Taut: The Ford Book
She waits. She’s not a Pusher. She’s a Waiter. I smile at this. I really do love my mom. She’s kinda flaky and her whole life is wrapped around her charity things, but she’s cute and even if I didn’t love her for being my mom, I’d like her for being someone interesting. “Since there’s a blizzard. Anyway, I’ll be leaving on Monday, so I’ll call you when I get back to LA. OK?”
She does some small talk before we hang up. She’s always like that. Trying to get me interested in having a long conversation. But I’m just not into it.
The phone buzzes an incoming call almost as soon as I hang up with my mother. It’s Rook, right on time. I press speaker for this one. I need both hands—one to hold the glass as I drink and one to pour the whiskey when I finish. “How can I help you, Miss Corvus?” I answer.
“Oh my f**king God! You finally picked up! What the f**k, Ford! What the f**k?”
She’s almost hysterical and I have a moment of guilt. But it passes.
“Ford? You better talk to me, goddammit! I swear to God, I’m so not in the mood for your weird shit! I’m pissed off!” She’s huffing on the other end of the phone and then I briefly hear Ronin talking to her in the background. There’s a shuffling of the phone and then he comes on.
“Ford? You OK, man?”
I take a sip of whiskey and enjoy it. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Rook is going crazy in the background now. I can hear her losing control. “Well, Rook says you broke up with her…” He stops as she snaps at Ronin and I enjoy that a little too much. “Rook, those were your words, OK? Ford, what the f**k is going on?”
“I’m just done with her, Ronin. That’s all. I’ve used her all up and I don’t require her friendship anymore, so please, apologize—”
The line goes dead. I smile a little as I take a sip. That’s one way to stop the calls and get my phone back.
“Wow,” the girl says, standing in the door to my dad’s office.
“Wow what?” I answer back, instantly annoyed that she overheard that conversation.
“That was harsh.”
“You think?” I point to the chair in front of the desk and pour some whiskey in her glass, then scoot it in that direction. “Try this.”
“No,” she says, but she’s moving towards the chair I just pointed to, like she thinks she’s gonna sit down and have a conversation with me. “I’m breastfeeding. I can’t drink.”
“I’m not asking you to get drunk. It’s a f**king bottle of 1939 Macallan. Take a f**king sip and form an opinion. You might never get another chance in your lifetime to drink a whiskey this fine. Live a little, Ashleigh and Tony Forever, Proud Marine Wife.”
She’s still crossing the room when the last of my words come out, but they make her physically recoil mid-stride. She looks hard at me for a moment. Just staring.
“What?” I snarl. “You’ve never seen a man be a dick to a woman before?” I laugh. “Well, you’re in for a real treat then, because I’m at my peak tonight.”
She never says a word. Just turns and walks out.
I’m not sure how long I sit there drinking my dead father’s ten-thousand-dollar bottle of Scotch, but I am good and drunk before I finally figure out she came down to tell me dinner was ready.
My life sucks.
I’m still wearing my New Year’s tux, I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I have almost two days’ worth of stubble on my chin that’s annoying the hell out of me and the only person in this f**king world who gives a shit about me is my mother. And she has to care about me. It’s like, the law.
I cap the bottle and slip my phone into my pants pocket. I leave the f**king suit coat on the chair. I’ve seen the last of this tux, and I could care less what happens to it. Rook and Ronin never called back. My phone went from secretly-ringing-off-the-hook to might-as-well-be-dead. I climb the stairs with some difficulty, and then remember the f**king girl is probably still here.
Where else would she be, Ford? She’s totally dependent on you.
“Don’t start with me right now, internal monologue.” I laugh a little at that. The house is mostly dark. Only the small light over the stove is on. I go to the kitchen looking for signs of dinner, but it’s spotless. I open the fridge and squint at what’s in there.
Next to the microbrews I bought at Safeway, in front of the bowl of leftover salad, is a plate. It’s got a little sticky note on it that says, Ford.
Fuck. She’s one of those considerate people.
I take out the plate. It’s got clear Saran wrap over it, so I slip it into the microwave, then scarf down the salad while I wait. By the time the microwave beeps I’ve eaten half the bowl. I put it aside and dig into the meal.
It’s good. Chicken and rice is chicken and rice, and maybe I’m just half-starved, but it’s f**king better than good. It’s delicious.
I eat standing up and then put all my crap into the sink.
The drunk feeling is subsiding and now all I can think about is a shower. I find my way to the bathroom in the dark hallway and lock myself in there, the steam and calming white noise echoing through the bathroom, momentarily taking my mind off Rook.
She told Ronin I broke up with her.
I laugh out loud at that. Fucking Rook. She’s so adorable. What kind of girl tells her boyfriend that his best friend broke up with her?
My laugh dies. Because only a girl who has nothing to hide would say that to her boyfriend. And that’s what hurts right now. I’m so off her radar she can tell Ronin that and not even blink. She wasn’t worried about what he thought of that statement, she was worried about what I thought of that statement. That’s why she snapped at Ronin when he repeated it.