she needs us right now. She really needs Antoine, to be honest, but he's got the contract. It's just really f**ked up."
Sunday? I privately pout, then immediately feel guilty because Clare is physically sick trying to get over her addiction and I'm just caught up in my own stupid decisions. "Don't worry about me, OK? She's way more important than this job."
There's a loud knock on the door and I peek down the hallways to see who's there. "Ford's at my door, I guess I better go."
"All right, Rook, call me before you go to bed, OK? Antoine said he's taking you to dinner tonight, so don't let Ford or Spencer talk you into anything."
"OK."
"I miss you real bad, ya know that, right?"
I smile into the phone as Ford's knocking becomes pounding. "I miss you a lot, too. I really do."
"See ya Sunday. Love you."
I sit there, my mouth hanging open, wondering if I'm supposed to say it back. But before I can decide, I hear the line click off. He didn't wait to find out.
I let out a long breath.
Then smile.
I'll be ready next time.
Chapter Twelve - ROOK
"What can I do for you, Ford?"
He runs his hand through his hair and grimaces. "I'd just like to apologize, I was out of line. I'll keep my mouth shut from now on. Antoine has revoked the stop order. We can proceed."
Well, that's not what I was expecting, but nonetheless, just looking at him is pissing me off. "You know what, Ford? I don't really care why all you guys hate each other, I really don't. But I'm just trying to make a living. This is a job, Ford. A job I actually need, or else I wouldn't be doing it. So if you ass**les can't control yourself, just don't hang around, OK? Because the next time you guys fight in front of me, I'm calling a lawyer to see how difficult I can make your life, you got it? Maybe it's too late to quit, but I promise you, I'll make you regret you ever met me if you try this shit again. I'm not interested in your big-brother routine, I have a boyfriend, I'm not looking for your brand of friendship, so butt the f**k out!"
He just nods as I walk past and hurry across the terrace, trying not to smile at Team Rook as they hide their chuckles, and then hoof it back down to the art room.
Ford does not follow.
Antoine is still half-yelling at Spencer, in French, so apparently he understands him, and Spencer's expression is a cross between irritated, angry, and embarrassed.
