Smirks.
And everyone laughs but me. Not in on the joke again.
"No," Ford says through his smile. "It's Gatsby. You interested? You never read it, you said."
She sighs and shrugs. "I'd rather you read that one about Rowdy the hot spelunker, but whatever."
Ford is either an evil genius for reminding Rook that I left her last week, or a clueless dumb f**k.
I think we've already established which of those he is.
"OK," he says, taking a seat next to me. "Oh." He looks over my way this time. "I've catered lunch. Rook looks thin, she's not eating enough."
I look over at Spencer and he's shaking his head at me. "Don't do it, Ronin. He's baiting you."
I look over at Rook and she's waiting to see how I'll handle this little remark. What can I say? "Awesome, looking forward to Ford footing the bill for lunch."
Maybe I should go running with them in the morning, because clearly they had quite the conversation while I was back at the studio. And yeah, he's right. She looks a little thinner, but he's implying I'm not keeping track of her. He's implying I'm too busy with Clare to notice.
And he'd be right. Because I haven't weighed her in weeks.
Ford starts reading, Spencer grabs his paints and brushes, and Rook disrobes.
Our day begins.
Ford is adept at narrating books. He really missed his calling in voiceovers. He brings the book to life as Rook listens, cocking her head at all the right moments, internally questioning all the carefully planned foreshadowing, and even stopping him on two occasions to ask a question.
Fucking Ford.
He finishes the book long before Spencer is done painting up Rook's cyborg body and this is the perfect time for everyone to take a break. Spencer offers to walk Rook over to the bathrooms down the hall so I take my attention to Ford as he messes with that stupid e-reader.
"What?" he asks, without looking up at me.
"What are you doing, Ford? You trying to steal her right out from under me, or what? I mean, come on—Mardee was a long time ago…"
He looks up at her name. "Don't," he says, shaking his head. "Don't you f**king dare accuse me of that shit. I'm worried about Rook—"
"You're forgetting something, Ford. You're incapable of being worried about anyone, so save your bullshit for the person who doesn't understand you're an emotionless freak."
"I've invested a lot of time and money, not to mention my reputation with this show, in her. Maybe you don't care about this project, but Spencer and I do. So I'm not going stand by and watch her fall apart because you were too busy with that pathetic drug-addicted princess of yours to give a f**k."
I stand up and Ford follows.
"You want to fight, Ronin?" He stares me in the face. "I'm the guy you need, remember? I'm the only guy who matters in all this. So sit your ass down and shut the f**k up."
My head is throbbing, that's how pissed off I am. The blood is rushing to my head and I feel like I'm gonna explode if I don't just put my fist through his teeth. I poke him in the chest, a provocation, but Ford has a lot more self-discipline than I ever did. He can't be baited. "You better make it happen then, because I'll tell you what, if I have to put up with you pulling this stealthy girlfriend-stealing bullshit all summer, then you better come through."
He smiles. "If she can be stolen, then she was never yours to begin with. And do not insult my skills or question my ability to come through. I always come through."
Rook and Spencer come back in, chatting about the bike. I guess they went upstairs to see it real fast. Or maybe Spencer knew Ford and I were gonna get into it and he took her far enough away so she didn't have to see it.
"What now, Rook?" Spence asks. "Story or music?"
"What else you have on that thing, Ford?" She wanders over and sits down next to me. I put my hand on her shoulder and rub her back a little. She shudders and then leans into my chest.
"Watch the paint, Rook!" Spencer calls.
She sits up and looks back at me apologetically. "You're bored, huh?"
"Not at all, Gidget. Not at all." I smile at her. She's totally naked, but she's covered in so much paint right now, it's easy to forget. "Pick—story or music."
"Story," she says, glancing back at Ford. "Rowdy the Spelunker and that virgin chick."
"Ashley," Ford chimes in.
Rook laughs. "You've been reading it!"
He shakes his head and she giggles at him. Giggles.
"How about The Secret Garden?" he asks in a low voice.
Now she loses it, her laugh is so big even I have to smile. I look over at Ford and he knows he just won. He knows it.
"You'll read The Secret Garden to me?" She squints her eyes at him in disbelief.
"Yes, go, let Spencer finish so we can be done."
And Ford does read that stupid girly childhood book to her. Every motherfucking flowery word of it. And this time Rook's face is more than interested and questioning.
She's enchanted.
Chapter Thirty - ROOK
Spencer has painted me up as a cyborg.
It's one hundred percent awesome. As in, I might die from feeling so cool right now. He's such a master with that paintbrush, he knows just where to put the colors to make his art look 3D. He paints tubes and stuff all down my midsection, then fills in behind that with shades of black and blue, so it looks like I'm hollow. Like my midsection is nothing but these tubes and wires. He does the same thing to my arms, making them look like pistons and mechanical parts in some place, devoid of skin. Then purely human in others.