SLACK: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston (Rook and Ronin Spin-off) (9 page)

I look back over at the clock. Eleven forty-two. I know where my mom will be in twenty minutes. Hell, she’s probably there now. I walk back to my room and flip the light on in my closet. I put on a gray suit, comb my hair back, slip on my navy cashmere topcoat, and grab my keys and phone.

I’m going to church.

Chapter Nine

St. Margaret’s is a traditional brick Catholic church with massive cathedral ceilings, dark wooden pews, the gigantic organ up in the corner, the lavish altar, and the stained glass windows. I haven’t been in here in years, but as soon as I walk in the smell of incense overtakes my senses and I feel like I never left.

We have a spot where we sit. In fact, almost everyone has a
spot
. Midnight mass is tricky in this regard, because our spot on Saturday evening mass might be someone else’s spot on Sunday morning. But when I look over at our spot, there’s my mother.

Sitting alone.

I am such a bad son.

The interior is set up in a circular configuration. The altar is the top of the circle, then there are three sets of pews that span out from there. It’s not a half-circle of pews, even though that’s the best way to describe it. It’s slightly more than half a circle, and to my mind this never made sense. It bothered me when I was six and it bothers me now. I can’t stand asymmetrical or uneven designs.

I do realize this is not normal. To hate this place because the architect wanted the pews to take up more than one-half of a circle so more people can fit in for the service. But I do. I
hate
this room.

It makes me uneasy just to be in here.

But I suck it up and walk to our pew and say, “Excuse me,” in my most polite voice as I inch my way past the people already sitting in their
spots
, and plop down next to my mom. She likes to sit in the middle. Not just the middle of this section, or this pew, but the middle of the entire church.

I guess I take after her in that regard, because sitting here almost cancels out the uneven layout of the pews.

“Ford,” she says in her soft church-whisper voice. She leads by example and I was always a little too loud as a child, so that voice was practiced to no end.

“Sorry I walked out earlier. I didn’t mean it the way it looked.” I pause. “If it looked like I disapprove, then I didn’t mean it that way. You have a right to be happy.”

She looks up at me surprised.

“I hope he didn’t stay away because of me. I’d feel terrible.” Of course the reason she’s alone is because of me, but it’s done. Nothing I can do about that, so I don’t dwell. She appreciates the sentiment and if the guy’s worth a shit, he’ll still be available tomorrow when she calls to smooth things over.

Then the choir starts up and the ceremony begins so our conversation is cut short. I look over at the section of pews at my left and through a small break in the crowd, I see Ronin smiling at me. Laughing at me, I think. Elise is on one side, and Antoine on the other side of her. And on Ronin’s other side is Rook. She’s belting out
Hark the Herald Angels Sing
like she owns it.

God, I love that girl.

She is my herald, a living proclamation that my life can get better.

Rook is so beautiful I constantly want to stare at her. Tonight she’s wearing a cream colored suit and she has a red scarf around her neck. Her hair is down and flows over her shoulders in big bouncy curls. She looks up for a moment, to watch the priest and his attendants ascend the steps to the altar, and her bright blue eyes flash in the low light.

She takes my breath away. I reluctantly redirect my gaze over to the other side of the church where Spencer’s family sits. Mass begins as I gawk at all the familiar faces. Spencer’s parents are still together and they sit on either side of him. He’s an only child as well, which was why we gravitated to each other as children. His eyes wander my way and when he spots me sitting in the pews, he fakes an exaggerated look of surprise. Or maybe not so exaggerated, since I haven’t been here in years. Then he shoots me with his finger and someone behind me flicks my ear.

Spencer laughs when I wince but I don’t even turn around. I know who it is. Sister Anne Catherine.

My childhood nemesis.

She does not accept my silent surrender and leans in to whisper, “Rutherford, behave yourself.”

My mother looks over at me with disapproval, Spencer shoots his finger again and covers his fake laughing mouth like he’s ten, and when I look over at Ronin, he’s smirking.

Rook is reading the bulletin intently, like she’s studying for a test.

God, I love her.

My heart begins to beat wildly and I suddenly have the need to flee, but my mother grabs my coat sleeve when I make to rise, and I settle back down.

“You’re here now, Ford,” she whispers. “Just relax and enjoy it.”

And that is how I spend the wee hours of Christmas Day. Desperately wishing I was anywhere but church as I kneel, sit, stand, wish Sister Nemesis peace, and then force myself not to freak out when she grabs my hand to shake it.

She does that on purpose.

There’s no way I’m taking communion, so as soon as our row gets up for it, I pat my mother on the shoulder as my only warning, and make my escape out the back. I stuff my hands into my coat pockets, sorta proud of myself that I lasted a whole hour in there, and then spy Ronin’s black truck across the street from my Bronco.

I could put Rook’s present in the truck. I walk over to the Bronco and open up the glove box.

Oh, God. Looking at Sasha’s gift wrapping handiwork almost makes me feel sick. What must she be thinking right now? I grab both presents and my knife and stuff them all in my pockets. I jog back over to Ronin’s truck. The doors are locked but the back glass window slides open when I try it. I hop in the bed, reach my hand in, and drop the little Eric Cartman package on her seat.

I hope she doesn’t sit on it, but if she does, she’ll definitely know it’s there. I close the window and hop out, then spy my mom’s Mercedes down the street. Sasha would definitely be disappointed in me if I never gave that bracelet to her. And since I’m not sure if I’ll go home tomorrow for dinner—that’s asking a lot, even if it
is
Christmas—I better drop it off now, too.

I have a remote on my key chain that unlocks her car, so I slip in the driver’s seat and prop the little gift bag in the ledge of her GPS console, and then get out and lock it up.

I feel a little bit like Santa Claus and some of the dread and unease melts away as I walk back to my Bronco. I pocket my gift-wrapped knife and drive home. It stopped snowing and the sky is clear and black, with more stars showing than you usually see in the city.

When the elevator opens to my penthouse hallway, I’m half expecting that psycho-pet to be here waiting, but she’s not. I’m alone again. I’m not sure how getting rid of the pets will affect me. I’m not even sure if I’m serious about it. I’ll probably call Pam up tomorrow begging for one. Surely she can’t have scheduled one for Christmas Day. There’s still time if I want to change my mind.

I’m just not sure.

I hang up my coat and change out of my suit and into some sweats and a t-shirt.

What a fucking day.

I pour some whiskey into a rocks tumbler and take a long slow sip. This is what I’ve needed since this morning. Teach me to drive all over two fucking states. My phone buzzes an incoming call and I look at the time. Almost one thirty. And it’s my mom.

“Mom?” I ask, like she does every time I call, as if she didn’t have caller ID and know for a fact that it’s me.

“Ford,” she says with a lightness in her voice. “You have caller ID, why do you always ask if it’s me?”

I laugh.

“I just wanted to thank you for the gift, Ford. It’s lovely. And who may I ask is Sasha?”

My laugh dies. I forgot she signed the card. “She’s a kid who sold me the bracelet.” I tell my mom the story of where it came from because Sasha would’ve wanted me to, and I can tell she’s choked up about it. I even tell her what happened with her dad and the news broadcast. My mom is smart. She’s not delusional, she knows what I do. She knows that somehow I’m connected to this girl’s father. She knows Spencer, Ronin, and I are guilty as fuck of just about everything they say about us on TV. She knows. But she accepts me. My parents have always accepted me. The weirdness was never a factor. We chat for almost eight minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to my mother on the phone for so long in my life.

“I’m so sorry that happened, Ford,” she says as the conversation winds down.

“Yeah, me too. I might drive up there tomorrow and see if she needs anything so you should probably just get Gary to come keep you company all day.”

She sighs. “I miss your father every day, Ford. I do. He was my whole life. But he’s been gone for two years now and I’m lonely.”

I nod, like she can see me. “I understand. It’s OK.” I’m not really sure that it is OK, but she needs to hear that, so I say it anyway. I’m not capable of much empathy, but I can fake it. And they never know the difference, so what the fuck. It doesn’t cost me anything to pretend to understand and be nice.

We say our goodbyes and hang up.

Chapter Ten

Everything seems to be changing all of a sudden. This morning I had a routine. I’m not sure if it was a good routine or a healthy one, but it was there. Running, pets, solitude.

And now, I’m not sure where I am, let alone where I’m going.

I turn the TV off and leave my whiskey on the coffee table. My bedroom feels sterile to me. The only hint that someone actually sleeps here is the rumpled duvet from my earlier fuck with psycho-pet. I’m just about to turn off the light and give up on this day when my phone buzzes.

What could my mother want now?

I pick it up and look at the face.

Rook
.

Life improves instantly.

“Miss Corvus,” I rumble out smoothly. Even I can hear the want in my voice. “I realize you don’t need beauty rest, but some of us do.”

She snorts at me. “Ford, you are so, so stupid! I just called to tell you I found this little Eric Cartman toy on my seat. In fact, I sat on it and it made me jump.” I picture this in my head and I wish I was there to see it. “And imagine my surprise when I opened it and found that card.”

Busted
. I didn’t write the card, Sasha did. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Tell me what the card says.”

“It says,” she stops to clear her throat. “
To Ford’s friend who is a girl. He likes you a lot, but I’m gonna try and steal his heart when I get my braces off, so you better move fast. Merry Christmas, Sasha and Ford Forever. XXOO, heart, heart, flower
.”

I laugh. I laugh so hard it echoes off the walls in this stupid ultra-modern condo. “Well,” I tell her, “that pretty much made my whole day. If I could have you and Sasha together, my life might be complete.”

“I got you something too, Ford. But I was afraid to call it a gift. Ronin says you don’t like holidays.”

“Some people make some holidays more tolerable than others. What did you get me?”

She takes a deep breath. “I talked Ronin into letting me do another season of Shrike Bikes. But I’m not gonna do it unless you’re the producer. So if you’re out, I’m out too. Because I never realized how much we do together until we were separated this month. When I don’t run with you every day, I feel a little lost. You kinda ground me, Ford. I need it. I need that show and I’m really looking forward to all of us being together again.”

I breathe deeply to calm my racing heart. “I just heard today that Season Two is on. My assistant called from LA and said they want to film during the trials. I know it’ll be hard, but we’ll manage it, OK? Ronin, Spence, and I will make sure we come out of this looking squeaky clean.”

“I’ve never doubted you guys, Ford. Never. I look at my life today and I think to myself—Rook, how the hell? Ya know? Just how the hell did you get here? Remember when you asked me that last summer?”

“Yeah,” I say as I think back to that day. I was falling in love with her and I didn’t even know it. “Last Christmas I was in Japan, all alone, producing a game show. Two Christmases ago I was still enjoying the fact that I had two parents, even if I did take them for granted. Three Christmases ago I was fighting with Ronin and Spencer so bad, we stopped talking completely. Four Christmases ago Mardee was dead from an overdose. Five Christmases ago I was running cons with Ronin and Spencer like we were invincible. I feel like I’m going in circles, ya know? Ending up right back where I started. But you, Rook. You’ve changed my life.”

I stop there because I’m very close to telling her how I really feel and I’m not gonna confuse her like that on Christmas. She loves Ronin, not me. If I was a good guy I’d leave her the fuck alone, just move on to my next job and get over it.

“Well,” she says to slice through my silence. “Five Christmases ago I thought Wade Minix was my forever guy. Four Christmases ago I thought Jon Walsh was my forever guy. Three Christmases ago I was getting the shit beat out of me by my soon-to-be husband. Two Christmases ago I thought I was going to be a mom.” She stops here to pull herself together and it almost breaks my heart listening to her talk about the baby she lost. “And last Christmas we had this big party at our house in Illinois. It was a nice party actually, but I can only really remember two things. My body was very sore from Jon beating me the night before and I was very cold because I was standing outside in the middle of the night, looking up at the stars. Like I am right now.”