Tragic
Page 41
"August? I have no idea," I admit. "When does this job end, Ronin?"
Ronin growls and it takes all my self-control not to spit out a crouton as I laugh. Oh, shit. He might start pissing on me soon.
I shake my head. "I highly doubt I'll be busy until August. Is this another modeling job?" I take another bite of salad and chew methodically as I watch the silent bro-down going on at the table.
"She's busy," Ronin says through clenched teeth.
"I'm not busy, Ronin. Let the man speak."
Spencer smiles and then scoots down his booth bench so he's across from me again. "It's a complicated deal, Rook, but I'd love for you to attend the meeting I have with Antoine in about," he checks his phone, "thirty minutes. You in?"
"How much does it pay?"
"Not set in stone, so don't worry about that. We've got studio money behind us for this job," now he's talking to Ronin, "so think about that before you turn into a Neanderthal, Flynn. Can I expect to see you in the meeting?"
His blue eyes track back to me and I shrug. "Sure, what do I have to lose?"
Spencer Shrike slips on some very dark sunglasses and shoots me with his finger. "See you then, Blackbird."
I smile at the nickname. A rook is a blackbird over in Europe. Not many people know that. Most of them think I'm named after a chess piece.
Ronin catches my pleasure and even though every defense mechanism left over from my previous life tells me to hide that smile to avoid a confrontation, I don't. I flash it even bigger, daring Ronin to make a big deal about getting my pants charmed off by a biker.
I take another bite of my salad and then Ronin gets up and follows Spencer out the door, leaving me alone.
I show up fifteen minutes late for the meeting. On purpose. I figure they're all in there acting like dicks and that's not something I need to be a part of. Chaput Studios might own me for the TRAGIC contract, but I highly doubt this thing lasts for three months, so there's no way they can stop me from doing this STURGIS job if I really want to. It's best to just let the men-folk fight that out in private, come back to reality when they figure out none of them are in control, I am, and then settle back down in the world I live in.
The one where I call my own shots.
I knock softly and Ronin opens the door.
There are like ten people in the room, some suits, some bikers, and of course, Ronin, Antoine, and Elise. It doesn't take a genius to understand the STURGIS contract is about bikes. Obviously the only thing associated with Sturgis is bikers. So this should be interesting. I'm game, that's for sure.
Everyone goes silent as I enter, then Antoine takes over.
"Sit, Rook. Spence invited you, so you're welcome to listen in, but there will be no model negotiations for this meeting."
I almost do shut up and sit down, because that's basically what Antoine just told me to do. But that's dumb. "Well, I'm not about to sit in on a tense meeting when it has nothing to do with me, so if I'm not going to be provided with any useful information, I'll just take off."
They all stare at me.
Spencer stands and takes control. "Rook, we're going to offer you the contract. I've been told that TRAGIC wraps up next week…"
Next week? That was quick. I figured this job would last a little longer than that. Ronin was not kidding about modeling being erratic. I think I might actually need this job.
"… so we'll talk more then."
Wait—what did I just miss? Everyone is looking at me, waiting for an answer, and I break into a sweat. "OK, yeah, sure. I'll leave you guys to it then." I pull the door closed behind me and go back to my apartment, still thinking about how quick I could be homeless again. I mean, this is their place, I'm no one, just another model among hundreds who have probably come through here, and they are letting me stay here because I have a contract with them.
Which will run out next freaking week!
I plop down on my couch and watch TV for a while, my gaze absently wandering to the front window, waiting to see if Ronin will come by for a visit tonight.
But he doesn't.
And I don't blame him.
Because I was a total bitch today.
I bite my lip and watch RetroTube until Gidget comes on. And that just makes everything worse, because even though I've been trying to talk myself out of it for the past week, I think I might actually like Ronin Flynn.
Chapter Thirty - ROOK
I wake early the next morning. Elise came by late last night and told me to be downstairs at seven AM, so I make my way into the studio ten minutes early to find everyone is already working. It still amazes me the early schedule these people keep. The dressing room is buzzing with girls. And every single one of them is naked.
I'm not talking topless, I'm talking naked.
They are chatting and laughing and generally acting like being nude is just another day on the job. And I guess it is when you work here.
I stand there a little lost when I hear Ronin's call.
"Over here, Gidget. Get on the scale and then Elise wants you in the salon for hair and make-up."
I forgot about the f**king scale.
Ronin doesn't smile at me, in fact, he barely notices me as I walk over to him. I step on the scale and I'm about to say something to break our awkward silence when a girl storms in, fully clothed and looking like she never went home from a party the night before, screaming at Ronin in French.
Ronin walks away and takes the girl by the arm, trying to shove her out of the dressing room. It's only then that I recognize her. The screamer from the day I came for my test shoot.
Ronin growls and it takes all my self-control not to spit out a crouton as I laugh. Oh, shit. He might start pissing on me soon.
I shake my head. "I highly doubt I'll be busy until August. Is this another modeling job?" I take another bite of salad and chew methodically as I watch the silent bro-down going on at the table.
"She's busy," Ronin says through clenched teeth.
"I'm not busy, Ronin. Let the man speak."
Spencer smiles and then scoots down his booth bench so he's across from me again. "It's a complicated deal, Rook, but I'd love for you to attend the meeting I have with Antoine in about," he checks his phone, "thirty minutes. You in?"
"How much does it pay?"
"Not set in stone, so don't worry about that. We've got studio money behind us for this job," now he's talking to Ronin, "so think about that before you turn into a Neanderthal, Flynn. Can I expect to see you in the meeting?"
His blue eyes track back to me and I shrug. "Sure, what do I have to lose?"
Spencer Shrike slips on some very dark sunglasses and shoots me with his finger. "See you then, Blackbird."
I smile at the nickname. A rook is a blackbird over in Europe. Not many people know that. Most of them think I'm named after a chess piece.
Ronin catches my pleasure and even though every defense mechanism left over from my previous life tells me to hide that smile to avoid a confrontation, I don't. I flash it even bigger, daring Ronin to make a big deal about getting my pants charmed off by a biker.
I take another bite of my salad and then Ronin gets up and follows Spencer out the door, leaving me alone.
I show up fifteen minutes late for the meeting. On purpose. I figure they're all in there acting like dicks and that's not something I need to be a part of. Chaput Studios might own me for the TRAGIC contract, but I highly doubt this thing lasts for three months, so there's no way they can stop me from doing this STURGIS job if I really want to. It's best to just let the men-folk fight that out in private, come back to reality when they figure out none of them are in control, I am, and then settle back down in the world I live in.
The one where I call my own shots.
I knock softly and Ronin opens the door.
There are like ten people in the room, some suits, some bikers, and of course, Ronin, Antoine, and Elise. It doesn't take a genius to understand the STURGIS contract is about bikes. Obviously the only thing associated with Sturgis is bikers. So this should be interesting. I'm game, that's for sure.
Everyone goes silent as I enter, then Antoine takes over.
"Sit, Rook. Spence invited you, so you're welcome to listen in, but there will be no model negotiations for this meeting."
I almost do shut up and sit down, because that's basically what Antoine just told me to do. But that's dumb. "Well, I'm not about to sit in on a tense meeting when it has nothing to do with me, so if I'm not going to be provided with any useful information, I'll just take off."
They all stare at me.
Spencer stands and takes control. "Rook, we're going to offer you the contract. I've been told that TRAGIC wraps up next week…"
Next week? That was quick. I figured this job would last a little longer than that. Ronin was not kidding about modeling being erratic. I think I might actually need this job.
"… so we'll talk more then."
Wait—what did I just miss? Everyone is looking at me, waiting for an answer, and I break into a sweat. "OK, yeah, sure. I'll leave you guys to it then." I pull the door closed behind me and go back to my apartment, still thinking about how quick I could be homeless again. I mean, this is their place, I'm no one, just another model among hundreds who have probably come through here, and they are letting me stay here because I have a contract with them.
Which will run out next freaking week!
I plop down on my couch and watch TV for a while, my gaze absently wandering to the front window, waiting to see if Ronin will come by for a visit tonight.
But he doesn't.
And I don't blame him.
Because I was a total bitch today.
I bite my lip and watch RetroTube until Gidget comes on. And that just makes everything worse, because even though I've been trying to talk myself out of it for the past week, I think I might actually like Ronin Flynn.
Chapter Thirty - ROOK
I wake early the next morning. Elise came by late last night and told me to be downstairs at seven AM, so I make my way into the studio ten minutes early to find everyone is already working. It still amazes me the early schedule these people keep. The dressing room is buzzing with girls. And every single one of them is naked.
I'm not talking topless, I'm talking naked.
They are chatting and laughing and generally acting like being nude is just another day on the job. And I guess it is when you work here.
I stand there a little lost when I hear Ronin's call.
"Over here, Gidget. Get on the scale and then Elise wants you in the salon for hair and make-up."
I forgot about the f**king scale.
Ronin doesn't smile at me, in fact, he barely notices me as I walk over to him. I step on the scale and I'm about to say something to break our awkward silence when a girl storms in, fully clothed and looking like she never went home from a party the night before, screaming at Ronin in French.
Ronin walks away and takes the girl by the arm, trying to shove her out of the dressing room. It's only then that I recognize her. The screamer from the day I came for my test shoot.
