Slack: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston
Page 13
I almost feel bad for Ronnie. Spencer is serious about not involving her in the business and that means he does generally ignore her. And he’s been especially aloof this past fall. But Ronnie has a point too. Why should she wait around for him if he’s not providing for her?
I slow down to gather my thoughts because what I’m about to suggest might be a betrayal to one of my best friends, and it takes a little getting used to. But then Veronica’s house comes into view and her brothers are all out in the front looking at one of their many cars, so I make a snap decision. “OK, look Ronnie. I won’t tell Spencer because I get it. You’re tired of waiting. I’ll even hint around that you need some attention. And you’re both going to Antoine’s New Year’s party, so you know for sure you’ll see him then.”
“I’m not even going as his date, Ford. Rook invited me, not Spencer! What if he brings a girl?”
“He’s not gonna bring a girl to a party you’ll be at, Ronnie. Don’t be ridiculous.” But in reality, Spencer is not all that astute when it comes to relationships. I might need to pull him aside and make sure he doesn’t piss Veronica off. “Just give it until the trials are over in the spring, can you do that? Just wait a few months until all this legal shit is behind us?”
“I don’t know, Ford. It just seems pointless.”
“Well, at the very least, don't call him up and tell him. If you keep it secret, I’ll cover for you. But shit, Veronica, if you push his buttons you know you’ll piss him off, and the first place he’ll go is that guy’s house. So I hope that banker has a gun.”
She squints at me and then we’re at her house. Her brothers descend on the Bronco like a pack of wolves and open her door.
“Ronnie where the hell have you been?” Vinn Vaughn, her middle brother, asks first.
“Ford,” Vic, the oldest Vaughn brother says, “what the f**k are you doing with my baby sister?” All Ronnie’s brothers are tatted up like, well, tattoo artists. Veronica has no tatts and that always surprised me. She’s got a very strange blood phobia, so her continuing the trade never made sense. But she did get on board. She’s one of them. And it was her talented hands that created Spencer’s own body art. Every bit of it is Veronica’s work.
“I saw her out jogging, picked her up and gave her a lift. She had a cramp in her side. She needs to work on her endurance.” I look over at Ronnie when I say this. “Stamina, Veronica Vaughn. Slow and steady.”
She smiles sweetly and looks me right back in the eye. “Thank you so much Ford, how about you stay for dinner?”
The Vaughn family is serious about their dinners and once you get invited, it’s a done deal. You have no way out. Her brothers are on me like carrion. “Yeah, Ford. Come inside. The whole family’s here. We got a little party going.”
“Noooo—” But Grandpa Vaughn is already walking up to the Bronco waving at me.
Shit. How the hell do I start my day one hundred percent in control of this holiday and end up spending time with an old friend, buying presents from a cute kid, consoling my partner-in-crime’s almost girlfriend, and invited over for dinner with the Vaughn clan?
I put the truck in park and give in.
Screw it. I still got five hours until my pet date and a man’s gotta eat.
Chapter Six
Christmas Eve dinner with the Vaughn family is not some sit-down with turkey and stuffing. No. It’s a mass conglomeration of men and girlfriends milling about the house, drinking too much, smoking too much, and talking way too loud. Ronnie and I are the only ones with no dates. Even her grandpa has a lady friend over.
I think that’s cute.
Ronnie’s father, Vern, has the barbecue fired up and is cooking enough meat to feed a small village. I doubt there’ll be leftovers.
I get jostled around between the various first floor rooms, talking to her brothers and then her grandpa—who fills my head with the most gruesome war stories I’ve ever heard—and then eat and make a swift exit. Swift is relative since, I spend a few hours hanging out here.
Ronnie shoots me the stink eye as I wave goodbye to them.
Yeah, Spencer needs to take care of this shit. Because she is not happy. At all. And I don’t blame her, he’s being a selfish dick. He could at the very least explain himself.
I take College down to Harmony and hang a left towards the freeway. My apartment complex is down this way and I want to bring my computer home to f**k around with tonight after the pet leaves. I’m gonna look up that guy Veronica was with. Just in case. If I never need to tell Spencer, fine. But it’s better to have the info ready than be scrounging around for it after the fact.
There’s almost no traffic today and I hit every green light all the way down to my apartment. I turn into the driveway and park in my spot. The jog up the steps feels good after so much driving today and I hope the snow isn’t too bad tonight so I can run in the morning. Keep the routine. I like a routine.
The apartment is cold and empty. I never liked the place and if it wasn't for Spencer’s guns hidden away in the third bedroom, I’d clear it out and be done with it. Chalk it up to a failed experiment with normalcy. But Spencer thinks it’s necessary, so I paid up the rent for a year.
My phone buzzes in my jacket and I sift through the gifts and my new knife to find it. “Yes, Pam.” She’s my assistant in LA. Runs my whole life—from buying me clothes to setting up the pets.
I slow down to gather my thoughts because what I’m about to suggest might be a betrayal to one of my best friends, and it takes a little getting used to. But then Veronica’s house comes into view and her brothers are all out in the front looking at one of their many cars, so I make a snap decision. “OK, look Ronnie. I won’t tell Spencer because I get it. You’re tired of waiting. I’ll even hint around that you need some attention. And you’re both going to Antoine’s New Year’s party, so you know for sure you’ll see him then.”
“I’m not even going as his date, Ford. Rook invited me, not Spencer! What if he brings a girl?”
“He’s not gonna bring a girl to a party you’ll be at, Ronnie. Don’t be ridiculous.” But in reality, Spencer is not all that astute when it comes to relationships. I might need to pull him aside and make sure he doesn’t piss Veronica off. “Just give it until the trials are over in the spring, can you do that? Just wait a few months until all this legal shit is behind us?”
“I don’t know, Ford. It just seems pointless.”
“Well, at the very least, don't call him up and tell him. If you keep it secret, I’ll cover for you. But shit, Veronica, if you push his buttons you know you’ll piss him off, and the first place he’ll go is that guy’s house. So I hope that banker has a gun.”
She squints at me and then we’re at her house. Her brothers descend on the Bronco like a pack of wolves and open her door.
“Ronnie where the hell have you been?” Vinn Vaughn, her middle brother, asks first.
“Ford,” Vic, the oldest Vaughn brother says, “what the f**k are you doing with my baby sister?” All Ronnie’s brothers are tatted up like, well, tattoo artists. Veronica has no tatts and that always surprised me. She’s got a very strange blood phobia, so her continuing the trade never made sense. But she did get on board. She’s one of them. And it was her talented hands that created Spencer’s own body art. Every bit of it is Veronica’s work.
“I saw her out jogging, picked her up and gave her a lift. She had a cramp in her side. She needs to work on her endurance.” I look over at Ronnie when I say this. “Stamina, Veronica Vaughn. Slow and steady.”
She smiles sweetly and looks me right back in the eye. “Thank you so much Ford, how about you stay for dinner?”
The Vaughn family is serious about their dinners and once you get invited, it’s a done deal. You have no way out. Her brothers are on me like carrion. “Yeah, Ford. Come inside. The whole family’s here. We got a little party going.”
“Noooo—” But Grandpa Vaughn is already walking up to the Bronco waving at me.
Shit. How the hell do I start my day one hundred percent in control of this holiday and end up spending time with an old friend, buying presents from a cute kid, consoling my partner-in-crime’s almost girlfriend, and invited over for dinner with the Vaughn clan?
I put the truck in park and give in.
Screw it. I still got five hours until my pet date and a man’s gotta eat.
Chapter Six
Christmas Eve dinner with the Vaughn family is not some sit-down with turkey and stuffing. No. It’s a mass conglomeration of men and girlfriends milling about the house, drinking too much, smoking too much, and talking way too loud. Ronnie and I are the only ones with no dates. Even her grandpa has a lady friend over.
I think that’s cute.
Ronnie’s father, Vern, has the barbecue fired up and is cooking enough meat to feed a small village. I doubt there’ll be leftovers.
I get jostled around between the various first floor rooms, talking to her brothers and then her grandpa—who fills my head with the most gruesome war stories I’ve ever heard—and then eat and make a swift exit. Swift is relative since, I spend a few hours hanging out here.
Ronnie shoots me the stink eye as I wave goodbye to them.
Yeah, Spencer needs to take care of this shit. Because she is not happy. At all. And I don’t blame her, he’s being a selfish dick. He could at the very least explain himself.
I take College down to Harmony and hang a left towards the freeway. My apartment complex is down this way and I want to bring my computer home to f**k around with tonight after the pet leaves. I’m gonna look up that guy Veronica was with. Just in case. If I never need to tell Spencer, fine. But it’s better to have the info ready than be scrounging around for it after the fact.
There’s almost no traffic today and I hit every green light all the way down to my apartment. I turn into the driveway and park in my spot. The jog up the steps feels good after so much driving today and I hope the snow isn’t too bad tonight so I can run in the morning. Keep the routine. I like a routine.
The apartment is cold and empty. I never liked the place and if it wasn't for Spencer’s guns hidden away in the third bedroom, I’d clear it out and be done with it. Chalk it up to a failed experiment with normalcy. But Spencer thinks it’s necessary, so I paid up the rent for a year.
My phone buzzes in my jacket and I sift through the gifts and my new knife to find it. “Yes, Pam.” She’s my assistant in LA. Runs my whole life—from buying me clothes to setting up the pets.
