TRAGIC: Rook and Ronin, #1 Read Online Free
Author: J. A. Huss
Tags: New Adult Contemporary Romance
that's for sure. I used to have a family. A mom at least. But she's been gone for a while now. I have nothing left of her, not even a picture. So the image of her burned into my memory is all that I have.
I'm pretty sure that memory is a bit skewed. For example, I picture her in a dress with an apron, but I'm almost positive that I'm thinking of one of the moms on RetroTube at night, and not my mother.
My mother didn't bake pies, she smoked crack.
But that's what happens when all you have left is a memory. Things change over time, other memories and images invade and reshape it.
You forget things.
And mostly you tend to forget bad things and I find that to be dangerous. Because if you forget the bad things, chances are those bad things will come back to get you again.
I try really hard to keep my memories of living with Jon fresh so I don't forget.
And I don't even care if this is healthy or whatever. The counselors at the shelter hinted that it's best to let the past go, but I don't agree and it's my life, my death. So I'm the one who gets to make the final decision.
I feel satisfied at that because I love making my own decisions.
Like today, for instance. I walked out of that job after they accused me of stealing. They did fire me first, and I could've stayed and groveled, but I didn't. I walked away.
Now I'm homeless, jobless, and broke. But at least I'm not scared and at least I'm not broken and at least I'm not letting people who know nothing about me dictate who and what I am. Even though I spend my nights with drug addicts and criminals, and probably rapists and maybe even murderers—I am less afraid in that shelter than I was at home with my ex-boyfriend.
The noise of a camera shutter snaps me back to reality. "No, don't move, Rook. You're perfect right there."
I take my attention back to the window and the memories, ignoring Antoine. If that's what he wants, then fuck it. What do I care? This whole thing is probably a set-up anyway, to get me to do porn movies or something.
The shutter continues to snap, but Antoine becomes more and more chatty. Directing me to move my arm, or tilt my head, or close my eyes, or frown.
I do it all just like he asks. Just like Elise told me to.
And I never once smile.
And he never once asks me to.
"What are you thinking about, Rook?" Antoine says later, when he's fussing with his camera and everyone else except that Ronin guy has left.
I look over at Antoine. He's tall and thick. Not fat by any means, just thick. His hair is dark and his eyes are blue, like mine, like that Ronin guy. He's wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and for an older guy, late thirties maybe, he's handsome. Not hot or cute, but definitely handsome in a chiseled jaw and scratchy face kind of way.
I can see why Elise is his lover.
"None of your business," I answer him after my pause.
His reaction is lost on me because I turn back to the window.
"Do you enjoy modeling?"
I shrug. "It's a job."
"Do you have a book?"
I have no idea what that means so I just say, "No."
This time his reaction is not lost on me because he bellows out a laugh. "No? If you're a model you have a book. Show it to me." He pulls out a card and offers it. "Here is my e-mail, send me your photos."
I take the card and meet his eyes this time. "I am not a model and I have no book, whatever that is. I just need a job. The invitation card said $100 an hour. I just need the money."
"Test shoots pay in pictures, child. You don't get paid for today, but I'll give you a CD with your images, just give me your address and I'll send it when it's ready."
I'm the one who bellows out a laugh this time. "Pictures? I don't need any fucking pictures! I need money!" I walk back over to the style station and Elise is watching me with a nervous expression. "Where's my bag? I'm leaving. What a waste of time. Pictures!"
My hoodie is still in the little changing area and I whip the tank top off and pull the thrift store bargain over
I'm pretty sure that memory is a bit skewed. For example, I picture her in a dress with an apron, but I'm almost positive that I'm thinking of one of the moms on RetroTube at night, and not my mother.
My mother didn't bake pies, she smoked crack.
But that's what happens when all you have left is a memory. Things change over time, other memories and images invade and reshape it.
You forget things.
And mostly you tend to forget bad things and I find that to be dangerous. Because if you forget the bad things, chances are those bad things will come back to get you again.
I try really hard to keep my memories of living with Jon fresh so I don't forget.
And I don't even care if this is healthy or whatever. The counselors at the shelter hinted that it's best to let the past go, but I don't agree and it's my life, my death. So I'm the one who gets to make the final decision.
I feel satisfied at that because I love making my own decisions.
Like today, for instance. I walked out of that job after they accused me of stealing. They did fire me first, and I could've stayed and groveled, but I didn't. I walked away.
Now I'm homeless, jobless, and broke. But at least I'm not scared and at least I'm not broken and at least I'm not letting people who know nothing about me dictate who and what I am. Even though I spend my nights with drug addicts and criminals, and probably rapists and maybe even murderers—I am less afraid in that shelter than I was at home with my ex-boyfriend.
The noise of a camera shutter snaps me back to reality. "No, don't move, Rook. You're perfect right there."
I take my attention back to the window and the memories, ignoring Antoine. If that's what he wants, then fuck it. What do I care? This whole thing is probably a set-up anyway, to get me to do porn movies or something.
The shutter continues to snap, but Antoine becomes more and more chatty. Directing me to move my arm, or tilt my head, or close my eyes, or frown.
I do it all just like he asks. Just like Elise told me to.
And I never once smile.
And he never once asks me to.
"What are you thinking about, Rook?" Antoine says later, when he's fussing with his camera and everyone else except that Ronin guy has left.
I look over at Antoine. He's tall and thick. Not fat by any means, just thick. His hair is dark and his eyes are blue, like mine, like that Ronin guy. He's wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and for an older guy, late thirties maybe, he's handsome. Not hot or cute, but definitely handsome in a chiseled jaw and scratchy face kind of way.
I can see why Elise is his lover.
"None of your business," I answer him after my pause.
His reaction is lost on me because I turn back to the window.
"Do you enjoy modeling?"
I shrug. "It's a job."
"Do you have a book?"
I have no idea what that means so I just say, "No."
This time his reaction is not lost on me because he bellows out a laugh. "No? If you're a model you have a book. Show it to me." He pulls out a card and offers it. "Here is my e-mail, send me your photos."
I take the card and meet his eyes this time. "I am not a model and I have no book, whatever that is. I just need a job. The invitation card said $100 an hour. I just need the money."
"Test shoots pay in pictures, child. You don't get paid for today, but I'll give you a CD with your images, just give me your address and I'll send it when it's ready."
I'm the one who bellows out a laugh this time. "Pictures? I don't need any fucking pictures! I need money!" I walk back over to the style station and Elise is watching me with a nervous expression. "Where's my bag? I'm leaving. What a waste of time. Pictures!"
My hoodie is still in the little changing area and I whip the tank top off and pull the thrift store bargain over
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