by JA Huss
"I'd rather pout."
He smiles and that stupid chin dimple appears. "Yes, that's always fun for children, but you're a grownup, Rook. So get up and come running with me."
"That won't work, you know."
"What won't work?"
"That reverse psychology bullshit you're trying to pull on me. Call me a child, tell me I'm childish so I'll do what you ask. Run your ass off up and down those stairs to make me feel lazy so I'll put in more effort. It won't work, I'm not stupid."
"Well, I'll tell you what. Get up and mope along with me and tomorrow I'll show up with all kinds of statistics that will convince you this is good for you."
I pull the covers back over my head. "I'm too tired today. Yesterday was hard and long. I want to go back to sleep."
"Today will be quick, Rook. Antoine told Spencer just one outfit today, he's going up to see Clare and won't be back until Sunday. So you can take a nap after work."
"What? He's going up there and didn't even invite me?" That last word barely makes it out of my mouth before I'm crying. "Ronin never even said anything about Antoine going up today!"
"Rook, it's not a vacation, his niece is addicted to heroin, she's not doing well, he's sick with worry. It's got nothing to do with you."
I try to stop my crying because it's so embarrassing, but once I start holding it in I make weird noises. Ford drags the covers off me. "What the hell are you wearing?"
"Clothes."
"To bed?" He asks this with a weird cock-eyed look on this face.
I point up at the camera.
"OK." He pulls me by the feet and drags me until I fall off the bed. "Run with me every day and I'll take out all your apartment cameras."
"You will?"
"Yes," he says nodding. "You're not adjusting very well, Rook. Go change, I'll be outside."
He walks out and leaves me there on the floor. Not adjusting well, my ass. I'm the queen of adjusting.
I get up, find another sporty outfit, tug it on, then step outside and walk over to Ford. He's sitting at the picnic table over by the cherry trees, holding out a box to me as I approach.
"What's that?"
"Running shoes. You can't wear those things, Rook. They're unacceptable."
I look down at my Converse. Then peek in the box. And change shoes. Might as well look the complete part. We walk over to the stadium, minus the camera crew. I guess they figure they'll sleep in if they can't follow us inside. We start at the same place we did yesterday, Ford trucking up and down those stairs like a pro, me dragging my feet up while expending as little effort as possible.
I watch him to take my mind off Ronin. He runs hard, like he's really racing someone, or like he's running for his life. I make it almost nine rows before he stops, checks his watch, and then turns and heads back my way at the same break-neck pace. When he's only one row away I stop and wait.
He's breathing hard again, sweat dripping off his body. He takes off his shirt and starts wiping himself off.
"You need a towel, Ford."
He smiles. "Hungry?"
I shrug. "Not so much this morning."
"Well, you might change your mind once you smell the food."
I follow him inside and this is a repeat from yesterday as well. Two breakfast burritos, two OJ's. We eat in complete silence and he doesn't make any move to start a conversation with me or even look uncomfortable because we're so quiet.
I think this is more of his reverse psychology, so I forbid my mouth from saying anything. He's not gonna win this, he won't. When I'm done with my burrito, which did hit the spot even though I didn't think I was hungry, he simply picks up my trash, throws it away, then waits for me to get up and join him by the trashcan.
We walk back to the studio in silence and then he gives me a half-hearted goodbye at his car.
I go inside and go straight to Ronin's apartment to take a shower. I'm feeling like a creeper because I'm really not supposed to be in here today, but that's not enough to stop me from starting the water and taking off my clothes. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder if this mistake will ruin my life.
I press a bunch of random buttons on the shower control panel and wait to see if any good jets will come on. I don't like the rain shower, but I'm not really sure which button works that one, so sometimes it comes on and I have to press more random buttons until it stops. But this morning I get the steamy mist and two hard streams that come out of the corners and meet together to make one blaring jet of water. I stand underneath it and let it pound against my neck and upper back.
It feels good so I close my eyes.
A hand touches my shoulder and I whirl around. "AHHHHH!"
"Rook! It's me!" Ronin grabs me and pulls me towards him.
"You scared me!" The sudden rush of adrenaline has my heart pounding like a jackhammer and I really have to try hard not to cry. I put my hand over my face and take a few deep breaths.
"I'm sorry." He wraps his arms around me and holds me against his chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"What're you doing here?"
"It's my house, silly."
I pull away and enjoy his naked body for a second. God, Ronin has a terrific body. "But you never said you were coming home."
"I left in the middle of the night. I shouldn't have been an ass on the phone. Antoine is leaving this afternoon to see Clare, then coming home with Elise on Sunday. I told them I had to come home because I'm not at all interested in breaking up with you over this contract. I'm not happy about it, I'm not happy about Ford, or Spencer, or Billy or any of it, actually. But I'm not ready to say goodbye over something so temporary."
I hug him. "I'm so glad you're here. I don't want to break up with you, either. I just feel so guilty for what I have to do in those shoots."
"We'll get through it, OK?"
I nod into his chest.
He pries me from his body and grabs the soap. "We gotta get an early start, it's the sexy Elvis painting today. I'm gonna take over from here, if that's OK."
"Take over how?" I say as he lathers my arm with the soap.
"In the shoots. I called Spencer and told him I'd model with you, no pay."
"What—" His soapy hands move to my breasts and I lose track of my words.
"I don't need the money, believe me. It's not a big deal to work for free and I have to be around all day with you anyway, to keep an eye out. Besides," he says, rubbing my other breast now. "I'm not sure any man would call what I'm doing a job."
I look up at him and he leans down and kisses me gently. He drops the soap and pulls me right up against his full erection, still gently caressing my lips. My hands slip around his waist and then up his muscular back. I drag them back down his arms and then up his chest. He pulls me with him as he steps back a few paces, then sits down on the tiled bench on the far side of the shower, away from the punishing jets and right into the thick mist of steam coming from the ceiling.
He leans back against the wall and I climb into his lap, positioning my hips over his thickness, then easing down until he fills me up. We stay still like that for a few seconds, me leaning against him, my head on his shoulder, him dragging his hand down my wet hair, and then we start rocking. Just a little at first.
I close my eyes and tug on his hair a little, making him groan. He reaches up and fondles my breast, gently rolling my nipple between his fingertips. I pull my head back and look down, deep into his eyes. "Do you love me?"
He smiles. "I do."
"I wanted to tell you back, but you hung up."
"You scare me, Rook."
"Why?" I ask, puzzled.
"Because your future is making itself right now, this very moment. And you have no idea it's happening. I want you so completely it hurts. But you and I are in two totally different places."
My whole body shivers with a chill as I absorb his words. I swallow. "That sounds like the beginning of a break-up speech. Are you breaking up with me?"
He sco
ots my bottom closer, thrusting himself inside me a little more. "I love you, Rook. I'm not breaking up with you. But it's all bad timing, you know?"
I shake my head. "No, not really."
"My career started when I was seventeen. I've done everything you're just getting a taste of now. I've traveled all over the world, I've made a shitload of money, I have pretty much everything I want."
"But—"
"Except the only thing I really want."
I wait for it, but he lets out a long sigh and holds it in. "Is it a secret?"
He lets out a soft laugh and rocks himself into me again. "No, it's not. I already told you that night we went to the zoo."
"A family," I say, a little breathless now because what he's doing, this serious conversation combined with the sensual lovemaking, is making my heart pound.
"Yes. I'm done, Rook. I can live off the money I've made for decades. I'm ready to do something else. Start something new."
"Well, how is that a problem for us?" I ask, lifting up and slipping down on him. It's his turn to become breathless. "I'm not against the idea, you know."
He smiles as his hand reaches up to cup my breast.
I shiver again, but this time it's a good one.
"Not against the idea is not the same as on board." His fingers stop and his hands wrap around my waist as he slides me back and forth across his lap. My whole body flushes with heat and I tip my head back and close my eyes.
"I'm looking for a partner."
I swallow. "I'd like to be that partner, but—"
He waits.
I open my eyes. He's watching me very closely, his hands still gliding over my body, slowly—so, so slowly. My clit throbs against his friction.
He waits.
"I'm scared too, Ronin. But of very different things."
He wraps his arms around me completely and buries his face in my neck, tasting the water on my skin left over from the misting shower spray. "I'll take care of you, Rook."
I take a deep breath and let it out. "I want you to take care of me, Ronin."
His palms slide up underneath my wet hair and then he fists it, just a little, like a claim. It makes me hesitate, but then he pulls me forward until my cheek touches his. "Then let me, just let me put it all together for us. I can make you happy."
Our rocking becomes thrusting, just small movements at first, and then more forceful. I lift up and then ease down on him, making him growl a little. I smile at that, do it again, then again. His left hand fists my hair just as the other slips down to my neck, not a squeeze, but a gentle full palming against my throat, soft and light.
I don't panic at this move. He's done it before and it's always this gentle.
I know him now.
His hand continues down to my breast where he squeezes my nipple until I turn into his mouth and his tongue flicks against mine. My whole body is aching with these small touches. My hips continue their movement, but now I lean forward and then pull back, resting my forearms on his muscular shoulders as I rub myself against him.
He knows me now, too. He knows what I want, what I like. His fingers leave my breast and trace down my stomach, stopping at my crease. He slides his thumb back and forth against that tender spot and I bite my lip as the pleasure rockets up my body.
His other hand drags down my back and slips under my ass, urging me to lift up higher and rock down with even more force.
I let him guide me because even though I'm on top, he's in control.
He's always in control.
He pushes his thumb against my clit, hard, then soft again, repeating the pattern, knowing it drives me wild. I can feel the wave building in me and he does too, so he pulls back and makes me whimper.
"No, Ronin. Stay where you are."
He laughs softly into my ear, his breath hot. My whole back arches, opening myself up to him and then his thumb is back, pushing and making the little nub pulsate against him. He leans down as my arching back thrusts my breasts up to him, and he responds to the invitation by sucking on a nipple.
I lose it. The pulsations turn into short bursts, then explosions. He rocks me up and down harder, more forcefully, then growls against my neck, biting me just hard enough to make me squeal when he releases into me.
We stay still for a second, breathing hard, our hearts hammering against each other.
"Mmmmm," I say.
"Mmm-hmmm," he responds. "I'll make you a deal, Gidget."
I push my face into his neck, my tongue playing with his earlobe. "What deal?" I say, my blow of breath just enough get a tiny shiver out of him.
"You don't pose with anyone else but me and I won't pose with anyone else but you."
"Oh, I like that deal. That deal sounds like a deal."
"And after this contract, we walk away from modeling."
I sit up straight and look down at him. "Serious? But what about Antoine? Your job here?"
"I actually do have a degree, Rook. I didn't go to college to be King of the Closet, it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. But we can talk about it after this contract is over, OK? Forget about everything and let me handle it. Can you do that?"
I let out a huge sigh of relief. After yesterday I'm not sure being in control of everything is the way to go. Sure, I still like making my own decisions, but I'm an amateur in this business. Everyone seems to be in on the joke besides me. It would be so much better to let Ronin deal with things.
"I can do that."
He kisses me on the nose and slaps my ass, the smack echoing off the shower walls. That probably shouldn't make me giggle, but it does.
He grins at me with a knowing smile. "All right then, let's go get this job over with, then we can do this again when I wash all that paint off you."
Chapter Seventeen - ROOK
Everything about this day is different. The mere presence of Ronin changes attitudes and actions. Ford never appears in the art studio and the camera and sound guys are never even supposed to get within ten feet of me. "They have zoom lenses for a reason, Rook," is what Ronin says. Plus, and this really makes me feel stupid, they're not even allowed to shoot me full frontal during painting, only when I'm on exhibition.
That phrase sucks, by the way.
Ronin knows all this stuff and I don't. Of course, I should probably be mad he didn't warn me, he is my manager. But whatever. It was my fault for not reading the contract properly. Pretty much everything about this contract is my fault for that reason alone.
Ronin sits off to the side as Spencer paints me up. Spencer is the same, he was never out of bounds during painting. And this outfit is quite interesting.
"Have you painted this outfit a lot, Spence? You're quick this time."
He looks up from painting the sparkly sequins on the bodice and winks. "I painted Veronica up like slutty Elvis about a dozen times."
"Veronica, that's the girlfriend who didn't get the job?"
"Yeah, we did the Elvis Fest in Vegas last year. She won a pretty big costume contest, even though she's a girl and she wasn't even wearing a costume. That was hysterical, people were pissed. But hey, you can't deny the talent of these fingers."
I look over at Ronin and he's smiling and shaking his head.
"Do you miss her?"
He stops painting. "Little bit. But not enough to give her a job as the Shrike Girl just because she's my girlfriend. And it pissed me off that she wanted that contract so bad she'd fight with me over it. I liked her for her, she liked me for Shrike Bikes."
I have nothing to say to that. I doubt it's true because Spencer is very good-looking and he seems like a funny and easy-going guy, but what do I know? Maybe she's a total gold-digger and he's right?
"Anyway," Spencer continues, "I've painted this outfit more than any of the others. And the bike that goes with it is pretty fucking cool as well."
"Does the bike have a cape?"
He laughs. "No."
"Do I get a cape?"
"Yes."
&n
bsp; "Oh, I like that. I'm like a super-sexy naked Elvis girl."
"Yeah, and thanks to your temper tantrum last night, I get Ronin the supermodel as your Elvis counterpart for free." Spencer looks over at Ronin, clicks his tongue, and shoots him with his finger.
"Right," Ronin replies. "But from now on the only lap super-sexy naked Rook will be sitting in is mine." He shoots Spencer back. "So I win."
Spencer mumbles under his breath.
"Are you guys friends again?"
Mumbles from both of them.
"OK, let's change the subject. Let's talk about Ford. Why don't Ronin and Ford get along?" I hear people muttering behind me, back where Director Larry is with Ford. "What'd Ford do?"
No one wants to tackle that one because all I get is silence.
"OK, moving away from things that require you men to talk about your feelings. How'd you get started doing this painting stuff, Spence?"
"Took art since I was a kid. But you know how you were born looking like a model?"
"Yeah." That's true too. I didn't do anything to look this way. It's just how it is.
"Well, I was born to paint up naked girls. That's the only explanation I have for it. I know how to do it, I know how to mix up colors, and I see perspective. I've taken lots of classes and even did a fancy summer apprenticeship with a big-name trompe l'oeil body paint artist. She was pretty cool and she never took students, but my dad paid her well, and I wasn't too stupid—her words, not mine. Plus, she was French, and I already spoke French by that time, thanks to Ronin. But, mostly, I just always knew how to do this shit, Rook. Everyone has one God-given gift and painting naked girls is mine. Maybe I'm not curing cancer, but whatever. This is what I got, so I just needed someone to point me in the right direction and show me how to use the gift."
"So you majored in art at school?"
He almost snorts. "No, are you kidding? My old man is a filthy rich bastard, but private university prices for finger-painting was beyond even his wasteful tendencies."
"So what'd you major in?"
He looks up at me. "Business, what else? You can't run a business without knowing what the fuck you should do with it."
