Slack: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston
Page 11
I walk off and she follows, slowly, but she follows.
We get in the Bronco and slam our doors at the same time. She folds her arms against her chest and pouts.
“Buckle up. It’s the law.”
“Fuck you, Ford.” But she does buckle up and I back out and continue up College until I get to the turn off for Bellvue. Ronnie stares out the window the entire thirty-minute drive to the shop. I park in my old spot under the carport attached to the house, and glance over at Rook’s custom Shrike Bike. Spencer made it for her last summer when she was doing his body art modeling campaign.
“He never gave me a bike, you know.”
“No?” I get out and Ronnie follows. The weather is still fairly mild, but the clouds are really rolling in, the threat of a storm is over and it’s just about here. I look at the bike again as we walk past and then I code the lock on the back door and hold it open for Ronnie. “You know why, though, right?”
“Why what?”
“Why he never gave you a bike.”
She stands in the kitchen, her arms still folded in defiance. “Because I’m not important. Because he never gives me anything. Because I’m just another f**k-buddy to him. Because he has no feelings for me. Take your pick, Ford.”
“No, that’s not why,” I say back. “Because he doesn’t want you to ride it, Veronica. Because he’d go crazy with worry if he had to think about you riding around on a motorcycle. Because you’re his number one, he’s just caught up in some shit right now and he doesn't want you involved. And believe me, I saw his face last summer when you almost got killed. He didn’t even know how to process it.”
“Right,” she snorts. “He processed it just fine. He was on the road to Sturgis the very next day with you guys.”
“Yeah, but that was business. You’re not business, Ronnie. You’re personal. He’s totally in love with you.”
She just stares at me for a few seconds and then blinks. “What?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.” I walk into the living room and then head into the hallway towards Spencer’s office. “I don’t have the real code for this door, but I hacked it last summer when I was bored.” Veronica grunts behind me as I key in the codes. The door beeps and I push it open and wave her in.
She hesitates. “I’ve never been in here before, Ford.”
“I know, that’s why I’m taking you in here now.” I flip on the lights and she gasps, then walks across the forbidden threshold.
And gasps again. “What the hell is all this?” she asks, panning her arms wide.
I look up and try and imagine myself as her, seeing it for the first time. But I’m no good at that empathy shit, so it’s no use. “Well, Ronin and I call it pu**y-whipped, but you can call it the Veronica Vaughn Shrine.” I laugh privately at my joke as she takes in the walls. Every one is adorned with images of her as Spencer’s body art model. He stopped using her last year, then gave that last job to Rook, so none of these are recent. But she was his model for several years—they even went to some international contests, and Spencer has all those awards prominently displayed in a glass case behind his desk.
“I don’t get it,” she says, perplexed.
“What’s not to get?”
“Why? Why the f**k does he treat me like shit!” She yells that last part and I wince. “Ford!” she says turning to me, her little hands clasping onto the front of my leather jacket. “Why. The. Hell? He lets me come around once a month, if that! He forgets to call me back, he snuffs me on our dates, he hasn’t f**ked me in three goddamned months, Ford!” She’s shaking me now and I’m desperately trying to pry her hands off my coat before I start freaking out from her touching. “Three months! Do you have any idea how f**king horny I am! I’m gonna f**k that banker, Ford. The minute he asks, because my goddamned vibrator is broken and the f**king mall sold out of the f**king Hitachi model I like, and won’t be getting any more in until after f**king New Year’s! I can’t even find them online! Not even on eBay!”
She finally lets go and turns back to the wall art.
Holy shit. Veronica is intense.
But she’s forgotten about me now and her attention is one hundred percent on the walls. There’s six life sized photographs of her. All in body art paint, which means she’s totally naked in every one of them. If it bothers her that I’m looking at her naked body, she doesn’t let on. But honestly, it bothers me.
I do not want to start picturing them together.
It gives me the shivers.
“This one,” she says pointing up at a photo, still a little bit hysterical, but calmer than she was about the lack of Hitachi vibrators at the FoCo Mall, “was in Austria. We won two prizes for it.”
She’s pointing to the one with her painted up as the cyborg chick that Rook loved so much last summer. That was Ronin’s favorite picture of Rook once the STURGIS contract was all said and done. Spencer is trying to talk Ronin into letting Rook be his model for Comic-Con this year. But even though Ronnie doesn’t see it yet, Spencer tells her no for the same reason Ronin will put his foot down this time as well.
No one wants their woman being displayed naked in front of thousands of men.
That’s just the facts. And even though this is such a f**king no-brainer to us men with even the slightest bit of protoplasmic possessive gene, for some stupid reason, the girls never seem to get it.
We get in the Bronco and slam our doors at the same time. She folds her arms against her chest and pouts.
“Buckle up. It’s the law.”
“Fuck you, Ford.” But she does buckle up and I back out and continue up College until I get to the turn off for Bellvue. Ronnie stares out the window the entire thirty-minute drive to the shop. I park in my old spot under the carport attached to the house, and glance over at Rook’s custom Shrike Bike. Spencer made it for her last summer when she was doing his body art modeling campaign.
“He never gave me a bike, you know.”
“No?” I get out and Ronnie follows. The weather is still fairly mild, but the clouds are really rolling in, the threat of a storm is over and it’s just about here. I look at the bike again as we walk past and then I code the lock on the back door and hold it open for Ronnie. “You know why, though, right?”
“Why what?”
“Why he never gave you a bike.”
She stands in the kitchen, her arms still folded in defiance. “Because I’m not important. Because he never gives me anything. Because I’m just another f**k-buddy to him. Because he has no feelings for me. Take your pick, Ford.”
“No, that’s not why,” I say back. “Because he doesn’t want you to ride it, Veronica. Because he’d go crazy with worry if he had to think about you riding around on a motorcycle. Because you’re his number one, he’s just caught up in some shit right now and he doesn't want you involved. And believe me, I saw his face last summer when you almost got killed. He didn’t even know how to process it.”
“Right,” she snorts. “He processed it just fine. He was on the road to Sturgis the very next day with you guys.”
“Yeah, but that was business. You’re not business, Ronnie. You’re personal. He’s totally in love with you.”
She just stares at me for a few seconds and then blinks. “What?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.” I walk into the living room and then head into the hallway towards Spencer’s office. “I don’t have the real code for this door, but I hacked it last summer when I was bored.” Veronica grunts behind me as I key in the codes. The door beeps and I push it open and wave her in.
She hesitates. “I’ve never been in here before, Ford.”
“I know, that’s why I’m taking you in here now.” I flip on the lights and she gasps, then walks across the forbidden threshold.
And gasps again. “What the hell is all this?” she asks, panning her arms wide.
I look up and try and imagine myself as her, seeing it for the first time. But I’m no good at that empathy shit, so it’s no use. “Well, Ronin and I call it pu**y-whipped, but you can call it the Veronica Vaughn Shrine.” I laugh privately at my joke as she takes in the walls. Every one is adorned with images of her as Spencer’s body art model. He stopped using her last year, then gave that last job to Rook, so none of these are recent. But she was his model for several years—they even went to some international contests, and Spencer has all those awards prominently displayed in a glass case behind his desk.
“I don’t get it,” she says, perplexed.
“What’s not to get?”
“Why? Why the f**k does he treat me like shit!” She yells that last part and I wince. “Ford!” she says turning to me, her little hands clasping onto the front of my leather jacket. “Why. The. Hell? He lets me come around once a month, if that! He forgets to call me back, he snuffs me on our dates, he hasn’t f**ked me in three goddamned months, Ford!” She’s shaking me now and I’m desperately trying to pry her hands off my coat before I start freaking out from her touching. “Three months! Do you have any idea how f**king horny I am! I’m gonna f**k that banker, Ford. The minute he asks, because my goddamned vibrator is broken and the f**king mall sold out of the f**king Hitachi model I like, and won’t be getting any more in until after f**king New Year’s! I can’t even find them online! Not even on eBay!”
She finally lets go and turns back to the wall art.
Holy shit. Veronica is intense.
But she’s forgotten about me now and her attention is one hundred percent on the walls. There’s six life sized photographs of her. All in body art paint, which means she’s totally naked in every one of them. If it bothers her that I’m looking at her naked body, she doesn’t let on. But honestly, it bothers me.
I do not want to start picturing them together.
It gives me the shivers.
“This one,” she says pointing up at a photo, still a little bit hysterical, but calmer than she was about the lack of Hitachi vibrators at the FoCo Mall, “was in Austria. We won two prizes for it.”
She’s pointing to the one with her painted up as the cyborg chick that Rook loved so much last summer. That was Ronin’s favorite picture of Rook once the STURGIS contract was all said and done. Spencer is trying to talk Ronin into letting Rook be his model for Comic-Con this year. But even though Ronnie doesn’t see it yet, Spencer tells her no for the same reason Ronin will put his foot down this time as well.
No one wants their woman being displayed naked in front of thousands of men.
That’s just the facts. And even though this is such a f**king no-brainer to us men with even the slightest bit of protoplasmic possessive gene, for some stupid reason, the girls never seem to get it.
