SLACK: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston (Rook and Ronin Spin-off) (6 page)

“Nice bedside manner, Ford. You really have a way with words.” She stays silent for a few seconds, mulling this over as she looks up at her glory days as a body art model for Shrike fucking Bikes. “I’m not ready for that to be over yet. I’m just not. I’m young, I’m pretty, I’m funny and I might have a little bit of freak in me with the blood phobia, but I’m not that far away from normal. I still want to have fun and I want to have fun with
him
. I’m not ready to just give that up yet.”

“No? I thought you wanted him to be serious. You can’t have it both ways, Ronnie. You can’t be the slutty model at the shows who attracts the buyers and lookers. You can’t be the reckless biker chick with no responsibilities. You can’t be the wild tattoo artist with red lips and black stilettos who will hygienically tattoo a penis if a customer walks through the door asking for it.”

“I’ve tattooed hundreds of people and only one of them wanted his penis adorned.”

I sigh. She’s so thick. “My point
is
… you can’t be these things and be the kind of girl Spencer wants to settle with. Because eventually, he will settle down and when he does, he wants a wife.” I shrug. I know how it sounds, but fuck it. She needs to hear the truth. “He wants dinner and kids and all that shit.”

“He never said any of that to me Ford,” she replies shaking her head. “He’s never talked about a family at all.”

“Yeah, but we were raised up together, Ronnie. I know him. We all want the same thing, we just want it in different ways. Ronin wanted to settle down right away because his life has been one exciting event after another. Spencer wants to check life out a bit, explore his options, and then settle down.”

“Fuck that,” she says as she stomps out of the office. I follow, flicking off the lights and pulling the door closed behind me. “If he can explore his options, then I can explore mine, too. Go ahead and tell him whatever you want, Ford. I don’t care. He’s hurting me with these other girls he dates. Hell,
dates
? He’s fucking them and don’t try and tell me he’s not! So I’m done with him. I’m gonna call him tonight and tell him it’s over and then tomorrow I’m meeting that guy and having a late dinner with him. And you know what, Ford? He’ll probably bring me a present. Flowers or something. Spencer never buys me anything. Nothing! He might as well be you, Ford! Hell, if I was your pet at least I’d be getting
fucked
!”

I raise my eyebrows at her.

She winces and backs away. “Sorry. Too far?”

I nod. “Let’s go get my things from my apartment and I’ll drop you off at home.” I usher her out of the house and we get back in the Bronco and drive down to the shop. It’s not far, but I have a few boxes of stuff to load up, so I take the truck.

Ronnie sheepishly follows me upstairs to my apartment over the shop. It’s pretty bare bones. Just some mismatched furniture and my leftover boxes of casual clothes and personal items. Ronnie grabs a box and I grab two, then we go back down to the Bronco and load it up.

She is silent the whole time. And I know why she’s angry. Spencer is distant, but it’s got nothing to do with her. He loves Veronica Vaughn. I know this, I’ve watched him with her on many occasions. And last summer when she accidentally got involved in that con we ran on Rook’s ex, she almost got shot and Spencer was freaking out. That’s how I know he loves her.

But I also know he’ll never tell her as long as we have all this legal shit hanging over our heads. There’s too many risks right now. We’re all in this together—Rook, Ronin, Spencer, and me—until we know we won’t be killed or put in jail.

And if certain people knew how much Spencer Shrike cares about Veronica Vaughn, then her life might be in danger too. And it’s not fair to involve her. She’s got nothing to do with any of these illegal jobs we’ve been doing.

We ride back to Fort Collins in silence and I’m still trying to figure out if I should call Spencer and tell him about this, when I hang a right on Mountain Avenue. Ronnie is the only female member of the Vaughn family—which consists of her, her four brothers, her dad, and her grandfather. All of whom are tattoo artists and have owned a shop in Fort Collins, called
Sick Boyz Inc
., since the early Sixties. They live in a gigantic old house in the historic district right off downtown. If I had left her at the restaurant she could’ve walked home in five minutes.

I almost feel bad for Ronnie. Spencer is serious about not involving her in the business and that means he does generally ignore her. And he’s been especially aloof this past fall. But Ronnie has a point too. Why should she wait around for him if he’s not providing for her?

I slow down to gather my thoughts because what I’m about to suggest might be a betrayal to one of my best friends, and it takes a little getting used to. But then Veronica’s house comes into view and her brothers are all out in the front looking at one of their many cars, so I make a snap decision. “OK, look Ronnie. I won’t tell Spencer because I get it. You’re tired of waiting. I’ll even hint around that you need some attention. And you’re both going to Antoine’s New Year’s party, so you know for sure you’ll see him then.”

“I’m not even going as his
date
, Ford. Rook invited me, not Spencer! What if he brings a girl?”

“He’s not gonna bring a girl to a party you’ll be at, Ronnie. Don’t be ridiculous.” But in reality, Spencer is not all that astute when it comes to relationships. I might need to pull him aside and make sure he doesn’t piss Veronica off. “Just give it until the trials are over in the spring, can you do that? Just wait a few months until all this legal shit is behind us?”

“I don’t know, Ford. It just seems pointless.”

“Well, at the very least, don't call him up and tell him. If you keep it secret, I’ll cover for you. But shit, Veronica, if you push his buttons you know you’ll piss him off, and the first place he’ll go is that guy’s house. So I hope that banker has a gun.”

She squints at me and then we’re at her house. Her brothers descend on the Bronco like a pack of wolves and open her door.

“Ronnie where the hell have you been?” Vinn Vaughn, her middle brother, asks first.

“Ford,” Vic, the oldest Vaughn brother says, “what the fuck are you doing with my baby sister?” All Ronnie’s brothers are tatted up like, well, tattoo artists. Veronica has no tatts and that always surprised me. She’s got a very strange blood phobia, so her continuing the trade never made sense. But she did get on board. She’s one of them. And it was her talented hands that created Spencer’s own body art. Every bit of it is Veronica’s work.

“I saw her out jogging, picked her up and gave her a lift. She had a cramp in her side. She needs to work on her endurance.” I look over at Ronnie when I say this. “Stamina, Veronica Vaughn. Slow and steady.”

She smiles sweetly and looks me right back in the eye. “Thank you so much Ford, how about you stay for dinner?”

The Vaughn family is serious about their dinners and once you get invited, it’s a done deal. You have no way out. Her brothers are on me like carrion. “Yeah, Ford. Come inside. The whole family’s here. We got a little party going.”

“Noooo—” But Grandpa Vaughn is already walking up to the Bronco waving at me.

Shit
. How the hell do I start my day one hundred percent in control of this holiday and end up spending time with an old friend, buying presents from a cute kid, consoling my partner-in-crime’s almost girlfriend, and invited over for dinner with the Vaughn clan?

I put the truck in park and give in.

Screw it. I still got five hours until my pet date and a man’s gotta eat.

Chapter Six

Christmas Eve dinner with the Vaughn family is not some sit-down with turkey and stuffing. No. It’s a mass conglomeration of men and girlfriends milling about the house, drinking too much, smoking too much, and talking way too loud. Ronnie and I are the only ones with no dates. Even her grandpa has a lady friend over.

I think that’s cute.

Ronnie’s father, Vern, has the barbecue fired up and is cooking enough meat to feed a small village. I doubt there’ll be leftovers.

I get jostled around between the various first floor rooms, talking to her brothers and then her grandpa—who fills my head with the most gruesome war stories I’ve ever heard—and then eat and make a swift exit. Swift is relative since, I spend a few hours hanging out here.

Ronnie shoots me the stink eye as I wave goodbye to them.

Yeah, Spencer needs to take care of this shit. Because she is not happy. At all. And I don’t blame her, he’s being a selfish dick. He could at the very least explain himself.

I take College down to Harmony and hang a left towards the freeway. My apartment complex is down this way and I want to bring my computer home to fuck around with tonight after the pet leaves. I’m gonna look up that guy Veronica was with. Just in case. If I never need to tell Spencer, fine. But it’s better to have the info ready than be scrounging around for it after the fact.

There’s almost no traffic today and I hit every green light all the way down to my apartment. I turn into the driveway and park in my spot. The jog up the steps feels good after so much driving today and I hope the snow isn’t too bad tonight so I can run in the morning. Keep the routine. I like a routine.

The apartment is cold and empty. I never liked the place and if it wasn't for Spencer’s guns hidden away in the third bedroom, I’d clear it out and be done with it. Chalk it up to a failed experiment with normalcy. But Spencer thinks it’s necessary, so I paid up the rent for a year.

My phone buzzes in my jacket and I sift through the gifts and my new knife to find it. “Yes, Pam.” She’s my assistant in LA. Runs my whole life—from buying me clothes to setting up the pets.

“The studio called Mr. Aston. You’re expected to show up on January fourth and pilot filming commences in New Zealand on the fourteenth for six weeks. Do you want me to book a flight for you on the third?”

“Well, that’s good news, eh? We’re finally getting somewhere with this shitty career.” I sigh and take a seat on the couch as I picture leaving Denver for two months. I’m not ready to leave, to be honest. I’m not ready to let Rook go. I’ve enjoyed her too much and I’ve missed her even more this past month. I’ve barely seen her at all. Not since the last taping of Shrike Bikes. “Did we hear back from The Biker Channel on a Season Two?”

“Yes, sir. They said second week in March.”

“During the trials?”

“Yes, sir. I think they specifically scheduled it that way for ratings.”

“Of course they did. OK, well I’ll call you back and let you know about the flight.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Aston. If you need anything, I’m on call as usual.”

“Yes, thank you, Pam.” I press end and drop the phone on the cushion. Well, this is it. Life is changing. The only question is, what will I do with it?

I’m not sure yet. All I know is that I’m the only one of my inner circle that is spending this day alone.

Well, that’s not quite true, I’ve seen a ton of people today. But all of them are home or on their way home. I’m the only one who has nowhere to go.

Well, that’s not true either. My mother has a party every Christmas Eve and I’m always on the guest list.

But I’m not in the mood for a party and I’m not in the mood to go home. I’m avoiding home. But my reprieve is up. I have nowhere else to go. And maybe if I didn’t have that pet coming over I might be tempted to sit Christmas out up here. There’s no distractions. No one would look for me here. I’d definitely be left alone.

But after all these years of successfully spending Christmas by myself, I suddenly have some apprehension about it. And this apartment is not a good place to sit and get drunk. At least my Denver condo is in the middle of the city. I could go join other pathetic loners at whatever place is open. And there is always one place open nearby, no matter where I am in the world. There’s always some bar owner who relates to us loners and agrees to house the rejected for a night of drowning away one’s loneliness.

But the pet
is
coming over and if I’m being perfectly honest, I’m looking forward to her. She’s not bad as far as pets go. She’s got a nice body and she’s trained well enough. So I grab my phone and my computer, and go back outside into the newly chilled air, climb into my Bronco, and head south.

The snow starts as soon as I hit I-70 and the drive into Denver is slick with ice as the wet roads freeze over. I get off the freeway and make my way down Broadway to my building. It’s nine PM and I’m just getting into the turn lane when my phone buzzes.

“Now what the fuck?” I get stuck at the light so I grab my phone and find my mother’s face staring back at me. I reluctantly press answer. “Hi Mom.”

“Ford?”

“You called me, Mom. You know it’s Ford. I’m the only son you have.”

“It’s just an expression, Ford. Can you go to the store and pick up some shallots? I thought I bought them yesterday, but they’re not here.”

“Shallots? Where the hell am I gonna find shallots at nine o’clock on Christmas Eve?”

“Eli’s Market is open. I called him and he’s waiting for you now, shallots in hand. He’s that nice Jewish man—”