Panic
Page 34
Aqua Eyes looks me up and down for a few seconds, then turns away.
“Oh,” I say, stopping her. “And no more French. Unless your last name is Chaput, it’s f**king rude. Speak English when you’re dealing with us or hit the road.”
I forgot what bitches these outside girls are. The regular Chaput models are all pretty nice. At the very least, they all know the rules and one of them is that I don’t put up with that catty princess bullshit. I’ve been spoiled working with Rook, she never pulls any of that crap. She’s almost always polite, except with Ford, and she’s not high maintenance at all.
She’s perfect.
I wish she was my Gidget instead of all these girls.
I look back over to Barbie Bitch and she’s pointing at me as she spouts off to Clare in French. I shake my head as Clare looks over at me.
Clare has certainly had her moments as far as temper tantrums go, but she’s been a completely different person since she came home from the treatment facility. I watch carefully to see how she handles this.
She stays perfectly still as the model complains and points to me and Josie in the salon. Clare replies in a soft voice and points to the front door.
Frenchy shoots me hate and I let out a small chuckle as I walk over to them, covering the distance in just a few paces, that’s how long my pissed-off strides are. “That’s it, I warned—” I stop talking just as my gaze finds the man standing at the front door. Tall, black suit, looks like the government.
I turn back to Clare. “Get rid of Aqua Bitch, OK? I’ve got a visitor.”
Her gaze travels to the guy at the door and she looks back to me and swallows hard. “OK. Sorry, Océane, you’re no longer needed. Thank you for—”
And I walk away as the bitch starts screaming in French and make my way over to the man at the door. “Can I help you?”
“Like racehorses, I guess, huh?”
“What?”
“High-strung, these girls.”
We step aside as Clare pushes the girl past us and then follows her out into the stairwell and closes the door behind her. The screaming is still loud, but better than it was. “I’m sorry, let’s start again. Can I help you?”
He smiles at me and I know immediately what this is.
“I’m looking for Ronin Flynn. That you?”
“And who might you be?”
“Agent Abelli, FBI.” He flashes a badge, which I study quickly, then thrusts a little white card towards me, but I don’t take it or even look at it.
“How can I help you, Agent Abelli?” My sincere con man voice takes over because I just punched the time clock. “I’m sort of in the middle of a model melt-down.” I gesture to the door with my head then turn slightly and start walking towards Antoine’s office. He follows like a good little chicken. What choice does he have? I’m walking away, he wants to talk to me, he has to follow. “So sorry about the theatrics. It’s tough working with all these young women every day, right?” I give him a slimeball wink but his expression remains stoic.
I turn before the real grin pops through my facade and motion to a chair on the opposite side of Antoine’s excessive desk and then I take the boss position behind the monstrosity, leaning back in my chair and kicking my feet up.
Abelli eyes the chair I pointed to and prefers to stand. “Mr. Flynn, I’d like to ask you some questions—”
“Oh, sure. I figured you guys would be around sooner or later.” I stop to watch his confusion for a beat. “But I figured it’d be a lot sooner than this, to be honest. No matter, you’re here now. What can I do you for, friend?”
Abelli narrows his eyes at me. I smile back at him. “Well, Mr. Flynn, I’m here on another matter, so—”
“Oh, Rook? Yeah, I’ve been telling her to get ready for this, ya know? She’s so fragile. Testifying against Jon will be traumatic, I think. She might not make the best witness, but we gotta use what we have, am I right? Make sure that scumbag never hurts anyone else again.” I stop to shake my head and look down for a moment. “What he did was so, so… so animalistic.” I look up. “Ya know?”
Abelli clears his throat and tries again. “Actually, Mr. Flynn, we’re here—”
“Ronin?” Clare says in a sweet voice as she belatedly knocks on the open door. “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” she says, looking at Abelli. “But I need you, Ronin. Océane is gone, but there’s another girl. I tried to screen them, but I think—” She stops to look at the agent.
“Go ahead, Clare, he’s cool. You can say it.”
“She’s high, Ronin. We need to fire her, I think, and I don’t want to be the one to—”
“No, I got it. One sec, sweetie.” Clare leaves and I get back on my feet and walk over to the door, pause. “Well, sorry about being cut short, Agent… what was your name again? Maybe I should take a card?”
He takes a step towards me and I turn and walk back over to the front door, shaking my head at the screaming coming from the dressing room, look over my shoulder to see if Abelli is following—he is—and then pull the front door open and wait for him to catch up. He’s got the little white card in his hand and I take that and put a hand on his back. “Sorry, I’m sorry you had to see this. We typically run a tight ship here, but…” I huff out a long exasperated breath. “You know, new blood always causes friction.”
“Oh,” I say, stopping her. “And no more French. Unless your last name is Chaput, it’s f**king rude. Speak English when you’re dealing with us or hit the road.”
I forgot what bitches these outside girls are. The regular Chaput models are all pretty nice. At the very least, they all know the rules and one of them is that I don’t put up with that catty princess bullshit. I’ve been spoiled working with Rook, she never pulls any of that crap. She’s almost always polite, except with Ford, and she’s not high maintenance at all.
She’s perfect.
I wish she was my Gidget instead of all these girls.
I look back over to Barbie Bitch and she’s pointing at me as she spouts off to Clare in French. I shake my head as Clare looks over at me.
Clare has certainly had her moments as far as temper tantrums go, but she’s been a completely different person since she came home from the treatment facility. I watch carefully to see how she handles this.
She stays perfectly still as the model complains and points to me and Josie in the salon. Clare replies in a soft voice and points to the front door.
Frenchy shoots me hate and I let out a small chuckle as I walk over to them, covering the distance in just a few paces, that’s how long my pissed-off strides are. “That’s it, I warned—” I stop talking just as my gaze finds the man standing at the front door. Tall, black suit, looks like the government.
I turn back to Clare. “Get rid of Aqua Bitch, OK? I’ve got a visitor.”
Her gaze travels to the guy at the door and she looks back to me and swallows hard. “OK. Sorry, Océane, you’re no longer needed. Thank you for—”
And I walk away as the bitch starts screaming in French and make my way over to the man at the door. “Can I help you?”
“Like racehorses, I guess, huh?”
“What?”
“High-strung, these girls.”
We step aside as Clare pushes the girl past us and then follows her out into the stairwell and closes the door behind her. The screaming is still loud, but better than it was. “I’m sorry, let’s start again. Can I help you?”
He smiles at me and I know immediately what this is.
“I’m looking for Ronin Flynn. That you?”
“And who might you be?”
“Agent Abelli, FBI.” He flashes a badge, which I study quickly, then thrusts a little white card towards me, but I don’t take it or even look at it.
“How can I help you, Agent Abelli?” My sincere con man voice takes over because I just punched the time clock. “I’m sort of in the middle of a model melt-down.” I gesture to the door with my head then turn slightly and start walking towards Antoine’s office. He follows like a good little chicken. What choice does he have? I’m walking away, he wants to talk to me, he has to follow. “So sorry about the theatrics. It’s tough working with all these young women every day, right?” I give him a slimeball wink but his expression remains stoic.
I turn before the real grin pops through my facade and motion to a chair on the opposite side of Antoine’s excessive desk and then I take the boss position behind the monstrosity, leaning back in my chair and kicking my feet up.
Abelli eyes the chair I pointed to and prefers to stand. “Mr. Flynn, I’d like to ask you some questions—”
“Oh, sure. I figured you guys would be around sooner or later.” I stop to watch his confusion for a beat. “But I figured it’d be a lot sooner than this, to be honest. No matter, you’re here now. What can I do you for, friend?”
Abelli narrows his eyes at me. I smile back at him. “Well, Mr. Flynn, I’m here on another matter, so—”
“Oh, Rook? Yeah, I’ve been telling her to get ready for this, ya know? She’s so fragile. Testifying against Jon will be traumatic, I think. She might not make the best witness, but we gotta use what we have, am I right? Make sure that scumbag never hurts anyone else again.” I stop to shake my head and look down for a moment. “What he did was so, so… so animalistic.” I look up. “Ya know?”
Abelli clears his throat and tries again. “Actually, Mr. Flynn, we’re here—”
“Ronin?” Clare says in a sweet voice as she belatedly knocks on the open door. “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” she says, looking at Abelli. “But I need you, Ronin. Océane is gone, but there’s another girl. I tried to screen them, but I think—” She stops to look at the agent.
“Go ahead, Clare, he’s cool. You can say it.”
“She’s high, Ronin. We need to fire her, I think, and I don’t want to be the one to—”
“No, I got it. One sec, sweetie.” Clare leaves and I get back on my feet and walk over to the door, pause. “Well, sorry about being cut short, Agent… what was your name again? Maybe I should take a card?”
He takes a step towards me and I turn and walk back over to the front door, shaking my head at the screaming coming from the dressing room, look over my shoulder to see if Abelli is following—he is—and then pull the front door open and wait for him to catch up. He’s got the little white card in his hand and I take that and put a hand on his back. “Sorry, I’m sorry you had to see this. We typically run a tight ship here, but…” I huff out a long exasperated breath. “You know, new blood always causes friction.”
