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“Thanks for checking in on me,” I tell my friend truthfully. I might not be able to express myself the way other people do, but I make an effort for those who matter.
We say our goodbyes right as I approach the Sea Change offices. It’s only a few blocks from my motel, making it easy to walk. The building looks a little worse for wear, but it has a professional sign and logo on the front door. For a non-profit fighting against the bigwig fishing companies on the East Coast, it’s about what I pictured.
My training kicks in, and I check the perimeter for other entrances and windows, noting multiple weak spots in security. Part of my job here is to give my expert opinion on how they can keep their employees safe, and from what I’m seeing, they’ll need to do some major upgrades. There are four entry points, but only one has a security camera, plus numerous windows that look like they could be shimmied open with nothing more than a butter knife. In short, this place is a nightmare.
When I finish taking notes on my phone of all the suggestions for better security, I roll my shoulders and take a cleansing breath. It’s time to go inside and meet the woman I’ll be in charge of for the next several weeks. Apparently, she’s a force to be reckoned with when it comes to organizing protests. That’s great for Sea Change but comes with risks for the fearless and perhaps a bit reckless Roxy.
I walk inside, noting that there’s no buzzer for the front desk and no badge to swipe to unlock the door. In fact, the door opens right into the lobby instead of having a bit of a corridor. All negatives when it comes to security.
“Good morning,” a chipper woman in her sixties says, greeting me with a warm smile. I’m not sure what to do with her kindness. It’s been a long damn time since anyone has smiled at me.
“I’m Keaton, SEAL Team Alpha, reporting for the first day of bodyguard duty. I was told I would be meeting Roxy Smith here at zero-eight-hundred.”
“Zero, eight... oh, you mean eight am?” the woman asks.
I nod, remembering that most civilians don’t operate on military time.
“Sure thing, dear.” She types away at her computer while I come to terms with the fact that this woman just called me dear. “Roxy will meet you in the Coral conference room, just down that hall, the first door on your left,” she tells me.
I nod again and make my way in that direction, noting that I should have been escorted to my destination for security purposes, not simply sent on my way to cause unknown havoc in the office. Of course, the conference room is also unlocked, which leads me to believe every room in this building is always open.
After updating my security suggestions, I check my watch. She’s ten minutes late, which might as well be an hour late in my book. The old military adage replays in my mind: if you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late.
I take this time to look over the file again, even though I have the thing practically memorized at this point. One can never be too prepared when taking on security detail.
Half an hour later, and I’m growing restless and frustrated. Does this woman have no respect for my time? Sure, it’s not like I have anything better to do, but that’s not the point. It’s the principle of the matter.
I’m about to walk out to see if the disarmingly friendly woman at the front desk gave me the wrong room when the conference room door swings open. I’ve gone over Roxy’s file a dozen times by now, which includes several pictures of her. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me to meet her in real life.
She’s... radiant. Her midnight black hair is pinned back to reveal her creamy skin, rounded cheeks, full lips, a button nose, and big, sparkling blue eyes. I find it hard to breathe for some reason, and my heart kicks into high gear, thudding against my chest at a rapid pace.
The woman furrows her brow at me, then opens her pouty lips before closing them again. I get it. I’m speechless, too.
But then I remember why I’m here and that she kept me waiting.
“You’re late,” I say, a little more harshly than I intended.
Roxy jerks back at my tone, and for the first time in a long damn time, I wish I was gentler.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
“Um, honestly, I thought my boss was joking when she said she was hiring a bodyguard for me. She said you were waiting for me here, but I didn’t believe her.”
“I’m no joke, and neither is your safety,” I inform her, standing from my chair. Roxy is shorter than I expected and has curves for days. For some ridiculous reason, I picture how perfectly she’d fit in my arms. I could tuck her head under my chin and rock her back and forth...
What the fuck? Focus!
“I got a few freaky letters, no biggie,” she says, shrugging.
“No, you received five threatening letters that have ramped up the specifics of how they’ll harm you and details that lead me to believe they know more about you than you might think.”
“Everyone is just being paranoid. I mean, c’mon. I’m twenty-three, a recent college grad, working at a mid-sized non-profit. I’m a little fish in the sea.” Roxy pauses for a second, then snorts out the cutest little laugh. “Get it? Fish? Sea?”
She laughs at her play on words, and the sound soothes me like her joy calms me. It makes no sense, and I’m sure it’s because I’m tired. Or something.
“Anyway, your services aren’t needed after all,” she tells me. “I’m sure we can use whatever money they are paying you on better computers or another intern or something.”
“Wait a minute, now,” I start, only to be cut off by the confounding woman.
