Miss Bodyguard

Chapter 1

The strong scent of tobacco and liquor wafts in the air. The bright blue and red strobe lights elevates the mood of dancers on the floor. With each flicker, peoples' movement seem like an old stop motion film, oddly hypnotizing. Despite the loud music blasting out of the speakers, the frenzied screams ring in the enclosed space. Individuals grind on each other like some sort of a mating ritual, that I for one will never understand despite working at Cielo, for a year now.

My hands roam to my black dress-shirt's sleeves to unbutton it, pushing it up. The heat diffuses from the dance floor from where I am making me feel uncomfortably warm.

"Hey, can I get a White Russian?" The boy asks from across the counter as he settles to his seat.

His blond hair pushed back slightly damp from what I assumed is sweat. When I try to gauge the how much alcohol he just had, I only recognize annoyance with a hint of regret, contrary to the majority who are wearing enoutmous grins on their faces.

Clearly, not drunk enough.

He watches cautiously behind him, almost at the edge of his seat. Curious as to what is causing his sour look, I watch behind him. The crowd parts almost cinematically as the skinny red haired young lady stumbles through.

The young man promptly looks away, his tormented blue eyes roll. The boy sits closer to the edge of his chair, his body facing the opposite direction of the girl in a subtle way of showing disinterest.

I vaguely noticed it but my hands had already started the mix. Without thinking I had measured the coffee liquor in ratio of vodka. Glancing at the boy, he seems to be tipsy but well enough for another drink.

The girl however, is a whole different story. Her face is a mess. Deep red lipstick smudged on her cheek, her mascara running down her face, her bloodshot eyes glazed over with a thick coat of drunkenness. Even though there's a good two feet in between us, the scent of her breath disgustingly pungent aroma of smoke, alcohol, and mainly of fresh vomit. She obviously had tried to cover it with a thick layer of perfume. But the rotten acrid scent is prominent. In fact, the combination smelled so bad that people scurried away from the bar.

The girl settles on the empty chair beside the boy, her thin arms desperately clings onto the the boys tattooed arm. A look of disgust immediately crosses his face, and he tries to untwist the skiny twigs around his arm. I'm assuming this reaction was brought about by the red head’s eau de garbage scent.

But that doesn’t stop the young lady.

Finally, the blonde boy gives up, a sigh of defeat escaping his lips.

"A dirty Martini for me," she sing-songs, as I was just finished the blond boy's drink. The girl flips her curly red hair in a ponytail, exposing her creamy white neck and her bony shoulder. It seems to be an attempt to allure the blond boy but he already disillusioned gaze refuse to meet hers.

I stare at her in disbelief, my eyebrow raising ever so slightly but my face doesn't betray me. Throughout the time she has been here, I've served this tiny girl has had 4 shots of straight vodka and 3 beers, more than a normal 100 pound girl can handle.

Cielo, have rules regarding drinking responsibly. As soon as bartenders feel uncomfortable serving a customer a drink because of their state, it is the moment when we inform them about the rules. I mentally prepare myself, having an odd feeling that this will not end well.

"I apologize Miss, but we follow strict regulations here in Cielo. We can refuse to attend to your request the moment we see fit," I reply sliding the drink in front of the boy whom has a side smirk appears on his face. He pulls a crisp twenty dollar bill from his wallet and hands it to me. Mouthing keep the change. I nod politely, pocketing the twelve dollars in change.

"Wh..What?" The redhead stammers, utter incredulity evident in her voice shrill voice. Her eyebrows knits together, her lips pursed in a tight line, and her eyes glare daggers at me. It's as if a switch has been flipped, and now I understand the young man, and his clear distaste for the girl.

Freeing one hand from the boy, the girl slams it on the counter causing it to shake, a few curious heads shoots towards our direction.

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and continue. "I'm sorry; we are strictly bound by regulations and bylaws of the city," I try to shut her down in the politest way I could.

But it seems to make her more livid. "You must be kidding," the girl snarls, grabbing me by the arm. Her long nails digs into my skin, causing sharp pain as it penetrates through my skin. I bite the inner side of my lips ever so slightly, to prevent mouth from grimacing.

"Let go of her!" The blond boy orders the girl, to no avail. He tries to unfurl her sharp claws on my arm, but she refuses to let it go only digging even deeper. My other hand tries to gently pry her fingers off, but it made no difference. It only makes to her grip tightens. Just like a snake constricting its prey.

At this time, more heads are turning towards our way. My palms start sweat as the penetrating gaze start to make me feel uncomfortable, yet my smile remains soft and unaffected.

"I'd really appreciate it if you let my employee go, it's about time she goes home, " Maria's voice hypnotic voice says in foul distaste. Glancing towards her, Maria takes a long drag from cuban cigar, and blows it on the girls face. Fits of cough erupts from her mouth, making her eyes water.

I feel more eyes dart towards our direction immediately taken my beautiful boss' arrival.

I, too, is a bit taken aback. Maria is not supposed to be here tonight, and I did not expect to see her until Monday Evening at the very least. There must have been a change of plans with her business trip.

As usual, she carries an air of elegance around her, wearing a faux fur black cardigan over her plunging neckline, long-sleeve short red dress that complements her tall lithe frame, and her wide hips. Her hair a high ponytail as per usual, exposing her sharp jawline, slender neck, and bronze complexion.

Despite retiring from the fashion industry for quite some time now, and having an extremely busy family life with her husband-Michael Bordeaux Montclaire a financial analyst-and two hyper-energetic children-Clara, and Santiago-her body, and face remains unchanged. It was as if time she lives on a dimension where time does not pass.

Immediately, my body relaxes just having her present by my side. If anyone can pry this drunken mess off me, it will be Maria Esteban Montclaire.

The redhead hand slightly eases as Maria's cold silvery green eyes intently seize her up and down. "What's your name, little girl?" She starts, a smile I'm all too familiar with forms on her lips. A slight shiver runs down my spine and all of a sudden, I feel pity for the girl.

The redhead doesn't respond but just stares daggers at Maria.

"What's her name? Come on, you must know it. " Maria coos, turning to the boy who has a horrified expression on his face.

"Ja....Janice Walker, I think?" the boy stammers, and his eyes wide. I can see it. His face both shows both fear and admiration. I can't exactly decipher how much of each, but maybe right now, it's somewhere in between.

The corner of Maria's lips turns up, her familiar wickedness crosses her angelic face. "Good boy." She says softly, "I need it for pressing assault charges on this dumbass bitch." She points her fingers rudely to the girl.

The haze slightly lifts from the redhead's face in an instant and her mouth opens and closes, but no words comes out. After a few seconds of process her options, her green eyes snaps at me full of rage, but she reluctantly retrieves her hand and grudgingly scrambles to the exit.

"That's right, perra, walk away." Maria scowls after her but her expression softens.

People who witnessed the event wolf-whistled, throwing bills in the tip container. The heated interaction seemed to give them a source of colourful entertainment. Maria collects them, and shoves it down my the pocket of my black apron.

"Honestly, Fallon, my husband and I don't pay you enough for this bullshit." Maria extinguishes her smoke in an ashtray and gives me a tender hug. Her light floral perfume and thick scent of tobacco invades my nose. It's a scent that I got used to. The familiarity comforting.

A questioning look must have been on my face because before I can even ask about her business trip, she tells me. "Cancelled the business trip 'cause the children are sick, Michael, too actually." She sighs, looking very tired all of a sudden.

"Thanks for saving my ass again today. I will be firing that pendejo, James, for flaking for the third time." Maria grits her perfectly even white teeth in annoyance. Well, I hate to say this but Maria has brought herself in the situation-i.e. not firing James’ ass. Because underneath all the intimidating sass, Maria is kind-hearted, and forgiving. She believes in people, but of course only until they strike to three.

"You should go home, Fal," she chirps pushing me towards the back room. "I will manage things for the rest of the evening."

My eyebrows arches, I still have an hour and a half left before my shift is over. "Are you sure, Maria? I mean I can stay. This is nothing-" I motioned pointing to the reddened half-moon craters on my lightly fair skin."-I've received worse than this." For a moment, my mind lingers to a time where I pretend to have never happened. I managed to suppress the memories. But Maria, knows my story all too well to pretend that my statement does not affect her.

As soon as I said those words, I regretted them.

Maria knows how much I hate receiving pity, and despite her efforts to hide it all under a strained smile her true feelings seep through.

"Mija," Maria start softly, the sorrow in her voice tangible. "I know. But you have a test tomorrow, you need sleep. You've helped enough today, " Maria states caressing my back in small circles finding comfort in her touch. I never told Maria this, but this gesture reminds me of my mother, the last bits of her I can remember. My shoulder eases, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

But before I can thank her, an impatient voice rises from the crowd.

"Hello?! Bourbon on rocks here," A guy yells, waving his hand for attention.

"Coming!" Maria harps towards the guy before focusing on me. "Dios Mio, Fallon. What was I thinking investing in this bar?" Maria's forehead creases. She places a kiss on my cheek before she turns to attend to customers in need of liquor. "Use the tip for the cab, yeah?" She calls to me, and I wave back, entering the staff room.

Peeking inside my apron there must have been at least a hundred dollars in there. I smile. Every dollar will matter soon enough when I get to Cambridge and say goodbye to this place.

Sorry, Marie. I know I will not use it to take the cab. Not tonight at least.

It's almost eleven by the time I finished changing into drabs. But I did not care one bit on how unflattering my oversized sweater over my dark ripped jeans, tattered scarf, weathered runners look on me, or how my short chestnut brown is sticking in every direction after untying it from a bun. I just need to get home, and rest.

Securing my bag over my shoulder, I drag my feet towards the staff door that leads to the floor.

I weed through the thick crowd careful not to step on anyone's toes. An enormous boulder of a man gives me a approving nod as I near the exit. "Goodnight, Roy," a kind smile forms on my lips. His dark skin glistens under the blacklight, his teeth and whites of his eyes glow eerily purple.

Roy looks so frighteningly large, and scary at least that’s what it seemed when I first laid eyes on him. However, I was sorely mistaken. This man is probably one of the sweetest person I have ever met. When he is not at work or at the gym getting ripped, he is in the local soup kitchen or at home knitting scarves for the homeless. Just don’t mess with him or you’ll end up out cold on the side walk.

"Goodnight, Fal," his deep voice mutters as I pass by him. "Don't take the alley tonight, people was jumped last night, just from a few blocks. Don't risk it, ya hear?" He adds in concern and I wave him off, unmoved by his warning.

The cool night breeze nibbles at my face as I step onto the main strip that is lined with numerous restaurants, pubs, and nightclubs. There are always lots of patrons milling up and down the street. It's fairly safe, except for a few occurrences of pickpocketing around the area. But a million times I've up and down the streets, never once did I became a victim of such petty crime.

Why? Because the poor does not rob the poor.

It simply isn’t worth it. Most days, there is literally nothing to steal from me except for a few loose change, and my pair of weathered runners if these thieves are desperate enough.

Even the alleys are not that bad. For almost 3 years now, I've walked down these alleys to get home quickly, and nothing bad has ever happened; one crime within three years is hardly something to lose my marbles over.

Crossing the street, I instinctively feel for the cold metal in my pocket for the Italian switchblade Maria has given me as a gift for my own protection despite my protests. I honestly don't feel the need for it, I know enough to fend off for myself. But Maria insists that I keep it for her own peace of mind and who was I to argue after this woman who the maybe the only person that truly cares for me.

There's barely anyone around to the alley. The surrounding restaurants have been forced to shut down for the night because of two completely unrelated reasons. TeaHouse was because of plumbing issues, while Butera shut down for for vermin infestation. It's a wild accusation for a four star restaurant. Well, it's not like I can eat in either of those places, anyway. Money is far too valuable to spend on small food, and expensive coffee.

As I come closer to the alley's entrance, I hear loud shouting. Normally, such would have been... normal. I remember the Butera's master chef Ignacio-an old, stubby man, with greasy black hair-likes berating at the sous chefs in the alley for failing to meet his high quality standards. Some poor bloke usually would have his or her head hung with shame as Ignacio slowly chips away their passion for cooking food.

But Butera is closed.

Looking around, no one seem to notice the oddity. A tight knot starts to form in my stomach, and I decide to satisfy my festering curiosity. "Ugh. For crying out loud," I whisper to myself as I quietly crawl towards the big metal garbage bin to hide. I draw a shaky breath, and with calculated movement, peek around the corner to see the source of commotion.

What I see, causes my heart to race for two reasons. One, the person in the black sweater who was yelling the moments ago-and back turned towards me-holds a gleaming big cutting knife pointed. Second, there was a person lying on the ground. I cannot see a lot of details but I can see enough to know that this is a serious situation.

I hastily search my jean and jacket pocket for my phone, but I cannot find it. I must have left it in the locker room when I was getting ready to go home. I almost face palmed myself. Of all days, I leave it today.

"It's your brother's fault! I take a little dough and I get fired! I told him I’m gonna pay up,”the deep voice belonging to the hooded person scoffs indignantly, but the person whom the accusations are regarded to does not reply. "You know, I have nothing to lose now, because I'm dead anyway! The people who I owed money to are after my organs." He howls in despair.

"I'm gonna make your brother pay at least, before I die." The man cackles in a deranged manner. The way he sound gives me goosebumps. I sense the urgency as the man slowly closes the gap between her and the girl. Memories of lying on the cold ground pierces through me. I clearly remember the fear, and moreover, the lingering fingers of death.

Oddly enough, the terrifying memory jolts me back to reality. My senses cuts through the nostalgia, and without even thinking my hand slams against the metal bin causing a loud twang.

This seems to frighten and disorient the man. His attention complete diverted from the girl to the source of the sound.

"Who's there?!" he shrieks, the agitation in his voice clear. The discheveled man’s footstep echo in the darkness, and I wait until he was on my line of site.

If he spots me, I'm at a disadvantage, but if I manage to surprise him I can maybe disarm him without dying.

As he passes the garbage bin, I throw my bag at him dislodging the knife off his hand. I hear the metallic clunk as it makes contact with the ground. The man faces me, but his features hidden under his hood. He stands there frozen in surprise and before he can get his bearings, I tackle him using the entire weight.

We stumble to the ground and he quickly overpowers me. At this point I'm close enough to see that it was a young man-maybe in his mid twenties-he had bloodshot eyes, and vastly dilated pupils with a crazed look on his face.

"You, bitch!" He exclaims, as he straddles on top of me, wrapping his calloused bloodied hands around my thin neck.

Immediately my arms crosses over, each hand on his wrist, hips raising automatically. Then I bring my weight down to the ground my hand locking in his. I slide out of from underneath him giving him a solid kick squarely on his jaw. His eyes roll behind his head and he falls backward.

I hear the sirens coming from a distance, and I sigh in relief that someone reported the crime. Despite knocking the lights out of the man, I opt to tying his hands behind his back with my scarf to ensure he doesn't hurt anyone else.

The sirens sound much closer now, and people are starting to pile around the alley entrance their faces both shocked and entertained. But nobody dares to approach the person on the ground, and fearing that they are gravely injured, I immediately made my way. Under the moonlight I can see that the person is a young woman who is probably as old as I am or close. Her eyes are tightly shut, and her ash brown hair, and face matted with blood.

"Hey! What's your name? " I yell kneeling beside her. "What's your name?" I ask again in attempts to coax her to open her eyes, but the girl only groans.

After a few seconds her eyes flutter open slowly, exposing her beautiful ocean green eyes. She blinks a couple of times before whispering. "Anna."

Steadying the girls head. I see a small opening on the side of her forehead, she's bleeding quite a bit so I tear my shirt underneath to put pressure on it. Remembering the familiar sting, I warn her. "Anna, this will hurt but I need to stop the bleeding. Bear with it, okay?"

I feel her head nod slightly, and I as press the piece of fabric on her forehead. The girl bites her lower lip as her body jolts as if an electric current passed through her, her breath comes heavy and thick.

"Good girl. We just need to wait until the ambulance gets here. " I explain, I can clearly hear the sirens now, they are so close. But the girls eyes starts to drift. "No, no, no...Anna you can't sleep right now. " Fresh panic grows inside me and I'm afraid that the girl's condition is more serious than I had thought.

"I'm so tired, call Vinnie for me will you. Tell him that if this scars, I will fucking kill him, " the girl grumbles before her eyes rolls to the back of her head.