by Ali Parker
"You're really getting that?" Jessica pulled her gum from her mouth and flicked it.
I turned and pulled her the other way as someone let out a soft gasp. "Dude. You can't do that. This is Nordstrom's for shit sake."
"So? When you have money, you can do whatever you want." She shrugged. "I mean, I don't have any money, but you do and we're besties."
"Where did you hear that lie? Being rich doesn't get you anything but more headaches." I pulled her toward the checkout stand and put my shirt on the counter. She tossed her shoes up there without a care in the world. I swear the girl hadn't a single strand of guilt over forcing people to do her bidding. It had been the same in high school. She was the bully until she found out that I was wealthy and didn't put up with much. We'd been friends ever since.
"What headaches do you have? Really? What color your nails should be or what guy you should turn down this week?" She poked me in the back.
I turned and pinned her with a stare. "How about, 'who's going to try and kill my father this week’?"
"Awe, damn, C. You're gonna throw that shit out?" She moved up beside me, tugging at the back of my hair. "I'm sorry. I was just teasing."
"It's all good." I gave the lady my card as she gave me the once over. The shoes just didn't seem to fit my prim and proper look. I got it. "The latest is that my father wants me to take on a bodyguard, or really, he's assigning one to me. He's worried about me."
"Oh my God. Seriously? Is the guy hot? You know all those great movies and books where the rich girl gets a bodyguard. They totally have hot shower sex and fall madly in love."
I couldn't help but laugh loudly as the older lady in front of me stopped checking us out and turned to stare at Jess as her mouth dropped.
"Ignore my friend. She doesn't get out much." I turned and gave her the 'cut it out' look.
"Clearly," the lady murmured.
"Don't hate, old lady." Jessica leaned forward and popped another piece of gum in her mouth, smacking it loudly as the clerk's lip turned up in disgust.
I took our bags and thanked the woman, but she turned and wiped her hands as if trying to rid herself of us.
"Wow. I forget how rude people can be." I glanced at Jessica as she shrugged.
Her life had been very different from mine, but I didn't mind. She grounded me and reminded me that wealth wasn't anything other than a tool to be used from time to time. My main group of friends from high school didn't want anything to do with her, but I would hang out with them later. They were rich and powerful, most of them not bothering with college.
"Where to now?" She took the bag from me and popped her gum.
"I'm meeting with my dad again before he gets out of town, so let's grab a bite to eat and then I'll drop you back off at home. We can get together later this week."
"I'm coming on Friday to stay with you at that kick-ass pad you got."
"I'll see what's going on and text you, but yeah, of course you can come stay with me." I pointed to my favorite Chinese restaurant. "How about there?"
"Ugh. You know I hate that place."
"Come on... I'm buying."
"Yeah, uh, no shit. The last thing I bought us was a week in detention in fifth grade." We laughed together as we walked through the crowds of people, the looks we received were nothing new.
The two of us couldn't be more different. Me with my pressed blue skirt and white oxford, my blond hair in a ponytail and my sandals white and toes painted. Jess had her hair dyed blue and she wore the same boyish shorts she had in school. The four t-shirts she layered made her look much larger than she was, but she didn't give a shit.
We were exactly alike on the inside and that made the difference.
Tainted. Angry. Lonely.
Best friends.
After dropping Jessica off in the slums, I headed back to the beach house feeling like shit. I should have invited her to spend the summer with me, but I was far too much of an introvert to do something stupid like that. Time by myself was something I craved and being stuck in the middle of a house of twenty-plus girls most of the time left my skin crawling.
Thank God for Alyssa or I wouldn't have made it through this year.
The spunky New Yorker didn't want to interact any more than she had to, and being the new president of the sorority, she had made some big changes. One was to abolish roomies or roommates. I almost cried tears of joy when it happened. I wasn't a child at a sleepover, but a grown-ass woman and I wanted my own room. I never should have joined the sorority, but my father kept after me about it until I finally gave in.
It would look good…
My thoughts scattered as I parked in front of the house. Two suits with dark glasses and slick hair sat on the porch swing as I walked up.
"I'm starting to think I'm in a Men in Black movie. You guys looking for a few little green men?" I smiled as they pulled their glasses down and looked at one another, clueless.
"They aren't that cool." The male voice behind me was familiar. Pauly.
I turned and let out a soft yelp, running and jumping into my father's oldest friend's arms. "Pauly. Oh my God you're getting old."
He laughed and squeezed me tightly, spinning me around like he did when I was a child. "You don't look old at all, but you just get more and more beautiful. How is that even possible? You look just like Melinda."
Heat pushed from my chest to coat my neck and face. The pictures of my mother were breathtaking. I was nowhere near as beautiful as she had been. My father had met her at an event when they were in their twenties, my mother having just put out her third box office hit.
"Please…" I glanced behind me and turned back around. "Is one of these monkeys the one you're forcing on me?"
"So he told you?" Pauly smiled and ran his fingers through his short black hair. I told him all the time when I was younger that he would make the perfect gangster, but he laughed and reminded me that he was simply one of the good guys. I still had my doubts.
"He did. When am I supposed to meet the brute?"
"Tonight. Are you going dancing with your friends?"
I growled. "How do you know that? Did you guys tap my phone?"
"No, butterfly. You've been in my care for twenty-one years. I know you love to dance. Are you not going out tonight?" He tilted his head to the side and gave me a funny look.
"I am. I'll meet you guys tonight. We're going to The Roxy."
"And I assume if I send him, you'll do your best to make him run screaming from the premises?"
"You know me too well, old man. Better than anyone."
"It's my job, kiddo, and you make it easy."
Chapter 6
The shift at the hospital was pure torture, the main event of the day being a bus of students from a summer camp that had an accident with an eighteen-wheeler. It wasn't the trauma of what happened to the kids that left me so torn up, but the way the parents acted. I would have rather dealt with crack addicts for the rest of the week than push one more of them back in the midst of their agony.
They had gone from anger to concern to absolute devastation. Most of the kids hadn't made it and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to throw up at least three times when the families got the news. The pain in the air buckled my sense of resolve to remain strong and unaffected. The wailing screams and heart-felt sobs from the family threw me back to the night Amanda died in my arms. I hadn't experienced anything as horrific since, but the scene in the ER was damn near close.
I wasn't having kids for lots of reasons, but the one I witnessed today was the main one. If a woman could leave me broken and bare, a child could destroy me completely. There was something good to be said about the fact that Jake and I were abandoned at birth and left to foster care. I was a horrible kid and he wasn't much better. There was no mother's heart to break or father's pride to crush. We rarely ended up anywhere but back at the orphanage. As soon as we were old enough, we moved to the streets and worked hard to make sure we were fed and had a place to l
ay our heads. Other than that... nothing was important.
My phone buzzed as I walked into the quiet apartment. It wasn't much bigger than a studio, but I was thrilled. It was more than I had ever had.
"What?" I barked into the receiver, not caring who was on the phone. It was after eight at night and I hadn't eaten since breakfast because of another mother fucker calling in and me having to pull a double shift.
"It's me, dude," Jake barked back. "I just got a call from Senator Moore. The meet up is tonight at The Roxy. The girl is going to be with a group of girls no doubt. Mitch said that she's got long blond hair, blue eyes and looks a little bit like him. She's about five foot, five inches and a hundred and thirty pounds."
"Sounds hot," I grumbled and opened the fridge, leaning over and pulling out a beer and a pack of lunchmeat. I was too tired to make a sandwich.
Pulling the package open, I rolled the meat and started to eat as fast as I could as my stomach groaned. Jake droned on and I tried to pay attention, but fear of not getting enough to eat threatened to shut me down.
It didn't matter how much better life got. I remembered starving half to death for too long to let the terror of it go.
"Hey. You there?" His tone was less than pleasant and I had to work hard at not snapping his head off.
"Yeah, dude. Fuck. I'm tired and starving." I shoved more into my mouth and popped open a beer, wanting to get off the phone and take a long shower.
"Sorry. Cindy's being a bitch again."
"Drop that hooker, Jake. Come over here until you find a new place. Life is too long to stay with someone that shits on you all the time."
"Yeah, yeah. Tonight's not about me. It's about you. Get your shit together, eat and get up to that club. Be professional and call me later about whether you want the job or not. The Senator's ready to hire you, so it’s really your call."
"Can I just not go and say yes? I don't care what the little piece is like. The money is too good to say no."
"No. You can't. Do what I said and let me know your answer."
"Fuck. All right. Thanks, Bro." I hung up and tossed the phone on a nearby chair before finishing the meat roll and washing it down with the rest of my beer. The loaf of bread beside me looked good and would go great with the meat sitting in my stomach. I took a few pieces and almost swallowed them whole as I walked languidly to the bathroom.
A nap would have been great before having to dress up for a night at the club. I used to love to go, my dance skills wicked sick, but I quit after realizing that dancing led to sex and sex led to loving someone. I wasn't interested.
Tonight would be different. A little dancing, a drink and an interview. Hope the girl had practiced personality questions. I was going to drill her.
"Drill her." I chuckled and shoved the rest of the bread in my mouth before getting into the shower.
I washed up quickly and towel dried my hair as I inspected myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. My tats lined my chest and abs, my hours in the gym giving me the body I could never get when I was smoking. Drugs did weird shit to me, leaving me more content to waste away than do or be anything in life.
"Never again." I ran my hand along my cock, grateful that the abuse I put on myself in my younger years hadn't affected my ability to please a woman. I might not have used it often, but when I did... I wanted to bring the girl to her knees with pleasure.
It wasn't happening tonight. I stroked myself once more and focused back on my face, wondering if I should shave or not. I decided on not.
Picking up the phone, I texted my brother for the girl's digits. A few minutes later the number came back through and I figured it was time to start the interview.
"Let's see how compliant you are, little girl."
Me: This is Ian. Your father and I spoke about me working for him where you were concerned. Let me know the address to The Roxy and I'll see you in the better part of an hour.
She texted back a few minutes later, my lip lifting for no good reason.
Her: Hi Ian. I'm Chloe. I heard you needed a body to guard and I guess my father thought to offer mine. If you have Safari on your phone, then you can figure out where the club is. I would think a big, smart guy like you can push a few buttons. No? I'll show you when you get here how to push buttons. I'm soooo good at it.
I laughed, unable to help myself. This was going to be fun. She was pissed about her father seeking protection for her. If I wanted a challenge, I just got one. I decided not to text her back, but let her stew on whether or not I took her text as humorous or asinine.
I knew without a doubt it was the latter of the two, but the girl had balls. It would be interesting to see if her looks fit her stunning personality.
Pulling up the Internet, I searched for a picture of the Senator and his family. I was surprised to see that only one picture of him with the girl showed up. She had to have been ten in the picture. The pretty smile on her face was filled with innocence, but sadness sat around the edges of her eyes.
"What story do you have to tell, Chloe?"
I tossed the phone down and pulled on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a tight black t-shirt with my shit kickers. I looked like I was ready to jump on a hog and run-rule the biggest bad-ass in town. I was... It would be interesting to see what she thought of me.
The night was to help with me making a decision, but her father hadn't given her the chance to have a say in any of it, obviously. Was he still treating her like a child? I picked up the phone and called the picture back up, checking the date.
Eleven years ago.
She was twenty-one and probably had a sense of entitlement all over her. Rich, young and beautiful. The three things I didn't want to get involved in.
"The money's good. The money's good. Just keep telling yourself the money's good."
Since when did I give a shit about money?
Since getting a good taste of it.
Fuck, I hope she's not hot.
Chapter 7
The shimmery pink top looked good on me. I was a little apprehensive about having to meet this new guy, but if he could push through the layers of shit I was going to throw his way, I guess he deserved the job. My father wasn't going to relent and though I wanted to keep pushing against his will, it just wouldn't work in my best interest.
I did as I always had when he forced something on me. I pouted and threw a few childish fits and then simply accepted it. The pouting was over and now it was fit throwing time. I smiled and put another layer of sparkly pink lip gloss over my lips as I leaned toward the mirror in the club bathroom.
"So, how much is the bet tonight?" Lyndsay, a semi-friend from my childhood days glanced toward me. I was with her and three other girls from high school, none of them real friends but simply the girls my father approved of me being seen with.
"Three hundred bucks?" Angie tugged at her breasts as a grimace moved across her face. Her short pixie cut looked wrong against her face, but I wasn't going to tell her. She was a bitch on a good day, and I was simply grateful that today was good.
"I'm in," Lyndsay murmured and checked her teeth one more time.
"Wait, what's the bet for?" I glanced toward Angie as confusion rolled over me.
"Oh right. Miss UCLA here hasn't been home in a year." Angie winked at me and nodded toward Lyndsay. "We started a game about eight months ago. First girl to get laid gets three hundred bucks. We'll each throw in a hundred dollar bill."
Margaret was by the bar with Karen, so I had to assume they didn't play the game. Sex sounded good, but I was rather particular with my choice of men. There was no way in hell I was going to win the bet anyway... my father was sending a babysitter to watch over me. Unless...
A smile lifted my lips as the other two laughed and began to question me.
"Nothing. I'm in." I turned and walked from the bathroom, making a beeline to the bar. Karen waved me over and I squeezed in between them, pressing my arms to the bar as the other girls started to chat.
"Hi there." I glanced behind him as if making a decision. "Ummm... I'll have a jack and Coke."
"Good choice. First one is on me. You want a tab after that?"
"I doubt I'll need one." I laughed and he chuckled and winked. He was cute and the tattoo playing peek-a-boo out of the sleeve of his shirt made my heart skip a beat. My father would never allow me to date anyone who looked like they belonged to a motorcycle crew, but damn if I didn't want to spend one night with one of them.
Just to see if the rumors were true. To test out the theory and such...
I turned and watched the door of the club as nervousness rolled in my stomach. I didn't know what I was looking for, but my father had demanded that I tell him what I was wearing that night. The new guy would find me by dad's description if nothing else.
There was a part of me that wanted to change last minute to confuse the brute and blame it on my wayward female hormones, but I stopped myself.
"So tell us about UCLA. How is the sorority, the classes, the men?" Margaret tugged a long strand of copper hair behind her ear and looked down her nose at me.
"You guys have been to L.A. a million times. It's an eclectic mix of the rich and beautiful and the poor and hot." I laughed and they did too. One of my favorite songs poured from the speakers above us and I grabbed my drink, slipping through them. "That's my jam. I'm out."
I took a long drink of my poison of choice and walked onto the dance floor with the rest of the city it would seem. The club was packed for a Monday night, which made no sense other than it being the first official day of summer. I turned and smiled up at a dark-skinned boy who slipped a hand around my waist and rolled up against me.
