Manic

I continue up to the fourth floor and then make my way out onto the terrace. It's a beautiful night and since it's Monday, it's also quiet. I go inside my garden apartment and grab my cell phone. Sure enough, there are seven missed calls from Ronin. I press redial and walk back outside to sit on the grass under the cherry trees.

He never picks up, of course. He's probably mad at me for forgetting my phone, or maybe he took one look at that photo Antoine sent him of me in the painted-up latex suit and decided Clare the junkie was a much better fit for him.

Being jealous sucks. I hate it. I hate the feeling you get when all you want is to hear your boyfriend's voice on the other end of a phone. It's a horrible feeling and I don't even understand how something as little as getting someone's voicemail can ruin a perfectly fine day. And this day wasn't so bad, really. I mean, it was better than the first day I was groped by Billy. That was a weird day. I lie back on the grass and look up at the canopy of leaves on the cherry trees and then close my eyes for a second.

"Rook?"

"Huh?" I sit up, confused. "What?"

Ford is kneeling down next to me. "Why are you sleeping outside?"

"I just dozed off, Ford. Shit, cut me a break, will ya?

"Are you sure that's all it was?"

"What else would it be?"

"Not wanting to sleep inside under the cameras."

I laugh and sigh at the same time. "Yeah, forgot about them, thanks for reminding me though. I appreciate that."

"Well, if you prefer to sleep under the cherry trees let me know, I'll put some cameras up there too."

I glare at him. "You probably would, too." I get up and brush off my shorts. "Well, I'm heading in."

"We're still on for breakfast tomorrow?"

I snort out a laugh this time. "Yeah, we're on."

"Wear something comfortable," he calls out as I walk away. I leave him there and make my way inside, not even bothering to turn the lights on. I just sleepwalk back to my room and crash, not even remembering to squish myself into the corner or wear pants to bed so the audience can't get a good look at my ass in the morning.

Chapter Ten - ROOK

Why, God? Just why? Why do people insist on pounding on my door at the most ungodly hours? "I'm coming!" I scream. The pounding stops and I reach for my phone. It's five after five in the morning.

What the f**k?

I roll out of bed and stumble down the hall, then throw the door open and shield my eyes from the morning sun.

"You're not ready." Ford frowns down at me.

I look down at my shorts, then up at him, and shoot him my own frown. "Give me a second." I leave the door open and shuffle back to the bedroom, grab a clean pair of shorts and a tank top—

"I said comfortable and loose, but you'll need a good bra."

"What?" I shake my head at Ford, who is peeking his head around the corner of my closet.

I look down at his clothes and recognize the garb of trendy exercisers the world over. His outfit looks like he pulled it off the rack at Sports Authority this morning. "Ford, you said breakfast. I do not work out."

"It is breakfast, you'll see. Unless you want to take showers in that claw-foot monstrosity down the hall?"

"All right, get out. I'll meet you outside."

He backs off and I grab some sporty stuff that Ronin gave me from the Chaput closet when I first got here. The tank top has a built-in bra and it's a pretty coral color. The sport shorts are black with a matching coral racing stripe going up the sides of my thighs. I look the part until I put on my shoes, and that makes me laugh because all I have for my feet in the way of sneakers are my Converse.

I brush my teeth and pull my hair back in a ponytail, then head outside. Ford is talking with Team Rook over by the picnic tables. I guess that means we're not going to Cookie's, since the crew isn't necessary for that eatery.

"Ready?" Ford asks as I approach. "Nice shoes," he says, shaking his head.

"What are we doing?"

"You'll see, just follow."

I do what I'm told—I'm used to that anyway—and we walk down the stairs and go outside using the back door that leads out into the parking lot, then cross Blake Street and we're at Coors Field, the baseball stadium where the Rockies play. Ronin loves baseball and we've gone to two games together already. "We're eating breakfast at the stadium?"

"Yes, afterward, anyway."

"After what?"

He never answers, just walks us around the side and stops at a plain gray metal door that has no windows at all. He knocks and it opens immediately. The Mexican guy on the other side greets Ford in Spanish and they act like old friends, laughing and joking and shaking hands. He finally turns to us. "Rook, this is Jose, he's the head guy back here. I've known him since I was a kid. I used to come to the stadium every morning until I moved to Boulder." Then he looks over at Team Rook and says, "Sorry, guys, only one guest allowed."

I smile at that and follow Ford into the dark hallway. So whatever we're doing here, we're doing it in private. I'll take any privacy I can get at this point. I follow him through the convoluted hallways and up a couple flights of stairs until he pushes through a door and we walk down a long hallway that leads to another stairwell. He pulls the door open and waves me in. "Which way, Rook? Up or down?"