Manic
Page 7
"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.
"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.
