The Bodyguard

Well, as smoothly as it can with an over the top A-list celebrity. Kayla loves having people at her whim. She is always demanding the best of the best: food-wise, clothes-wise, and girl-wise. Her pouting closely follows if she doesn't get things her way until they eventually do. It is hard to believe she is the same girl that goes to rehearsals ready to do her absolute best. Behind the scenes and on stage she is captivating, professional, and always looks for perfection. After hours she is a little brat. I met her mother once at one of the earlier concerts. She is working on an autobiography about raising a star (eye roll) while her husband is off on their yacht who knows where. Her mother has green eyes which makes me believe she has her father's eyes. She also has blonde hair and fake boobs. Her interactions with Kayla were warm enough but I wouldn't call them motherly. But what do I know about a daughter mother bond? I don't have much to compare it to now a days.

Brady is apparently her uncle from her mother's side. I never noticed the resemblance until Paul mentioned it one day. I guess they do have the same nose and hair color. He isn't warm towards Kayla like an uncle should be. But he takes his job seriously as her manager and usually has her best interest at heart. He doesn't comment on her personal life, although I think he sometimes should since he is the only parental figure close enough to her. I usually keep to myself and mind my business. My only concern is getting Kayla from one place to another safely.

***

I'm at the gym working out its past midnight. We're close to starting the new month with only a few minor hiccups. Kayla flicking off the paparazzi, getting caught making out on video, or dancing on top of the bar at a club. The worst part is none of it is private, everything is out there for all to see. The nights are starting to blend in together and I have to constantly remind myself this is only temporary.

Surprisingly Kayla decided to stay in tonight. Some redhead followed her to her bedroom while I switched shifts with Mike. I can't help but wonder what she looks for in these girls or if she just picks them based on looks. I haven't seen many similarities between the girl from two nights ago and this red head. Does she have a type? I blow my bangs out of my forehead. After this last mile I am going to call it a night. This job is exhausting or maybe I am just getting old. I don't see the appeal of wanting to go out or staying in and drinking if it is all going to happen again the next day.

My lungs start to burn, the music tempo increases and my steps fall into rhythm with the beat. Something sounds familiar about this song. The girl in the background is mostly humming, then she sings.

The door to the gym opens I look up at the long mirror in front of me. It's Kayla. She's wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Her eyes open wide when they meet mine. For once since I've met her, she looks embarrassed. I remove my headphones when I see her standing there.

"You okay?" Maybe she is looking for me. Where is Mike? He's supposed to be outside her room.

She nods and waves her water bottle in my direction. "I can't sleep, thought I might need to run off some of this pent-up energy." She tugs on the end of her ponytail, something I've noticed she does when she's nervous, which is rare. "Do you mind if I run next to you?"

I shake my head. This is the first time we've been alone since she kissed me. Where is the redhead? The green numbers on the machine say I am almost done with my last mile, thank God. This is going to be awkward.

She starts walking at a slow pace.

I want to point out that she probably walked, danced, and ran across the stage tonight enough to make me tired but I am not good at small talk. Our eyes meet a couple of times through the mirror in front of us. Her wide blue eyes have trouble looking away. My already flaming cheeks burn a little brighter. My shorts and t-shirt are soaked through. I become aware that this is the most skin I have ever shown in front of her.

I begin to cool down and jog at a slower pace. She has toned arms and a tight stomach. Her perky ass and shapely legs always look great in whatever she decides to wear on stage, too bad they are covered now-I stop my train of thought. I should ask her what her work out routine consists of, stay on safe topics. Again, I don't really want to talk.

The song I am listening to comes to an end and I finally recognize the voice. I look down at my phone and see Kayla's face dripping with neon green, pink, and blue on my phone screen. I can't help but look at her again in person, her eyes already on me. I stop the treadmill and take a swig of my own water bottle. That was a good song. More techno and less pop. I want to ask her about her collab with the DJ but don't want to interrupt her work out.

"Soph," I turn to look at her this time instead of making eye contact through the mirror. Her treadmill completely stops. She has a frown on her face.

"What is it Kayla?" My already racing heart begins to beat a bit faster. I shouldn't be alone with her. She looks so innocent and lovely.

"My mum is cheating on my dad."

I don't say anything. I don't know what to say or think. Maybe I should call someone who can be here for her, emotionally. Our relationship has not consisted of me being a friend to her. We barely speak to each other. I feel slightly uncomfortable. Even my adoptive mother who left my dad waited to move on until she was gone. But she still left him with two adoptive kids to take care of. Aren't we a pair?

She crosses her arms and looks down at her shoes. I notice a tear rolling down her eye. I go with my gut instinct and pull her into my arms. I have to turn off my thoughts and go with what feels right. I've seen my good friend Lucy do this to her students when they come to her for help after school. Lucy would be so much better at this than I am. Maybe I should ask for advice, but I don't want to risk exposing Kayla.

She fits perfectly in my arms. My chin rests on the top of her head, her arms wrap around my waist, and my arms envelop her slim body tighter against mine. She recently showered. Why is she working out if she already showered? I feel her hot tears against my chest mixing in with my sweat. I wish I wasn't perspiring so much but she doesn't seem to mind. My hand absentmindedly runs against her back. Her shoulders shake and I know she's trying to hold it in. My lips brush against her hair, I hope she can't feel them. There is no way I can explain any of this to Brady or even myself if she calls me out on it. Her crying turns to sniffles, and I don't understand why but my lips begin to whisper sweet words in her ears. It has been a while since I have felt the physical comfort of another person, I know I will regret this later.

Eventually her body begins to sag against mine and I know she is spent. I pick her up, one hand holding her legs the other around her lower back. Her arms wrap around my neck. I see Mike outside her door once I get to the top floor. He doesn't look surprised to see me with her.

"She was looking for you." He opens the door for me. I beat down the warm feeling developing in my chest. This is wrong, why would she seek me out? Where are her friends?

"Call me next time. I'll come to her. Or at least follow her." That way we are less likely to be alone.

I lay her down on her bed, no redhead in sight. The light from the hall is enough for me to see her tear streaked face. I remove the remaining tears and brush the loose strands of hair from her face. She is just a kid. I resist the urge to kiss her forehead.

The lines I set are becoming blurred

***

The next day I don't see her until right before her show, but not by choice.

"She won't come out of her dressing room." Mike says over his mouthpiece. I knew asking to switch with Mike wouldn't be so easy. I just needed today to clear my head and forget about last night. I've been avoiding seeing her all day because I don't want any of the feelings from last night to come back and haunt me. It is all so confusing. It's rare days like this where I wish I still had a mom I could call and ask for advice. My father usually buried his feelings and I've become a pro at that.

After a couple of back and forth one liner with Paul and Jeremy I walk backstage to her room. Ronnie, Brady, Mike, and one of the backup dancers, Jasmine I think, are outside her room. The dancer visibly sighs in relief when she sees me. I try not to let that reaction psych me out. Why does my presence automatically cause the people outside her door to physically relax?

"Thank God you're here." Three knocks on Kayla's door and we all wait for her response. "She's here." Jasmine says.

Brady gets on his phone and starts barking orders to the other person on the line. "Push it back by fifteen minutes. She'll be ready by then." Why would he guarantee that? And why isn't he more worried about the fact that she is asking for me? Is it normal for Kayla to get this close to her personal bodyguard?

"Kayla?" I knock on the door with determination. This is no time to think about how bizarre this is. I've never been called specifically to get Kayla out of her room before, Brady usually finds some way to bribe her out when she's being stubborn because of something as superficial as her hair not being 'flowy' enough. I turn the knob hoping she has the decency to be fully clothes with all of these people near her door. I look back to see no one following me in the room. Jasmine grabs the door handle and closes it behind me once I'm in.

Kayla is sitting in her chair in front of the mirror. She has her arms wrapped around her legs which are pressed against her chest. Her head is resting on her knees. She hasn't changed at all. She's still wearing her jeans and red t-shirt from this morning. A small sense of alarm makes its way to the back of my head.

"Kayla, do you want to call off tonight's show?" I don't know if she has the authority but I can see based on what she went through last night that this is probably not a good idea. There is a half empty bottle of dark liquor next to her chair. Definitely not a good idea. At the sound of my voice her head lifts. She doesn't look drunk.

"Soph, what do I do?" She sounds like a lost child, her accent very thick.

I step closer to her and stand in front of her mirror. My suit starts to feel constrictive.

"Let us know when we should head backstage." Paul's voice feeds into my earpiece. I remove it from my ear.

"Kayla if you're not up for it just cancel the show tonight. I'm sure we can reschedule. I'm sure Brady will understand."

She scoffs. "It is my first tour. I can't be calling off a show just because my mum is whore now can I?"

I feel my arms crossing on their own accord. I can't hug her again. Not when she is drunk.

"So do the show."

She looks at herself in the mirror. Her lips are a darker shade than usual, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. This girl is beautiful even when she cries. I am envious. And at the same time, I never want to see her like this again. I don't want to see her crying. I can handle her tantrums and even her pouting but this doesn't sit well on my chest.

"I'll just send my dad more money to soften the blow when I tell him."

"I don't think you should be the one to tell him." I want to bite my tongue. This is none of my business. I shouldn't be here right now. Paul says something else but I don't hear it. "If you're going to do the show might as well get ready. Then you'll have the next three days to process this and work through it before your next show." I try to imagine what I would want to hear if the roles were reversed but I come up short.

Feelings have always been an enigma to me. I know what anger and disappointment feel like and I usually do some fighting to blow off steam but anything other than that and I get tongue tied and find it hard to articulate my thoughts. If I ever feel bad, I let myself feel that way for a certain amount of time and then I move on. I don't like wallowing in bad feelings.

She pushes her legs out and stands. "Fine." A quick sigh escapes her lips.

I'm a bit surprised she listened to me. I want to pat her shoulder or squeeze her hand, something to show I'm here for her but I don't want to blur anymore lines.

"Next time talk to Jasmine about it. I'm sure she would have given you the same advice."

This seems to trigger her. "Well, I'm sorry I dragged you back here to listen to my sob story. I won't waste anymore of your time." Her cheeks turn a beautiful scarlet. The anger in her eyes animate her face.

"Kayla, you know that's not-"

"Get out."

***

We're in the second week of the third month and I am over the groupies, the partying, and the excessive drinking. We've been to about five different states but I've only been focused on Kayla and haven't really enjoyed any of it. It has taken me awhile to get comfortable watching Kayla consume liquor. She can almost drink her weight in it. A handful of times I've had to carry her to her room. I am grateful to not have to take her to the hospital to have her stomach pumped any of those times. I am also grateful she does not do any drugs. I don't know if I would be able to sit idly by. I am certain the drinking increased after she found out about her mom.

Brady hasn't led anything on about the affair but I know he knows. Kayla eventually told her dad and the drinking got worse. I start asking Mike to take over more of my shifts when it came to watching over Kayla after shows, when we were in hotels, or when she went out. I know it has bothered her but she hasn't been vocal about it. I have three more months to go and then this will all be over. I'll be back home looking for another job far away from the pop diva. My heart contracts at the thought of her alone in bed crying at night.

When it gets really bad Mike calls me over the phone until I give in and I knock to let her know once I am outside her door. She never opens the door so I usually dismiss Mike and stand there. The crying stops and after fifteen minutes I open the door to see her sleeping. It has become a routine when she decides not to sleep with a girl that night, something that is becoming more frequent. Thank goodness Mike hasn't asked any questions and Brady doesn't seem to know about it. I would not be able to explain any of it.

So here I am standing near the entrance of her hotel room watching as she drinks her fifth cranberry and Vodka, acting like I don't want to be anywhere else. Tonight, she is looking to get laid. I've been getting better at detecting her moods. She has some plastic blonde next to her, whispering in her ear and other girls surrounding her. They're all groupies, some that I have seen before and others that are just tagging along for the night. All of her dancers are also in the room dancing to music or just entertaining her. Jasmine, her favorite dancer and probably her closest friend is in the corner reading a book. The same girl who stood outside her dressing room the night she wouldn't come out. She is the only one who has the guts to talk back to Kayla when she has an attitude and seems to keep her grounded. I think I overheard that they have been friends for years but I can't be sure and I don't bother to ask. Jasmine is my favorite so far. She never gives me any trouble and tries to be the voice of reason when some idiot yells out something stupid they should all do.

Jasmine is from Florida. Her skin is a warm brown that makes you feel dazzled just by being near her. She has full lips and a quirky smile. Her curly hair is usually up in a bun, like it is at the moment. Her eyes are dark but friendly. I've only had a couple of conversations with her in the last couple of months but that is all I need to know she can be trusted. She looks up and catches my eye. I look away hoping she doesn't catch my blush. I probably shouldn't be staring.

One of the groupies decides to make her way towards me. She doesn't seem that drunk but she does stumble when she is a few feet away. I grab her arm to steady her.

"You okay?" I want to tell her to go home, drink some water and take some Advil so she doesn't wake up hungover. I can't imagine being so reckless at her age. My father would have grounded my indefinitely.

She nods and smiles. "I just thought you could use some company. Everyone is off doing their own thing, no one wants to talk." She has hazel eyes and short brown hair. She can't be more than 20 years old. Her overalls highlight her big breasts.

"I'm fine," I smile to assure her. "You should probably head home."

"What is your name?" She ignores me.

"Sophie." I look around the room to make sure everything is still under control. Mike is on the other corner also against the wall. He looks at the brunette next to me and winks. I almost flick him off.

"I am Laila." She sticks her hand out.

I shake it but put a couple of feet between us, she follows.

Out of habit I look over at Kayla and am caught off guard when I see her watching me. The blonde leaning against her is trying to catch her attention but Kayla continues to stare at me. She looks pissed. I want to go over and ask her what is wrong but I don't think I want to know. This feels like it is going to turn all high school very soon.

"So, Sophie," Laila giggles "Do you get lonely on the road?" I tear my eyes away from the icy blue ones across the room.

Not this again. For some reason there is always one fan girl that wants to catch the attention of one of the body guards. I guess I was the chosen one tonight. Usually the girls go for Mike or Paul because they look like a challenge. I have to stop this immediately. I can't have anyone questioning my professionalism. "Look, I think you should go home." Let me save you the trouble, I want to add.

"You!" Everyone gets quiet when they hear Kayla's voice. She doesn't yell but we're all in tune to keep our ears open for it. I look up to see her pointing at me. Except she's not pointing at me, she's pointing at the poor brunette in front of me. "What do you think you're doing?"

The girl in front of me looks embarrassed. I frown at Kayla. No one says anything, we just wait for the other shoe to drop. Yup, high school all over again. If someone starts to break off into a dance I will literally scream.

"Everyone out!" Kayla says loud and clear.

The dancers don't think twice about it. The groupies take a second to gather their things. The blonde next to Kayla has a sly smile on her lips which is quickly replaced by a pout when Kayla asks her to leave as well. Jasmine gives Kayla a kiss on the cheek before heading out. Kayla turns to Mike and asks him to leave as well. I start to make my way towards the door before she gets to me.

"Soph, stay."

I bite the inside of my cheek. I need to set some boundaries with her. My leniency has caused her to believe she can talk to me however she wants and I will jump up like an obedient dog. I have to remind her I was hired by her uncle to protect her, nothing more.

Once the room is clear and the door is closed, she steps closer to me.

"You know you can't sleep with the groupies or anyone for that matter." She crosses her arms. Her black robe slips off her shoulders and I get a glimpse of her creamy skin. She's wearing a white bra making her look younger and innocent. Her hair up in a bun, her neck turned slightly. I can imagine how soft her skin is. I can imagine how soft her neck would feel against my lips. I grind my teeth.

"Kayla you cannot tell me who I can and can't sleep with. I know I can't sleep with any of the groupies but you cannot dictate my personal life outside of work." I brush my bangs to the side to see her more clearly. She won't have me bending over backwards at her whim.