Just a little.
I decide to see how fast I can go and for how long, so I take off booking it up the stairs. At first it feels good to exert myself like this because I've been angry since yesterday morning and I need to burn it off. I run hard all the way up to the top, then dash down the aisle to the next set of stairs and go down as fast as I can and repeat the mad dash over to the next set. I climb again, fully exerting myself, but soon my thighs are burning and about three-quarters of the way up I have to slow down because they are on fire. I stop and look behind me and let off a little smile. Maybe I'm a total stadium-running loser compared to Ford, but this is a challenging exercise and I didn't do too bad.
I look over to find Ford and to my surprise he's not running. He's watching me. I walk up the remaining steps and he starts heading my direction.
My stomach flips a little at this change-up in our routine.
"What are you doing?" I ask when he gets close enough so I don't have to yell.
"You're ready now?"
"Ready for what?"
"To work."
I'm tired of his cryptic messages. "Whatever, Ford. I just wanted to see how fast I could go for how long. Don't get excited, I'm not about to morph into some health nut. I come here because we made a deal. If you want the deal to be over, stop fucking showing up outside my apartment at five AM. It's real simple. If you're not there, I don't go." He smiles that hidden smile again, and it confuses me for a second. Why is he smiling now? "Are we done for today or what?"
"Do you want to be done?"
"It's up to you, Ford."
"No, Rook, it's up to you. I'm not done, but you're free to go if you wish."
More psychology bullshit from him. "Why are you so weird? What kind of game are you playing with me?"
"Just run the stadiums, Rook. Is that what you want me to tell you? Give you orders? Are you waiting for orders?"
Am I?
I turn and walk away.
Because I might be. I might actually be waiting for him to tell me what to do. It makes me sick when I think about it.
A hand grasps my upper arm and I whirl around.
"OK, wait," Ford says as he looks down at me. "Just answer this, Rook. Do you want to come here with me in the mornings?"
Silence from me.
"Well? It's either yes or no."
I laugh at that. Because it's not that easy. If I say yes and mean it, then I'd have to start asking myself a whole bunch of other questions. If I say no, well, that's just a lie. Because the fact is, I do want to come here with him. I sorta like it. I like the fact that he's outside every morning. He's weirdly reliable. And strangely persistent. "Yes."
He smiles that smile again and my whole stomach flutters. "OK, so get busy then. If you're going to spend time here, don't waste it. Make it count."
And then he turns around and starts running again.
I turn as well and start down my set of stairs at a faster clip. Going down isn't easy at a run because the steps are not even, it's like you have to take two steps forward and then step down. It's an odd rhythm. My legs hurt when I get to the bottom, but not in the same way as when I go back up. I'm slower this time, my muscles more strained, but I have to admit, when I get to the top I feel pretty exhilarated. I continue this way, and with each set I get slower and slower. By the time Ford turns to head back my way I'm sitting down leaning up against the cinder-block wall.
He walks towards me and then stands still, leaning over to let the sweat drip as he catches his breath.
"So you gonna tell me who you're chasing? Or are you the only one who gets to ask questions?" Two can play this game.
He straightens, just like he did yesterday, but instead of turning away he slides down the wall and sits next to me. "You have no idea who Ronin is, Rook."
Everything inside me does a little flip. "What?"
"It's not a disparaging remark. Just a fact."
"But you do? That's what you're saying?"
"I do," he says matter-of-factly. "I've watched him in some very stressful situations, and he's seen me under the same circumstances. We may not like each other, but we do
know
each other. Very well."
"So when he tells me you're fucked in the head, then that's just as true as you telling me he's only using me to play out his hero fantasy."
That smile again. I have to look away and wait for his answer.
"My father was a famous psychiatrist. I was a weird kid, I liked reading and computers and I wanted to be like my dad, so I read all his books on human behavior and psychology and I used to freak people out in school by diagnosing them with clinical disorders and fucking with their school records online."
He laughs and when I look over at him I can't help myself, I smile at his huge grin.
It's the first personal thing he's ever told me. "Are you using that psych bullshit on me right now? By confiding in me with this sincere admission of childhood nerdiness?"
He grins again and this time his smile lights up his brown eyes. "You know, you're very smart. You don't belong here. And I might've come across a little strange back in school, so I can't blame Ronin for his opinion, plus I pulled a fucked-up prank on him once. It was stupid and childish, and not something he'd forget easily. But I'm not trying to make your life difficult, Rook. I'm just trying to make you stronger."
"So I won't need Ronin."
He turns to look at me and now the smile is gone. My stomach knots up as I meet his gaze. "Yes. That's why. I have a disadvantage here because I don't want people to need me like Ronin does. I don't want to slow down for someone, Rook. I want someone to keep up with me."
"But that's selfish."
"Why?"
"Because if you like someone you should want to help them."
"I am helping you."
I roll my eyes at him. "Not me, specifically. I just think that if you like someone you'd be willing to give up a little piece of yourself to keep them. If you really liked someone, you'd be OK with slowing down."
"All right, then why did you insist on taking this contract when Ronin was against it? Why not give up that choice to please Ronin?"
"Because I like making my own choices, Ford. So if I want to model nude for a butt-load of money, so what? I'm allowed to do that and it's no one's business but mine. "
"Just because you
can
make that choice doesn't mean you
should
. There's a big difference between being in control of your future and making bad decisions."
I shrug. "So?" But I laugh a little because I sound like a two-year-old.
"OK," he sighs. "Would you like my childhood psycho-babble interpretation of what you're doing right now?"
I swallow. Do I? Not really, but this conversation with Ford is oddly compelling. "Go for it."
"You resist Ronin's advice because you're not ready for it yet. But at the same time you need someone slow and controlling very badly right now. Just like I need someone free and fast. Whatever it was that happened to you, you're looking for someone to make it better, but for some reason you're having a hard time admitting that to yourself. So you're in this weird in-between stage that justifies mistakes in the name of freedom. And whatever it is you're trying to fix, I'd just like to say Ronin's not the answer. Because there's only one person who can fix that mistake you made, Rook."
"Me?" I ask in a whisper as I watch his eyes.
"You," he answers softly. "I'm not trying to fix you, I'm just trying to give you the tools to fix yourself."
"I actually already knew all that stuff, Ford. And besides, I've already saved myself."
He chuckles under his breath. "Not quite, Rook. You're like Clare right now. In treatment but resisting. It's a long road to recovery."
He gets up and offers me his hand. I accept it and he pulls me to my feet. We skip breakfast and walk back across the street and despite the very personal nature of our conversation today, we part ways in silence when he gets to his car.
Ford is one weird guy.
I go home and climb back into bed, tired and relaxed from the morning exercise.
Chapter Twenty-Four - ROOK
"Hey," Ronin whispers in my ear as he settles against my body later. "You awake?"
I roll over and look at him. "Yeah, how's Clare?"
He sucks in a long breath. "She's iffy."
"She can't kick the heroin? Or what? I don't understand what's going on."
"It's not an easy habit to kick, Gidge. It's got something to do with brain chemistry, she thinks she's dying but it's the withdrawal symptoms. We're just trying to get her over the worst of it." He pulls me into his chest. "What'd you do while I was gone?"
"Ran with Ford, slept, moped." I look up at him and smile. "Waited for you to come back."
"How is Ford?"
"He's weird, Ronin. He's a weird guy."
His whole body stiffens underneath me for a second, then relaxes. "What'd he say?" He sounds worried.
I sit up and look down at him. "He said I like being told what to do."
This makes Ronin pull away. "What?"
"Yeah, some crap about waiting for orders."
"That guy is unbelievable."
"Why?"
"Never mind, Gidge. But if you're interested in taking orders, then take mine. Stay away from him. He's not a nice guy."
I say nothing.
"Let me guess, he said the same thing about me?"
"Yeah, sorta. He said you like broken girls so you can fix them. Do you think I'm broken?"
He nuzzles into my neck. "You're so strong, Rook. You're the farthest thing from broken I've ever seen. Please stop running with him. He's a mind-fuck. He does it on purpose. His father was some big-shot psychiatrist, just as nasty as Ford before he died. Ford is one fucked-up dude. And you wanna know why I hate his fucking guts? Because when I was in the tenth grade and he was a senior, he looked up the police report about my father, made copies of it, and then plastered it all over school. Antoine went ballistic, but Ford's father donated a bunch of money to the school and nothing ever happened to him. He's a total asshole."
But this revelation has lost its shock value because Ford preemptively confessed all this. "Then why do this project, Ronin?"
"Antoine and Elise wanted the contract and I'm only one-third partner. They're socking money away like crazy for something they're not sharing with me. So there was nothing I could do. It's not Ford's money, anyway, it's the Biker Channel people. But enough about Ford. I missed you and I'm sorry I just walked off like that. Antoine's desperate to make things right with Clare. This is our last chance, you know? She's just a total mess."
I snuggle into him. I really want to love Ronin and I'm not sure Ford knows what he's talking about. He hasn't seen Ronin in a long time. So even if Ronin used to be looking for a girl to save, that doesn't mean he's still like that now.
His hands slide up my t-shirt and I gasp as he pokes my ribs. "What," he asks innocently, "is the problem, ma'am?"
I twist and squirm as he continues to poke me, giggling as I try and get away from his tickling touch.
"Ma'am, are you resisting arrest?" He leans down to sniff me. "Have you been drinking? I might have to taste you to find out." He kisses me, just a little tease to see if I'm interested. My mouth opens and our tongues tangle and tumble together.
Oh, I am so interested.
He nuzzles into my neck, then bites my earlobe gently and kisses his way down my throat, cups one breast while he sucks gently on the other.
"Wait! I have to confess something."
"Ma'am, I'm gonna have to ask you to remain silent." He tips his head up as he slides down the bed then positions himself between my legs.
"But I have a confession."
He looks up at me and grins. "I'll use it against you, ya know."
"I understand."
"OK, confess."
"I'm hiding drugs," I say with a stupid grin.
"Really?" His eyebrows waggle at me.
I bust out a laugh and nod. "Yes."
His hands go for my shorts. "I'm gonna have to strip-search you then. Sorry, ma'am. Just following procedures." He pulls down my shorts, taking my panties at the same time. "Take off your shirt, Rook." He breaks character and it comes out as a command.
But it's pretty hot the way he says it so I sit up and pull my t-shirt over my head. His gaze falls to my breasts and then he leans forward and sucks on my nipple again, using his fingertips and tongue at the same time to make it bunch up and get hard.
"I love that," he says as he drags himself back down my body, sitting up slightly to grab my legs under the knees and push them forward. His tongue teases little circles around my nub and then dips inside me, twisting and tasting. His hands slide up my ribcage and he palms both breasts, hard, then softly. My hands go to his hair and I fist it and push his mouth into me. His hot breath on my most tender parts is about to push me over the edge.