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“What did he mean by taking care of me himself?” I ask innocently.
Now Sandra is the one erupting in giggles. Things have been so serious lately that I think we both need to laugh.
“It means he will take time from his busy schedule to be your personal bodyguard himself.” She says, moving a finger in front of me like a maestro moving their baton.
“Oh, pinch me to make sure I’m not dreaming!” I reach out an arm to her while fanning myself with the other dramatically. Sandra claps her hands together to make me stop.
“Okay!” She holds my hands down. “Get it out of your system: he’s hot.”
Now I’m swallowing my hormones, face still red. “I bet you heard that a lot in school growing up.” I smile sheepishly. “From other girls, I mean… Your age difference is not that big, is it?”
“He’s five years older,” Sandra replies, eyes looking back to some moment in time. “Until I was thirteen, so many girls in school wanted to be my friend just so they could be in the same room as Brody…”
She rolls her eyes, and I understand the message clearly.
Sandra must have had a lot of fake friendships driven out of ulterior motives when she was younger. And I understand why she is telling me this now: for me not to get interested in him.
“Time to curb my enthusiasm, then.” I raise my shoulders then release them with a disappointed sigh.
Sandra seems pleased to hear that. She continues, “You wouldn’t want to break contract anyway, would you?”
Confused, I raise my eyebrows in question.
She just waves the air with her hand and says, “One of the clauses in the contract is that there can be no intimate relations between you and the bodyguard, or the contract is broken.”
It’s not like there was a real chance anything would have happened anyway but hearing that caused me to give a solemn nod regardless.
That also gave me the cue to change the subject. “Do you really think he can do something about our Bartleby problem?”
Bartleby Jones is how the stalker identifies himself, and just the mention of that name gives me the heebie-jeebies.
“He can,” She nods with confidence. “He didn’t get where he is by being bad at his job.”
“I guess not.” I wring my hands together. Fantasies involving Brody body slamming and tasing my stalker come to mind, but I doubt my cowardly stalker will ever reveal himself.
At least I really hope not.
“I’m back!” Brody barges right in, with a tiny man wearing a deep green suit in tow. “This is Jackson, our lawyer; let’s review this contract, shall we?”
He commands the room with such might and power that I can’t help but feel even more attracted to him.
Curb your enthusiasm, Lily.
I repeat it to myself, but it’s not really working.
Chapter Two
BRODY
Iputonasuit for the first time when I was less than ten years old, and ever since I’ve learned one of the absolute truths of life: a man in a suit demands respect.
And it’s with respect, or at least measured apprehension, that these people look at me.
We’re in the middle of Central Park, inside Belvedere Castle, and the princess I’m there to protect is sitting on a stool, surrounded by the director and her makeup artist, getting ready for the music video recording.
A legion of teens and twenty-somethingsis held behind a security cordon, and I move along to continually inspect them and keep them calm.
“Hey, Agent Smith!” It comes from a girl in blue kitty ears. “How’s the Matrix?”
