by Huss, JA
Well, that's not what I was expecting, but nonetheless, just looking at him is pissing me off. "You know what, Ford? I don't really care why all you guys hate each other, I really don't. But I'm just trying to make a living. This is a job, Ford. A job I actually need, or else I wouldn't be doing it. So if you assholes can't control yourself, just don't hang around, OK? Because the next time you guys fight in front of me, I'm calling a lawyer to see how difficult I can make your life, you got it? Maybe it's too late to quit, but I promise you, I'll make you regret you ever met me if you try this shit again. I'm not interested in your big-brother routine, I have a boyfriend, I'm not looking for your brand of friendship, so butt the fuck out!"
He just nods as I walk past and hurry across the terrace, trying not to smile at Team Rook as they hide their chuckles, and then hoof it back down to the art room.
Ford does not follow.
Antoine is still half-yelling at Spencer, in French, so apparently he understands him, and Spencer's expression is a cross between irritated, angry, and embarrassed.
I clear my throat when I reach them and Antoine turns around.
"Spencer, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Ford. If you pull this shit in front of me again, I'll make you sorry. I'll hire lawyers, I'll ruin this show, I'll be the worst model you can imagine." I drop the robe and stand there as Antoine turns away and walks out. "Now, paint the fucking bikinis. Do not breathe on any sensitive areas. Do not even talk to me right now because I'm pissed. We just wasted a whole bunch of time, and I'm ready to get the fuck back to work."
He shrinks back a little as my words get sharper, but then nods and goes over to his supplies and starts getting it together again. I look back at my team and wink and then catch Producer Larry and his people on the other side of the room snickering.
A few minutes later Spencer is back kneeling on the floor in front of me, painting furiously fast, not being all that careful if you ask me, and not saying one word.
And that's OK with me.
I stand still, I turn, I kneel, I even lie down and spread my fucking legs at one point, but I could care less.
This outfit is boring compared to the last one, but Ford was right about one thing, there's not a lot of paint involved.
Today when I go back upstairs for the first photo shoot I absolutely feel naked. My nipples are white stars that have bikini strings attached to them. It looks real enough, Spencer did his magic and painted wrinkles in the fabric and shaded it just right so it tricks you into believing the illusion, but I don't feel dressed and I don't feel sexy.
Josie bundles up my hair in something that looks like an old-ass bathing cap and then slaps on a blonde wig cut into a flirty bob with straight bangs. She brushes my cheeks with bronzer and a little bit of pink to give the illusion of a slight sunburn after a day in the sun, then drags some mascara through my lashes. It's all very natural, except for the wig.
Billy has materialized from somewhere and to be honest, I'm happy about that. Billy and I got off on the wrong foot, but he's very professional and after spending time with Ford and Spencer, I can appreciate the tight ship that Antoine normally runs here. I miss Elise's watchful eyes and Ronin's calming gestures. These guys would've never pulled this shit if Ronin and Elise were here.
Billy doesn't make one crack about me being naked this time and I'm not sure if Antoine warned him to keep his mouth shut or if he's just smart enough to figure that out himself, but either way, he makes me feel better. "Ready, Rook?" he asks in a low voice.
"Yeah, I'm good." I go over to the bike we're shooting today. It's an old-school soft-tail that sorta reminds me of those classic Fifties cars, with the white walled tires and the off-white colored frame. The gas tank really sets it off because it's fat and has a pretty powder-blue Shrike logo on it, which is never the same thing twice. Each custom bike gets its own custom logo to match. This one is a spiked skull and crossbones, but painted up with fancy lines and swirls. It's kinda girly.
I almost wish I had chosen this bike as my ride, since Spencer promised to customize a bike for me from his showroom.
This bike only has one seat and it sits low. Billy tells me to cross my legs, then put them up on the handlebars. I sit sideways, then lean over and flash my ass, then back around to push out my tits. Even though Antoine's pictures will show a lot more skin in this shoot than they did yesterday, in my opinion it's not nearly as sexy as that catsuit.
"OK, Rook, that's enough." Antoine stops talking and looks behind him at Spencer. "She needs to wash this paint off?"
Spencer looks uncomfortable. "No, I can paint over this one. Next time, though, yeah."
"Billy will take care of Rook in the shower until Ronin returns."
I smile all the way back down to the art room because these asshole men have been put in their place and Antoine must have really been pissed to tame Spencer like that. Ford never even came back up to the studio.
This next painting goes very quick because Spencer just adds to it, turning the stars into flowers and making the bottoms yellow and white stripes. I'm back up in the studio in less than an hour.
Josie just does touch-ups on my makeup and since I never took the wig off, the hair only needs a quick comb.
This time the bike is a sunny orange and it has a sandy floor and a beach backdrop behind it. Antoine has props for me now too, a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of orange sunglasses. Spencer appears after changing into some board shorts. He's got no shirt on and all his tattoos are now in plain sight. I guess I never paid much attention before, but all of Spencer's tattoos are red and black. I've never seen anything like it. It's clear that Spence plans his body art just as meticulously as he does his body painting.
Most of his tats are skulls and birds. And I guess this makes sense, a shrike is a little bird infamous for impaling insects on thorns. I looked his name up because it was so unusual. The birds on his arms and chest are not all shrikes, because those are little robin-sized birds. So despite their cool name and impressive impaling capabilities, they are not really suitable as the starring avian in Spencer's artwork.
No, most of his birds are large. I can see an eagle, an ibis, and lots and lots of ravens.
Or maybe they are rooks?
His front piece is the most beautiful blackbird tattoo I've ever seen and there are ribbons of red and smoky gray weaving around it, camouflaging skulls in the swirls. "Who does your art, Spence? It's incredible."
He snorts out a laugh but doesn't answer, just takes my hand and leads me over to the bike.
"Oh, are you in this shot with me?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. I'm a little surprised because no one ever mentioned that Spencer and I would model together.
"Yeah, I'm the owner, right?"'
I squint at him. "Did you just pull rank on me?"
"Spencer," Antoine warns.
Spencer throws up his hands. "She asked me a question. Fuck! What am I supposed to do? Ignore her?" He takes a seat on the bike and then pats his lap. "Sit down here, Rook."
I hesitantly sit on his leg and he grunts. "Now look, Antoine, I'm paying for this fucking shoot, I need her to be natural, you've got her all wound up. Rook"—his attention goes back to me—"just pretend like you do in your other jobs. I'm your boyfriend, we’re sitting on the bike at the beach, and you like me."
I wrap my arms around his neck and scoot back on his lap a little more, which makes him suck in his breath—and makes me snicker a little if I'm honest—and then lean into his neck and whisper, "I do like you Spencer. But you scared me. I don't like that fighting stuff."
"I'm sorry," he says. "But I'm not taking advantage of you and I'm sick of everyone thinking I am."
Antoine is busy shooting as we talk and then he's barking out orders in French, which Spencer seems to understand.
"Do you speak French, too?"
"It's hard to know Antoine without learning French, he hates to speak English. And I took it in school so Ronin couldn't talk shit about me behind
my back." He grins a devious smile down at me. "I know enough and Antoine says if I want good pictures I gotta get you to act like you're having a good time in my lap."
"Spencer!" Antoine barks.
Spence winks at me as he wraps me up in his arms. "I made that last part up, but it's true. Just give me some good pics, Rook. I saw the ones you did with Ronin and those were fucking hot."
I bite my lip a little. They are paying me a butt-load of money, a lot more than the TRAGIC contract was worth, so fuck it. If I'm gonna do this job, I might as well do it right. I lean in and kiss Spencer and Antoine's camera clicks like crazy. Spencer rubs my back a little and then he wraps his hands around my neck and pulls until we bump foreheads, our lips very close but not touching. I look down at him and smile.
"Thank you," he whispers.
"It's my job, right?"
"Right." He leans in and kisses me again. It feels… weird to do this and not have it be cheating. Is it cheating? I pull back and then Antoine tells me to stand on the other side of the bike and lean down on Spence's shoulders, draping my arms around his body.
The plus side to this pose is that it's not an ass-shot. But my tits are practically dangling right in front of Spencer's face. I try to pretend it's just a job, but the truth is, Spencer is excited, and while I am flattered to have that effect on him, I'm also kinda worried, because I'm a little turned on too.
Antoine asks for a few more poses, all of which compound the energy between us right now.
I do not like him that way, I tell myself emphatically.
That's not a lie either. I want Ronin.
But there is a purely physical part of me that can't help but respond.
When Antoine finally gets what he needs I get up quickly and trot downstairs to wash this paint off. Billy dutifully follows me.
"So," he says, grinning, as I turn on the water and grab the sponge that is already in the bucket of paint cleaner on the floor of the shower room. "It's not as easy as it looks, is it?"
"What's not?"
"Keeping it professional."
"Did it show?"
He laughs. "Uh, yeah, Rook. We're not blind."
"Ronin's gonna be so mad."
"Hey, look at it this way, Rook. Ronin's been doing this for years now, longer than me, that's for sure. And if he tells you he's not turned on in those shoots, probably every single one of them, he's a liar. It's natural, it's sexy as hell, Rook. It's the whole purpose of erotic photography, right? If we're not turned on, we don't give Antoine what he's looking for. So as bad as Antoine feels about needing Spencer to make you feel that way, that's his job. To give you a partner who turns you on so he can get his photos."
I think about this for a few minutes as I scrub. Billy stands off to the side, not facing me so I have an illusion of privacy. "Do you sleep with them, Billy? After you're done? I mean, what's it mean afterward?"
He shrugs. "I sleep with some of them, sure. But sometimes it's just a thing, ya know? Just a physical reaction, and nothing more."
I finish up with the shower and Billy hands me a towel and walks me upstairs to the studio.
Just a job, Rook. It's just a job.
Chapter Thirteen - Rook
Ford is back when I enter the studio, but he's on the other side of the room, sitting in a chair next to Director Larry looking at the wall of screens. I ignore him and walk over to Spencer. His shirt is back, but he's still got the board shorts on. "Are we modeling together for all the shoots, Spencer?"
He doesn't turn, just keeps messing with his brushes and paint. "Does it bother you?"
"Um." Does it? "No, it doesn't bother me, that's not the right word." My camera team zooms in on me. I guess this is what Larry is looking for, because I can hear a tinny voice coming out of the earpiece of my main camera guy. "I'm just worried about what Ronin will think."
Spence turns now. "Ronin will just have to learn to deal, Rook. I picked you because you're beautiful, you're the girl I want to represent my bikes. And if that makes Ronin uncomfortable, too bad. I won't be in all the shots, but we have to get a few, at least. I mean, that's just reality, Rook."
"I know," I say, sighing. "I should just forget about Ronin, huh?"
Spencer laughs. "Why? Why would you say that?" He points me over to the sheet and grabs his stuff, then starts painting my breast. "You like him, he likes you. What's the fucking problem?"
"If our roles were switched and Ronin was the model being painted up by a sexy artist, I'd be mad. I'd never put up with it, to be honest."
"So, you think I'm sexy, eh?"
I laugh. "You know what I mean."
"Well, you can't change that, Rook. You're the model, I'm the artist, he's the boyfriend. He can deal or not. But I'm still the artist and you're still the model. And if he's smart he'll just shut the fuck up about it, stay out of the way until the contract is over, and then forget it ever happened."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
He winces.
"What?"
"She broke up with me."
"How come?" I suck in a small breath as he paints a string along my upper ribcage and around my back.
He ignores my question for so long I'm ready to ask it again when he finally looks up, smiling.
"What?"
"She broke up with over this contract. She was jealous."
I can't help but laugh with him. "Well, I guess she didn't mean much, huh? You don't look broken up about it."
"Well, I do miss her hands because she's the one responsible for my body art. But I'm not a relationship kinda guy, Rook. I like to play the field. So if she wants to be a bitch about it, get jealous over you and me spending so much naked time together, then she can take the fuck off."
"Have you known her long?"
"Yeah, she's the model in all the other pictures too."
"Holy crap! That's just rude, Spencer!"
He doesn't even look up from painting my nipple. "What's rude?"
"She's your model and you chose me!"
He shrugs. "Your name's Rook and in case you haven't noticed, I've got quite a thing for blackbirds going on. Besides, this was a business decision. She wanted the contract money, that's all. She allowed me to paint her so she could make money. I let her be my canvas because she was willing. She used me, I used her, and to tell you the truth"—he does look up now—"I'm pretty fucking pissed off that she turned it all personal. I never promised her this contract and as you now know, this is way beyond a modeling job, right? It's a TV show, it's a marketing campaign, it's my entire fucking business. And if everything goes well, you'll be part of this franchise for a long time. I have long-term plans, Rook. And she was never part of them."
"But I am?"
"That's right," he says in a soft whisper. "You're definitely part of them."
Both our sound guys move the mics closer to us and I can only hope they missed that last part. Because I think Spencer Shrike just made some kind of declaration to me and I'm having hard time thinking it was professional because now his paintbrush is practically caressing me between my legs. He uses broad strokes, so it's not like he's trying to excite me on purpose, but he's a man, kneeling down in front of me, staring at my most private body parts.
I inhale, close my eyes, and think about how I'd feel if I walked in on Ronin doing this to some girl. Or even worse, Ronin getting his manly parts painted up by some hottie chick.
I snicker internally, proud of myself. That image was all it took.
"OK, on the floor with you, Blackbird."
I cringe. I was mad the last time he painted up my girly parts, but now I'm confused. And worried about Ronin and my physical reaction to Spencer.
"Problem, Rook?"
"No," I say as I kneel down, then lie back and fold my hands over my stomach. The camera crew backs off for this and it makes me wonder if Ford told them to do that. The first bikini was just white, so Spencer didn't spend a lot of time down here. It was quick and easy. The second one only requir
ed that he paint the stripes on.
But this time I'm bare again and Spencer wants to paint the suit up to look iridescent, so he spends more time than he did the last two times put together.
"Hurry up, Spencer, this is weird. If Ronin was here, he'd be having a fit, you staring right up into my—"
"Hey now! I'm painting, Rook!"
I snort. "Whatever, I'm standing up in ten seconds. I'm not spreading my legs for your motorcycle ad, so you don't need to get carried away with the details down there."
When my private count gets to ten, I push his head back and stand up. "I wasn't kidding."
He ignores me and continues painting a shadow under the string that wraps around my hip to the little piece of fabric on my ass.
"I don't like doing more than one outfit in a day. This sucks. I'm ready to be done—"
"We still have one more, Rook. Better settle down, sister."
My irritation comes out as a growl. "Well, I don't like it. I'm hungry, I want to pee, I'd like to take a nap, or read a fucking book, or—"
"Here, Rook."
Ford is standing a little behind me thrusting a tablet in my direction. I take it automatically. "What's this?"
"Books. I like thrillers and classics, so maybe not your thing, but you can shop the store and find something you like."
"Oh." I take a moment to calm down from my rant and then smile. "Thanks, Ford. I definitely need to get one of these. In fact, I need to go shopping, maybe I need a car? When will Elise be back? I'm tired of hanging out with men, why can't this show have more girls on it? And what's up with having no girls on the production team too? Not one girl can run a microphone or camera?"
I get silence. Straight-up crickets.
"Hello? Are you guys listening to me?"
"No!" they all say at once. Even Director Larry's team on the other side of the room yells it out.
"Well, shit. I guess I better find me a book then." I open the leather flap that covers the device and it comes to life. I swipe my fingers to unlock it, then browse the little carousel that holds all Ford's books.