I’ve spent the last few years trying to understand all the mistakes I made that year, but even after all my recent hardcore introspection, I’m still not sure I could have changed things. I could’ve let Ford have her, but I’m not convinced she would’ve listened to him if he told her no modeling because the girl could only be described as a whirlwind. She blew into our little group and twisted us all up, then left all the damage in her wake.
And all four of us participated in it. It wasn’t just her, it wasn’t just me, or Spencer, or Ford. It was all of us. We got caught up in the shit and the shit kicked our asses.
Us guys share that regret and I suppose that’s what keeps us so connected. Her death mixed with the knowledge of how much power we have as a team. How much damage we’re actually capable of. Because after Mardee died, we wielded that power to the extreme for the better part of a year.
Until we conned the wrong guy.
The bathroom door opens and I drag myself out of the past. Elise comes back with red eyes and a sniffly nose. “What’s wrong, Ellie?” I asks her softly. She drops down next to me and I wrap her up in my arms and pull her close. “You’re just emotional because of the pregnancy. Don’t cry.”
She cries harder.
I should know better. When you tell a girl not to cry, they really think you’re telling them to go for it.
“Tell me,” I say in French, because French is the language of Antoine and our charmed life with him. It’s a reminder that we are good, and happy, and normal. “You can tell me, Elise. I’m a good listener.”
“I’m gonna screw up this kid, Ronin,” she replies in English. “I have no idea how to be a good mother.”
“Oh, come on.” I tsk my tongue at her. “You’re just being silly now. And you know what?”
She looks up at me with her red and watery eyes. “What?”
“You did a pretty good job with me. You raised me since I was a baby. You changed my diapers and fed me and made sure I took baths and brushed my teeth. When people used to ask who my mother was when I was a kid, I’d always tell them you. It kinda freaked some people out once you got to be a teenager.” She stops crying for a second and huffs out a half laugh. “You know exactly what to do with a baby because you’ve already done it with me. And barring that one near-grand jury indictment, I came out just fine.”
She laughs for real now and I know I’ve won.
“You’d be a good father too, Ronin.”
“Yeah, I really would.” I kiss my sister on the head as she wipes her tears and settles down. “I’m looking forward to being a father, actually. And your new guy will be the perfect petit garçon to practice on.”
We watch a bunch of Vampire Diaries shit for the next couple hours and she tells me the whole story, explaining every freaking detail of Stefan, Damon, Elena and what the f**k ever. I try to listen, but I’m too preoccupied with daydreams of baby girls who look like Rook to do more than give her an obligatory nod every once in a while.
Chapter Eighteen - ROOK
My life has gone from fast and fabulous to dead-ass boring in one week. Last week I was Rook, super naked model for Antoine Chaput and the human canvas for Spencer Shrike’s amazing artwork. Now I’m a receptionist who has no idea how to subtract negative numbers and requires a paid tutor even though she is twenty f**king years old. The phone rings and I pick it up. “Good afternoon, Spencer Shrike Bikes, this is Rook, how can I help you?”
You see? This is my new life.
“Yes,” I say back to the person on the line as I click through the bike production schedule on the computer. “We have a Skype conference scheduled for next Monday at ten thirty AM mountain time.”
I make appointments. I pick up tailpipes from the chrome guy down in La Porte and painted frames from the body shop in Fort Collins. Sometimes, if my day is really exciting, I also swing by the upholsterer’s shop in Loveland and grab a bike seat or two.
“Great, I’ll call you five minutes before the meeting and we’ll get your bike in production,” I say enthusiastically to the guy on the other end of the phone. “Thanks!”
I hang up the phone and turn back to the shop. Ford’s presence startles me because I didn’t hear him walk over. “What’s up?” I ask.
Ford’s job here is still undefined. I’m not sure why he’s on the show, let alone what his purpose is in Spencer’s shop. But no one cares what I think. I’m a f**king receptionist now, so I have to make coffee, and take sandwich orders for all these men, and when we have person-to-person meetings with important people who are gonna be on the show—we’ve got famous bikers coming out of the f**king walls already and we’ve only taped two days—it’s my job to flirt with them.
“I need to go town. Need anything?”
“Do I need anything? Yeah, you know what I need? A life, that’s what I need. Can you pick one up for me?”
Ford scowls at me. “Why are you such a bitch today?”
I sigh. “I have to take a test for math by tomorrow and I’m still confused. Plus, I’d like to go see Ronin early, but f**king Spencer has some guy coming in for the show, so they want me here until six tomorrow. So how am I supposed to get to Ronin’s early if I’m stuck here until six and I have to take a test after?”
“Cheat on the test and tell Spence to f**k off.” He shrugs, like that’s the most stupid simple answer in the world.
And all four of us participated in it. It wasn’t just her, it wasn’t just me, or Spencer, or Ford. It was all of us. We got caught up in the shit and the shit kicked our asses.
Us guys share that regret and I suppose that’s what keeps us so connected. Her death mixed with the knowledge of how much power we have as a team. How much damage we’re actually capable of. Because after Mardee died, we wielded that power to the extreme for the better part of a year.
Until we conned the wrong guy.
The bathroom door opens and I drag myself out of the past. Elise comes back with red eyes and a sniffly nose. “What’s wrong, Ellie?” I asks her softly. She drops down next to me and I wrap her up in my arms and pull her close. “You’re just emotional because of the pregnancy. Don’t cry.”
She cries harder.
I should know better. When you tell a girl not to cry, they really think you’re telling them to go for it.
“Tell me,” I say in French, because French is the language of Antoine and our charmed life with him. It’s a reminder that we are good, and happy, and normal. “You can tell me, Elise. I’m a good listener.”
“I’m gonna screw up this kid, Ronin,” she replies in English. “I have no idea how to be a good mother.”
“Oh, come on.” I tsk my tongue at her. “You’re just being silly now. And you know what?”
She looks up at me with her red and watery eyes. “What?”
“You did a pretty good job with me. You raised me since I was a baby. You changed my diapers and fed me and made sure I took baths and brushed my teeth. When people used to ask who my mother was when I was a kid, I’d always tell them you. It kinda freaked some people out once you got to be a teenager.” She stops crying for a second and huffs out a half laugh. “You know exactly what to do with a baby because you’ve already done it with me. And barring that one near-grand jury indictment, I came out just fine.”
She laughs for real now and I know I’ve won.
“You’d be a good father too, Ronin.”
“Yeah, I really would.” I kiss my sister on the head as she wipes her tears and settles down. “I’m looking forward to being a father, actually. And your new guy will be the perfect petit garçon to practice on.”
We watch a bunch of Vampire Diaries shit for the next couple hours and she tells me the whole story, explaining every freaking detail of Stefan, Damon, Elena and what the f**k ever. I try to listen, but I’m too preoccupied with daydreams of baby girls who look like Rook to do more than give her an obligatory nod every once in a while.
Chapter Eighteen - ROOK
My life has gone from fast and fabulous to dead-ass boring in one week. Last week I was Rook, super naked model for Antoine Chaput and the human canvas for Spencer Shrike’s amazing artwork. Now I’m a receptionist who has no idea how to subtract negative numbers and requires a paid tutor even though she is twenty f**king years old. The phone rings and I pick it up. “Good afternoon, Spencer Shrike Bikes, this is Rook, how can I help you?”
You see? This is my new life.
“Yes,” I say back to the person on the line as I click through the bike production schedule on the computer. “We have a Skype conference scheduled for next Monday at ten thirty AM mountain time.”
I make appointments. I pick up tailpipes from the chrome guy down in La Porte and painted frames from the body shop in Fort Collins. Sometimes, if my day is really exciting, I also swing by the upholsterer’s shop in Loveland and grab a bike seat or two.
“Great, I’ll call you five minutes before the meeting and we’ll get your bike in production,” I say enthusiastically to the guy on the other end of the phone. “Thanks!”
I hang up the phone and turn back to the shop. Ford’s presence startles me because I didn’t hear him walk over. “What’s up?” I ask.
Ford’s job here is still undefined. I’m not sure why he’s on the show, let alone what his purpose is in Spencer’s shop. But no one cares what I think. I’m a f**king receptionist now, so I have to make coffee, and take sandwich orders for all these men, and when we have person-to-person meetings with important people who are gonna be on the show—we’ve got famous bikers coming out of the f**king walls already and we’ve only taped two days—it’s my job to flirt with them.
“I need to go town. Need anything?”
“Do I need anything? Yeah, you know what I need? A life, that’s what I need. Can you pick one up for me?”
Ford scowls at me. “Why are you such a bitch today?”
I sigh. “I have to take a test for math by tomorrow and I’m still confused. Plus, I’d like to go see Ronin early, but f**king Spencer has some guy coming in for the show, so they want me here until six tomorrow. So how am I supposed to get to Ronin’s early if I’m stuck here until six and I have to take a test after?”
“Cheat on the test and tell Spence to f**k off.” He shrugs, like that’s the most stupid simple answer in the world.
