Allow me to spell it out.
“Ronnie, Spencer is a man. He doesn’t do feelings, he does caveman. When he says ‘No, Ronnie, you may not have one of my custom Shrike Bikes.’ What he really means is, ‘Are you f**king insane? I refuse to spend every Goddamn night wondering if you’re dead in a f**king ditch somewhere. You may not have a bike and you will never get a bike with my name on it as long as I’m alive, so f**king help me, God.’”
“But he gave Rook a bike!”
“Yeah, because it made Rook happy and she’s got Ronin to reign her in when she talks about riding it. And after she took off to Illinois alone on that f**king Shrike Bike, you see where it is now? Sitting under the f**king carport out here in the middle of nowhere, being ridden by no one. Rook will never sit on that bike again, let alone ride it. Ronin put his foot down and it’s over. Now, do you need me to spell out why he refuses to let you model for him anymore? Because I will. I think you’re smart enough to figure that shit out on your own, but I’ll hold your hand tonight and not make fun of your idiocy because it’s Christmas.”
“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 f**king 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 f**k 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 f**king 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 f**ked!”
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.