by Huss, JA
I turn around and check them out carefully. "Are you serious?" I look at him, astonished.
"It's no big deal, these are showroom bikes, not special customs like the Raven. But I'll have it customized a little and we'll take it to Sturgis for you."
I walk between the aisles, my fingertips lovingly touching the tanks of several very nice specimens. But if I get to keep it, I should be practical so I can actually ride it. I don't want a chopper, that's for sure, they look difficult. I go back over to the turquoise one I was sitting on earlier and try it out again. "This one," I say, looking up at Spence's beaming smile. "I like this one."
"Can you really ride?" he asks as I lean forward on the tank and rest my cheek against the cool metal. I let my arms drop and a long sigh comes out.
"Yeah, I had a boy. He was wild about bikes."
"Hold on, be right back."
He leaves and comes back a few minutes later, pushing a cart filled with art supplies down the aisle. "Stay just like that, but lift your shirt up a little."
"What?" I laugh.
"I'll paint your back, just to make sure you know what you're in for. Just something simple."
I have to admit, this is exciting. "OK." I lift the back of my shirt up a little and lean back down on the tank. He sits behind me on the bike and grabs his supplies. First he washes my back with a wet cloth and then he dries it with a soft one.
"Now," he says, "tell me about this boy with the bike."
And I do. He paints while I talk. "Wade was his name. I was fifteen when I went to live with him. I was in foster care after my mom died, and this was literally like the tenth foster home I'd been in. I wasn't even a troublemaker or anything, it's just… I don't know, no one wanted me. Wade was two years older than me and he was a motocross racer. He taught me to ride a dirt bike and then he got a motorcycle when he turned eighteen and it was such a big deal. We had started messing around a little by then, and well, his mom figured I was bad news, a baby-maker waiting to happen maybe. She sent me away. But even though we never did anything beyond second base, he was my first love."
I wiggle a little at the soft touch of his brush on my back and he growls out a "Stay still, Blackbird," at me.
"And after that, Spencer, nothing in my life was ever good again until I found Antoine, Ronin and Elise last week." I stop for a moment to consider things, and then continue. "You too, I think. I mean I realize I barely know you, but shit, Spencer, you made my life today. Seriously, this whole offer is like a dream. And I've been pretty short on dreams these days, so it's a big deal to me."
He swishes his brush in a can of water and turns on a fan to air dry the paint on my back.
"Yeah, well," he says as he gets up and takes a seat on the bike next to me. I turn my head so I can see his face as we talk. "I have to admit, at first I just wanted to piss Ronin off and get you to agree, not that I didn't immediately think you were perfect, because Antoine described you over the phone. But Ronin and I used to be close and we're not anymore. So I was just being childish."
"So how do you two know each other?"
"We went to Catholic school together."
I almost choke on my own spit. "Oh shit, Ronin mentioned Catholic school last night, but I figured it was, I dunno, a weird suburban fantasy. How the hell did the two of you end up in Catholic school?"
"I always went to Saint Margaret's, since fucking pre-school. But Ronin showed up in eighth grade, just before we were about to graduate over to the Catholic high school. I lived in Park Hill and he lived over in the studio with Antoine. Ronin was a trip, ya know? He showed up out of nowhere speaking French like he grew up in Paris instead of Five Points, leaving school every few months to go travel the world for photoshoots. It was a strange life for a kid, but Ronin was never a kid. I found out about his parents a few years later when someone dug up the police report and plastered it all over school."
"Oh, that sucks. He told me about his father."
"Yeah, you'd think that would really piss a guy off, but not Ronin. He never even blinked. He said something in French, which roughly translated to I am not my father's son, and went about his business. That was tenth grade. We spent the next three years inseparable."
"What happened?"
"Ahhh," he says, getting up off the bike, "it's a long story. I better get you back before he goes apeshit. I have no idea what you saw today, but Ronin's not a cheater, Rook. He's just not. He's dated a lot of girls, I know that for sure, but he's never dated them at the same time. That's not him, so maybe let him explain."
He checks my back and pulls my shirt down after determining the paint is dry. I get up, feeling a lot better than when I left the studio, and I realize something.
I'm ready to go home.
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Rook
The studio is still bustling with activity when we arrive. It's hard to believe that it takes so long to unload bikes and roll them into the elevator and park them upstairs, but it must, because there are still two bikes in the truck.
We take the stairs and I'm exhausted because this day has been long and teetering on the edge of unpleasant since it started. If Spencer hadn't made this STURGIS offer, I'd probably be very depressed right now. We reach the fourth floor and the door is open, I can hear Antoine yelling in French about something. I'm really glad that guy prefers to get pissed in a foreign language, because it saves the rest of us from listening to his big-ass mouth.
"Rook! Where the fuck have you been?" Ronin yells, storming over to us.
"Spencer and I—"
Ronin pushes Spencer in the chest, sending him backwards, and then before I even understand what's happening they are throwing punches. "Wait!" I yell, grabbing at Ronin's arm. "What's the—"
Ronin reacts to my grab and pushes me away. I go flying backward and end up on my ass.
Again! That fucker!
Antoine pulls me up and asks me politely if I'm OK, and two of the technicians break up the fight.
"Where the fuck were you?" Ronin demands.
I ignore his question and turn to Antoine. "Spencer said he wants to offer me the STURGIS contract, so I'd like to sign that right now."
I look over at Spencer, hoping I'm not overstepping my boundaries, and he smiles at me, still breathing heavy from the fight.
Antoine doesn't move, Ronin just stares at me, and Elise is the only one with enough sense to speak. "I'll get the papers."
"Rook, I think you need to wait on that, we can talk about this tomorrow."
"No, Ronin. I don't need to discuss anything with you. I got all the details from Spencer and I'm signing that contract tonight." Because, I don't add, I'll be damned if I'm gonna get stuck here with an asshole who has pushed me down to the ground twice in the past fucking week while he was angry at another guy.
Elise calls me into the office while the guys just stand around staring at me like idiots, so I walk off, then close the door behind me once I get inside.
"Sit," Elise says.
I do.
"Now, what happened? Last night you and Ronin were practically screwing each other in the rain, and today you disappear with Spencer and come back pissed off. What's going on?"
"It's got nothing to do with Spencer, if that's what you're after. I'm just not sure I need a guy in my life, and to be honest, Elise, you're the one who warned me to stay away from Ronin. So I should be asking you the same question." I snatch the papers out of her hand, grab a pen off the desk and start skimming the stipulations. The contract looks like the last one so I assume it's standard and initial and sign in all the designated places.
I throw it down on the desk and take a deep breath and say in my most polite voice, "I'll move out as soon as I get paid for the TRAGIC contract. Can you give me an approximate time frame for that?"
She just sits on the corner of the desk frowning at me for a few seconds. "We have three more shoots to do, you can do them all tomorrow and we'll give you half. Then the other half once the final contract is
delivered. But it will be a long day of non-stop work, Rook, and it's not the sweet kind either."
"I'll be fine. What time should I report?"
"Six AM."
I don't even nod this time, I'm just ready to be alone. So I spin on my heel and leave, walk past the men who stop arguing mid-sentence as soon as I emerge from the office, and head straight to my apartment. I set my phone to five AM so I can wash the crack whore off me before Elise and Josie can turn around and make me up as a meth fiend.
I'd forgotten all about the paint job Spencer did on my back yesterday, and I can't quite reach it to scrub it off in the tub. It doesn't help that I have to hold that damn shower head the whole time either, so I just leave it alone. I sigh, because I'm pretty sure this will piss everyone off if this is a naked day. I try to look at it in the mirror, and I can see that it's a dark bird that might be a rook or a raven, but it also has lettering down at the bottom, near the small of my back, and that is way too little to read backwards.
Well, what can I do?
Nothing, that's what.
When I walk out on the terrace it's still slightly dark, but all the lights inside the studio are on. I go inside and Elise, already busy with that tiny blonde girl, points to the dressing room and says, "See Ronin first."
Wonderful, he's the last person I want to see.
I walk into the dressing room and it's busy and filled with girls. All half-naked, all lining up at Dr. Ronin's scale to be weighed.
The bile comes up in my throat, that's how sick it makes me to think about this weighing-in stuff. And it's not because I'm worried about gaining weight. I might gain some, I might lose some, but I have a natural size to me and this is it. I'm not a fluctuator. It makes me sick because I can't stand the fact that he gets to invade me like this. It feels so…
"Get in line, Rook," Ronin says as I begin to wander off toward a bench that is not yet claimed.
I do what I'm told. I'm weak. There are only two girls ahead of me so it goes fast. I step on the scale without looking at Ronin.
He lets out a small laugh.
"What?" I ask.
"You gained two pounds." He laughs again.
"And you find that funny?" I ask, the irritation with him building.
"No, not funny. Just satisfying."
"Ugh! Where are my clothes?"
He points to a bag hanging from the rack with my name on it and then whispers, "Don't get too comfortable in the clothes, though—it's TRAGIC, remember? Most of this day will be spent wearing nothing. And you better get used to it, Blackbird, because the entire STURGIS contract is nothing but full-body nudes."
I admit, this does make me uncomfortable, but then I remember the beautiful paint on all those nude girls in Spencer's book and relax a little about my decision. Besides, it's done. I signed the contract, it can't be undone without a huge production. And that's not something I'm interested in making.
I step off the scale and look around, not sure what to do next.
"Why are you doing this, Rook?"
"Doing what?" I ask, not looking at him.
"Taking another contract. It's clear that the shoot yesterday set you off, so why do more when you don't have to?"
I turn and meet his questioning gaze. "I do have to. I already told you, Ronin, I want to be independent and take care of myself. This," I say, waving my hand at the naked girls in the dressing room, "is a job that pays me money. And nothing more."
"So why disappear yesterday?"
"I did not disappear, I was with Spencer the entire time. Now, if you could just tell me what to do so I can finish this job and get the hell out of the garden apartment, I'd really appreciate it."
He watches me for a few more moments, then throws up his hands. "Go see Elise for make-up, then come back here and get changed."
Elise is shaking a thin white robe at me as I enter the salon, I grab it, go behind the partitioned wall to change, and come out wrapped up and ready.
"Shampoo," Elise says, pointing to the chair. I lie back and she turns the water on and begins, talking as she goes through the motions. "So, Spencer is nice, huh?"
I sigh. "I'm not interested in Spencer, Elise. Just his contract."
"Then tell me what happened. Ronin likes you, two days ago you liked him… how did you get to this place right now? It makes no sense."
She turns the water off and begins the shampoo. This time she is gentle, like the first time I showed up here. That was a week ago. One week, and this is what happens to my life. "I just don't think Ronin is the guy for me, that's all. I don't really feel like discussing it."
"And?" she prods, her fingers massaging the back of my head. "You have trust issues, right?"
I snort. "Elise, don't pretend you know me, because you don't."
"Well, I know Ronin found you huddled in the hallway like Clare was gonna kill you or something—" I bristle at the name and Elise senses this and stops talking for a second, then resumes her psychoanalysis. "And Ronin did manage to land you on your ass twice now out of jealousy, so I can see why you'd be pissed at him about that. And I know you were homeless when you ended up here, you admitted that to Ronin. And I know you've been hurt. So actually, Rook, while I might not know all the details, I think I know you better than you think." The water comes on again, saving me from responding, and I lie still as she rinses my hair. When she's done she squeezes the excess water out and applies the conditioner. "Today will not be pleasant, so just be prepared. I know you were unhappy yesterday with Billy, so at least it will be Ronin today, but it's going to be hard for you."
"Well, I'll get over it, Elise. Don't worry, I always do. By the time I have my life back on track and your door is hitting me in the ass, I'm sure exposing myself to cameras will seem second nature."
"But it doesn't have to be, Rook. That's what I'm saying. Ronin likes you a lot, just go with it. Why do that STURGIS contract? I can get you out of it, Spencer will be mad, but he won't make you—"
"Don't you dare try and talk him out of it! I will be so pissed!" Jesus! These people have some nerve! "I want that job, dammit! How many ways do I have to say it?"
She sighs heavily and rinses my hair out for the final time, plops a towel on it and sits me up. I get up and take a seat in her stylist chair so she can blow my hair out.
It's a long morning that bounces between uncomfortable silences and short curt responses and by the time Elise is finished with me, my musing about being made into a meth fiend is not far off when I look at myself in the mirror.
And that mirror is speaking to me.
It says, Rook Walsh, you really are TRAGIC.
Tragically stupid for agreeing to all of this stuff in the first place.
Chapter Thirty-Eight - Rook
Back in the dressing room I realize today's fun has only just begun. Ronin is nowhere to be seen, so I grab my bag and head over to the privacy stalls. Most of the girls are out in the studio by now, but I'm not interested in seeing anyone so the privacy stall it is. Inside the bag is the pink dress I wore for the very first shoot with Ronin. Well, maybe not the exact same dress, but at the very least, it started out looking just like it.
It's just that it looks nothing like that dress now.
Because the previously knee-length hem now falls just below my crotch and has a torn jagged edge. To my utmost delight the entire bust has also been modified, if you can call it that, because it's been cut out and replaced with black lace. Mix that all together with my tweaker make-up, some knee-high white stockings and black Mary Janes, and you've got Skanky Gidget Goes to Porn School.
My thong underwear barely qualifies as a postage stamp and since the bra is non-existent, it's just my nipples peeking through that, cough, amazing black lace.
Gross.
I turn around to look at my ass in the mirror, tug on the dress a little, and realize hoping for coverage is a lost cause.
"Well"—I spin around and find Ronin looking over the stall door—"I have to say, Gidge, I'v
e seen you look better."
He opens the stall door for me and I scoot out and walk down the hall to the dressing room, then turn and give him a look-over. He's got different clothes on this time too—a pair of faded jeans, a white t-shirt, and black biker jacket. So he just gets to look like a hot greaser right out of The Outsiders. He's Matt Dillon as Dally and I'm still Skanky Gidget Goes to Porn School.
When I meet his gaze the sad expression on his face makes me feel shame.
But I'm a trooper, so I rally and paint on a smile. "Just tell me what to do so this day can be over and I can get paid."
"So that's all this is to you, a paycheck? That's all I was to you the other night? A paycheck?"
"I'm not talking about this, Ronin." I push past him and walk back out to the studio. Antoine, Elise, and a bunch of technicians are all waiting around for me. I catch Elise wince as she takes in my new look, but I ignore her and tip up my chin.
Ronin and Antoine are talking in French, not quite arguing, but not being amicable either.
Elise comes and takes me by the elbow, leading me over to the terrace. "Back under the cherry tree for you," she says as we walk outside. There are a lot fewer flowers on the branches now, most of the blossoms are on the ground, withered and wet from the recent rain. Elise lets go of me when we get to the swing and motions for me to take a seat. The technicians are already messing with the lights and those umbrella things, and then Ronin, Antoine, and the other photographers come out. I guess we wouldn't want to miss a single angle of my ass-crack, so yeah, why not get every single photographer we can, right?
Ugh. I want to die right now, and I'm not even naked yet.
Antoine doesn't speak a lick of English as we get ready, he talks only to Ronin and Ronin repeats everything he says in English for the rest of us. They start shooting right away and Ronin stays out of the picture for most of these. Then he stands behind me, tells me to move this way or that, and then kneels down in front of the swing, parts my thighs and lays his head along my leg. He's got a perfect view of all my goods and I just want to die all over again.
