Bodyguard of Love

by Lane, Terri

  Scarlett lived in a nicer part of town, on a street with a row of identical-looking houses differing only in the colour of the front door and the state of the front garden. When she had first moved there she used to get confused and more than once had tried to get into the wrong building but now, a year later, she could find her way home with her eyes closed. This particular block of buildings had been converted into flats sometime after WWII. Scarlett lived on the second floor, right between someone who blared music downstairs and someone who frequently had very loud sex, with what seemed to be a different woman every time. She'd learned to live with it. Previous noise complaints hadn't achieved anything anyway.

  When she stepped inside it was surprisingly quiet, but considering how early it still was for a Friday she figured that both her neighbors were still out on the town. She went about her normal night time routine, thinking about her encounter in the bar. As much as she fantasized about guys being attracted to her, she didn't really want to date anyone. Her last relationship had been a mess, and being exclusive had meant surprisingly a lot of drama. It had been exhausting. Right now she was happy being single, or so she liked to tell herself.

  She paused at the kitchen counter pouring a glass of water to counteract the extra drink she had had. Her life suddenly seemed mundane. Not that long ago she would have been out on a Friday until the break of dawn Saturday morning, bar hopping and laughing and causing all kinds of trouble, and then spend all of Saturday sleeping off her hangover before dragging herself to her shitty part-time job the next day still exhausted and achy. Now she was asleep by eleven most nights no matter if it was a weekend or not. She had a more serious job now, with no Sunday shifts, and she had cut back on alcohol. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had stayed and sat with Hunter. Would he have tempted her into a night of booze and debauchery? More importantly, why was she still thinking about him? All he had done was buy her a drink. Plenty of guys had done that for her before. No, it was something else. He had a pull to him, one that made Scarlett want to turn around, walk out the door and take a cab right back to the bar.

  She didn't. But that didn't mean she didn't want to.

  ***

  The next day she lounged around the house in her pyjamas almost in a daze, unable to stop thinking about previous night, wondering if Hunter would be there again tonight. Sometimes she went out on Saturday nights but usually she was so tired from doing errands that she just wanted to crash out on the sofa and watch TV. Tonight, though, she could feel a strong desire to be out of the house burning in the pit of her stomach. That's what she claimed to herself it was, at least, and not a hope that if she went back to the bar that Hunter would be there again, and that he would buy her another drink or let her sit with him.

  So it was that she found herself getting dressed up for a night out. It was the same old routine; try on three different outfits, then put them all away and choose something completely different and spend almost half an hour on her make-up and hair. She took the bus back into town since it was too cold to walk, especially in heels. When she arrived, she stood outside the bar smoking a cigarette and hoping it would calm her nerves. She'd gone halfway through another before she worked up the courage to go inside. It was crowded and loud and dark despite the lights everywhere, but that was what you got when you drank at an old bar instead of a newer one. Despite the tight confines of the interior, it was still Scarlett's choice. She went straight up to the bar to order a drink to start off the night and tried not to act like she was waiting for someone. She felt awkward drinking alone, though, and hunched over the bar.

  A waft of cold air blew into the building as the door opened and closed. Scarlett shivered. She was about to give up when she suddenly felt eyes on her. Her shoulders stiffened but she didn't look up. Half a minute later someone slid onto the empty seat next to her. The stranger's woody, familiar scent filled Scarlett's nose, over the alcohol and cigarette smoke.

  “Fancy seeing you here again,” Hunter said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I've already got a drink,” Scarlett replied. She forced herself to sit up straight and look over at him. The only thing about him that was different was his clothes. He gave her a close-mouthed smile.

  “Then can I buy you another?” he asked.

  Scarlett pushed her shoulders back just a bit, making herself feel taller. “Yeah,” she said. “I reckon you can.”

  “What'll you have?” Hunter asked.

  “Just a rum and coke for now,” Scarlett replied before sipping from her pint of beer. “Gotta start the night off slow. Been a long time since I've been out drinking.”

  “A pretty thing like you?” Hunter asked as he flagged down the bartender. “I don't believe it. Rum and coke for the lady, please, and the house beer for me.”

  “Well I used to,” Scarlett replied, feeling like she needed to justify her lifestyle. “I just got older, that's all. Not in school any more.”

  “Doesn't mean you have to stop living.”

  “Is that what you do?” Scarlett asked.

  “As best I can,” Hunter replied easily.

  “What do you do, though?” Scarlett asked, letting her curiosity roam free. “Your job, I mean. I do management work.”

  “A little bit of everything,” Hunter replied. “Mostly a lot of housework. Seems I've got an eye for landscaping. Contractors hire me out when they're building add-ons, homeowners ask me to redo their gardens. Things like that.”

  “So you like flowers, then?” Scarlett asked.

  “I like all of nature,” Hunter replied. “I've always felt connected to it. Just lucky enough there's a market for it.”

  “I bet it pays well,” Scarlett said.

  Hunter chuckled and showed his teeth in a smile. “It's not bad, yeah,” he said. The bartender brought them their drinks then moved on. “At the risk of sounding cliché, do you come here often? I don't think I ever saw you before last night.”

  “I'm usually here after work for a drink on Fridays,” Scarlett said, “but earlier. I came later last night. Inventory issue.”

  “Well, I'm glad it kept you,” Hunter said. “Otherwise I don't think we would have had the chance to meet.” Scarlett blushed and took a drink to try and hide it. The stools were close, and Hunter's shoulder brushed against hers every so often when he shifted in his seat. She tried to pretend the heat in her body was from the alcohol. Hunter spoke again. “What made you come back?”

  “I don't know,” Scarlett replied honestly. “I think I just wanted to see you again. Is that a bad thing?”

  Hunter chuckled softly. “That's the opposite of a bad thing,” he said. “In fact I'd say that's a very good thing.” He leaned in close and Scarlett backed away, though not without difficulty.

  “I don't do one night stands,” she said.

  Hunter shrugged and immediately sat up straight in his seat. “Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “In that case, could I ask you out on a date?”

  “Why?” Scarlett asked. “You don't know anything about me.”

  “That's the point of a date,” Hunter said, amused. “How about tomorrow night, at seven, for dinner?”

  “Where?” Scarlett asked.

  “Wherever you want. I'll come pick you up and you can take the lead.”

  “All right, yeah,” Scarlett said. “But you're paying.”

  Hunter laughed. “Of course. I would never make a lady pay.” Scarlett almost snorted. She didn't consider herself much of a lady but hey, if it meant she didn't have to pay for a nice dinner then so be it. Modern feminist views aside. Never say no to free food, her university life had taught her that.

  “Thanks for the drink,” Scarlett said belatedly.

  “It's worth it to sit next to such a beautiful woman,” Hunter replied and Scarlett blushed. She hated blushing. She always went as red as her name and it didn't always take much either.

  “You're full of it,” she mumbled.

  “I'm not full o
f anything,” Hunter replied, “except booze but I promise that's not the booze talking. My alcohol tolerance is impressively high.”

  “Oh yeah?” Scarlett said. “I bet I could drink you under the table.”

  “Maybe when you were in school,” Haunter taunted with a devilish smirk, “but from what I gather you've been out of the game for a while.”

  “You better be careful or you'll get more than you bargained for.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “It's a promise.”

  Hunter called the bartender over. “Can we have a couple shots of your cheapest vodka?” he asked. “And keep it coming.” The man, a young university student, had a look on his face like he'd seen this before and knew he'd end up throwing someone out at the end of the night, but he did as he was asked. The shots appeared before Hunter and Scarlett in short order.

  “May the best woman win,” Scarlett said before lifting hers and throwing it back. It burned all the way down. Hunter watched her carefully then threw back his own and the competition began. Scarlett had prided herself on her drinking ability in school. She didn't look like she could hold much liquor, as small and light-framed as she was, but she had surprised more than one male by drinking long after he had already emptied his stomach on the pavement. She didn't know where it came from, but she blamed her heritage. After all, it was almost impossible for one to be English and not be able to drink. Drinking was a national pastime. Hunter looked like he could drink but Scarlett felt confident that she could beat him.

  Shot after shot came to them. A few people had started to watch casually and then started to take bets on who would puke first. The world was spinning around Scarlett and she couldn't feel her fingertips but she was not ready to quit yet. She couldn't tell if Hunter was screwed or not, though. He was definitely drunk, they both were. More like wasted actually. But he didn't look like he was going to puke any time soon. All Scarlett really wanted was a glass of water but that would have ruined everything and make her lose by default. She couldn't even talk right, and honestly didn't even wanna try, so she just gripped the bar to keep from swaying off her stool and tossed back yet another shot. It had stopped burning a long time ago and didn't taste like much. It just felt cold going down.

  “You done yet?” Scarlett said with some difficulty.

  Hunter shook his head with a completely drunken smile. “You wish,” he slurred.

  Scarlett took a deep breath to ready herself for the next shot and barely managed to get it down. “Oh Christ,” she mumbled, almost falling off her stool.

  “You give?” Hunter asked.

  Scarlett hated to admit defeat but even in her totally trashed state she knew that one more drink would spell disaster.

  “Give,” she said and immediately tried to order a glass of water. She wasn't sure if she said it right but the bartender understood.

  “I'll call you guys a cab,” he said. “You'll be able to get home all right?”

  “Yeah,” Hunter said. He had a glass of water of his own but already seemed better. Scarlett put her head down on the bar. “We're old friends,” he said at the look of concern on the bartender's face. “You can have all my contact info if that makes you feel better about leaving her with me.”

  “If you don't mind,” the young bartender said. Scarlett focused on breathing. The water helped but she knew she would have one hell of a hangover in the morning and she'd probably regret it when she finally woke up. Especially since she had lost. She was halfway through slowly sipping her water when she felt Hunter all but haul her out of her seat. She could stand, though her legs were shaky, but she was glad to have something strong to lean on. And boy was he strong. She wasn't so far gone that she couldn't feel the muscle beneath his shirt and either she was imagining things or he was ridiculously warm.

  “Do you have like, a fever?” she slurred as they stumbled towards the front door.

  “No,” Hunter said. He sounded almost completely sober. “Just a naturally warm body temp.” Scarlett grunted. The cool air outside hit her like a slap in the face and did a lot to wake her up. She straightened and shook her head, which proved to be a mistake since it just made her dizzy, but she definitely felt more awake.

  “I can get home from here,” she said, pushing Hunter away. She stumbled but could stand on her own. “Done it loads of times.”

  “I wouldn't want to be responsible for anything happening to you,” said Hunter.

  “I'm fine,” Scarlett said empathetically. “I'll be fine.”

  “At least let me ride with you.”

  “Mmm, nope,” Scarlett hummed. She fumbled for the latch on the back door of the cab. “Nope, I'm good. See you tomorrow.”

  “Wait, wait,” Hunter said, grabbing her wrist. Her whole body went alight and her breath caught around a knot in her throat. “I don't have your number, how am I supposed to come get you?” Scarlett grunted and managed to get her phone out of her pocket with no small degree of difficulty. Hunter gave it back a couple seconds later. “Okay,” he said. “Give me a shout when you get home yeah? If you remember.”

  Scarlett gave a sloppy, mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain,” she said, and knocked her head on the top of the door frame getting into the cab. As the driver pulled away from the curb it was to a stream of curses falling from her mouth as she nursed her aching head. She was going to be in one hell of a state tomorrow.

  To his credit, the driver waited until she was inside her building before driving off. It was loud as ever. For once Scarlett didn't mind it. She found herself drunkenly dancing to her downstairs neighbor's music while she tried to unlock her front door. It gave after a minute and she almost fell in. Humming to herself she locked up and stumbled her way to her bedroom to change. Upstairs she could hear the banging of her other neighbor's bed against the wall, supported by the occasional very loud moan. At least someone was getting some, Scarlett thought with a tinge of drunken bitterness. She had never been the kind of girl to do one night stands but that didn't mean she didn't wish she was. It would make her boring sex life so much more exciting. Waiting for a relationship meant finding a relationship in the first place and then getting to the point where anything more than kissing was okay and it wasn't always good which meant everything was awkward the next day. At least if a one night stand was terrible he was always gone the next morning.

  She flopped onto her bed, having given up on removing the rest of her clothes which left herself still in her bra and shirt but devoid of her pants and shoes, at least. She'd had the foresight to put water and pills on the side table, which was good because as soon as her head hit the pillow she knew she wasn't getting up again.

  ***

  The mother of all hangovers greeted her when she woke up the next morning. As much as it hurt to think, her brain remembered what to do: take pills, drink water, get in the shower and eat something even though she felt like she wanted to puke. All in all it took about an hour for her to go through the motions, but by the end of it she felt good enough to actually put on pants and go down to get the mail she had forgotten to grab yesterday. The bright lights in the staircase hurt her eyes but Scarlett soldiered on all the way down to the mailbox on the ground floor. She flipped through her mail – junk, junk, junk – then turned around to go back up and met something very solid that almost but not quite managed to knock her on her behind. She opened her mouth and let out a stream of curses that were stopped by the hand held out to her. Scarlett grudgingly took it, prepared to use what little strength her aching body had to pull herself up only to be yanked onto her feet with no effort on her part. She grumbled out a thank you and finally looked up and had all of the air sucked from her lungs.

  It was her neighbor. She knew that much. He lived above her, but she didn't remember him ever being quite this attractive. Dirty blond hair, green eyes, sharp features and god he was tall. And lanky. How had that completely passed her notice? Of course, she'd only ever seen glimpses of him. She didn't really talk to either o
f her neighbors and they didn't talk to her. It was kind of an unspoken agreement that they all kept to themselves. She wondered how it had been possible she had never even bumped into them. She racked her brains trying to think of an answer and didn't come up with anything other than completely different schedules when her neighbor's voice broke her out of her thoughts.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “What?” Scarlett asked, stupidly.

  “You fell hard,” he repeated. “You okay?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Scarlett managed. “Fine.”

  “You're in the middle right?” he asked, as if it wasn't obvious by the location of Scarlett's name on the mailbox. “Sorry about the noise. Hope it doesn't bother you too much. Last person that lived here got so fed up they moved out.”

  “Uh, yeah I'm kind of used to it,” Scarlett replied. His voice was nice but it was hurting her head. “It's all just white noise at this point.” Which was a lie because there were still nights when all the banging and moaning kept her awake. “So is it your girlfriend coming over or a boyfriend, or...?”

  “No, no girlfriend,” the man said with a grin. Scarlett glanced at the mailboxes. Titus was his name. That was weird. He must have hippie parents or something. His teeth were sharp, too, like Hunter's. Genetics were weird. “So if you ever want to come up...”

  “Yeah, I don't really do throwaway flings any more,” she replied. “Sorry.”

  “The offer is always there,” Titus said with a wink as well. “See you around, neighbor.” He headed out the door.

  Scarlett frowned at his retreating back. “Yeah, not bloody likely,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. She tramped back up to her apartment, junk mail in hand. Well, at least she knew what the guy looked like. No wonder there was a different girl up there every night, or the same girl, whichever. If she were inclined towards casual sex she'd probably be taking advantage of living so close to him.