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I open the door and walk inside, allowing it to close behind me. She’s perched on the edge of the bed, holding her cell phone. She looks more relaxed now than earlier.
Her eyes meet mine. “I ordered you the ribeye, medium-rare, with a loaded baked potato and asparagus.”
“Perfect, thank you.” I smile. “Alex sent me your schedule. We’re all set. Even if you can’t always see me, just know I’m close by.”
She turns her body to fully face me. “We need a signal or something.” There’s no sign of joking in her tone or expression.
“Okay, what do you have in mind?” I ask as she pats the bed beside her for me to take a seat.
She mentioned a code word earlier and now a signal. She’s more nervous than she lets on. I walk toward her but take a seat at the table by the window. I don’t think she meant anything by her gesture, but this is more professional.
She shifts towards me. “I don’t know, really. I’ve just been thinking if I’m uncomfortable, or I notice someone in the crowd, I don’t want to yell, ‘Hey, SJ,’ so I thought a signal would make more sense.”
I stifle the chuckle that tries to slip because she’s serious. I give her an understanding nod and keep my expression neutral. Again, this is new to her. I watch for her body language, so I’ll notice a change in her demeanor before she can signal me. However, this is about making her comfortable with me being here as much as it is about keeping her safe.
“What’s something you can do that I’ll notice but won’t disrupt your performance?” I know less about ballet than she knows about being a bodyguard.
“Um, I could have improper placement of my feet while in the first position.”
I wait a few beats before responding, but the confusion on my face must give me away before I can speak.
“Ah, you don’t know proper foot placement. I don’t know why I thought you might. You’re more of a weights guy, I bet.” There’s no malice in her voice. I think she’s even embarrassed by her assumption.
A deep, rich laugh escapes me. “No, I don’t know proper foot placement…for ballet. Yoga, yes, but not ballet.”
Her eyes go wide at my admission. “You do yoga?”
Her surprise makes me laugh again. I don’t know why it’s so hard for people to believe. Yoga stretches everything out after a hard workout. It’s the perfect combination.
There’s a knock at the door, and it startles Nora. “Room service,” a voice on the other side calls. Nora places her hand over her heart, probably to calm it.
I stand and walk over to the door, looking out the peephole to confirm it is indeed room service. I open the door just enough to allow the cart of food to pass into the room, and effectively stop the hotel staff member from coming inside.
“I’ll take it from here,” I tell him before reaching into my pocket to pull out a tip.
Just as I realize I left my wallet in my room, I feel something press into my hand from behind me. I turn briefly to see Nora step back, and I inspect what she placed in my hand. Cash for the tip. Without hesitation because I don’t want the door open longer than it needs to be, I hand the cash to the man, who nods quickly and walks away.
After closing the door behind me I push the cart further into the room. After taking the lids off the dishes, I put Nora’s on the table and place her cutlery beside her plate. I leave mine on the cart to take to my room because I assume she’d prefer to eat alone instead of with a stranger. She’s kind, but I’m her bodyguard, not her companion.
Nora takes her seat at the table where I placed her plate. She looks over at me curiously. “Well, are you going to sit down and eat?”
“I didn’t want to assume I was eating with you.”
Well, since she invited me… I take my plate and cutlery from the cart and place it across from her on the table.
“Why wouldn’t you assume that?” she asks, genuinely confused. “Aren’t you my brand-new shadow?”
I don’t want to elaborate that not all clients want to be “close” with their security, so I keep it simple. “Thank you. I appreciate the invite. I’ll be right back.”
I walk into the adjoining room to get some cash to pay Nora back for the tip. I’m back in a flash. As I take my seat, I slide the cash across the table to her.
She scrunches her nose at my gesture. “I can tip. It’s not an issue.”
I cut into my steak to find it’s perfectly cooked. “As can I.” I smile before popping the bite of steak into my mouth. She grins but doesn’t argue.
“What made you want to become a bodyguard?” she asks as she cuts into her chicken breast.
Nora went with chicken, veggies, and a side of rice for her meal. It looks good but not as good as my steak.
