"So let me get this straight." Ford continues the conversation from ten minutes ago, like he's been pondering my answer the whole time. "Ronin is your boyfriend but he's not allowed to tell you not to do harmful things?"

I shrug. "Yeah, I guess. We're dating but he's not my father, Ford. I think I can identify harmful things just as well as he can." This is a total lie. I was stuck in an abusive relationship for three years and the guy almost killed me before I finally figured out I needed to leave. But I don't want Ford to know any of that, so I play it cool and just take a bite of my sandwich.

"Hmmm…"

"Hmmm, what?" I say with my mouth full. Maybe I can gross him out and make him leave me alone.

"You're close to his type, but not quite."

What's this guy's deal? "OK," I say, still chewing. "I'll play. What's his type, Ford? If I'm not it, then what's he usually go for?"

"Clare. She's his type, Rook."

"Oh, well"—I swallow—"something tells me the whole junkie thing's not working for him these days."

"No doubt. But she wasn't always a junkie. She went to school with us for a while my senior year. Her mom died and her father wanted her to go to school in the US, so Antoine let her come for a summer and then decided to keep her here. She and Ronin have been tight for a long time now. He crushed on her hard for a while back in school. Then Mardee came along. He wanted her more, I suppose, so Clare was forgotten. But they're all forgotten eventually, so Mardee became just another junkie. He likes the lost ones, Rook. He likes to swoop in and save them. Or think he's saving them, because let's face it, his track record is pretty bleak. But you have a little more sense to you, and I always thought Ronin liked the dumb ones, you know? The ones who don't know any better. Or the young ones."

I just stare at him with my mouth open.

"You come off as pretty smart, plus you don't seem to have any life issues that he can fix, so I just can't picture the two of you together. The only thing that interests him is your age from what I can see. Unless you have some secret f**ked-up life I don't know about."

"Wow, Ford, you're a total ass**le, aren't you?"

"If you say so," he says, continuing on like my opinion of him hardly matters. "I guess it shouldn't surprise me that he's allowing you to do these nude modeling contracts because that makes you need him. He's your manager, right?"

"You know he is," I sneer.

"Well, if you were dating me," he says standing up and reaching for his wallet. "I'd forbid it. It wouldn't even be up for discussion. And if you did go and sign a contract without counsel, one that required you to pose nude several dozen times, I'd have ripped Spencer a new ass**le if he didn't talk you out of it." He throws a twenty down on the table as he waits for my reaction.

"Food's free here," is all I have to say.

"Nothing's free, Rook."

And then he walks out.

Chapter Six - ROOK

Ford's words sting. Like bad.

Because not only am I young, too young to do anything fun with everyone else Ronin hangs out with, I'm also pretty f**ked up in the life department. I mean, that was my whole deal, right? I was tragic. So tragic they had a campaign with my name on it. So f**king tragic I was living in a homeless shelter when I turned up here.

My appetite is gone after four bites of my sandwich and my stomach roils with the thought of eating anything else right now. I grab my phone off the table and leave the diner, walking slowly back to the studio. The doors are locked since it's after hours so I key in my code and then start to walk up the stairs, but change my mind and take a seat on the bottom step. I can hear a whole bunch of shit going on up there—lots of people here still. But I feel pretty alone.

I basically have no friends.

I have Ronin, but he's a boyfriend, so I'm not sure if that counts. Plus he's far away.

I have Elise, but she's more like a boss than anything else. Plus she's far away too.

I have Antoine, but he's… I don't even have another relationship to compare Antoine to. I can't even imagine in my wildest dreams of approaching Antoine and asking him if he wants to catch a movie or something.

None of the other models talk to me. Val, that tiny blonde girl who walks around naked every chance she gets, is sorta nice. But she's never asked me if I wanted to do anything after work. Plus, she's on vacation with almost everyone else while we do this STURGIS contract.

Billy is OK, but I'm too young to participate in his brand of fun.

Spencer is really cool actually, but he's running like four companies. He's got a bar, the Shrike Bikes, the TV show, and the painting. He's got no time to be my friend.

And that's pretty much it as far as my social circle goes. It's pathetic. And even though Chicago holds the worst memories of my entire life, I suddenly wish I was there so I could at least attempt to look up an old friend. Maybe Stacy Juniper who was my foster sister for almost a year at one house. Or even some of my old foster parents. They didn't all hate me, some of them just had bad luck, not enough time or money to keep other people's kids. Stuff like that.

It's dangerous to have only one friend, who in this case for me is Ronin. Dangerous because you start to depend on them too much.

"Rook! There you are," Antoine calls from above. "Come up to the third floor, we have to go over the show details."