Guns: The Spencer Book (Rook and Ronin Spinoff 4)

“Pfft. Yeah, Ronin tries that shit too. I’m like, No.”

“Oh, I love the caveman bullshit, actually.”

Rook takes her eyes off the road and looks over at me. “You do?”

“Oh, f**k yeah. Spencer is one hundred percent caveman. So he was all, ‘I’m the motherfucking boss of you, Bombshell.’ And I was all—well, I was actually stunned silent that he was gonna leave me hanging.” I take a puff and blow out a stream of vapor, making little smoke rings as I do it. “So I sorta just agreed with him.”

“What? Veronica, don’t let him walk all over you like that. God, Spencer, I dunno. He’s hot and all but Ronin and I are like… partners. Spencer is too intense for me. He’s bossy and… and intense. I would not be able to handle him.”

I sigh. “God, why do I love that man so much, Rook? I don’t get it. He treats me like total shit. Like I’m garbage. And still, I’m practically wetting myself whenever he touches me.” I puff and pout for a few seconds. “It’s like I lose all control when I’m near him.”

She turns the truck onto Spencer’s private road, which he even named after me back when we first started dating. He lives on Bombs-A Way. It took months of paperwork and I have no idea how much it cost, but sure as shit, that’s what the road is now called. It used to be Private Road 13, so Bombs-A Way is much better. And cuter.

“Why is he so confusing, Rook? I just don’t understand him at all. I need to get away from him. Maybe I’ll move to Denver when you go home.” The thought of Rook leaving me is upsetting all of a sudden. “Are you guys moving back when the season’s over? Or you gonna move to Boulder for school? Maybe I’ll go to Boulder with you.”

Rook sighs deeply. “I dunno about school, Ronnie. I sorta suck at like—all of it.” She stops to laugh a little so instead of getting concerned that her dream of film school is going down the tubes, I relax and just listen to her problems for a change. “I mean, film school still sounds fun and all. I’d still like to do something related to movies. But I’m just not into the bullshit classes I have to take in order to get that piece of paper. I mean, I have that cool camera Ronin got me for my birthday. And I have a ton of money. Why can’t I just start making movies? Why do I need to go to school to make movies? I know what I like to watch and those movies aren’t bizarre artsy f**king bullshit. They’re popular films that make millions. So can’t I just make movies I like until I get good enough for people to take notice?”

I puff and ponder.

“Be serious with me now, Ronnie. Do you think you need an art degree to do what you’re doing?”

I cough on the nonexistent smoke in my lungs. “To be a tattoo artist? I dunno.” I shrug. “I was always an artist. Generally people who want to go to art school are already artists. They do it to make their parents feel better about their career choice. But in my case, I think I just wanted to prove that I was smart enough, ya know? Like I’m just as good as all those kids at CSU, even though I’m a Vaughn.”

“Exactly!” Rook squeals as we pull into Spencer’s driveway. “I think I just want the degree to prove I’m not trash. And back when Spencer was body-painting me he told me something. Something like—painting naked girls is his one true talent. The one thing he was born to do, the one gift he was given at birth. He said he did an internship with a famous painter or something, but basically he said he just knew how to do it. That’s sorta how I feel about movies. I can make movies, I just know it. But what I can’t do is college algebra.”

I laugh at that. “I had a tutor. I’m not a math girl either.”

She shakes her head and laughs with me. “Yeah, well, Ford’s been busy with his new life and I’m too afraid to get another tutor after what happened with the last one.”

Rook’s math tutor last semester ratted her out to all kinds of bad people. Of course, he didn’t understand he was helping the bad guys, but it’s hard to let that shit go if you’re the one on the receiving end of a plot to kidnap you and sell you to a Columbian drug lord.

“Hey, how come Ashleigh didn’t come, anyway? I thought you said she was coming?”

“Oh, baby Kate was fussy. She’s teething and stuff. Six months is a hard age. They start getting opinionated and demanding. Getting ready to crawl and assert some independence.”

Rook says all that like she’s a f**king pediatrician. I bet she read all those mother-to-be books back when she was pregnant, before she lost her baby to a terrible accident.

Rook parks the truck in front of the carport and shuts it off.

“Does it make you feel sad? When you watch Ford and Ashleigh with Kate?”

She looks out the window for a few seconds. You can see the river in the winter because all the trees are bare. And there are a few deer over there looking for food. “You know,” she starts softly. “It sorta does. And not just in the obvious ways. Ford and I are good friends. And Ashleigh is perfect for him. But we’re not as close as we were. And the baby. God.” She stops again and I’m tempted to change the subject so she won’t have to face these feels. But she continues before I can do that. “Kate’s so beautiful, ya know?”

Rook looks over to me now, all sad and shit. I nod. “Yeah,” I say back just a softly. “She’s very adorable.”

“I’m going to the doctor after this,” Rook blurts out suddenly.