BODYGUARD - Part One (The BODYGUARD Series, Book 1) (9 page)

It is a tough day at work. Chester ignores me, and I see him whispering to people. I think he's pissed that Jamie and I are an item. As if I'd ever date him. I'd sooner date a vacuum cleaner.

Business is brisk at the juice bar. For some reason, the reputation of my recipes is growing. People have switched from soda to drinking juice, and I am proud of what I have achieved. The word is their exercise routines have improved after making the change, and I think maybe they'll live a little longer. I'm exhausted by the time my shift ends, and starving. I ate a tiny lunch. I'm watching my weight after I found the waistband of my gym skirt a little tight. I need to avoid Sarah, and the goodies she presses on me.

"Hello, Sarah."

She is standing in front of me with an airtight container in her hands. "Hi, I brought you something nice. You loved my cookies, I know, so I made some more. It's an old recipe from Central Europe, a real classic. Try one."

She has the lid off the box and has pressed it under my nose. My stomach rumbles as I take one, and I think my waistband may not have been tight after all. I almost swallow it in one and ask her if she's having one.

She smiles. "Maybe later. The ingredients are spicy, and they could cause me stomach problems. You can let me know how you feel."

Now I'm a guinea pig. I'll be as chubby as one of those cute little creatures if I go on this way. "I'll let you know. Oh, there was a message from Stanley. The swine, I'm sure he's doing it in his office behind my back. They're all scum, you know."

"You already said."

I wait, but she just waves and says she'll call me later.

"Sarah."

"What, honey. You want another cookie? I'll leave the box on your counter."

"The message. From Stanley."

"The message." She puts her hand to her mouth, "Oh, my, I almost forgot. He said to call him, something about the theater tonight. I don't think you need to go."

"They cancelled?"

She shrugs. "I guess so. I'm sure it's not a problem. That's the trouble with these men. Scum."

She walks away. I'm worried. If they've cancelled, it could mean I'm out. After all the work I've put in, the sleepless nights, annoying the neighbors and maybe even the squirrels, for all I know. All for nothing. I decide to wait until I am alone in my apartment before I call him. All the way home, I think people are looking at me, whispering. It's her. She's a loser. Can't cut it.

I walk through the front door, grab my cell, and call the number. It takes half a minute before he answers. He sounds out of breath, like he's been doing something energetic.

"Everton Entertainments."

"Stanley, it's Tiffany. Is it true, it's all finished?"

"Finished?" his voice is high-pitched, and he sounds excited, "You're kidding me. We've only just started."

"But they cancelled the rehearsal at the theater."

"Of course they did. That bunch of people listening to you the other night, one of them was the producer."

"Producer?

"Of America's Got Talent. He said forget the audition, you're in. Congratulations, this is the big one, Tiffany. Call me tomorrow, and I'll fill you in. I'm on something important right now."

On something important, or on someone important? I have to tell someone, and for me, there's only one person I want to share with. An hour later, he rings the bell, and I throw the door open.

"Jamie!" I squeal.

He smiles. "Congratulations. I'm working tonight, but I have a couple of hours. How would you like to celebrate?"

I am already wet. In a calm voice, I say, "That would be nice."

He is not fooled. "You licked your lips. Like someone was about to give you a Popsicle."

My answer is quick. "Well, aren't they?"

He enters my apartment, and he gives me a bunch of flowers. It is a first, and I am delighted. "Thank you, they're lovely."

"There's more to come."

"Oh?"

"There was something about a Popsicle. You want it now?"

I've wanted it for days, but I say yes, and lead him to the bedroom. I break the world speed record for undressing, and he lies beside me, with his hand over my core. The other plays with my nipples, and I am shuddering with desire. Yet he says he wants to make this special.

I tell him every time is special, but he says one word. "Wait."

He removes his hands, and my body cries out for them to come back, to touch me, to feel me, to explore the innermost parts of my body. I wait, shuddering with arousal. I have to have him. My need is urgent.

His head hovers over my breasts, and he begins. His tongue is delicate, a light touch that flicks over the nipples. As it touches each one, I feel the bud respond. They are hard, expectant, yet he does not linger. His magic tongue hovers over my body and lowers, for him to lick my skin. He is everywhere, and I close my eyes as I quake with indescribable heat. 

When I am beyond caring, and my body is raging with fire, his head lowers over my core. A series of soft touches to my inner thighs have me gulping with pleasure, and he penetrates me. A storm of lust has taken possession of me, and I arch my body toward him. His tongue finds my clit, and it is too much. I come, screaming with the urgency of my release, and my eyes are streaming with tears of happiness.

"There's more to come," I hear him say. His head comes up, and he kneels before me. I can see his shaft, hot and rigid, poised to enter me.
"Yes?"

"Yes."

I say the word with difficulty. I am aroused like I've never known it before. He enters me, I suppress a squeal, and my world is perfect.

I can't believe the day is almost here, and it'll be a breeze. Tomorrow they're holding the auditions, and I don't have to attend after the producer liked my rehearsal. That's what Stanley told me, and he's a showbiz agent, so he'd know. Wouldn't he?

I am relaxing in the golden glow of sex with Jamie. My world is moving in the right direction, although he still has issues to work through with her. Emmie. I don't like that name. I almost spit when I say it. Even when I just think it, I'm spitting. People must think me rude.

My cell rings, and it is Stanley. "Hi, Tiffany, wonderful news about AGT."

"It is. When will they want me to appear on the show?"

A pause. "Tomorrow."

I feel faint. "What?"

"Yeah, you don't need to compete, but they want you in the break, to entertain the audience."

"Break?"

"Uh, huh, they always put in breaks when they're filming."

"Filming?" I sound like a parrot. I wish I could fly away like a parrot.

"That's right. Be there tomorrow at six to do the sound check. I have to go. I'm in a meeting."

"But..."

In the background, I hear a voice murmur something like, "Stanley, you want to finish this or shall I put my clothes back on?"

"I'll see you there." The phone is dead.

Shit! I panic and want to run screaming into the street, but I am wearing panties and a bra. It is also raining again, so I decide to call Emily instead. She picks up the phone, and I pour it all out. I tell her about the unexpected call to perform the next night, and how I'm a week away from being ready.

"I need your help, otherwise I'm dead."

"I'll come round, chill out. We'll get it sorted. See you in ten."

I start to relax. If anyone is able to help, it's her. She's the expert on the art of looking good. Makeup, hair, and of course, nails. As well as clothes, she's a shopaholic. Ten minutes later, the bell rings, and she enters my living room.

She is as beautiful as ever, perfect makeup, perfect hair and nails. Her clothes wouldn't look out of place on a catwalk.

"Tiffany, first things first. What do you plan to wear?"

I brighten as I remember the red skater dress. Of course, it's perfect. I drag it out of the closet and show her, and her face is grave. "What's this?"

"It's my dress. Everyone says I look good in it."

She points to a dark shadow on the right side, just below my breast. "It's a grease mark. You'll have to get it to the dry-cleaner."

"But Emily," I shrill, "I need it tomorrow."

A confident smile. "There's plenty of time. You know the dry-cleaner next to the gym?" I nod, "They do a one-hour service. Take it in first thing in the morning, and they'll have it ready mid-morning. I'll come here a couple of hours before you leave for the theater and do your makeup. You'll be fine."

"I will?" my voice is trembling, and I sound like a frightened kid.

"Of course. All you need do is sing. I'll come around at four."

Did she say ‘all’?

I managed to sleep a bit that night, and in the morning, I take my dress to the dry-cleaner. They offer a range of services, and I book the one-hour. When I come back an hour later, they give me a blank look.

"Dress? What dress?"

I show them the ticket. "Here, it's due back in an hour. It's been more than an hour."

He inspects the ticket and shakes his head. "You got it wrong, lady. This is a next day ticket. Come back tomorrow."

“That’s okay. I’ll take it with me now. I’ll skip the cleaning.”

“Can’t do it. Next day orders go to our main plant.”

“Where is that?” I’m worried.

“New Jersey.”

Worry turns to panic. I wander out into the streets and make an effort to get it together. The answer is easy. Right.

I am in the same store I bought the dress.

“Plain red dress, skater length? Sorry, honey, we don’t stock it. That dress is history.”

“But it was only two weeks ago I bought it!”

She shrugs. “That’s the fashion industry.”

I walk out forty minutes later with a similar red dress, in fine linen with a silky thread that runs through it. Except it has a pattern of tiny white polka dots. It is pretty, and I think it’ll be fine. I spend my day pacing my apartment, practicing the song I will sing. It is something new, ‘Waiting for you’. I wrote it especially for Jamie. The song is about Third World hunger, but the title is a message.

Emily turns up on time, and I’m relieved. She spends a couple of hours on my face and hair, and she makes my nails look spectacular. We chat as she works, and she drops a bombshell.

“I talked to Sarah, and she talked to Stanley. He got us some tickets, and I’ve invited some of your friends from the gym. You know, someone to cheer you on. A few friendly faces.” She is almost done, and after a last coat of lacquer, she says she is finished.*

While I’m grinning into the mirror, she says, “Better put the dress on. Let’s see how it looks.”

I put on my dress and wait for her reaction. I look great. I know I do. I have to! She is silent, looking at me up and down. Finally, I can’t stand it.

“Well?”

“Mm.”

Jamie calls, and when I see his name on the display of my cell, I know he’s called to wish me luck.

“Jamie.”

“Hi. I called to wish you luck.”

“That’s a nice surprise. What time will you meet me?”

A pause. “That’s the thing, it’s good news and bad news.”

“Okay.” I’m thinking of where I can hide until it’s all over.

“I have to work this evening. That’s the bad news. The good news is my client is attending the show. Your show, the AGT auditions.”

I have mixed feelings. I wanted him for myself on this special night. “Who’s the client?”

“That’s the good news.” He sounds happy, “It’s Erin Best. You remember. You saw her that night at the Waldorf. She’s agreed to be one of the judges.”

Erin Best, powerhouse, super-talented singer, mega beauty. And he’ll be with her.

“I remember.”

“I have to leave. She won’t go anywhere without me guarding her.”

“The kidnap thing?”

“That’s what she’s worried about, yeah. Listen, I have another surprise for you. I’ll tell you later.”

He ends the call, and I take a few moments to recover. He should be with me, and he’ll be with her. Emily bustles in from the bedroom, where she’s been touching up her hair and makeup. She looks the way I should look.

“Trouble?”

She can read my face. I explain about Jamie, but when she hears about Erin Best, she is excited. “Tiffany, you’ll meet her. She’s a real star, and to think she’ll be in the same theater.”

But with Jamie!

“Yes, it’s good news. I think we should go there now.”

“Okay. Let’s take a last look at you. Give me a twirl.”

I spin around and nearly topple. When I face her, she is frowning.

“What is it?”

“Your new dress, the stitching on the hem’s undone. I’ll fix it.”

I look down, and sure enough it’s hanging down. A bad omen? No, I won’t let it bug me, like this thing with Jamie. At least he’ll be there, and Emily is fixing my hem with a tiny safety pin she has in her purse. I am ready, and we leave for the theater. It is a short walk, but so is a funeral march to the grave. We arrive, and I go backstage. She has to take her seat out front, and I peep through the curtain to see if my friends from the gym are there.

Chester Blythe grins back at me. He looks like a cannibal sizing up his lunch. I refuse to look at him and wave to Emily and the others. Stanley Everton is beckoning to me to go to my dressing room.

“They want to check your hair and makeup, and attach a radio microphone to your dress. It’ll only take a moment. You can warm up your voice at the same time. You saw the seats I fixed for your pals? Front row, it’s amazing what you can do when you’re a friend of the theater manager.”

I know he means the manager’s wife, but I just smile and nod. On the way to the dressing room, I pass the other performers. Most are a sickly shade of pale green, and there is an odor of vomit on the air. Stanley pushes me into the room, and the makeup artist, whose name if Josie, starts work.

Stanley leaves and closes the door, but seconds later, it bangs open. I jump, and I have an inch of red line below my lip.

“Sorry.”

She gives me a look that says, ‘amateurs.’

A man in uniform races into the room. “We’re looking for Miss Best? Have you seen her in here?”

Josie gives him a cold stare. “Take a look. You couldn’t hide a magician’s rabbit in here.”

He grunts and leaves. She has a point. It's not the biggest room in the city. It was probably a storeroom, but when they decided they needed more space for the mops and brooms, they used it for the artists. I wonder how a four-piece band would manage. Cozy, very cozy.

She’s happy with my makeup, pushes a couple of strands of hair back in place, and says, “I’ve seen worse.” I swallow a sharp retort, and it’s just as well. “You’d look better if you fixed the hem of that dress. You want me to do it for you?”

I look down. The pin has disappeared, and I look like I’ve just come ashore from a shipwreck. “Would you? My friend fixed it with a pin. It must have fallen off.”

She pulls a length of narrow, clear tape from her box. “Pins. Mm. The polka dots are kinda interesting.”

I am strong. I ignore these minor problems and close my eyes to everything other than performing on that stage. I need to warm up my voice, and as the makeup girl leaves, I open my mouth to start. The door crashes open again.

“Three minutes.”

WTF? “Excuse me, what is this?”

“You’re on in three minutes. You have to get backstage now. I’ll show you the way.”

I suck in a few breaths and follow him out to the passage that leads to the back of the stage. There is a buzz in the air, and it is not nervous artists. Men are running back and forth, some in security uniforms. I ask my guide what is up.

“Erin Best, she’s missing.”

“But, she has a bodyguard.”

He shrugs. “Could be a kidnap. You know, they tie up the bodyguard and take her in a closed minivan.”

I feel chilled at the thought of Jamie, bound and helpless. We arrive backstage, the man checks his watch, and says, “One minute.”

He leads me to the edge of the stage, and I wait while the emcee goes through his pitch. My knees are knocking, and my heart is thumping like a jackhammer. I take more breaths. Be calm, Tiffany. I’m good, my song is good, and I can do this. I look down at the hem of my dress, and it’s holding. A good sign.

“Five, four, three, two…you’re on.”

I feel a hard push in the small of my back, and I’m out there. The lights are glaring in my eyes, yet I can see the first two rows of seats. Chester has a smug look, like he’s about to throw a custard pie. Emily gives me a reassuring smile, and the band starts to play.

Two bars into the song, I am about to sing when I realize they are playing the wrong tune. Stanley was supposed to give them the music for ‘Waiting for You.’ They are playing ‘Well.’ I’m reeling, uncertain, my stomach churning, when I see Jamie, standing near the front seats. He has a girl on his arm, but there it is no Erin Best. There is still no sign of the star celebrity, and I wonder what has happened. Kidnapped? OMG! It could be. His colleagues Dave Chisholm and Carl Brasher are running toward him, and their expressions are panicked.

I switch my gaze back to the girl on his arm. She is very pretty, and something else. She looks very fit. She could only be a physical therapist, with that firm, lithe, athletic figure. Even worse, she is wearing a red skater dress. No polka dots. She is holding onto Jamie’s arm like she owns him. It could only be one person. Emmie!

How could he bring his girlfriend here? This is betrayal, and on this night of all nights. The bandleader is gesturing at me to sing, but I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know. Do I tell them they’ve made a mistake? Do I improvise and keep going? But I’m not ready.

My head starts to feel strange, and my legs wobble. They are all staring at me, as if I’m naked.

Jamie, save me. Help me!

He doesn’t save me. He doesn’t help me. He stands watching my doom with a beauty on each arm. How could anyone be so cruel? They're dimming the lights because the theater is growing dark. There is a roaring sound in my ears, are they shouting or laughing at me? My body feels numb, yet my brain is detached. Soaring, soaring, high above the stage. My heart pounds even more. It is like a hammer beating inside me.

I am in a dark tunnel and waves are crashing against the sides. Is this what it’s like to be dead? My last recollection before I fade to black is a loud, piercing cry.

“Jamie!”

There is no more.