Manic

It sucks being underage when all your friends aren't.

Antoine and Spencer are chatting next to a bike on the far side of the studio and when Antoine sees me, he waves a hand, gesturing me to come over.

"Hey, Rook," Spencer says as I approach.

"Hey, what's up with you guys today?"

"This is our first bike, Rook," Antoine says. He points to the Shrike bike. It's not anything extraordinary, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with that information.

"Cool," is about all I can manage.

"We'll photograph this bike tomorrow, just the one," Spencer says. "So you and I can get used to each other. It'll probably take me most of the day to get the artwork right, then Antoine will want to f**k with the photo gear, so just one bike tomorrow. But we're hoping we can do more than one for each session after that."

"Oh? Sounds like a lot of hours."

"It will be," Antoine says. "Long days, but Spencer's decided he can be more efficient with his projects, use the base paint and only change the colors on some, to get the catalog shots over with quickly."

"Yeah," Spence chimes in, "I need to get the f**k back to Fort Collins and work on the Raven on the weekends, so the sooner we can get these catalog shots done, the better it'll be. I have a lot of work to do still. Plus, I need to spend some time on the final design for your body. After painting you up for the catalog shots I'll be pretty familiar with it, so I can plan better."

"Uh-huh, sure. Sounds like a plan to me."

"So what we were thinking, Rook"—Antoine picks it up again—"is that we'll shoot for a week getting as many bikes down as we can, then take the weekends off while Spencer works up at his shop."

I shrug. "OK." I mean, really, like I have a choice? I'm the hired help. I'm a walking billboard sign.

I leave them there talking about bikes and stuff and hop down the stairs to get some food from Cookie's. I don't know why I continue to go over there, I have a ton of money and I could eat anywhere I want, but I like that place. And it reminds me of Ronin. I miss him already. I sigh as I press the button at the crosswalk that leads to the diner, then wait for the light to change before making my way across the street.

I enter the diner and the hostess is Cindy. She recognizes me and nods, so I take that as I'm a regular now and I can seat myself at the back booth that is reserved for Ronin's girls. God, how that bugged me when I first met him. Having to come in here and declare that I belonged to Ronin was humiliating, especially since all that stuff with Jon was so fresh.

I feel better about it now, plus I don't say that anymore. I don't have to. They know I belong to Ronin.

I grin at that as I take my seat, then grab a menu and start looking it over for something different. A shadow appears at my booth and I'm just about to tell the waitress I'd like the turkey club on a Kaiser roll when I realize it's Ford.

"Can I help you?" I ask rudely, then check myself and smile.

He smirks back and takes a seat across from me. "Rook, I had no idea you enjoyed diner food."

He's dressed in a suit, just like he was last night, and his day wear looks just as expensive as his evening shit. "Ditto, Ford. You look like a French restaurant kinda guy to me."

Cindy does appear then and I order the club while Ford asks for a coffee.

"What do you want?" I ask.

He tsks his tongue. "Why are you so combative with me?"

If this ass**le thinks he's gonna win this little game of wits with me, he's mistaken. I might not be college-educated and produce reality shows—yet, I secretly say in my head—but I'm not a fool either. "Look, Ford, I already know you never wanted me on the show, so save it. I know you don't like me."

I pretend to people-watch and ignore him as Cindy brings him a coffee.

"Well, that's not what's going on here, Rook," Ford says after Cindy leaves. "I do like you. You're pretty to look at, that's for sure. And I know that Ronin and Spencer both like you, so why would I not like you?"

"Then why are you being a jerk to me?"

"When was I a jerk?"

"Oh, Rook," I say in a fake voice, "You're underage, right? So sad, you have to drink water at dinner. Save it, OK," I say, returning to my normal voice. "Because I already know you don't want me on the project. You think I'm too young."

He smiles and it disarms me for a second. He's got nice teeth. Teeth, Rook? I shake my head a little as he starts talking again. "You are too young. If I were Ronin I'd forbid you from doing this contract."

"Forbid me? Pfft. Ronin is not in any position to forbid me from doing anything."

"No? I thought the two of you were together."

"If you mean are we dating, then yes. But he's not my keeper, Ford. I make my own decisions, thank you."

We sit in silence for a while. He looks around, interested in anyone but me, so I take out my phone and check for missed texts and voicemail. It's pointless, I have the ringer on and it never went off, but I check anyway to pretend like I have something else to do besides talk to Ford. I'm the modern-day version of the girl sitting by the phone. I snort a little at that, because pining women have come a long way if you think about it. We can go out and have fun and impatiently wait for our boyfriends to call all at the same time.

Cindy appears again and slides my plate over to me. Ford is still nursing his coffee and covers the top of it with his hand to keep her from filling it back up. I thank Cindy and then start eating. I feel like a starving lumberjack. I barely ate any of that French shit last night at dinner and then I forgot to eat when I got home. Add in my missed breakfast and I have to stop and thank my lucky stars Ronin didn't want to weigh me this morning. I probably lost a few pounds. He's a total freak about the models losing weight and if it's me losing I can only imagine the freakout would triple.