by JA Huss
He lets out a soft chuckle and leans down to kiss my forehead. "What in the world do you have to be sorry for?"
"For not telling you I was legally married."
He sighs. "I won't pretend, it hurt a little to find that out from Spencer over the phone, but Rook, we barely know each other. It's not like you lied, it just never came up."
"So you're not mad at me?"
"No, Gidge. I'm not mad. We can talk about that stuff later. How are you feeling?"
I swallow down all my feelings and paint on a happy face. "I'm OK." He's staring down at me with a scowl. "What?"
"You don't look OK, Rook. Tell me the truth now."
The tears build up again and my whole face scrunches up as I try to stop them. "I'm scared, Ronin." He strokes my hair and waits for me to continue, so I take a deep breath. "Why can't he just go away? Why? How arrogant can he be? To put out a missing person's report on me after what he did? It's like he's still claiming me, you know?"
"He's not getting you. Ever. He's never coming near you again, Rook, so just put that thought out of your mind, OK?"
"But now he knows I'm here. There's a missing person's report, what does that mean? Will I have to go back?"
"No, Rook. The report has been cleared now, he knows it was cleared here in Larimer County, and that's it. Spencer and Ford already talked to the deputy who pulled you over and he said they have to file a report because they cleared the missing persons out of the database, but that's all they're required to do. They won't mention Spencer or the shop or anything."
I breathe out a little sigh of relief, but Ronin's not done talking yet. "But the problem is, you told everyone he's a computer forensics specialist?"
I nod up at him as my stomach roils with this 'but'.
"He has to know where you are. There's no way he doesn't know where you are. You've done nothing to hide yourself, your social's on record as working for us, you have a bank account…"
My whole face crumples under this news. "Oh, God."
"But look at it this way, Rook. He hasn't bothered you so he's probably given up."
I snort through my sobs. "He didn't give up. You don't understand. He threatened me! He tried to—"
I stop, because even though this is Ronin and I know he's one hundred percent on my side, admitting that I allowed this monster to do these things to me is so hard. It makes me feel so weak and stupid.
Ronin strokes my cheek. "He tried to what?" he asks softly. "Just tell me, Rook. I'm not gonna judge you and I know it must be hard to talk about, but we need to know what we're up against."
"I didn't want to marry him." I look up at Ronin, pleading with him to believe me. "I didn't. But he took me up to this island in the lake near Michigan, some stupid island where they have no cars. And he told me it was for my birthday, when I turned eighteen. Before that we sorta had to hide because he was already twenty-one when we started dating." I stop and meet Ronin's worried eyes. "I was only sixteen. But I was in a bad foster home and I ran away. I'm not even sure how it happened, but next minute I was on the streets homeless, just wandering around. And I begged enough money to go inside this diner and get some food, and he was sitting next to me at the counter. I knew it was stupid then, but I was desperate. So I let him take me home.
"It was OK for a while. I turned seventeen a few months later, and he moved us to that dumpy house his uncle left him when he died. And then all the violence and weird shit started. He was always talking about marriage and at first I said no, I'm too young. But after a while that got me a smack and a long lecture about how I belonged to him. So I just agreed. Then he booked this trip to that island for my eighteenth birthday and when we got there we were staying in the honeymoon cabin at this crappy campground on the lake. And—"
I shake my head as I remember it.
"Tell me, Rook."
I look up at Ronin and just blurt it out. "He tried to drown me. He held me under the water that night, he choked me. I thought I was gonna die, Ronin. I swear. He said he'd kill me if I didn't agree to marry him and if I ever tried to leave him, he'd torture me. And I believed him because he had already done so many terrible, terrible things to my body by that time, drowning and torture were just the next logical steps."
Ronin brings his hands up and scrubs them across his face a few times but he says nothing.
"Please, Ronin, tell me what you're thinking right now. Do you hate me?"
He leans down and kisses my forehead one more time. "No, Rook. Hating you is the last thing I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about how easy it would be for us to kill that motherfucker."
"Us? As in me and you?"
He's got a far-off gaze now, just staring out into space. "No, Gidge. Us, as in Spencer, Ford, and me." He looks down and his eyes are blazing with anger. "It would be so easy, you have no idea."
I think back to what Ford said earlier. I'm sure Ronin's going to ask for favors when he comes back. "What do you mean by that, Ronin?"
He sighs and ignores my question. "You wanna stay here tonight? Or you wanna go home? It's only an hour and a half drive home. Wanna go home?"
"What about the footage we need for the show?"
"Fuck the show. We can do that another day."
"But we have to do it though, right? So let's just stay here and do that tomorrow and then it can be over with."
He gets up and takes my hand, pulling me up with him. "Come on, then. Let's wash your face and get something to eat. You hungry?"
I nod and let him take care of everything. There's nothing about this night I want to be responsible for, I just want him to do all of it.
After I splash some cold water on my face and wash off the dirt and tears, Ronin leads me out to the fire pit near the shop where the crews have a big BBQ going. Everyone is standing around joking and drinking. Even Spencer and Ford have eased in with the crowd. No one seems to know that I had a major meltdown or that my ex is a piece of shit woman-beater and is looking for me so he can come back and finish the job. So I just pack all that bad stuff away and quietly stick to Ronin's side.
It feels normal.
Ronin does this.
Ronin makes me feel normal.
Chapter Twenty-Nine - RONIN
We finish filming late the next day and then we all pile into our vehicles and go back home. Spencer stays one more night since the frame came in from painting and he wanted to start the assembly, but he's back on duty with us bright and early this morning.
Ford has given in to Rook completely. She gets to stay with me. No cameras in the apartment.
Ford is weirdly affected by all this Rook stuff. It hits us all pretty close to home, watching her fall to pieces. It brings back a lot of very bad memories of Mardee and how all that shit went down in the end.
How Ford lost and I won.
But really, no one won. We all lost.
I got Mardee, I took her from Ford, and I lost her anyway.
Rook was wrong the other day when she asked what Ford did to start our fight. It wasn't Ford who did anything. It was me. I'm the one who took Mardee from him, brought her into the studio, then let her get caught up in the life, the money, the drugs, and the sex—only to discard her and leave her to find her own way back from all the scumbags that hover around the periphery of the modeling and entertainment worlds.
He never forgave me, and up until right now—maybe even right this second as I run all this through my head again—I never gave a fuck. I could always take or leave Ford, he was barely an acquaintance and never a friend.
But despite that he was a partner in the business the three of us ran during college.
That was just before Mardee died. Just the one job, we said, just the one guy, the dealer who turned Mardee on to the heroin. We were all feeling guilty. Spence for bringing her around the guys in this neighborhood, Ford for letting me take her away, and me for not caring enough about her to stop what was happening right in front of my face.
But we were all a little
lost after Mardee died, and that job was too easy, because regardless of what Spencer looks like on the outside, the fact is, he's a fucking certifiable genius on the inside.
Ford might just be a well-dressed asshole to most people, but if you saw the guy's psychological profile, you'd shit your pants. I've seen it—that's how I know he's one fucked-up individual. He showed it to me, walked me right into his old man's office, hacked into his computer, and let me read what his own father wrote about him.
Incapable of emotion—high-functioning Asperger's Syndrome with areas of prodigious savant skills.
Like Spencer, Ford is a genius, but unlike Spencer, Ford's brand of intelligence is scary high. Off-the-charts evil-genius kinda shit. The kind of intelligence that comes about once every few hundred years.
But even though Ford has some emotional limitations, he's perceptive to fitting in. He started failing his intelligence tests long before I ever met him. In fact, that file in his father's computer was created when he was only seven years old. Ford never passed another test after that. He hides both his limitations and abilities well.
Showing me that personal file was his way of making things right for that fucked-up prank he pulled on me in high school. But we can all thank his solitary childhood computer geek stage for the special skills he brings to the table now.
Me? I'm not a genius, I'm not a hacker, I'm just the face. But every operation needs a front man, right?
And this Jon Walsh asshole is a worthy opponent. It might even be fun.
I watch Rook and Ford cross the street and then part ways at Ford's little sports car. Rook looks up, sees me watching, then drops her head. I'm not jealous of Ford. If she wants to work out with him, that's her deal. I won't interfere. But that doesn't mean I won't keep my eye on her as she does it.
I stay on the terrace until I hear the door in the apartment beep, then go inside and meet her in the shower.
"Have a nice run?"
"Yes," she says as she takes her clothes off and then gets in. It's just a regular single stream of water, so I take it she doesn't want company and go get dressed. Today is the cyborg bike shoot. It's an amazing custom chopper that's been in the inventory the longest since it was Spencer's first custom bike, and I know he's really counting on this photo to sell the thing soon. So Rook and I will have to be on today.
Trouble is, she's not on at all. She's so off, it's getting dark in there quick. She said almost nothing on the way home yesterday, and it wasn't because of the cameras, because Ford took them out of the truck before we left.
When we went to bed last night I wasn't expecting sex, not after her fucked-up weekend. But I wasn't expecting the cold shoulder either. I had to tug her up next to me. She settled after that, but up until last night, I've never had to encourage it. I don't even want to think about what that might mean.
I wait patiently in the living room as she exits the shower and dresses in some shorts and a tank top. She doesn't even bother with shoes, just grabs my hand when she gets to the door and we walk downstairs together. "You OK?" I ask as we cross the empty studio.
"Yeah, I think so."
I squeeze her hand. "It's a long day. You're a cyborg today."
She smiles but says nothing.
Spencer is messing with the tunes when we walk in and all the crews are busy checking sound and lighting and all that other bullshit they do for the TV show filming. I take a seat on the couch I had a crew member move in over the weekend. I figured if Ford and I had to sit around and watch, we might as well be comfortable. He's not around when we come in, probably still down the street at his corporate apartment.
"What do ya want to listen to today, Rook?" Spencer calls out to her as she goes into the half-hearted attempt at a dressing room and changes into the little robe.
"I don't care. Whatever you want, Spence."
Spencer looks at me after she turns away from him. I shrug.
"Well, that's not an answer, Blackbird. I need an answer. Choose a band."
She turns back, clearly confused at his insistence. "Um." She stops to think. "Lady Gaga?"
I hold down a snort.
"What?" she asks me, annoyed. "I like her."
I throw up my hands in an I surrender gesture, then kick my feet up on the coffee table as Ford walks in.
"Did you just say Lady Gaga, Rook? I love her."
I turn and sneer at him. What a dick.
"But I have a better idea."
"What?" Rook asks, a little defeated by my reaction to her choice in music. I'm the dick and now I feel like shit.
"I'll read to you."
Rook immediately smiles and I'm like, What the fuck? Read to her gets a smile, but me wanting to take a shower gets a big fat nothing?
"It's a joke, Ronin. Relax," Spence says. "Rook was making fun of his reading list last week."
"Yeah," she says. "You were gone that day. With Clare."
Ouch.
She takes her attention back to Ford. "Is it a billionaire book?" She smirks at him.
Smirks.
And everyone laughs but me. Not in on the joke again.
"No," Ford says through his smile. "It's Gatsby. You interested? You never read it, you said."
She sighs and shrugs. "I'd rather you read that one about Rowdy the hot spelunker, but whatever."
Ford is either an evil genius for reminding Rook that I left her last week, or a clueless dumb fuck.
I think we've already established which of those he is.
"OK," he says, taking a seat next to me. "Oh." He looks over my way this time. "I've catered lunch. Rook looks thin, she's not eating enough."
I look over at Spencer and he's shaking his head at me. "Don't do it, Ronin. He's baiting you."
I look over at Rook and she's waiting to see how I'll handle this little remark. What can I say? "Awesome, looking forward to Ford footing the bill for lunch."
Maybe I should go running with them in the morning, because clearly they had quite the conversation while I was back at the studio. And yeah, he's right. She looks a little thinner, but he's implying I'm not keeping track of her. He's implying I'm too busy with Clare to notice.
And he'd be right. Because I haven't weighed her in weeks.
Ford starts reading, Spencer grabs his paints and brushes, and Rook disrobes.
Our day begins.
Ford is adept at narrating books. He really missed his calling in voiceovers. He brings the book to life as Rook listens, cocking her head at all the right moments, internally questioning all the carefully planned foreshadowing, and even stopping him on two occasions to ask a question.
Fucking Ford.
He finishes the book long before Spencer is done painting up Rook's cyborg body and this is the perfect time for everyone to take a break. Spencer offers to walk Rook over to the bathrooms down the hall so I take my attention to Ford as he messes with that stupid e-reader.
"What?" he asks, without looking up at me.
"What are you doing, Ford? You trying to steal her right out from under me, or what? I mean, come on—Mardee was a long time ago…"
He looks up at her name. "Don't," he says, shaking his head. "Don't you fucking dare accuse me of that shit. I'm worried about Rook—"
"You're forgetting something, Ford. You're incapable of being worried about anyone, so save your bullshit for the person who doesn't understand you're an emotionless freak."
"I've invested a lot of time and money, not to mention my reputation with this show, in her. Maybe you don't care about this project, but Spencer and I do. So I'm not going stand by and watch her fall apart because you were too busy with that pathetic drug-addicted princess of yours to give a fuck."
I stand up and Ford follows.
"You want to fight, Ronin?" He stares me in the face. "I'm the guy you need, remember? I'm the only guy who matters in all this. So sit your ass down and shut the fuck up."
My head is throbbing, that's how pissed off I am. The blood is rushing to my head
and I feel like I'm gonna explode if I don't just put my fist through his teeth. I poke him in the chest, a provocation, but Ford has a lot more self-discipline than I ever did. He can't be baited. "You better make it happen then, because I'll tell you what, if I have to put up with you pulling this stealthy girlfriend-stealing bullshit all summer, then you better come through."
He smiles. "If she can be stolen, then she was never yours to begin with. And do not insult my skills or question my ability to come through. I always come through."
Rook and Spencer come back in, chatting about the bike. I guess they went upstairs to see it real fast. Or maybe Spencer knew Ford and I were gonna get into it and he took her far enough away so she didn't have to see it.
"What now, Rook?" Spence asks. "Story or music?"
"What else you have on that thing, Ford?" She wanders over and sits down next to me. I put my hand on her shoulder and rub her back a little. She shudders and then leans into my chest.
"Watch the paint, Rook!" Spencer calls.
She sits up and looks back at me apologetically. "You're bored, huh?"
"Not at all, Gidget. Not at all." I smile at her. She's totally naked, but she's covered in so much paint right now, it's easy to forget. "Pick—story or music."
"Story," she says, glancing back at Ford. "Rowdy the Spelunker and that virgin chick."
"Ashley," Ford chimes in.
Rook laughs. "You've been reading it!"
He shakes his head and she giggles at him. Giggles.
"How about The Secret Garden?" he asks in a low voice.
Now she loses it, her laugh is so big even I have to smile. I look over at Ford and he knows he just won. He knows it.
"You'll read The Secret Garden to me?" She squints her eyes at him in disbelief.
"Yes, go, let Spencer finish so we can be done."
And Ford does read that stupid girly childhood book to her. Every motherfucking flowery word of it. And this time Rook's face is more than interested and questioning.
She's enchanted.
Chapter Thirty - ROOK
Spencer has painted me up as a cyborg.
