Just a job, Rook. It's just a job.
Chapter Thirteen - ROOK
Ford is back when I enter the studio, but he's on the other side of the room, sitting in a chair next to Director Larry looking at the wall of screens. I ignore him and walk over to Spencer. His shirt is back, but he's still got the board shorts on. "Are we modeling together for all the shoots, Spencer?"
He doesn't turn, just keeps messing with his brushes and paint. "Does it bother you?"
"Um." Does it? "No, it doesn't bother me, that's not the right word." My camera team zooms in on me. I guess this is what Larry is looking for, because I can hear a tinny voice coming out of the earpiece of my main camera guy. "I'm just worried about what Ronin will think."
Spence turns now. "Ronin will just have to learn to deal, Rook. I picked you because you're beautiful, you're the girl I want to represent my bikes. And if that makes Ronin uncomfortable, too bad. I won't be in all the shots, but we have to get a few, at least. I mean, that's just reality, Rook."
"I know," I say, sighing. "I should just forget about Ronin, huh?"
Spencer laughs. "Why? Why would you say that?" He points me over to the sheet and grabs his stuff, then starts painting my breast. "You like him, he likes you. What's the fucking problem?"
"If our roles were switched and Ronin was the model being painted up by a sexy artist, I'd be mad. I'd never put up with it, to be honest."
"So, you think I'm sexy, eh?"
I laugh. "You know what I mean."
"Well, you can't change that, Rook. You're the model, I'm the artist, he's the boyfriend. He can deal or not. But I'm still the artist and you're still the model. And if he's smart he'll just shut the fuck up about it, stay out of the way until the contract is over, and then forget it ever happened."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
He winces.
"What?"
"She broke up with me."
"How come?" I suck in a small breath as he paints a string along my upper ribcage and around my back.
He ignores my question for so long I'm ready to ask it again when he finally looks up, smiling.
"What?"
"She broke up with over this contract. She was jealous."
I can't help but laugh with him. "Well, I guess she didn't mean much, huh? You don't look broken up about it."
"Well, I do miss her hands because she's the one responsible for my body art. But I'm not a relationship kinda guy, Rook. I like to play the field. So if she wants to be a bitch about it, get jealous over you and me spending so much naked time together, then she can take the fuck off."
"Have you known her long?"
"Yeah, she's the model in all the other pictures too."
"Holy crap! That's just rude, Spencer!"
He doesn't even look up from painting my nipple. "What's rude?"
"She's your model and you chose me!"
He shrugs. "Your name's Rook and in case you haven't noticed, I've got quite a thing for blackbirds going on. Besides, this was a business decision. She wanted the contract money, that's all. She allowed me to paint her so she could make money. I let her be my canvas because she was willing. She used me, I used her, and to tell you the truth"—he does look up now—"I'm pretty fucking pissed off that she turned it all personal. I never promised her this contract and as you now know, this is way beyond a modeling job, right? It's a TV show, it's a marketing campaign, it's my entire fucking business. And if everything goes well, you'll be part of this franchise for a long time. I have long-term plans, Rook. And she was never part of them."
"But I am?"
"That's right," he says in a soft whisper. "You're definitely part of them."
Both our sound guys move the mics closer to us and I can only hope they missed that last part. Because I think Spencer Shrike just made some kind of declaration to me and I'm having hard time thinking it was professional because now his paintbrush is practically caressing me between my legs. He uses broad strokes, so it's not like he's trying to excite me on purpose, but he's a man, kneeling down in front of me, staring at my most private body parts.
I inhale, close my eyes, and think about how I'd feel if I walked in on Ronin doing this to some girl. Or even worse, Ronin getting his manly parts painted up by some hottie chick.
I snicker internally, proud of myself. That image was all it took.
"OK, on the floor with you, Blackbird."
I cringe. I was mad the last time he painted up my girly parts, but now I'm confused. And worried about Ronin and my physical reaction to Spencer.
"Problem, Rook?"
"No," I say as I kneel down, then lie back and fold my hands over my stomach. The camera crew backs off for this and it makes me wonder if Ford told them to do that. The first bikini was just white, so Spencer didn't spend a lot of time down here. It was quick and easy. The second one only required that he paint the stripes on.
But this time I'm bare again and Spencer wants to paint the suit up to look iridescent, so he spends more time than he did the last two times put together.
"Hurry up, Spencer, this is weird. If Ronin was here, he'd be having a fit, you staring right up into my—"
"Hey now! I'm painting, Rook!"
I snort. "Whatever, I'm standing up in ten seconds. I'm not spreading my legs for your motorcycle ad, so you don't need to get carried away with the details down there."
When my private count gets to ten, I push his head back and stand up. "I wasn't kidding."
He ignores me and continues painting a shadow under the string that wraps around my hip to the little piece of fabric on my ass.
"I don't like doing more than one outfit in a day. This sucks. I'm ready to be done—"
"We still have one more, Rook. Better settle down, sister."
My irritation comes out as a growl. "Well, I don't like it. I'm hungry, I want to pee, I'd like to take a nap, or read a fucking book, or—"
"Here, Rook."
Ford is standing a little behind me thrusting a tablet in my direction. I take it automatically. "What's this?"
"Books. I like thrillers and classics, so maybe not your thing, but you can shop the store and find something you like."
"Oh." I take a moment to calm down from my rant and then smile. "Thanks, Ford. I definitely need to get one of these. In fact, I need to go shopping, maybe I need a car? When will Elise be back? I'm tired of hanging out with men, why can't this show have more girls on it? And what's up with having no girls on the production team too? Not one girl can run a microphone or camera?"
I get silence. Straight-up crickets.
"Hello? Are you guys listening to me?"
"No!" they all say at once. Even Director Larry's team on the other side of the room yells it out.
"Well, shit. I guess I better find me a book then." I open the leather flap that covers the device and it comes to life. I swipe my fingers to unlock it, then browse the little carousel that holds all Ford's books.
Talk about eye-opening. "Ford's reading
Gatsby, Deeply Odd,
and
Making Babies for the Billionaire
." I get snorts from everyone, even my team.
"Funny, Rook," Ford says dryly from across the room.
"You know what's funnier? The fact that all you dumbasses got the joke. I know what you're reading at night."
"Someone please, turn on the fucking tunes."
"Spencer, that was not nice. How about I read from the billionaire book? You guys should like that."
Spencer stops painting and looks up at me. "Does he really have that on there?"
We all bust out laughing. "Oh, Spencer."
"All right, I'm done. Let's get this over with, give you something else to bitch about for a while."
I race out and head straight to the bathroom, then make my way upstairs, totally oblivious to the fact that I'm one hundred percent naked. It was less than a month ago that I stood in the Chaput dressing room wondering how all the girls could just walk around naked, but here I am, traipsing around the entire building like that.
My team is waiting for me upstairs and Spencer is shirtless again, but he's changed into some faded jeans with holes and grease all over them, like he's been working in a garage all day. He's sitting casually on the new bike, messing with the grips as he chats to Billy. This bike is like psychedelic. It's got swirls of light blue and purple on the frame and the tank. The Shrike logo is a thick bold black outline, the total opposite of the girly one from the last shoot. The set is still beachy, but the backdrop spills over onto the floor and it makes it look like we're on the side of a road. When I sit down for Josie, she takes off my blonde wig and exchanges it for a black one. The cut is shorter now, the bangs severe, and it frames my face. She removes the old makeup and paints on new. This time I get the glossy treatment. Red lips, dark eyes, and plum blush.
I also get some spiky pumps that probably require a personal injury insurance policy to walk in, and after about thirty minutes I'm stumbling my way over to the guys.
Antoine is in his office, and when I'm ready Billy goes to get him.
"What's all this?" I fan my arms out to the set, curious as to what message we're sending.
"You're a hitchhiker, I'm your knight in shining armor."
"I'm hitchhiking in a bikini and fuck-me pumps?"
"Biker fantasy, Rook. Trust me."
"O-kaaaay."
Antoine and Billy appear, and as usual, Billy does all the talking. I wonder how I'm going to fill in a whole evening of conversation when Antoine and I go to dinner. I wonder if he'll take me to Cookie's. I'm so fucking hungry.
"You're thumbing, Rook, step behind the bike and act the part."
I do as I'm told, then pretend to have a conversation with Spencer as he ogles my tits. I'm not sure if that's pretend or not, but it makes me frown and Antoine barks out something harsh and Billy tells me to look happy. I do, then climb in front of Spencer, facing him, and wince as I realize I'm in yet another position that will have Ronin breaking up with me as soon as he gets back. Spencer sneaks a peek down.
"Really, Spence? I mean, you've been looking at my goods all day, you haven't seen enough?"
"That's totally different, I'm not supposed to get turned on when I'm painting, but this is different."
"
Spencer.
"
Spencer glares at Antoine this time. "Look, she asked me a question,
again
. So why does she get to talk to me, but I'm not allowed to talk to her?"
"Who said you're not allowed to talk to me?"
"Antoine. I'm supposed to keep it professional, but that's a fucking first. The whole reason we hired you, Antoine, was because you're famous for getting the girls to be as unprofessional as possible."
"OK, let's just move on. What should I do? You're the one in charge, Spencer. I need direction here because I'm not all that good at this shit."
Spencer shoots Antoine a look. "See, she wants me to tell her what to do." He looks at me, his hands wrap around my middle, then slip down to the top of my ass. "Take the pictures, Antoine," Spencer growls.
I hold down a laugh because these babies have no idea what to do with me right now.
Antoine starts shooting and Spencer's one hand stays down, while the other one slides up, picks up my arm and drapes it over his shoulder, then cups my breast. "Kiss me again, Rook."
I look at him, the shock plastered across my face, I'm sure. I swallow, not sure what to do with myself right now, either.
"Rook," Spencer repeats, a little harsher now. "I want kissing, I want mad fucking passionate kissing. The kind of kissing I've seen in all those other photos of you, the kissing that is so filled with emotion and longing and lust, I'm instantly hard. Kiss me like that, Blackbird."
I gulp some air and stare at him, right into his eyes. We hold that moment as Billy translates encouraging things from Antoine. I lean in a little, slowly, never breaking eye contact, then touch his lips with a soft kiss, and pull back.
He smiles.
I do it again and this time he's ready, his hand leaves my breast and wraps around my head, pulling me towards him. His mouth opens and I respond by doing the same. Our tongues flick against each other, then I pull back as his grip releases, trying to catch my breath.
"That's more like it," he whispers. "Now turn around, Rook."
I stand up and turn around, my ass against his thighs.
He's very excited.
His hands go to my shoulders, then his fingertips drag down my arms. One hand grabs my breast, while the other slides across my stomach, then drops very low.
"Arch your back and tip your head, Rook."
I do, and his hand drops even lower with the change in my body position. I have to admit, for being a bike designer, he's pretty good at this sexy modeling stuff. His mouth is suddenly heavy against my neck, his breath slow, but louder than before.