Текст книги "Panic"
Автор книги: J. A. Huss
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Chapter Fourteen – RONIN
After Rook and I hang up I lie on the couch and halfheartedly watch The Last Samurai as I think about making love to her this morning. She’s definitely getting more adventurous, but I still feel the need to be careful with her.
A knock brings me out of the daydream and I jump up and jog over to the door. It can only be one of three people. Clare, Elise, or Antoine. That’s one thing about living in a secure building. No unexpected visitors.
The door lock clicks as I open it and Clare is smiling at me from the other side of the threshold. “Hey, what’s up, little chick?” She’s wearing some pink shorts and a white tank top, looking totally cute.
“Can I come in?”
I throw the door open wide. “Mi casa and all that shit, right?”
She laughs. “Right.” She eyes my outfit now. I’m only wearing a pair of baggy black sweatpants cut off mid-thigh and her gaze lingers on my bare chest a little too long. I clear my throat and wave her over to the couch. She takes a seat in the middle so I plop down next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. “You came to hang out and watch movies? Or you have something on your mind?”
She looks up at me with those blue eyes of hers and I can’t help but smile. “I just needed to say it in person, that’s all. When I’m not high, or crying, or a total mess in all the other ways in which I’m normally a total fucking mess.”
I squeeze her a little. “Say what?”
“Thank you. I really mean it, Ronin. I know you put up with a lot from me last summer. I was a total pain in your ass and I probably made your life more difficult than it needed to be. So I’m sorry for that.”
“Hey,” I say, taking her chin and lifting it up so she has to look at me. “You’re family, right? I love you. You’re part of me now and I’m not gonna let you give up. I never understood what that drug was to people, but I know now. After watching you struggle and go through all that pain, I know. But you’re a fighter, Clare. And I have an idea about what you’re feeling, so just put those doubts out of your head. You’re gonna make it. You’re over the worst and now it’s just maintaining, right?”
She swallows hard and leans back against my chest. I automatically sit back into the couch cushions and pull her in next to me.
“You’re a good guy, Ronin. I totally messed up when I blew it with you back in high school.”
“Yeah, well. Bygones, OK? Don’t dwell on my silly high-school crush. I’m happy with how things shook out. You’ll find the right guy, Clare. You’re fucking beautiful, and smart, and French.”
She laughs and then turns her head up to look at me. “But—maybe, if things don’t work out with you and Rook, you might give me another chance?”
I laugh a little. “Well, I hate to disappoint you because I’m gonna marry Rook. But I promise, if things go bad, I’ll call you first, OK?”
Her fingertip traces along my lower arm and sends a chill through my whole body. “I miss you.”
I push her off and get up because this is not gonna happen. “I’m tired, OK? I gotta get some sleep so Roger and I can get everything ready for the test shoots on Monday. Maybe you can help us choose the girls, eh? You have a good eye for that, right?”
Clare drags herself up from the couch and walks off slowly, not turning back until the front door is open and she’s about to walk through. “Everyone can see she’s a mess, Ronin. She’s not gonna stick around.”
Clare pulls the door closed behind her before I can object so I just stand there, holding my breath as I internalize those words. Ford pretty much said the same thing. She’s checking out, Ronin. That’s what he said. And even though Clare knows nothing about Rook, she’s right. Rook is a mess. She’s looking pretty good on the outside, but the stuff she’s covering up on the inside is another matter. I grab my phone off the coffee table and press Spencer.
“Yeeeello.”
“Yello? Dude, you sound like a fucking eighty-year-old grandpa.”
“And your point is? Grandpas are cool, everyone loves a grandpa.”
“Pfft, obviously you’ve never been to the Chaput family compound in France.”
“I hear that papi of yours is a real killer.”
“Yeah, like literally. He ran over the baker last month with his fucking bicycle. There were baguettes everywhere, made the guy sprain his ankle. He’s lucky he’s not in jail.”
Spencer laughs. “OK, well, what the fuck do you want? I got nothing to tell you, really, Rook seems fine. We had dinner, she did the dishes because I cooked and you know Ford, he’s not about to lower himself to do domestic work. Then they came out to the shop and filmed me with her new camera, trying to bait me into saying something stupid so they could edit it down and embarrass me. She’s OK.”
I let out a long breath. “I dunno, Ford said—”
“Why the fuck, Ronin—after all these years, after all the bullshit between the two of you—why the hell are you even wasting one fucking second on what that asshole has to say about your fucking girlfriend? I mean seriously.”
“Because he’s been noticing some really fucked-up signs, Spencer. Stuff that only he would see, stuff that makes me sick to even think about.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
“Yeah, oh. And I have to say, now that he’s put it out there, I can sorta see it too. I think she needs real help, Spence. She pretends like none of those years with Jon Walsh ever happened. Or actually, maybe she’s not pretending. Maybe she’s legitimately blocked it out and she can’t remember? And Ford said she’s gonna leave. He doesn’t think she’ll stick around.”
More silence.
“Spence?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Just thinking is all. God, I fucking hope he’s wrong. Do you think he’s wrong? It was just your run-of-the-mill abusive relationship, right? I can’t even think about that other shit.”
“I want to believe he’s wrong too, I really do. But I don’t think he is. I mean, Ford knows. And they are very close right now. He spends a lot of time with her. She trusts him. They might, in fact, be BFFs or something.”
It’s Spencer’s turn to let out a long breath. “Well, maybe she needs a new best friend? I’ll call Veronica and see if she’ll invite Rook to hang out. Plus, she’s got that coupon for a free—”
“Spencer, do not tat up my girl, OK? I like her the way she is.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll call up Ronnie and see if she’ll take her shopping or something. Rook needs girlfriends anyway. It’s not good for her to hang out with so many guys.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“I’ll keep my eye on her. I think Ford’s gonna—oh, hold on, here he is—”
There’s some shuffling sounds as the phone is passed to Ford, then some muffled talking.
“How can I help you, Ronin?”
“I’m not sure. I’m just worried about her.”
“She seems fine for now. She was in a good mood tonight. She’s in bed. I’ll wake her up early to run stadiums in town, and she’s got the party tomorrow night, and schoolwork. Her days will be full. She might just settle down and be fine.”
“Or she might not.”
“Right, well, we’ll have to wait and see. I’ll do my best to see if I can persuade her to seek help, but it’s touchy. She won’t put up with a lot of pushing from me. She walks away angry.”
“She walks away from everyone. Including me. I can’t push her either.”
“So why are you?”
“What choice do I have? Just let her hold it all in until it explodes?”
“I told you about Wade. I think she should talk to him. Maybe that will spur her in one direction or another?”
Silence from me now.
“If she chooses him, then there’s nothing you can do, Ronin.”
More silence from me.
“She won’t choose him, though. I’ve spied on him, sifted through all his online records. He’s not her type anymore.” He waits a few seconds to see if I’ll respond, but I don’t. “Well, it’s been fun. Here’s Spencer.”
“Yeeeello.”
I laugh a little. “You’re a dumbass.”
“Hey, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll go kiss her goodnight for you.”
“Asshole. OK, I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“Later, Larue.”
The line goes silent before I can respond to Spencer’s dig.
Nothing I can do. Ford is right, this is all about her and there’s just nothing I can do.
Chaper Fifteen – ROOK
I’m up with time to spare the next day. I throw on some black yoga pants, a black running tank, a Shrike Bikes zippered hoodie, and my running shoes. Ford lives above the shop, so I grab my camera and head down the driveway to see if he’s awake and ready.
Spencer has all his doors coded like Chaput Studios so the crew and other employees can get access when they need to, so I punch in my code and walk through the shop reception area. This is where I’ll be working. Answering phones, making appointments for clients to Skype in with Spencer and place a custom order, driving around town picking up and dropping shit off.
Your basic receptionist-slash-delivery driver position.
Right now the shop has eight bikes in progress. Spencer and another guy named Ryan build the custom bikes, while Fletch and Griff make the showroom bikes. Customers are allowed to ask for modifications, so they do a little custom shit too. What Ford will be doing here is beyond me. As far as I know, he doesn’t build bikes. But he’s been known to surprise me before. He lives upstairs above the shop in another apartment. I walk to the far end of the work area, picking my way between half-built bikes and tool chests, then climb the steep steps.
I knock.
I hear a faint, “Come in,” from behind the door.
“Ford?” I call back as I open the door.
“You’re early,” he says through a mouthful of toothbrush. He’s wearing a pair of old jeans that hang low on his hips, exposing his happy trail because he has no shirt on.
Hmmm. Ford is not a bad-looking guy. He’s all muscle, but not the same way that Spencer is. Spencer is bulky and buff. Ford is lean and taut.
Taut. What a great word. I laugh internally at that, then realize I laughed externally as well.
“Stop staring at me. I never stared at you when you were prancing around naked all summer.”
“I didn’t prance! And I’m not staring,” I reply, blushing. “I was comparing your body to Spencer’s.”
He walks back into the bathroom to spit and rinse. “How do I stack up?” he asks, walking across the hallway to his bedroom to change.
“Umm—” I shouldn’t even go there.
He peeks his head around the corner and tugs a black shirt on. “Well? You can be honest because let’s face it, I’m much better built than Spencer.” He ducks back into his room and I laugh.
“Well, you’re certainly more full of yourself.”
“Right. That’s a good one. I’m humble compared to Spencer.” He comes back out into the little living room with his shoes and sits down on the couch. His jeans are gone now, and replacing them are his usual black running pants. “Why do you have that camera? Is this gonna be your thing? You’re one of those film students who records every moment of their life?”
I shrug. “Maybe. What’s it to you? I’m eager, that’s all.”
He looks up from lacing a shoe and smiles. “Yes, I can tell.”
I’m not sure if that was innuendo or not, so I change the subject. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“CSU Football stadium. It’s southwest of FoCo, but there’s a back road we can take from Bellvue, so it shouldn’t take too long to get there. It’s a scenic drive, that’s for sure. So you can film that if you want something nice for B-roll.”
“I love it when you talk film to me, Ford.”
He smirks up at me as he finishes up his shoes. “You’re not allowed to be this happy at five in the morning. I will train that smug smile right off your face in about twenty minutes, you wait.”
He grabs his keys and one of those trendy running jackets and we hop down the stairs and walk outside to his Bronco. I get my camera ready just in case there is something pretty to shoot for B-roll. You never know when you’ll need a shot of Colorado back country.
We drive in silence—well, that’s relative because this hunk of junk is not exactly quiet. But neither of us mind letting the rumble of the engine fill the silence. I just watch out my window, filming the scenery. We go right through Bellvue and come out on an empty road south of town. It takes us past a lake on one side and a bunch of university buildings on the other. “Research stations,” Ford says, pointing to the buildings. “Horsetooth Reservoir,” he says, pointing to the lake.
A few miles later the stadium comes into view. We have to go past it and double back on another road to get there, but it really didn’t take that long. “Wow, there’s a lot of cars here. They must have quite the AM training program.”
“Homecoming weekend stuff,” he explains. “But we’ve got permission as long as we’re out by eight.”
“How do you get permission for all this, Ford?”
“Money,” he deadpans. Then he looks over at me and laughs. “How else?”
“You have to pay for us to run? Did you have to pay for me at Coors Field?”
He ignores me and pulls the Bronco up to a security guard at the parking lot entrance, then reaches into his jacket pocket and flashes two ID’s. The guard waves us through. “Money,” he says again, looking over at me this time. “And hacking skills.”
I’m not sure if he’s serious, so I leave it. Because I’m not interested in his hacking activities or anything else Ford does with Spencer and Ronin as part of their ‘business’.
I hide my camera under an old jacket that Ford hands me from the backseat and then we head over to the stadium entrance. We pass several more security checks. Each time Ford flashes those badges and each time we are waved forward. Ford seems to know where he’s going so I just follow. We come out in the stands, about halfway up, like we used to at Coors Field.
“OK,” Ford says once we get inside and choose a spot that’s not being used by other runners. “I will slow down for you. From now on, we run together. But I won’t slow all the way down, you need to meet me halfway. So you have to actually push yourself. No more slacking off.”
“Well, that’s no fun. I’m a moper, remember? I come to shuffle.”
“Your shuffling days are over, Rook. And I’m sick of your moping. From now on, you’re training with me. So keep up or I’ll find ways to make your life uncomfortable.”
“Ha! Like how?” I cross my arms in front of my chest in defiance and before I can even process what he’s doing, he leans forward into my personal space and slips his hand under my hair behind my neck, drawing me close to him. His touch affects me immediately and I flush with heat. I can probably count on two hands the number of times Ford has actually touched me, and most of them have happened in the past few days. His mouth dips down to my ear, his breath hot against my skin, and for a second I think my heart will actually stop from the shock of it all.
I swallow.
“Like this, Rook.” Ford’s soft words vibrate into me. “I like you. I’d like to show you how much, actually. I’m being a gentleman to make life easier for you, but believe me, it’s not really in my nature to be so accommodating. I typically just take what I want.”
A shudder erupts as his fingertips drag lightly across the back of my neck. He pulls away smiling. “So keep the fuck up or I’ll make things very confusing.”
And then he turns and takes off running up the stairs.
What the hell just happened?
But I don’t have time to think because he’s already halfway up this aisle. I follow, running hard for a second to try and catch up, but once I match him he slows a little so that I don’t have to exert myself too much. He continues to adjust our pace like this, running harder for ten or twenty seconds, then slowing down for a minute or more.
And I realize something.
Ford knows me. He knows exactly what I’m capable of at my current fitness level. He recognizes the sound of my breathing when I’m getting winded, as well as the sound of it when I’m too comfortable.
He pushes me to do better and try harder in just the right way.
Not too fast, not too slow.
But just right.
We run this way for almost an hour. Much longer than we normally did at Coors Field. That was always thirty minutes or so. I’m starting to lag behind severely, and no amount of threatening me with uncomfortable sexual touching will make me keep up, so he slows to a walk. “We’ll do two sets like this, then we can be done.”
I wait for my hard breathing to slow and my heart rate to come back to normal and then I figure I have to say something. Because the entire run, all I thought about was how his hand felt on the back of my neck. “Are we playing again, Ford?”
“Playing what?”
“Are you gonna try and make a move on me? I thought we were friends?”
“I thought you said you trusted me to do what’s right for you?”
“Yeah, as a friend, I do! But that was before—” I’m not sure what the hell that was back there so I don’t even have a word ready to describe it. Ford doesn’t offer any help, in fact I can sorta see him smirking out of the corner of my eye. “I think you just came on to me.”
He laughs, then stops and stands in front of me, forcing me to look at him. “Believe me, Rook,” he says with a serious expression. “If I was coming on to you, you’d have no trouble recognizing it.” He turns and continues walking.
“So I should just—what? Ignore that exchange back there?”
“Just keep up in training, Rook. And you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
I stop and throw up my hands. “OK, I’m done then. I’m out.” I turn around and start walking down the stairs.
He follows and when he gets alongside me he jumps down several steps and cuts me off. He starts walking back up, which makes me almost fall, but he grabs my arm and then lets go when I’m steady again. “So that’s it?”
“What’s it?” I ask, annoyed.
“That’s your boundary? I can push you to run past your current endurance level just fine. You adjust and work harder without one complaint even though I doubled our running time and had you gasping for breath on four occasions. But when I push emotionally, you shut down and run away immediately. You know, I’m the guy who supposedly has no emotions, I’m the one who’s supposed to be incapable of feeling. I’m the one who doesn’t give a fuck about people. But you, Miss Corvus, are really giving me a run for my money. You want to play as long as you’re in control, right? You stare at my chest then freely admit you’re checking me out to compare to Spencer. So I might ask you the same question. What are you doing with me?”
“You said we were friends. I was joking about Spencer.”
“You spend time with me why, Rook? Because I’m your friend? Or because you like this game we’re playing? You say you love Ronin but you argue and rebel against all his good advice, yet you do almost everything I ask whenever I dangle the smallest carrot in front of your face. Why?”
“I just want you to be my friend.”
“That’s not an answer to my question. Answer the question.”
I get flustered for a second and don’t have anything to say. “Why do I like you? Is this what you’re asking? You need me to stroke your ego a bit, Ford?”
He laughs. “Hardly, Rook. I just want the truth from you.”
“I just need a friend. I want you to be my friend.”
“I am your friend.”
“But that back there was not what friends do, Ford. It did confuse me. I already have a boyfriend. We’re in love.”
“Yeah, a boyfriend who’s desperate for me to figure out what the fuck is going on inside that messed-up head of yours because he’s terrified you’ll walk out on him if he asks you himself.”
“What? You assholes are talking about me? He’s asking you for advice and you make a move on me?” I shake my head and start walking off again, but this time Ford grabs my wrist.
“Stop!” he commands.
I stop.
And then I realize what he just did and attempt to yank myself free. But each time I struggle he pulls me closer until I’m pressed against his chest, fighting off tears. He leans down again and whispers in my ear. “I was wrong about you, Rook.”
I swallow and look up at him, meeting his gaze.
“You’re not inexperienced, are you?”
My heart is ready to jack itself right out of my chest and I try my hardest to break free, but he holds me tight and close.
“You’re not inexperienced, you’re submissive. You just spent the last few years unconditionally following orders, didn’t you?”
“You have no idea—”
He grips my wrist hard enough to cut off my words and make me cry out. “I’m the guy who brought a pet to your birthday party, Rook. Don’t fucking tell me I have no idea.”
I turn off. That’s all I have left, I just turn off. I stop struggling as my eyes glaze over. I concentrate on a point out on the sidelines where a cheerleader is doing tumbling moves. A few of her friends join her and—
“Look at me.”
“Fuck you.”
He lets go of my wrist and I lower my head and count the seconds to see what he’s up to. When I get to ten and he has nothing to say, I jump down the stairs and head for the parking lot.
