The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 1 (2 page)

              Pulling into the drive of the family estate, Alex was awed at the display that her mother had created for this event. The trees along the road were all strung with hundreds of tiny, white lights, twinkling in the darkness of the warm August night, lighting the way to the house, expansive and impressive in the distance. As she approached, she saw that the balcony of the second floor had been strung with the same lights, mixed with boughs of flowers draped along the railing. It was beautiful, though ostentatious, thought Alex. Her mother had really gone all out for her father's big day. She wondered, for a moment, how it was to be in other families, who didn't come from a bloodline of wealth and prosperity. How did they celebrate birthdays? With barbeques and cake, balloons and beer. Sounded nice, she thought, a small gathering of loved ones, relaxed and enjoying their time together. But not the Grimes family. Their parties were lavish affairs with caterers and champagne, hired waiters and musicians. Every birthday that she had growing up was the envy of all her friends, the clowns, the petting zoo – there was even a pony when she was seven. This was normal to them. This was also a large part of the reason why she had tried to distance herself from her family’s wealth when she became an adult. She wanted to know what normal was to everyone else. She wanted to know what it was like to work for the things that you wanted, to feel like you had earned your success instead of being handed it on the day you were born. It didn't please her mother that she had walked away from the afternoon teas, from the shopping trips in London, and taken an apartment by herself, had started a career, had become her own woman.

              A valet stood at the end of the drive, in front of the expansive entryway to the house, and he smiled as she approached, walking toward her side of the car and opening the door for her as she came to a stop.

              “Alex,” he said, “nice to see you.”

              “Hey, Barry,” she said, stepping out of the car.

              He glanced down at her bare feet, her bright pink toenails peeking out from under the hem of her elegant gown. She followed his eyes, chuckling. She turned, reached into the back seat of her car, and extracted the heels, setting them on the ground near her feet and slipping them on.

              “You ever try to drive a stick in three-inch heels?” she asked, laughing as she handed him the keys to her car.

              “You know,” he said, mockingly pretending to think it over, “I think there was that one time, in St. Louis.”

              They shared a hearty laugh, and Barry slid into the driver's seat of her car, pulling it behind the house to park with the rest of the guests’ automobiles. Alex lifted the hem of her dress, climbing the steps to the front door of her family home.

              The doors were thrown open, letting in the warm evening air, and Alex stepped inside. A quartet of musicians were playing softly near the entrance to the dining room, and people stood around the main gallery, sipping at cocktails or champagne. They were each impeccably dressed, the men in tuxedos, the women's gowns sparkling in a rainbow of bright colors and rich textures. Alex stepped into the room, and several heads turned, acknowledging her entrance. She stood, shimmering in black satin, the skin of her bare arms and shoulders catching the warm light of the chandelier, alluring and beckoning to be touched. The dress clung to her, contouring her slim waist, her full hips. Her hair was pulled up, curled and tousled on top of her head, small tendrils escaping to brush the delicate skin of her neck. The jewel that she so liked was draped around her throat, catching the light of the room, sparkling, nestled in the deep cleavage of her gown.

              “Darling,” called her mother, crossing the room. “You look wonderful.” She put her hands on Alex's bare shoulders, leaning in and kissing the side of her face. Putting her at arm’s length, she assessed her choice in gown for her daughter, pleasure in her eyes at the beauty that she had created. “But what is this?” she said, lifting the jewel from Alex's skin, holding it before her eyes, squinting at it.

              “It's the necklace that you sent,” said Alex. “To go with the dress?”

              “It's beautiful, for sure,” said her mother, “but I didn't send it. I don't usually pick these kinds of things.” By “these kinds of things” she meant paste jewels, thought Alex. If her mother had picked this trinket for her, it would have been diamond, she should have known that.

              “Oh well,” said her mother, “let's go and find your father, shall we?”

              “Okay,” said Alex, as her mother ushered her through the crowd, pausing occasionally to introduce her to the governor and his wife, an actor that had recently been given an award of some kind, several of the benefactors to the university in town, and hundreds of other people whose names or why she should know them she would never remember. Alex recognized many of the faces as people that had been attending her father's parties her entire life, but she never did have the ability to remember more than their faces, though she had been introduced to them many times.

              “Here he is, the birthday boy!” exclaimed her mother, reaching out for the hands of her father. He too was dressed to the nines in a tuxedo that probably cost more than Alex took in for a salary in a year, perfectly tailored, a crimson handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket, giving him a flair of color. His silver hair was combed back, his mustache groomed and ready for action. He looked fantastic, debonair, and suave, as a ridiculously wealthy older man should.

              “Alex,” he said, pulling her into a warm hug, pressing his hand into the small of her back. Her father wasn't like the rest of them, she thought. He wasn't pretentious and rude, using his money to prove to the world that he was better than the rest of humanity. He worked to help people, making generous donations of both time and money to causes all over the world. He understood what Alex wanted to do with her life; he supported her decision to branch out on her own, to take charge of her own future. He did what he could to help her along her way, but would toss her off a cliff, if that's what she needed to learn how to fly on her own.

              “Happy Birthday, Daddy,” Alex said, snuggling into her father's arms. She kissed his cheek, leaving a smudge of her bright red lipstick on his skin. She chuckled, wiping it away with the pad of her thumb.

              “Thanks, baby girl,” he said. “Another trip around the sun for this old guy. Let me take a look at you.” He held her at arm’s length, taking in her dress, her hair, while at the same time assessing her health, making sure that she was taking care of herself, since she was no longer under his roof, where he could keep an eye on her.

              “This is pretty,” he said, gesturing at the jewel around her neck.

              “I got it today,” Alex said, holding it up so that he could see it sparkle in the light.

              “Bought yourself a present for my birthday, eh?” said her father, chuckling.

              “Actually, no,” she said, confusion knitting her brow. “I don't know where it came from. Just sort of showed up on my doorstep. I thought it was from Mom, since she had the dress delivered, but she said that she didn't pick it out.”

              Concern darkened his eyes. “That's curious. Could be nothing, but you should keep an eye out. You're very visible in your line of work. Something as simple as a secret admirer could be a point of concern.”

              “It's just a necklace, Daddy,” she said, putting a reassuring hand on his arm. “Don't worry about it.”

              “Okay,” he said, “I won't.” But Alex could see the worry in his eyes, watch his brain turn to all the scenarios that could come of this. She wouldn't tell him about the photographs, not tonight. It was his party, his celebration, and she didn't want him to spend the evening worrying about her wellbeing.

              “Let's party,” she said, reaching out and plucking a glass of champagne from a tray that a waiter was carrying nearby and taking a large gulp from the glass.

              The evening was a whirlwind of rich food and expensive champagne. Small talk with strangers became interesting as the night went on and the conversation was greased with alcohol. Alex laughed, flirting openly with rich old men while being whirled around the dancefloor until she was dizzy. Her father made a speech, thanking his guests for their attendance, and toasting friends and family for their support and love of each other. While he spoke, Alex noted that his cheeks were rosy, that he too had imbibed his share of celebratory beverages throughout the night. Everyone was having a wonderful time.

              Alex's skin grew warm from the revelry, and she took herself out to the patio to enjoy the cooler air of the summer evening. The stars danced in the sky, and the full moon reflected off the river at the end of the lawn. It was a beautiful night.

              “Tired of dancing?” asked Barry, leaning against the railing of the patio, a cigarette dangling from between his lips.

              “Hot in there,” she said, sliding up onto the railing, letting her shoes drop to the tiles below. “Too many people. Nice out here though. Give me a drag of that.”

              “Your dad will kill me if he catches you smoking,” said Barry, reluctantly handing over the half-smoked cigarette.

              “I'm a big girl,” said Alex, taking a drag of the cigarette, blowing a cloud of smoke into the night sky. She picked up her glass, downing the rest of the champagne, and burped, loudly.

              Barry laughed. “You sure are all grown up.”

              “Shut up, you,” she said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

              “You staying here tonight?” he asked, his brow wrinkling in concern. She had had a lot to drink, and it was showing. Barry knew that she lived on the other side of town, and the idea of her driving didn't appeal to him.

              “Nope,” she said. “I've got a ton of photos to sift through from a shoot today. I'm going to be in the studio all day tomorrow, and I want to get an early start.”
             

“Well,” he said, stubbing out the cigarette on the concrete below, “I get off here in an hour. Can I drive you home?”

              “Not if you're trying to get lucky with the boss's daughter,” she said, laughing at her own joke. She hiccupped, knocking the champagne flute from the edge of the patio railing, sucking in a surprised breath as it smashed to small, sparkling pieces on the concrete at Barry's feet.

              “Um,” said Barry, smacking his lips. “That wasn't my first thought, seeing as I prefer a little more masculine company.”

              “Huh?” Alex said, hiccupping again, “OH!” Realization washed through her. She had known this man for years, and never heard anything about a wife, or girlfriend. She giggled. “Guess I don't have to worry about you trying to get fresh then.”

              “Nope,” he said, “just wanting to make sure that you make it home safe.”

              “Yeah,” she said, putting her hand to her forehead. Her head was swimming from so much to drink, and she probably shouldn't be driving. “Okay. Meet you in an hour?”
             

“I'll come find you,” he said, walking off into the darkness.

              Alex sat on the sofa in her father's study, her shoes discarded on the floor, her bare feet tucked beneath her. He sat behind his desk, a cigar between his teeth, leaned back in his big leather office chair, pleased at the evening's festivities.

              “Daddy,” she said, her voice small and timid, as if she were still his little girl.

              “Yes, my dear girl,” he said.

              “I think I should tell you…” She hesitated. “Something else strange happened to me today. Other than the necklace just showing up at my front door.”

              “Hmm?” he said, taking a puff at his cigar.

              “I was doing a shoot down at the waterfront.” She hesitated again, images of bored models in the blinding sun floating into her mind. “It wasn't going well, so I called it off, and when I went to go and pack up my gear, I found something.”

              He sat forward in his chair, resting his hands on the surface of his desk, his attention focused on her now. “Another gift?”

              “I don't know,” she said, her expression filled with confusion, “it was weird.”

              “What was it?” he asked.

              “Pictures. Of me.”

              “Like from the magazine articles, or the newspaper?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

              “No,” she said, “not like that. Polaroids. From today. Like somebody took a bunch of pictures of me and left them on my table.”

              “Did you see anyone? Was it one of the models?” he asked, standing up, crossing the room to sit on the sofa next to her.

              “No,” she said. “I was focused on them, and they didn't do it. And I didn't see anyone else. I don't know why someone would do that, take pictures of me and leave them there.”

              “I don't like this,” her father said. “Somebody is following you, taking your pictures. They know where you live, we know that because of the necklace. This guy wants you to know that he's there. He's trying to catch your attention.”

              “But why?” said Alex, apprehension making her stomach knot.

              “I don't know,” her father said, standing again. Crossing to the window, he peered out into the night.

              He turned to her, his expression now filled with determination. “It may be nothing, but it might just as well be dangerous. I'm going to hire a bodyguard for you ‘til this whole thing blows over.”

              “A bodyguard,” she laughed. It was ridiculous; she did not need a bodyguard to watch over her every move. “Dad, don't you think that's a little much?”

              “No,” he said, “I do not. I think that someone has taken an unnatural interest in you, and that we don't know who that person is, or what their intentions are. I would rather know that you are safe, and have some peace of mind. I know that you want to be independent, to live life on your own terms, but this is for me, to make me feel better.”

              “But I don't want a man following me around all day and night, keeping an eye on me,” she said, outraged.

              “Darling,” he said, “it sounds like you already have one of those.”

              “No,” she said, standing, her bare feet sinking into the lush carpeting of the room.

              “I'll set up something for tomorrow,” he said. His mind was made up, and there would be no arguing with him. She would have a bodyguard, whether she liked it or not.

              Alex felt her cheeks warm with the flush of indignation that was roiling in her belly. No matter how far she tried to distance herself from this lifestyle, from this family, her mother and father would reach out and pull her back in. She didn't want a fucking bodyguard, just as she didn't want a nanny when she was a child. She didn't need someone to tell her where she could go and what she could do, and watch her every second of the day and night. She was not a child; she could take care of herself.

              She turned, picking up her shoes off the carpet, and headed toward the door. A soft knock, then it opened slightly before her, and Barry stuck his head into the gap.

              “You ready to go?” he asked.

              “Where are you going with Barry?” asked her father, his eyebrows raised in question.

              “Wherever the hell I want!” she hollered, storming out of the door and into the hall.