Текст книги "Panic"

Автор книги: J. A. Huss

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fuck off.” He shrugs, like that’s the most stupid simple answer in the world.

“Cheat? That’s real nice, Ford.”

“That’s why I hired that tutor in the first place, Rook. I never expected you to actually learn the shit. When he called Monday night and said you didn’t want him to take the tests for you I was appalled by your morals.”

I laugh a little. “I’m not against working the system, Ford. Seriously, I’m not some high-and-mighty moral fuck who looks down on people who take shortcuts or whatever. But if I am gonna screw up my karma with underhanded tactics, I’m gonna do it for a subject that is not pre-fucking-algebra, OK? I’m gonna do it for biology or the real algebra class I have to take next semester, the one that counts.”

“OK, I see your point for that one, but you can still tell Spencer to fuck off.”

I laugh again. “What are you getting in town?”

“An apartment.”

“What? Why? You’re gonna move out?”

He smiles coyly as his eyes dart around the shop. “No, not exactly. I just need a place. A place that’s not here.”

“Uh-huh. For that pet of yours?”

“No, I’m trying something different now.”

“Get the fuck out of my reception area. I’m busy.”

He walks out the front door laughing.

I shudder and try to get that image out of my head. I can’t stand to think of Ford with these girls. It makes me sick. He knows this too, and I think he likes making me uncomfortable with the notion of his personal life.

Or maybe it’s all in my head. Ford probably doesn’t give one shit about what I think of him.

I check the clock and it’s almost six, so I shut down the computer and clean up my desk so it looks presentable for the cameras. They’re not here today, but they will be tomorrow because that important biker dude is taping his show. My phone buzzes just as I’m about to throw it in my purse and I read the text from Ronin.

Working late. Call you tomorrow.

I don’t text back because that’s the second time this week he said that and it’s pissing me off.

This job sucks. The money is good, ten thousand dollars an episode, but do I really need another hundred and twenty thousand dollars?

I shrug to myself. It’s a lot of money to most people. Hell, it’s a lot of money to me, but it doesn’t mean much when I have plenty of money these days.

I slip on my Shrike Bikes leather jacket that Spencer had custom-made for my birthday, grab my purse and backpack, and peek around the wall that separates my area from the shop. They are all busy behind the glass, laughing and joking as they work. These fucking guys love their jobs. They stay until all hours—hell, they practically live here. I push the door open and the noise of men leaks out. “Hey, I’m taking off, Spencer. I have to meet my tutor, OK?”

All of them wave but only Spencer calls out a ‘goodbye.’

Yup. I’m no one special here, that’s for sure.

I walk up the driveway to my Shrike truck, throw my bag and purse onto the passenger seat, and climb in. I do love this truck, though. Although I’m careful not to speed on the road into town. That deputy who busted me for speeding is always on the lookout. I think he wants to date me though, not write a ticket.

I’d rather get the ticket. So I drive the fucking speed limit all the way into Fort Collins. And let me tell you this, living thirty minutes from town sucks. I hate it. La Porte is not very far, but that place has nothing, it might as well be Bellvue. It takes even longer to get to my community college because it’s all the way on the south side of FoCo, so by the time I make it to the math building, grab all my shit, and haul myself across the parking lot, my tutor Gage is already waiting for me outside.

“We gotta go somewhere else tonight, Rook. Water pipe broke and there’s a massive clean-up going on in there.”

Gage is kinda hot for a nerd. He doesn’t have those stupid black glasses and he doesn’t wear a pen protector in his pocket, but he’s definitely a nerd. I know this because I asked him what he does on the weekends yesterday and he said study. He’s in some special engineering department down at CU Boulder, not regular building stuff, but like robots or mechanical hearts or some shit like that.

“Well, where can we go? I’m not familiar with this area, Gage, sorry. You’ll have to pick.”

“There’s a coffee shop with wireless down the street. We could go there.”

“Great,” I say as we make our way back to the parking lot. “I’ll follow you.”

I have a better parking spot than he does, so I reach my truck first. He eyeballs it with a weird look on his face as he walks past. Probably wondering what I’m doing with a Shrike Bikes vehicle. It’s pretty conspicuous, this truck. I really need to buy a car of my own so I can blend in.

I pull the truck out and look around to see what he’s driving. There’s only one car on the move and that’s an old-ass light blue Camaro. He waves at me to follow and we pull out.

The coffee shop is busy and loud when we walk in, but Gage points to the back where there’s doors separating a section from the main room and a sign that says, Study Area.

We’re the only people in there, but he picks a table in the corner to get away from the noise in the other room.

“OK, here’s the deal. That guy who hired me for you called earlier and said you need to take that test tonight so you can leave town tomorrow. So we’re gonna pull up the test, you can do it yourself, but if you have a question, I’ll be here to answer it.”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s an online math class, Rook. Everyone is cheating. It’s open book, anyway. What’s the difference?”

“I just don’t want help. I’d rather you check my work that I did last night and explain where I went wrong. I’ll take the test tomorrow night like I planned, my boyfriend down in Denver will wait and Ford can just butt the fuck out of my life. It’s none of his business, and just because he’s the one who pays you doesn’t mean you have to listen to him. I can pay you myself, you know. I don’t need his money.”

Gage is staring at me with another weird look.

“What?” I ask.

He laughs. Like loud.

“What?”

“I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“Ford? The guy who hired me is Ford Aston, isn’t it?”

“Um, well, I don’t actually know his last name but—”

“Rich, pretentious asshole?”

I laugh. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“And you drive a Shrike Bikes truck because you’re working for Spencer Shrike?”

“Yeeeahhhh…”

“Please tell me the guy you’re meeting in Denver tomorrow is not Ronin Flynn. Please.”

“Why?” My heart starts beating super-fast at the mention of Ronin’s name. “He’s my boyfriend, why?”

“Are you from here?”

“No, what’s that got to do with anything?”

He shakes his head as he laughs, then huffs out a long breath of air. “Well, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your friends are bad fucking news. And if I were you, I’d get as far away from them as you possibly can because they committed a high-profile murder a couple years back and walked away free and clear on a technicality.”

Chapter Nineteen – ROOK

I blow through the doors of Best Buy on College Ave on my way home from tutoring and before the greeter guy can ask me what I need I bark out, “Laptops?” I’m already moving down the aisle he’s pointing to before he can get the words out. Back in computers another kid wants to help me so I manage to say, “The best laptop you have, now.”

Ten minutes later I’m cruising back down College, my mind racing with wild imagery of my friends committing murder. I need to do some serious research and a phone browser just isn’t cutting it. Hence the laptop purchase.

I played it cool with Gage earlier. “Oh, that,” I snorted. “I know the inside story, it’s nothing.”

I’m pretty sure he saw through me because I’m a terrible liar, but it was all I had in me. My head was spinning the whole time. I told him I’d do the test tonight on his computer if he left me alone so I wasn’t tempted to cheat. I did take the test, but I definitely failed. That’s because the only thing on my mind was the fucking search page I pulled up and was glancing at on and off while I was trying to subtract negative numbers.

How the fuck did I never think to Google these guys? How? After all I’ve been through, how the hell did I not even once get curious?

Because Gage was not lying. I found an article almost immediately, but I didn’t want to leave a search history on his computer, and I don’t have my own computer at Spencer’s, I just use his.

So manic shopping spree through Best Buy at eight forty-five PM was in order.

I do not even know how I got myself back to Spence’s house, but here I am, sitting in the idling truck in the driveway.

The outside light goes on and Spencer peeks out the door. “Hey, comin’ in or what?”

I turn the truck off and grab all my shit and go inside.

“What’s all that?” Spence asks as I struggle with all the bags. I got an extra power cord and a battery and pretty much everything else the salesman said I needed just so I didn’t have to fight with him about it.

“Just a computer, you know I should have my own, right? I’ll need it for class.” I smile and make my way towards the stairs. “Well, I’m beat and we have a big day tomorrow, so I’ll see you in the AM. Night, Spencer!”

“Night, Blackbird,” he calls out softly to me. It’s like he knows. Something’s off with me.

Shit, shit, shit.

But when I get downstairs to my apartment and look back, he’s not following me, so I push through the door and dump all my shit on the new couch and then start tearing into the bags. An hour later my computer’s up and running and connected to the house wireless.

I wonder if they can see my browsing history remotely?

I’m a paranoid freak because of Jon. But I don’t have the patience. And besides, what would they do if I found out? I mean, seriously? They have to know that I’d stumble onto it eventually.

I plug their names into the search bar and I swear my heart skips when I see what the headlines actually say.

Brutal Slaying by Local Golden Boys

Boulder Seeks Grand Jury Indictment of Aston, Flynn, and Shrike

Golden Boys Walk!

I lean back on the couch after reading more than two dozen articles and let out a long breath. “Well, Rook. You sure can pick them.”

What should I do? Should I leave? Should I confront Ronin? Should I ignore it?

I run through each one—it would be stupid to just leave. I could, I have plenty of money, but these guys have been very good to me. And Ronin’s never lied about anything before. He told me all about Mardee and he admitted that they set Jon up. And I can’t confront them. I’m not a confrontational person, it makes me sick, actually. I can’t even imagine doing that.

So ignore it?

How? How can I ignore the fact that some millionaire businessman up in the Boulder hills was brutally killed a few years ago and my fucking boyfriend and his BFFs are the ones who were accused?

And the article says straight up the DA had the evidence but they couldn’t use it in court because they obtained it illegally.

But this is Ronin, Rook. Do not overreact.

I clear my browser, cookies, and cache just in case.

Just in case what?

Shit, I’m doing it again! I’m acting like I was back in Chicago with Jon.

But I shut the computer down clean all the same, then take it in my room with me as I sit on my bed.

The bed that Ronin purchased for me, along with all the other stuff in this apartment. It’s way more than ten thousand dollars’ worth of stuff. The TV, the surround sound, the furniture, the kitchenette supplies.

But he did lie to the police about Jon. And he was quite convincing. They left me alone all afternoon before asking for my statement. I didn’t need to lie, actually. Everything I said in my statement was true. Ronin said he saw the threatening texts on my phone, but I never saw them, and that’s what I said. But then Ronin was right there next to me, saying he hid them from me so I wouldn’t get scared.

The cops never even blinked at his lie.

And Ford hired Gage to help me in math and enrolled me in college. He’s been so good to me.

Actually, he hacked me into that college. Sure, I paid the fees and everything, and it’s even out-of-state tuition because I haven’t lived in Colorado for a year yet. But still, he cheated to get me in because I was supposed to take a test to see which classes I was eligible for, and I never did that. He faked my test scores because he’s a super hacker genius or something. I’m not really one hundred percent sure what Ford is, I just know he can do that shit like Jon. Only better, because we won and Jon lost. And it was all because of Ford.

And Spencer is so nice. I’ve spent a lot of time with Spencer, very close and intimate time, and he was never anything but nice. I love the hell out of Spencer.

Of course, he does have guns stashed everywhere. Like everywhere. In the kitchen drawers, in the couch cushions, in the fucking towel cabinet in the upstairs bathroom. I found that one looking for washcloths last summer when I stayed up here on the weekends.

He’s obsessed with guns. When he told me he stashes them everywhere and forgets them, he was not kidding. And he’s got a huge safe down here on the other side of the basement where he says he keeps the ‘good ones’, whatever that means.

My phone buzzes inside my purse and I jump up to get it.

Ronin.

Sorry for being so busy this week, Gidge. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Night, baby.

He’s not a bad guy. He’s not. I’d know. I mean, I was very discerning when we first met. I looked for signs and signals at every turn. I found them even when they weren’t there. But still. Ronin has secrets. They all do. And I know nothing about them, really.

But what I do know is good.

This is a useless battle. I get up and run the water for a shower, then strip and get inside. I let the hot water beat the day off me and when I’m done, I feel warm and tired.

I’m gonna ignore it. I’m not gonna say anything because I have no idea if they’re guilty but I do know there’s no way I’m gonna ask them about it.

I do not want to know.

I don’t. Period.

I’m ready to play dumb for a while and just let life move forward. These guys are not killers, they’ve done nothing but give me opportunities and love. So as long as I don’t see anything weird, I’m gonna let it go.

I text Ronin back after I turn the lights out and climb into bed.

Miss you. See you tomorrow night! xxoo Rook

Chapter Twenty – RONIN

The test shoots this week have been a nightmare. Total nightmare. These girls are so snooty and high-maintenance, I just want to drop-kick them.

I sigh as yet another one pouts and huffs over in the make-up salon. Elise is on hiatus with Antoine. Both of them hang around the periphery once in a while, but for the most part, Josie is in charge of the salon right now. And Josie is about to smack this girl, I can tell.

“Look,” Josie snaps at the blonde with aquamarine eyes. “I might not speak French, you stupid bitch. But I certainly do understand it. So shut your—”

“Josie!” I call out to her just before she loses her temper. “Come here a sec, will ya?”

The model sneers as Josie walks over to me, straightening her black jacket a little. “Sorry, Ronin. But that girl—”

“I heard. Let me handle her, just start on the next one, OK? Send her over to Roger with no make-up or hair, let’s see how much she enjoys that.”

Josie peeks up at me through her dark bangs and smiles. “OK.”

She walks away laughing and I watch the model’s horrified face as she directs her hate over to me. I give the bitch a little wave of my hand and then point to a group of girls sitting at some tables near the kitchen, waiting their turns.

French blondie gets up with a breathy blow of air and makes her way towards me. “Comment osez-vous?”

I point to myself. “How dare I? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re pretty, you’re experienced, and you’re here—that’s about all you have going for you right now. If you want this job you’ll be nice to my family. That woman over there”—I point to Josie who is already busy with another girl—“is like a sister to me. Do not piss her off.”

Aqua Eyes looks me up and down for a few seconds, then turns away.

“Oh,” I say, stopping her. “And no more French. Unless your last name is Chaput, it’s fucking rude. Speak English when you’re dealing with us or hit the road.”

I forgot what bitches these outside girls are. The regular Chaput models are all pretty nice. At the very least, they all know the rules and one of them is that I don’t put up with that catty princess bullshit. I’ve been spoiled working with Rook, she never pulls any of that crap. She’s almost always polite, except with Ford, and she’s not high maintenance at all.

She’s perfect.

I wish she was my Gidget instead of all these girls.

I look back over to Barbie Bitch and she’s pointing at me as she spouts off to Clare in French. I shake my head as Clare looks over at me.

Clare has certainly had her moments as far as temper tantrums go, but she’s been a completely different person since she came home from the treatment facility. I watch carefully to see how she handles this.

She stays perfectly still as the model complains and points to me and Josie in the salon. Clare replies in a soft voice and points to the front door.

Frenchy shoots me hate and I let out a small chuckle as I walk over to them, covering the distance in just a few paces, that’s how long my pissed-off strides are. “That’s it, I warned—” I stop talking just as my gaze finds the man standing at the front door. Tall, black suit, looks like the government.

I turn back to Clare. “Get rid of Aqua Bitch, OK? I’ve got a visitor.”

Her gaze travels to the guy at the door and she looks back to me and swallows hard. “OK. Sorry, Océane, you’re no longer needed. Thank you for—”

And I walk away as the bitch starts screaming in French and make my way over to the man at the door. “Can I help you?”

“Like racehorses, I guess, huh?”

“What?”

“High-strung, these girls.”

We step aside as Clare pushes the girl past us and then follows her out into the stairwell and closes the door behind her. The screaming is still loud, but better than it was. “I’m sorry, let’s start again. Can I help you?”

He smiles at me and I know immediately what this is.

“I’m looking for Ronin Flynn. That you?”

“And who might you be?”

“Agent Abelli, FBI.” He flashes a badge, which I study quickly, then thrusts a little white card towards me, but I don’t take it or even look at it.

“How can I help you, Agent Abelli?” My sincere con man voice takes over because I just punched the time clock. “I’m sort of in the middle of a model melt-down.” I gesture to the door with my head then turn slightly and start walking towards Antoine’s office. He follows like a good little chicken. What choice does he have? I’m walking away, he wants to talk to me, he has to follow. “So sorry about the theatrics. It’s tough working with all these young women every day, right?” I give him a slimeball wink but his expression remains stoic.

I turn before the real grin pops through my facade and motion to a chair on the opposite side of Antoine’s excessive desk and then I take the boss position behind the monstrosity, leaning back in my chair and kicking my feet up.

Abelli eyes the chair I pointed to and prefers to stand. “Mr. Flynn, I’d like to ask you some questions—”

“Oh, sure. I figured you guys would be around sooner or later.” I stop to watch his confusion for a beat. “But I figured it’d be a lot sooner than this, to be honest. No matter, you’re here now. What can I do you for, friend?”

Abelli narrows his eyes at me. I smile back at him. “Well, Mr. Flynn, I’m here on another matter, so—”

“Oh, Rook? Yeah, I’ve been telling her to get ready for this, ya know? She’s so fragile. Testifying against Jon will be traumatic, I think. She might not make the best witness, but we gotta use what we have, am I right? Make sure that scumbag never hurts anyone else again.” I stop to shake my head and look down for a moment. “What he did was so, so… so animalistic.” I look up. “Ya know?”

Abelli clears his throat and tries again. “Actually, Mr. Flynn, we’re here—”

“Ronin?” Clare says in a sweet voice as she belatedly knocks on the open door. “Sorry to interrupt, sir,” she says, looking at Abelli. “But I need you, Ronin. Océane is gone, but there’s another girl. I tried to screen them, but I think—” She stops to look at the agent.

“Go ahead, Clare, he’s cool. You can say it.”

“She’s high, Ronin. We need to fire her, I think, and I don’t want to be the one to—”

“No, I got it. One sec, sweetie.” Clare leaves and I get back on my feet and walk over to the door, pause. “Well, sorry about being cut short, Agent… what was your name again? Maybe I should take a card?”

He takes a step towards me and I turn and walk back over to the front door, shaking my head at the screaming coming from the dressing room, look over my shoulder to see if Abelli is following—he is—and then pull the front door open and wait for him to catch up. He’s got the little white card in his hand and I take that and put a hand on his back. “Sorry, I’m sorry you had to see this. We typically run a tight ship here, but…” I huff out a long exasperated breath. “You know, new blood always causes friction.”

The screaming in the dressing room takes on a whole new level of crazy and I wince in that direction, then turn back to Abelli. “I gotta go, man, OK? Let me know if you need any help, any help at all. We gotta put that sick fuck behind bars for a long, long time, right?”

I clap him on the back of the shoulder and walk off towards the dressing room. I turn the corner, out of Abelli’s sight and then start yelling in French as Clare slips past me to go make sure Abelli is gone. Inside the dressing room Josie is throwing a fit by herself. Screaming about drugs, and dieting, and the scale, and the clothes, and fuck all else. Pretty much everything she can think of. I try to calm her loudly until Clare comes back in and closes the dressing room doors.

“He’s gone.”

Josie skips past me, planting a kiss on my cheek as she goes, and then calls out, “You owe me a fat bonus for that performance, brother.”

“Is it serious?” Clare asks as soon as Josie’s gone.

I let out a long slow breath. “Maybe. He never got past hello, but he’ll be back.”

Clare and I go back out into the studio. She does her job herding the girls for their test shoots, me hassling Roger and generally being an asshole, like they expect me to. No one mentions my visitor, no one mentions the fact that Josie threw a fit and then came back to work like nothing happened. The day just moves on.

I’m not really avoiding the FBI, just laying a foundation on which I can build. I don’t call Spencer or Ford because this has absolutely nothing to do with them. If Ford were to get pulled in for hacking he’d never tell me about it. So maybe he’s already been questioned, I have no idea. And Spencer really has no tangible role in this latest job, not like the others. Rook filled in for him in this case, and she’s clearly the victim, so I doubt they’re hassling her.

But me, I’m the face. The front man. Which means they come to me first because I’m the one who’s acting all in the know, right? I’m the talker, the amicable participant, the one who answers every question without fail.

That’s the only job I have. To clean the shit up after the fan throws it all over the fucking place.

I’m not one hundred percent sure why Abelli was here, but I can take a good guess.

I suddenly want a cigarette very badly. I don’t really smoke, but there are times when I want to. This is one of those times.

But I don’t smoke. Because that’s an indicator that I’m nervous about something.

And I cannot—can-fucking-not—afford to deviate from normal now.