Tragic

Ronin calls out a, "Hey." And both Antoine and Elise pull apart from an embrace like two school kids caught necking in the hallways.

Did I just use the word necking?

The Gidget outfit is getting to me, I think.

"I hope you like kebabs," Ronin says. "Antoine makes some of the best kebabs ever."

"If it's meat, I'll eat it," I reply, my stomach growling like mad with the smell that wafts off the grill and teases my senses.

"You wanna beer?"

"Sure." This is already turning out to be way better than I imagined, so why not relax a little. In my head dinner with the Chaputs involved a white tablecloth, crystal glassware, and eating snails drowning in butter with tiny little forks.

Ronin grabs a Corona from a box filled with ice and twists off the cap, then hands it to me and takes one for himself. He grabs two lime wedges from a little silver bucket in the ice, and shoves down the neck of each beer. I enjoy the smell of a fizzy lime-infused beer and then take a long gulp.

Elise walks over to us. "How old are you, Rook?"

"Twenty-one."

"Really?"

"Shut up, Elise, like you waited until you were twenty-one to drink. Leave her alone, she's here to relax."

Elise narrows her eyes at Ronin and then looks over to me. "I wasn't asking because of the beer, I just need to know for our contracts. Are you really twenty-one?"

"No, I'm nineteen," I say, a little ashamed as I try and hand the beer back to Ronin. He shakes his head at me and I keep the beer.

"I'm not interested in policing your alcohol habits, Rook. This is a working dinner, sweetie, and it involves contracts so I just want to make sure you are legal to sign them. We need to get some things straight and we need to know what you will and won't be doing for us while you're working here."

I swallow. Boy, she really gets to the point.

"Because while we feel what we do here is art, not everyone agrees and you need to know what it means for you to agree to model for us. OK?"

I nod.

"So Ronin, why don't you go keep Antoine company while Rook and I go over the particulars."

"You OK with this, Rook?" he asks.

"Yeah, sure. It's business."

He smiles and walks over to Antoine, who has switched the conversation to French. I can hear Ronin say, "English, you ape," as he approaches.

"Have a seat, Rook." I look back to Elise, who is all business right now. Gone is that little fairy woman who took pity on me as I cried on the stairs and I'm sorta sorry she got to see me in such a weak position, it puts me behind right now. Like she knows I'm not strong so she automatically gets the upper hand.

I sit like I'm told and wait for it.

"OK, I'm not going to sugarcoat it because I'm hungry and I try and treat everyone the same, and I don't sugarcoat it for any of the other models, so you are no different just because Ronin wants to keep you."

"What?"

"He likes you, Rook, I think we can both agree that is true. So what I want you to know up front is that we are an erotic photography studio, we supply photos, tasteful photos," she enunciates, "to companies like publishers, producers, large marketing firms and the like. They typically come in an order that asks for something specific, but if we have images we can't use, leftovers and such, we sell them to stock art companies. Do you know what that is, Rook? Stock art?"

I shake my head.

"It's a database of photos on a large website that allows anyone to buy the images for a fee and use them as they see fit for projects, with certain restrictions regarding print production. So this means, should you sign our model release form, your body could end up pretty much anywhere. On the cover of a book, in an advertisement, a CD cover, things like that. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good. So here's the deal. You don't have to do nudes. We have some work for you that is straight portrait and fashion, a bit of glamour stuff every now and then like Clare does. You'll make twenty dollars an hour and that's it. You work by the hour and the work for these types of shots is not steady, but since Ronin seems compelled to take care of you, you hardly need the money."

I'm not sure why, but I take offense to this statement.

"Ronin would prefer this option, but you should know that if you get a private contract—for instance, if you agree to do the TRAGIC campaign we are setting up—you will make thousands of dollars. Many thousands of dollars. This contract has a budget of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and a portion of that is for the models. If you're chosen and you agree, you'll make a lot of money. This is what we do here. We make a lot of money, but there is a price to pay. Your images will be all over."

"OK."

"OK? That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

She takes a deep breath. "Let me give you some advice, Rook. Because if you like Ronin, and I know this from my own experience with Antoine, he will not want you to take those contracts. So if you do, you might pay that price too."

I take a swig of my beer and look away for a moment, over at Ronin and Antoine as they fool with the grill and the food. I'm not sure why, but this whole thing with Ronin is bugging me. "Elise, I like your brother. He's one sexy man, pardon me for saying that as you're his sister. And he's a model, and he's got a lot of money, but I've known the guy for four days. I'm not ready to base a life-changing decision off a potential relationship with him. So if you have a contract I'd like to read it and then I'd like to think about it."