by Huss, JA
Antoine finishes up pretty quick and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but either way, Spencer returns, like he was standing outside the studio door just waiting for it to be over, and walks up to me. "Come with me, Rook, I'll wash the paint off you and then we're all going out to dinner."
I do not want to go out to dinner, but I'm too tired to argue at the moment. He puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me back down to the third floor, but this time we don't go back to the art room, we go through a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.
It's a shower room and there's already a bucket and a large sponge waiting next to one of the shower stations.
He turns the water on and waves over to the stream coming down from the shower head. "Rinse off and then I'll scrub you down with this paint remover. Sorry it's so personal, but it was either me or Billy and Antoine said me. So…"
He looks guilty.
"Doesn't anyone ever ask me about these things? I mean, maybe I can, you know, shower all by myself?"
He sighs. "You can't reach the back, Rook." He points to the bucket. "That's the paint thinner we use for this special body paint. It needs to be scrubbed."
I go stand under the shower and wet myself down and Spencer enters the room with me, staying out of the water blast as best as he can, and begins to scrub the paint off. It runs down my body in long ribbons of inky black streams.
"All that work, gone. It's sorta sad, huh, Spence?" I look over my shoulder at him and he's smiling.
"Yeah, this part sucks, but that's why we have Antoine. You were right earlier, I should butt out. I know this is hard work for you, believe me, I understand how hard models actually work. So I'm grateful you were so patient today and you did real well, for it being your first time."
"It wasn't bad. I think the outfit helped, you were right, I never felt naked." But now that the paint is being stripped away and there's no black buffer between Spencer's wandering eyes and my body, it does make me squirm a bit.
"And just so you know," Spencer says, interrupting my thoughts, "I'm not taking advantage of you, OK? It's just that we get one chance to capture this artwork, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know. Wait, who said you were taking advantage of me?"
"Antoine, that's what he said when he was speaking French back there because I want all your sexy parts in the photos and he was going out of his way to cover those bits up. It's just, I get it, he's making art. But I'm selling bikes to horny guys, so I need those shots, Rook. I'm not trying to take advantage."
Now that my back has been scrubbed clean, he bends down to scrub my butt and the back of my legs. I turn around and look at him because, yeah, that's a bit personal.
Spencer ignores me, either he doesn't care that it's personal, or he's trying to pretend it's not. The sponge is rubbing all over my ass when it dips between my legs a little making me gasp.
Spencer stands up. "OK, you can do the rest." He plops the sponge down in the bucket and walks out of the shower room, leaving me there to manage on my own.
These people get more and more confusing with every job. How am I supposed to process this? Spencer gets to paint me up then wash me down. All of me, my entire body. He gets to touch my ass and put his brush between my breasts. And Billy gets to manipulate my body into weird contortions so my nipples are standing at attention in every shot, even for the fucking fender—that was some feat, but that Billy is resourceful—and Antoine gets to take pictures of all this, while Ford and the crew stand around and record every facial expression on each of us as we do these things and try to remain professional.
I'm pretty sure my relationship with Ronin is over. Because no man, I don't care what kind of Catholic saint he is, would ever put up with this arrangement. Elise was right, I'm paying the price for this STURGIS contract, and I'm paying up front, because this is day fucking one and I have to do this shit all summer long.
I pick up the sponge, soak it with the remover solution, and scrub as fast as I can. All I want is to go back up to Ronin's apartment and take a real shower, but I can't do that until the paint's all gone. And Ford can go fuck himself, because I need that shower. It's not a luxury or a way to hide, my shower just isn't adequate enough to deal with the amount of cleaning my body will require at the end of these shoots.
Luckily Spencer left me a nice soft towel, so I wrap myself up in that and head back to the studio to make a break for the Beast. No one is around when I slip in, so I tiptoe as best as I can with my wet feet, and head upstairs. As soon as I turn the corner towards Ronin's apartment, I see Ford.
He wags his finger at me and smiles. "I knew already, Rook. Nice try, but the crew is waiting on the terrace, go shower in your own place."
I punch in Ronin's code as I ignore him.
"You can do this, I can't stop you, but I will fine you, Rook. The deal is that you live at your apartment, not here."
I sigh and run through my options. Ford is a control guy, even if I was wrong about Ronin, I know for a fact I'm not wrong about Ford. He thinks he's Mister Dominant. I turn around and smile at him. "Ford, I swear, I'll shower in my own place on days that have no body paint, OK? It's just my shower isn't really a shower, it's a claw-foot tub with this pathetic sprayer system and I can't…" I stop to pout and open my eyes a little wider as I stare up at his face. "I just can't relax in that thing. And now that I have all this crap on my body, I can't even get clean in it!"
I'm not sure what I expected, I don't know him that well, but "Nice try, sweet cheeks," definitely wasn't it.
"Fine, I'll pay you to use the shower, bill me for it."
"People watch reality shows because they think they'll get to see something personal, the whole shower setup is part of that. It's a big part of that, in fact."
"How much?"
"How much what?"
"How much do you want to let me take showers at Ronin's place? Just give me a number."
Ford actually covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. "You're trying to pay me off?"
"Just tell me how much the fine is, asshole. This job will probably ruin my life, so I'll be damned if I'm gonna spend one more second worrying about getting a decent fucking shower."
"OK, would you like to make a deal, Rook? How about you go to breakfast with me tomorrow morning. Five AM. If you do that, I'll look past the shower this time. But only this time."
"Breakfast? You want to buy me breakfast?"
He shrugs like he's playing innocent, but he's got a devious gleam in his eye.
"Whatever." I push the door open and then quickly close it behind me.
I wash off the paint thinner in the Beast, and I tell you what, I'd have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Ford to keep using this thing. I figured out how to make the steam come out from the ceiling and it makes the whole experience feel like a tropical island. It's only after I'm all done that I realize I have no clothes.
I don't keep clothes at Ronin's place because that would imply that our relationship was more than just dating, and now I regret that. I search through his closet—which is spectacular—and find a pair of old jeans and a dark green t-shirt. The pants are way too loose, but there's plenty of belts, so I grab one of those too. I have no bra, but I can change just as soon as I get back to my place.
Dinner is not something I'm really up for but they are all waiting for me down in front of Antoine's office. I try to sneak by, but Team Rook is waiting just off to the side of the stairs, like they were trying to ambush me. I hustle out to the terrace, they follow, but I smile in satisfaction when I go inside my apartment and they have to wait outside. I grab some clothes and then pull on some shorts and a tank top and complete my outfit with my old Converse sneakers. I don't care how many pairs of expensive shoes I get, nothing beats a well-worn pair of Converse.
When I go back out the crew follows me again. I huff out an annoyed breath, but they ignore me like a good crew.
"Rook!" Antoine barks as I enter the studio again. "G
ood, we're starving. I sent Ronin a picture, he said he's tried calling you, but you never pick up."
"Oh, duh. I don't have my phone on me. I'm not used to carrying it around in here."
"You can call later."
"How's everything, did he say?"
Antoine gets a worried look on his face as Ford and Spencer join us and we walk down the stairs. "Clare is OK, Ronin is the only one she's ever listened to, she's always been difficult. I'm just glad he's there."
"Yeah, I'm glad too," I say, but I catch Ford's smug look out of the corner of my eye.
We walk over to Cookie's then take our booth in back like normal. Antoine scoots in and then Spencer takes the seat next to him, so I'm stuck near the window with Ford on the other side of me. The waitress, not one that I recognize, brings us drinks and I order the Big Breakfast Special instead of dinner. Antoine and Spencer get the diner version of steaks, and Ford orders an egg-white omelet.
I sigh as we sit. I'm tired of these guys already and it's the first day, but I do notice one thing. "Hey, where's our camera crews?"
Ford points up to the ceiling. "We paid Cookie's to let us tap into their security cameras and we have a microphone hidden nearby. So as long as you come in here, no crew will follow."
"Good to know," I say dryly. "Anywhere without a camera crew is good."
"OK, I'm just going to go ahead and ask, Rook. Because I don't understand. Why the hell did you take this contract if you didn't want to be on camera?"
I look over at Spencer and he's wincing, but Antoine's the one who answers. "Spencer left that part out when he explained the terms to her. She didn't know, Ford."
"Hey, I never thought she'd take the contract that night. Rook, tell them, you were a little impulsive, remember?"
"I was," I admit. "It's not Spencer's fault. Ronin and I were fighting and I overreacted and signed the contract without talking it over first."
Ford just looks at me but says nothing. The three of them talk about bikes and photo shoots, and even old times, since Antoine has known both Ford and Spencer since they were in high school. I don't participate much and I'm just too tired to think about making meaningless conversation.
After we eat Antoine and Spencer head over to a sports bar to watch the Rockies play the Padres in San Diego and Ford and I walk back to the studio in silence. I punch in my code when we get to the doors and then stop and turn to him when he tries to follow me in. "Aren't you going home?"
"I need to check on Larry's crew before the day's over." He holds the door open wider and beckons me to enter. We walk up the stairs in silence again, then he heads off at the third floor, waving a gesture back at me which might pass as a goodbye.
I continue up to the fourth floor and then make my way out onto the terrace. It's a beautiful night and since it's Monday, it's also quiet. I go inside my garden apartment and grab my cell phone. Sure enough, there are seven missed calls from Ronin. I press redial and walk back outside to sit on the grass under the cherry trees.
He never picks up, of course. He's probably mad at me for forgetting my phone, or maybe he took one look at that photo Antoine sent him of me in the painted-up latex suit and decided Clare the junkie was a much better fit for him.
Being jealous sucks. I hate it. I hate the feeling you get when all you want is to hear your boyfriend's voice on the other end of a phone. It's a horrible feeling and I don't even understand how something as little as getting someone's voicemail can ruin a perfectly fine day. And this day wasn't so bad, really. I mean, it was better than the first day I was groped by Billy. That was a weird day. I lie back on the grass and look up at the canopy of leaves on the cherry trees and then close my eyes for a second.
"Rook?"
"Huh?" I sit up, confused. "What?"
Ford is kneeling down next to me. "Why are you sleeping outside?"
"I just dozed off, Ford. Shit, cut me a break, will ya?
"Are you sure that's all it was?"
"What else would it be?"
"Not wanting to sleep inside under the cameras."
I laugh and sigh at the same time. "Yeah, forgot about them, thanks for reminding me though. I appreciate that."
"Well, if you prefer to sleep under the cherry trees let me know, I'll put some cameras up there too."
I glare at him. "You probably would, too." I get up and brush off my shorts. "Well, I'm heading in."
"We're still on for breakfast tomorrow?"
I snort out a laugh this time. "Yeah, we're on."
"Wear something comfortable," he calls out as I walk away. I leave him there and make my way inside, not even bothering to turn the lights on. I just sleepwalk back to my bed and crash, not even remembering to squish myself into the corner or wear pants to bed so the audience can't get a good look at my ass in the morning.
Chapter Ten - Rook
Why, God? Just why? Why do people insist on pounding on my door at the most ungodly hours? "I'm coming!" I scream. The pounding stops and I reach for my phone. It's five after five in the morning.
What the fuck?
I roll out of bed and stumble down the hall, then throw the door open and shield my eyes from the morning sun.
"You're not ready." Ford frowns down at me.
I look down at my shorts, then up at him, and shoot him my own frown. "Give me a second." I leave the door open and shuffle back to the bedroom, grab a clean pair of shorts and a tank top—
"I said comfortable and loose, but you'll need a good bra."
"What?" I shake my head at Ford, who is peeking his head around the corner of my closet.
I look down at his clothes and recognize the garb of trendy exercisers the world over. His outfit looks like he pulled it off the rack at Sports Authority this morning. "Ford, you said breakfast. I do not work out."
"It is breakfast, you'll see. Unless you want to take showers in that claw-foot monstrosity down the hall?"
"All right, get out. I'll meet you outside."
He backs off and I grab some sporty stuff that Ronin gave me from the Chaput closet when I first got here. The tank top has a built-in bra and it's a pretty coral color. The sport shorts are black with a matching coral racing stripe going up the sides of my thighs. I look the part until I put on my shoes, and that makes me laugh because all I have for my feet in the way of sneakers are my Converse.
I brush my teeth and pull my hair back in a ponytail, then head outside. Ford is talking with Team Rook over by the picnic tables. I guess that means we're not going to Cookie's, since the crew isn't necessary for that eatery.
"Ready?" Ford asks as I approach. "Nice shoes," he says, shaking his head.
"What are we doing?"
"You'll see, just follow."
I do what I'm told—I'm used to that anyway—and we walk down the stairs and go outside using the back door that leads out into the parking lot, then cross Blake Street and we're at Coors Field, the baseball stadium where the Rockies play. Ronin loves baseball and we've gone to two games together already. "We're eating breakfast at the stadium?"
"Yes, afterward, anyway."
"After what?"
He never answers, just walks us around the side and stops at a plain gray metal door that has no windows at all. He knocks and it opens immediately. The Mexican guy on the other side greets Ford in Spanish and they act like old friends, laughing and joking and shaking hands. He finally turns to us. "Rook, this is Jose, he's the head guy back here. I've known him since I was a kid. I used to come to the stadium every morning until I graduated from college a few years ago." Then he looks over at Team Rook and says, "Sorry, guys, only one guest allowed."
I smile at that and follow Ford into the dark hallway. So whatever we're doing here, we're doing it in private. I'll take any privacy I can get at this point. I follow him through the convoluted hallways until he pushes through a door and we come out on a stairwell. "Which way, Rook? Up or down?"
"What are you up to?"
"Just pick, up or down."
>
"Down," I say, "because climbing stairs is not my idea of fun right now."
He stifles a chuckle and leads the way down the stairs, then we get to another landing and he pushes through a set of double doors and we're in the stands, about midway up.
"Cool," I say, still not sure what the hell is going on. He walks over to the railing and looks out. I follow of course. There are a few other people here, all running up and down the stairs spread out across the seats across from us. "I sincerely hope"—I stop to snort here—"that you do not expect me to run, Ford. Especially up and down stairs. Because I'm not a runner. I'm a slow walker at best, possibly a shuffler, or an aimless wanderer, but never a runner."
He's just smiling.
"I'm serious."
"I can tell, but so am I. So I'll make you a deal, OK? You run stadiums with me every morning and I'll let you shower at Ronin's any time you want. As long"—he stops to give me a stern look—"as you don't take advantage and start spending all your free time in the shower."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want me to run these steps with you? There's a reason, you're just not telling me, so maybe I'll agree, but I wanna know the real reason you want me to do this with you. Are you coming on to me? Trying to piss off Ronin? What?"
His smile falters for half a moment, then it's back, brighter than ever. "Are you sure you want the real reason? Because most people prefer white lies to truth."
I roll my eyes. "Just tell me. There's no need for drama, Ford."
"Fine." He shrugs. "I want you to run with me in the morning because you're too young to take this job and maybe I don't know your whole story, but I'm perceptive enough to see that there's something wrong with you. I'm not sure what it is, I don't even want to know what it is, but this job will change your life. So instead of letting you dwell on how much it sucks and how big a mistake you really made when you took this contract, or beating the shit out of Spencer for letting you, or belittling Ronin for not being able to control you better—I'm just gonna take it upon myself to save you." He stops to pan his arms wide at the empty stadium. "With exercise. Because it will help, take my word on that."