J. Huss - PANIC

I can’t help myself because these personal conversations with Ford are not common, so I ask. “Did you care about Mardee?”

“I did,” he says with a sigh.

“And she preferred Ronin?”

He’s the one who almost snorts this time. “Don’t they all?” He looks over at me. “Don’t you all prefer Ronin?”

I rest my elbows back on the concrete step behind me and then stretch my legs out. “You’re a nice-looking guy, Ford. So is Spencer. I’m not sure one could actually choose between the three of you. You’re all good catches. Equally desirable in different ways.”

He screws up his face. “How is Spencer desirable? I have never understood what girls see in him.”

I laugh. “Well, he’s like a big fun-loving goof-ball, but powerful and dangerous at the same time. He’s the bad boy girls fall in lust with and don’t mind taking orders from.”

“And Ronin?”

“Ronin’s just hot.” I grin over at him. “He’s the player all the girls want to settle down with. But he’s nice too. If Spence is the bad boy, then Ronin is the good guy. The knight in shining armor, like you said.”

“And me?”

I don’t look at him this time, but I can feel his stare like it’s heat. Waiting. “You’re… predictable.”

He belts out a laugh. “Well, I appreciate the ego stroke, Rook. Thank you.” He gets up and starts to walk down the stairs.

“I wasn’t finished.”

He stops but keeps his back to me.

“Not predictable as in boring or repetitive, but predictable as in safe. Even though I’m always adjusting when I’m with you, reevaluating things about myself and… you. You’re like an open book, Ford. What you see is what you get. So I’m not sure why your father thought that about you, I’m not really qualified to think too hard about it and make a better observation. But I’ll just say this. The reason I like you is because you’re honest. I know what I’m getting with you even though you keep me guessing. Because I always know that when you give me something, it will be good and you’re only thinking of what’s best for me. Ronin and Spencer are not better-looking than you, that’s for sure. You guys are just desirable in different ways.”

He turns around and smiles. “Good to know. Ready?”

I shrug because I can see through his act now—he avoids talking about himself in personal ways most of the time. He’ll tell me all about his college days, his jobs, professional things like that. But he hides from the emotional stuff, the things that cause him to feel too much. Not everything, mind you—he opens up every once in a while—but that open book has closed for today and I know this is his signal that talking is over.

I’m OK with that because I, too, am patient. 

There are a ton of girls milling around the building because Ronin is having an open casting call for the GIDGET models. I’m actually relieved I’m not GIDGET. Not that there’s just one, he needs like a dozen of them, I think. But I’m so over modeling, it’s not even funny. I can think of hundreds of jobs I’d rather do right off the top of my head. Like rodeo clown. I’d rather be a target for a raging bull than be a model.

The girls are here early to line up and they wind around the corner and spill over into the back lot. They are all dressed up, full make-up, heels, and they look cold. I’m still warm from my morning exercise, but I can feel the chill in the air. And just looking at their shoes makes my toes sad. I’m so glad I’m the new parts girl for Shrike Bikes. I get to wear jeans, and hoodies, and sneakers.

I totally got the better end of the deal.

Ford and I walk towards the parking lot as per usual and he gets annoyed at a girl who is standing too close to his vehicle. He always parks in the same spot in the back of the lot, just off to the left of the back door. He just got a new car—well, I’d never really call it new, but last week was the first time I’ve seen it. He used to drive a sporty little black Beamer but then he showed up with this… thing. “I liked the old car, Ford.”

He’s just about to open the door when this comes out and he stops to look back at me. “Really? Why?”

I crack a smile and so does he. “It suits you. This circa 1986 Bronco is just all kinds of wrong.”

“I needed a truck for winter. I still have the BMW, I just parked it in my mom’s garage.”

“You have a mom?” I laugh as the words come out.

“You thought I was a demon spawned from hell?”

I nod and laugh again. “I might buy a car. I’m gonna get something totally inappropriate for winter. Like a VW bus.”

“Or a convertible. I could totally see you in a Roadster.”

We both stop for a second. I’m sure the irony isn’t lost to the armchair psychologist in him. I just compared myself to a beaten-up old has-been and he compared me to a classic beauty. I smile. “Yeah, I love those. But I’ll probably end up with a truck too. It seems that’s the vehicle of choice around here.”

Ford nods in agreement. “What time are you and Ronin driving up tomorrow?”

“Well, I think Clare is supposed to get here tomorrow around noon, so we should make FoCo early evening, maybe? I’m not sure.”

“OK, see you then.” He turns back to his hideous truck and I notice that there are a lot of girls in the back parking lot now. They’re all staring at Ford and me. I make my escape to the back door, punch in my code, and then take the stairs up to the fourth floor.

There’s lots of people here today even though it’s a Friday. Typically Fridays are dead, but it’s open casting. Ronin already hired two models who have worked for Antoine before. And Billy is the only male model. But since they’re doing a catalog shoot with hundreds of clothing articles, they need a lot of girls. Plus, once the shoot is over they’re having a special fashion show in LA for the kickoff just before Christmas. It’s kind of a big deal for the models. A career-making kinda job.

I wave to Ronin across the studio, but don’t stop and chat. He’s busy talking to Roger, who is the main photographer for this contract. Antoine is officially on hiatus so he and Elise can keep an eye on Clare when she gets home from the clinic.

She was up there at that treatment center for four months and she’s barely out of the woods. My mom was a crack addict, she never did heroin that I knew of, so I’m not all that up on the consequences of that particular drug. But after hearing about Clare’s struggle this summer, I just can’t understand why anyone would even try that shit once. She had a terrible time. It made her slightly insane for a while. And she was in a lot of pain, I know that for sure because Ronin left some literature out in the living room once and I read it. The withdrawal from heroin is so bad, so painful, that most people just can’t do it.

Clare is lucky. She has Antoine, and Elise, and Ronin. And they’re all very rich. She got the best treatment money could buy. She was sequestered up in the mountains, away from all negative influences, and she was dragged through the program by people who love her until she could manage the commitment herself. It’s a miracle she got this far and we had a very serious conference call with the treatment facility yesterday about what she needs to do going forward. They’ve finally weaned her off the methadone, which is a long-acting opiate that alleviates the pain of withdrawal without getting her high.

Her last dose was two weeks ago and the doctor insists she’s done very well, but it only takes one slip-up. Just one and all that hard work will be for nothing. She’ll always be addicted to opiates, she can never take them without risking the possibility of withdrawal pain. “She will never,” he stressed, “be normal again.” The drug has changed her forever. She will always be tempted to take it, remembering the euphoria of the high and not the pain that comes after.

It scares the shit out of me just thinking about it.

I punch in Ronin’s apartment code and head to the shower and then peel off my clothes and start the jets.

Clare’s lifelong addiction issue scares me for two reasons. One, of course, is that it will be so difficult for her to stay clean. I feel sorry for her and I really do want her to succeed. But even more than that, it scares me because it practically guarantees Ronin a girl who will need him forever. And even though Ford won’t bring it up again, I’ll always be wondering if I’m just a project for Ronin. If I’m just a broken girl who needs a knight to save her.

I’m not broken. In fact, I’ve never felt so together in my entire life. I have everything going for me. I’ve got money, a cool job, friends, a place to live… I have it all. And I’m pretty sure my damsel-in-distress moments are over.

So if that was the reason he liked me, I’m gonna figure this out pretty fast.

I’m not convinced that Ford’s characterization of Ronin is correct. I mean, Ronin has said over and over that he thinks I’m strong and brave and I’m not getting the liar vibe off him. Not at all.

But still.

I’d rather know sooner than later if this is the case. I don’t want to ignore the warning signals that things are going off track and then wake up three years later and realize I wasted my time—it’s over.

I check the clock and realize I have to get downstairs to help out with the casting, so I pull on some jeans, a t-shirt, and a little zippered hoodie just in case I get cold. I slip out into the hallway and see Antoine and Elise standing down at the end of the hall in front of their apartment.

“Rook!” Antoine calls. “Ellie is going back to bed. Can you check the girls in today?”

I walk over to them and look down at Elise. “What’s wrong?” So far she’s had a pretty easy pregnancy, but she’s practically green this morning.