by Amy Brent
“Bridget!” she exclaimed. Rachel threw her arms around me, and I dug my face into her hair. She felt so comforting, given how I felt this morning, and I couldn't wait to indulge her in all the dirty details of me and my bodyguard.
“Do you want the whole story or the punch line?” I asked.
“Gimme the punchline,” she said. “Then, if I have questions, I’ll ask.”
“I fucked Thomas.”
She pulled me away from her body, with her eyes as wide as the moon. Then she tugged me to our table and sat me down. The waitress brought me my regular drink before she sat down a glass of wine in front of Rachel. More memories drifted into my brain from last night. Thomas carrying me up the steps and laying me down into my bed. Him taking off my shoes and jewelry and trying to make me comfortable.
Shit, I wish he’d stayed.
“Back. The fuck. Up, woman. You slept with Thomas?”
“And it was perfect,” I said.
“At the club?” she asked.
“No, but he did finger me until I came at the club.”
“Why am I just hearing about this now?!”
“Because I wasn’t sure he’d be too thrilled about it, especially being my employee. And he wasn’t for a little while, until I talked him around.”
“You mean to tell me someone was pissed that they slept with Bridget Meyers?” she asked.
“I think he was pissed because he was under my employ, and he has a daughter, but yes,” I said.
“He’s got a kid?”
“And she’s adorable, Rachel. You’d love her. She’s had a rough time of it because of her bitch of a mom, too. I’ve met her, and she’s phenomenal.”
“Wait, he fingered you in the club, and then you met his daughter?” she asked.
“Well, not like, right after,” I said, smiling. “And after dinner with them, we slept together, yes.”
“Girl, what the fuck are you doing?” she asked.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re entangling yourself with a man who’s got a kid. If she gets attached to you and the two of you fall apart, it’s gonna devastate her.”
I hadn’t thought about that, and then I remembered the promise I’d made myself. I had to tell him about me, and I had to tell him soon. There was this feeling lurking in the back of my mind, like time was counting down on a clock I didn’t know existed. The way Rachel was looking at me caused a shiver to run up my spine.
“You think this is a bad thing,” I said.
“Depends. How do you feel about him? Is he just a nice fuck? Or something else?”
I thought about her question and how definitive it sounded. I didn’t realize I’d have to define whatever it was we were doing on this lunch with her, and honestly, I didn’t know what we were. I loved being around him, and holy fuck, I loved sleeping with him, but did it have to be any more than that?
My heart fluttered at the memory of his dick sinking into my body before my cheeks heated at the memory of him kissing my forehead last night. He’d tucked me in after making me comfortable, and he had kissed me goodnight. I’d even thrown myself at him, begging him to fuck me, and he’d simply turned me down because I was too drunk.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I think so,” I said. “I mean, I took him to the charity auction with me last night, and he was a complete gentleman. Never put his hand too low on my waist, despite the fact that we’d slept together, and when we got home, I was absolutely hammered and practically threw myself at him, but he turned me down because I was too drunk.”
“Sounds like a man to me,” she said.
“But my favorite part of the night was the compliment he paid me in my dress. He told me that the English language didn’t have the correct words to accurately tell me how beautiful I was.”
“Holy shit!” Rachel said. “He knows how to lay it on.”
“And god, he knows how to do it in bed, too.
“Does he have a big dick?” she asked.
I nodded. “And expert fingers. I haven’t given his tongue a ride yet, but I plan on it.”
“Oh, if he’s got the monster trio going, you’re done for,” Rachel said.
“But, to answer your question, I can’t say I’m in love with the guy, but it’s definitely not just a hook up,” I said. “I really do enjoy waking up to him in the house and having him around.”
“Well, then here’s my advice that I know you didn’t ask for: talk to him and tell him all this. It is a bit scandalous because he is your bodyguard, but that shit’s easy to keep under wraps from people. But he’s got another factor with his daughter, so he should know how you’re feeling, in case he’s not feeling the same. Yeah, you might be swooning over him, but he might just be fucking you.”
She had a good point, and it was a point I couldn’t deny. I had no idea how Thomas was feeling about all of this, and we needed to talk.
About several things.
Rachel and I finished up our lunch before we hugged and said goodbye. My hangover was completely gone, and I even took off my sunglasses before I walked through the restaurant. Someone had tipped off the paparazzi, so cameras were waiting outside for me. However, Bernie was kind enough to part the waves and get me to my car. Thomas would be pissed when he saw the pictures of me going out without him, but I needed him at home for this conversation so I could properly have it with my best friend.
I’d deal with his bitching later.
Today was the day. I was going to call him up and tell him we needed to talk. Then I was going to spew everything over the phone. I really didn’t know if I could have this conversation up front with him, so the phone was the second best option. I rehearsed my speech in the mirror for both subjects before I picked up my phone, but when he answered, I felt my blood run cold in fear.
“Hello, Kimberly.”
“Wait, what?” I asked.
“I’m just messing with you,” he said. “I know it’s you, Bridget. I just wanted a bit of a laugh.”
“What?” I asked. “What laugh?”
“When I was leaving you last night, you were completely out of it from the wine. You told me your name was Kimberly Moore for some reason.”
I felt my body sway, and I had to lean against the bathroom counter. How the fuck did I not remember that little bit? I’d remembered everything but the one thing I had actually needed to remember.
“Kimberly, you there?”
“Don’t call me that,” I said.
“It’s just a joke. I’ll stop.”
“It’s not a joke. I…”
“Bridget. Are you all right? Is someone there? Is—”
I heard him do something on his phone before a sharp intake of breath happened.
“You went out without me?”
Holy fuck, the paparazzi worked quickly.
“It was just a friendly lunch with Rachel,” I said. “Nothing serious.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked. “What’s going on, Bridget?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just called to see how you were, and you called me another woman’s name. What the fuck’s up with that?”
“It was just a joke. I take it you don’t remember much from last night.”
“Not really,” I said, lying.
“Well, consider this me scolding you. Don’t go out without me. Even if it’s just a friendly lunch, call me. You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Now, why did you call?” he asked.
“Honestly, I can’t remember,” I said, lying again.
“Then go lay down and get some rest. You sound like hell, so I can only imagine what you look like.”
“Thanks, dick. You’re the second person to say that to me today. See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow, Kimberly.”
I gave him a playful laugh before I hung up the phone, then I threw it across the bathroom. I was shocked when it didn’t sh
atter against the wall, but with my body shaking the way it was, I probably didn’t throw it all that hard.
“Fuck!”
What the hell had I done? Had I really been that drunk last night to have told him something like that? This situation was getting completely out of control, and I had no idea how to rein it in.
Tomorrow.
When he came over tomorrow for work, I would sit him down and tell him all of it. Start to finish, front to back, no details left out. I’d tell him about me, about what I did when I was eighteen, and even about how I was feeling. Then, he could make an educated decision based on that information. Then he could decide what he was going to do with me going forward.
But I knew for sure he wouldn’t be staying.
Shit.
Chapter 16
Thomas
I got to Bridget’s that morning, and she was already standing outside waiting for me. Today, she started shooting one of the three movies that her agent had thrown at her, and she was tapping her foot like I was late. I got out of my car before sliding right into hers, and she began rambling away while Bernie pulled out of the parking lot.
“This movie should be done pretty quickly,” she said. “It’s a low-budget movie that’ll be sent straight to DVD once it’s done. Doing movies like this is really good for my career because it gives me connections in the indie movie industry, which means I could potentially go to some of the indie festivals, like Sundance, and promote other things. It doesn’t pay me too much money, but it’s still fun.”
“Do you enjoy these types of movies more than the high-budget ones?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” she said. “But this one’s a horror flick, so I’ll probably just end up having nightmares.”
“Well, you’ll be safe on set so long as I’m there,” I said.
“Thanks. Oh, and thank you for taking care of me last night. And ignoring my crazy, rambling ass.”
The way she tacked that last statement on made me wonder. She acted incredibly strange when I’d called her “Kimberly” as a joke yesterday, and the way her leg was jiggling again told me I was getting closer to this secret of hers. But with whatever the hell was brewing between us, I didn’t feel right digging into her by reading her body language, so I just decided to flat out ask her.
“Bridget?”
“Yeah?”
“Is there something I should know?” I asked.
“Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that you answered that question pretty quickly, and you seem a bit tense,” I said. “Especially when I called you ‘Kimberly’ yesterday. It was just a joke, and I didn’t mean to upset you if I did.”
“Oh, I wasn’t upset. Taken aback and very confused, but not upset. I could never be upset with you, Thomas.”
“The middle of last week proved differently, but thanks,” I said. She slid her hand onto my thigh, and I felt my skin warm against her touch. Her head was turned, poised to look out the window, but her focus seemed elsewhere. Her eyes weren’t moving with the passing of the scenery, nor were they focused on the road below us. She had buried herself into her head again, and I didn’t understand why.
“Are you sure?” I asked her again.
“Hm?”
“That there isn’t anything I should know,” I said.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just got some stuff on my mind is all.”
Now, we had gone from “no” to “it’s nothing.” There was definitely something going on, and whatever it was had been taking up space in her mind for a long time now. Her hand was slowly squeezing harder into my thigh, and I cupped my hand around hers to relax her. The moment I did, she let out a breath I didn’t know she was holding.
She was panicking about something, and it killed me that she wouldn’t talk with me about it. But before I could ask her about it again, we had arrived on set, and she was already scrambling out of the car before I could get out first.
We walked onto set, and she was immediately whisked away to hair and makeup. Just like the previous set, I wasn’t allowed back there, but with it being a low-budget film, she emerged twenty minutes later, looking not too far off from what she’d looked like going back there. I stood in the corner of the room where the shadows of the equipment converged and hid me so I could get a good scope of the room. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from Bridget. Every scream scene and every scene where she had to have fear in her eyes looked a little too real for my liking, and I found myself squeezing my fists while she continued to film.
Over and over again, she cried on cue. She screamed out whatever pain it was she was obviously feeling, and the fear that rose into her eyes brought tears to mine. It killed me that she didn’t feel safe, even with me around, and I knew then I’d have to figure out what her secret was.
Whatever it took.
By the time filming was over, it was a little past three, and I knew I wouldn't be able to pick up Lacey. I called my parents while she went back into hair and makeup to change and take all her stuff off, and I was thankful that my mom was around and willing to get her. I hung up the phone with her just as Bridget emerged, and I could tell her eyes were darting around, looking for me.
And when I emerged from the shadows, she took off running and jumped into my arms.
“Well, hello to you, too,” I said.
“Let’s go home,” she said into the crook of my neck.
I put her back down onto her feet, and we called Bernie to head home. The entire car ride was silent, but every once in a while, I would hear her shift. She’d slowly scoot closer and closer to me, like somehow, she knew I’d protect her from the looming world outside of the car. I slipped my arm around her and pulled her close. She sank into me with the relief, the way Lacey usually did after having a nightmare. I was honestly scared of leaving her alone with her own thoughts tonight.
“You gonna be all right tonight?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “I’ll be good. And if I’m not, I can call Rachel.”
“No going out without me, okay?”
“Promise,” she said.
We pulled up to her house with her body cradled into mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved when Bernie stopped the car. It was almost four o’clock now, and I knew Lacey would want me home soon, but something in the back of my mind told me to just stay with her a little while longer.
So we sat there and breathed together in the silence of her car.
“You should get on home,” she said. She threw her door open and got out before I could protest. I scrambled out behind her and watched her walk to her door. She was acting incredibly strange, and it left a bad taste in my mouth, so I asked the question that had been throwing itself around in my head all day.
“Are you sure you don’t have anything you want to talk about before I leave?” I asked.
I saw her body stop before her shoulders slumped forward. She cocked her head to the side a bit, and if I didn’t know any better, I could’ve sworn her eyes glistened over with tears. My entire body yearned to pick her up and take her with me, back to my home where I could watch over her and keep her safe, but then, she turned toward me and answered my question the only way I knew she would.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said.
I wanted to tell her it mattered to me. That I wasn’t just some fuck toy, but I was also her bodyguard. I wanted to tell her it was my job and my right to know what was going on in her head, in case it posed a threat to her safety, but I knew if I cornered her like that, she would run.
So, I answered the only way I knew she would accept.
“All right,” I said.
I turned to start for my car, and I heard her footsteps behind me. I went to turn around, but I felt her hands on the collar of my jacket. Her eyes were frantic, and her body was suddenly pressed close to mine. As Bernie began to back out of the driveway, she thrusted her lips upon mine as she raised up onto her tiptoes.
Her lips were soft against mine but
filled with a desperation I couldn’t pinpoint. Her grip on my collar was shocking, like the fear she held within her body was willing her to keep me here. I dropped my arms to her waist before I cloaked her body with my strength, and as I swept her off her feet, I walked us back into her home and headed for the staircase.
Chapter 17
Bridget
He threw me onto my bed, and my entire body was on fire for his touch. The look in his eye was nothing short of primal, and I wanted one last experience with him. One last memory to hold on to before his outlook on me forever changed within the confines of his mind.
“Look underneath the bed,” I said.
He looked at me strangely, but all I did was begin to shimmy out of my clothes. Piece by piece, they fell away from me. When I stood on my knees, naked for him on my bed, I pulled at my nipples and asked him again.
“Look. Underneath. The bed.”
He dropped to his knees and felt around before I saw the look on his face. He pulled out the trunk underneath my bed and snapped the lid open. The glimmer of deviousness that wafted over his face was one I’d never forget. He began pulling out items, one by one, making me wet with every single item he placed beside him on the floor. I wanted him to use all of them on me. I wanted to coat every single toy I owned with a memory of him so he could never really run from me.
