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The call was answered almost immediately.
"Well, do I start packing for Bali or what?" Sarah said, excitedly. She had convinced Rayne that her aunt was going to leave her a truckload of money, and she was going to plan a girl’s getaway for the two of them now that she had a rich friend.
"No," Rayne said, shaking her head as well. "You are not going to believe the afternoon I had." She rushed through telling everything from scratch.
"So what, they’re not strippers?"
"No. They’re bodyguards. And I think they also kill people. I mean, they know lots, and I mean lots, of ways to take someone out with their bare hands. Can you believe this aunt of mine left me three bodyguards?"
"Rayne? You don’t think it has anything to do with—"
"It doesn’t trust me. They had no clue when I slipped up and said they were going to kill me."
"Well, at least now you’ll have protection."
"I would rather die than have them around that, Sarah," she said with a lot of conviction.
"What is this? Rayne Alice Bradshaw? Do you like them? Oh my god. You do! You have dick lust. Now which one is it? Beckett, Aston, or Keaton?"
"I do not have dick lust. What’s dick lust anyway?" She asked unnecessarily. She knew exactly what Sarah meant, but she was—
"Oh, my god. You’re avoiding the question, you slut. You can’t pick just one of them. You like all three of them. Rayne Alice Bradshaw. You don’t have dick lust. You have dicklusts. It’s about time you pop your cherry on three stripper bodyguards."
"I do not. I offered them my favorite stone for warding off evil, and they stole my chocolate and my panties. So no, I like none of them."
"Yeah, fine. Where are you heading right now?"
"Back to the office."
"You sure they’re not following you?"
"Sure, sure. Are we still on for my Brazilian tomorrow?"
"Of course. I’ll see you then."
"I’ll be there with bells and whistles."
"Please, no bells or whistles. You know you have to come as you are, babe. Love you."
"Love you back," Rayne said back.
The perks of having an esthetician for a friend who owned her own beauty salon? Free waxes.
Well, free waxes in exchange for babysitting her adorable kiddies so Sarah can peacefully hump her husband in the car before they got to the restaurant for their real date.
By the time she pulled into the underground parking lot, she had sufficiently mourned the loss of her underwear and had mopped up her peculiar visit to William Lester Montgomery’s office and the three bodyguards from her mind. With the stress she was under and having to face the following Saturday, she could have just conjured Beckett, Aston, and Keaton from wishful thinking. That would be so grand if she had because then she could say they only existed in her imagination.
As she climbed out of the car, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she was being watched. Maybe it was just her imagination. They were gone. She was all right.
She took an elevator from the basement up to the sixth floor of the building where Tech-Oracle ran their offices.
Oh right. Her desk was still in the middle of the open office plan, concealing from her boss, a big wet spot where she had spilled coffee.
At least she could rely on her fellow colleagues not to rat her out. But as soon as the doors of the elevator parted, a thousand sensations rushed at her from all sides.
Standing there to greet her, with their hands in their pants pockets and an aura of supreme confidence surrounding them, looking as if they owned the floor on which they stood, were none other than the three banes of her existence.
She couldn’t even formulate a how-and-when question. She was just too stunned to speak, and that never happened to her.
