by Lisa Shelby
Quite the opposite? What does that mean?
"I'm sorry?"
Leaning in and whispering so only Callie and myself can hear him, he takes my breath away when he finally confesses whom he's working for without really confessing anything at all.
"Miss Adams, if he can't be with you, he still wants to know you're safe."
"He who? Who are you talking about? Who is paying you?"
"Ma'am, please. Just carry on with your day and pretend I'm not here. Unless you need me, of course."
"How can I do that when you are always there, in the background, creeping around?"
My head is reeling, and the words coming out of his mouth just don't compute. He's here to keep me safe, not to hurt me?
"Is that you on the motorcycle?"
"No ma'am, no bikes for me. Just know he wants nothing more than to be with you, but he has his reasons."
I feel like the sidewalk is starting to swallow me whole. If I'm understanding what he's saying but not saying, Ronan, the love of my life, the man who had his assistant break up with me, is having me followed because he still wants to be with me, but for some reason he can't be.
"I don't understand."
"I'm sorry. I've said too much, but I would never want you to think you were in danger, because of me. Please go on with your day, and if you need anything, I'll be here."
"Come on. Why don't we get you back in the shop and take a break? You seem a little shook up. Sir, I think I get that you're here to help her not hurt her, but if you could please stay out here and give her some space, it would be much appreciated."
Callie takes me by the shoulders and guides me back into her shop and puts me in a booth in the back that has a bit of privacy. My pink-haired angel takes the coffee that I'm gripping so hard in my hand it's a miracle the lid hasn't popped off, and I'm not covered in its contents.
"Hey, you okay?" She pats my hand, and I can see the concern in her eyes, and it hits me that she felt she had to come to my rescue.
"I am so sorry if I caused a scene in front of your place of business. It really wasn't my intention."
"Don't give it another thought. I'm just sorry you're going through whatever it is you're going through. I didn't mean to get all up in your business, but you looked pretty upset, so I thought I'd make sure you were okay."
"Thank you. I really appreciate it. But, I am sorry for the disturbance."
"Want to talk about it?"
Oh God, I do. But you're a total stranger! "Thank you, but you have a business to run. You don't need to hear my long, sordid story. I really do appreciate you coming to my rescue, though."
"Not sure if you noticed, but my name is Callie and this place is called Callie's Coffee. I'm not going to lose my job if I take a little break." She winks and I don't know what it is about her, but I find myself spilling my guts.
What feels like days later, I've told her my story. Starting with the night I met Ronan at the gala to this morning’s crazy incident on the sidewalk with Mr. Black Beanie.
"Olivia, I'm really sorry to hear about your mom and about everything you both went through. But I also think that there is more to this break up than meets the eye. Why would he hire you a bodyguard?"
"A bodyguard? I've spent so long thinking I had a creepy stalker or that Dickey had found me and I was in danger…I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that he's here to protect me. But from what? Does he know something about Dickey that I don't? If he does then why wouldn't he warn me?"
"Well, it's obvious he's still in love with you. I mean why would he want to protect you? Because I believe that to be true, I don't think there is anything new about this guy from your past, Dickey. I don't think he would risk your safety by not telling you. Nope, I think it's something else."
"Callie, thank you so much for listening. I’m sorry I've taken up so much of your time."
She holds up a finger and then gets up from the table and grabs something off the counter and then is right back. She's writing something on the back of a business card. "Here's my number. You've got the shop on the front and my personal cell is on the back. You're new to town, if you want a friend to hang out with, I'm your girl. I can be your personal tour guide, therapist...whatever you need. Don't hesitate to call." She slips the card into a pastry bag. "And the scone inside this bag...well, it's just full of goodness, and I think it may just be what the doctor ordered."
"Thanks for listening today, and I'd like to pay you back sometime. Maybe a drink or dinner or something like that?"
"I would love to hang out sometime, but pay me back by coming back and getting your morning cup of joe here. That way you can fill me in, and I can make sure you're doing okay. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Okay, I'm gonna get back to work. You go home and get some rest. Be nice to your bodyguard, Whitney," she says, waving over her shoulder as she heads back to the hustle and bustle of her shop.
I can't help but chuckle at her reference to the movie starring Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston. It's true, I have a bodyguard now, but this story will not end with the two of us falling in love. Done that, been there, and I'm not really interested in any of that ever again.
No longer hiding in the shadows, my Kevin Costner gives me a little nod of his head, and I shake mine as I leave the shop and head for home. Even though I don't know the real reason he's here, I feel a little better knowing he’s there.
3
"Morning," I say to my supposed bodyguard.
"Morning, ma'am," he replies but doesn't look me in the eye. He simply keeps looking straight ahead as though he doesn't even notice I'm there.
This is all so strange.
"Same route to the park today. Hope you and your buddy across the street can keep up?" I say, waving to the man on the corner across the street. I can't believe it took me until yesterday to notice not just Mr. Black Beanie but his friend in the matching outfit always on the other side of the street.
The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly while his clone across the street gives me a nod in reply to my gregarious wave. "We'll do our best, ma'am."
I start bouncing in place to warm myself and shake my head at his formalities. He talks to me as if he's part of the Secret Service or something. I start off at a slow jog on the busy sidewalk, and once I get to a quieter area, I really open up. The cool bay area air feels good in my lungs, and even though having two bodyguards running with me at a polite distance behind me is annoying, I feel better about being out and about with them here.
My mind has never been so cluttered, and it never did calm enough for me to get much sleep, if any last night. I want to believe that it is indeed, Ronan, who has hired men to look after me, but if he cared so much, why would he be all over the red carpet with London? He told me he couldn’t stand her, but was it all an act?
It isn't like there was anything for him to gain by being with me, so I am not sure what he could have been using me for, if it was all a ploy.
That is the thing that kept me up last night. Why would he have gone to the lengths he did for us to be together if he didn't really care about me or love me like he said he did? I had nothing to give him but me.
If he really did hire them to protect me, because he couldn't be with me but still wanted me safe, does that mean that one day he will be able to be with me and this break up isn't forever? If that's the case, how long am I supposed to wait? Do I want to wait? Could I be with him again knowing he has been with London?
Until yesterday, I was certain I hated him. He broke me and I never wanted to see him again. All it took was for a stranger, who has apparently been hired to protect me to say, "Miss Adams, if he can't be with you, he still wants to know you're safe." That was it. And now, even though the pain and the anger are still there, now there is a smidge of hope settling into my heart next to the many other feelings it is currently full of. It's still no excuse, and the way he ended things is unforgivable, but to know he cares enough to
protect me, is something.
I could be wrong though. Maybe Ronan didn't hire my new running partners. What if I am assuming it's him and it's not?
We get to the edge of the park, and I stop and see the two men are waiting a block away, giving me my space. I wait on the corner, running in place, and they still aren't budging. I wave Mr. Black Beanie over, and he looks to his bodyguard twinsie and talks into his little wire and then crosses the street.
"Ma'am."
I stop running in place and walk into the park and motion for him to come with me.
"Can he hear what we're saying?"
"No, ma'am."
"What's your name?"
"Ma'am..."
"Enough with the ma'am stuff. You know my name, use it."
Hearing myself demand he call me by my name reminds me of the little game I used to play with Ronan. I loved making him crazy by calling him sir, and I really don't need the reminder.
"Miss Adams, the fact that we have even made contact with you goes against the rules."
"Well, there isn't anything we can do about that now, is there? It seems only fair if you are going to be with me, everywhere I go, then I should get to ask a couple of questions and know your name." We reach the bench I used the day before to stretch, and I hold a hand out asking him to sit. I can tell he doesn't want to, but he complies.
He looks uncomfortable, and for the first time, I feel like I have the upper-hand. Even if it is a mere illusion. I take my seat, and I see his compadre standing guard where we entered the park a moment ago.
"So, your name and his, please."
With much resignation, he releases a heavy sigh. "You can call me Bellinger and he's Hanson."
"Are there more of you? I can't imagine you are working twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."
"Yes, two more that are with you regularly. They take nights."
"Do they dress like junior high BFFs too?"
He gives me a puzzled look that says my words do not compute.
"Do they dress the same and look like twins the way you and Hanson do?"
He chuckles. "Yes, Miss Adams. O'Conner and Frye dress very similar."
"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"
No reply.
"So, tell me the name of the man who hired you."
"I can't do that."
"Oh, but you can."
“I really can’t.”
"You said the person couldn't be with me, but he wanted me to be safe."
He nods his confirmation.
"Then you clearly know who he is."
"I do."
"Then who hired you?"
"Ma'am."
"I think I've handled all of this pretty well. How do I know you're telling me the truth? You may not be some high-paid bodyguard; you could be the bad guy. I could call nine one one right now. What would your boss think about that?" I pull my phone out of my pocket and taunt him with it.
With pleading eyes, it's clear he wants me to yield, but I stare right back at him, not relenting.
"Mr. Baxter hired us on behalf of his employer." He looks away from me, disgusted with himself.
"For how long?"
"Since the day you met his assistant at the coffee shop near EVC."
I can feel the tears of relief that begin to pool in my eyes at the confirmation that it is, in fact, Ronan who is protecting me. I know I shouldn't, but I trust Bellinger, and I don't get a sinister feeling from him. Of course, I believed Ronan loved me, and we were going to build a life together. I had agreed to move into his home and run a business with him, and he left me the next day. Maybe I'm not the best judge of character, but I feel okay with my new bodyguard. I know sinister and he isn't it.
Neither is Ronan.
I look up at the sky and will the tears to dry, managing to somehow keep them at bay.
"Is there a specific time frame you’ve been hired for?"
"As long as we're needed, ma'am."
"And none of you ride a motorcycle?"
"No, and that is the second time you've brought this up. Do you have a concern that we should be made aware of?"
If I truly trust him, I have to tell him. Here goes nothing.
"Well, there have been a couple of occasions where a motorcycle has either cut me off on the street or whizzed past me, and when he does he turns and looks at me as though he had gone by on purpose. Like he knows me."
Bellinger seems concerned and asks me to tell him every incident I can think of. I let him know about the day of the break up, the day I was in the bar with Bryce and the other two instances that occurred to me last night when I was trying to piece together this whole bodyguard situation. I describe the bike and its rider, letting him know the bike is black as is the helmet, although at times I swear it was silver. I describe what I can about the wiry rider, and he seems to hang on my every word. He says he's glad I let him know and he and the other men will keep an eye out. If I notice the motorcycle again, I should let him know immediately. Much to my surprise, he has me program his number into my phone in case I ever have an emergency and need assistance.
"I need coffee. Let's go." I say trying to lighten the mood and settle my nerves that have boiled to the surface after our short conversation.
We both stand from the bench. "After you, Miss Adams."
I pass Hanson on my way out of the park, and he gives me a nod. He’s even taller than Bellinger but leaner and maybe not quite as attractive, but I’m sure he could get the job done if I needed his help.
I follow my path from yesterday, landing in front of Callie's Coffee.
"You two want anything?"
"No, thank you, ma'am. Please pretend we aren't here."
"Ha! You're funny, Bellinger."
The warmth of the sweet little coffee shop engulfs me when I walk through the door. Before I've even made it to the counter, I know coming here for a break was the right decision.
"There she is!" exclaims my new pink-haired fairy friend from behind the register, bringing a much-needed smile to my face. "What will it be? I know that black coffee you ordered yesterday wasn't really your usual order?"
"Good to see you too! You're right, I am actually a white chocolate mocha kind of girl."
"Marcy, one large white chocolate please, and I'm gonna need you to get Josh from the back to watch the register. Boss lady is taking a break!"
I reach into my wallet and pull out my cash, but she looks at me like I'm crazy and refuses to take it. She leaves the register and comes around the counter, and instead of going to the back table we sat at yesterday, she motions in the direction of the one front and center by the window. I shove my coffee money in the tip jar and join her.
"Thanks for the coffee."
"Of course, your money is no good here. Now, tell me. How are you doing? Because if I'm being honest, you look like you didn't sleep a wink last night. Don't get me wrong you are still crazy beautiful, but this morning you are looking a little more tired-beautiful."
"Whatever, but you're right. I didn't sleep at all."
"What kept you up?"
"Well, I called Evelyn, Ronan's personal assistant, but she played dumb like she didn't know anything about him hiring me protection. I also started to remember all of these other times that I had seen the guy on the motorcycle I had told you about. Then I started worrying about that. But most of all, I thought about why he would kick me to the curb yet hire round-the-clock bodyguards to protect me. It just doesn't make sense."
"When you say, round-the-clock, you mean there are more than just those two hotties watching over you?" She rests her chin on her palm and stares out the window longingly.
"Ha, yes! Apparently, there are four of the them. Day shift and night shift. The one you helped me accost yesterday is Bellinger, and the other one is Hanson."
"I must admit I had trouble sleeping last night too. Only it was because of a certain bodyguard that I couldn't get out of my head."
"No way! You have the
hots for Bellinger?"
"It appears so. Last night he was a mystery man in black. Now that I know his last name, I hope it doesn't ruin the fantasy. You have to admit, he's pretty hot."
"To tell you the truth, I was so annoyed yesterday that I didn't notice. But we did just have a nice little chat in the park, and I will admit I may have briefly noticed he was attractive, but then I was too busy trying not to cry, and I went back to not noticing."
Her attention is back to me in a flash. "What? No! He can't be an asshole that makes my friend cry! Please say it isn't true."
She makes me laugh, yet again, and I fill her in on my conversation and assure her that her mystery man still seems worthy of her attention.
I even admit to her that when I got home yesterday, I tried to call Ronan, but he didn't pick up. I also tried to reach him via social media, even though I know he barely uses it, but he had blocked me. I can't lie; it hurt.
She tells me, once again, there has to be more to this than I am able to see right now, and she thinks one day soon everything will be okay. "In fact, my curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help but look up all the recent pictures of Ronan and that trollop he's been spotted with, and you know what I noticed?"
I sigh but entertain her. "What's that?"
"Every picture is of them at an event and of them dressed up. There are no pictures of them coming out of the grocery store, getting gas, walking through the airport, or even walking down the street in jeans and a T-shirt to go to lunch. All of the photos seem staged."
I wish I had her optimism. "Maybe you just weren't looking at the right websites. I'm sure those pictures are out there, and if they aren't, it's because Ronan has Baxter and a security team to keep the creepers away."
"I think you're wrong. I think the pictures, or lack of pictures, tells a story."
She has my mind reeling more than before, but I cannot let my mind go there.
I refuse to get my hopes up.
"Enough about me, Callie. Since the moment I met you, you know twenty-four hours ago, all we've talked about is me. What's up with you? How long have you had the shop?"
"Well, there's not much to talk about. I've had the shop a couple of years now and I love it. I went to school, got my business degree, and then, sadly, my grandfather passed, but he left me the start-up cash for Callie's Coffee, and here I am."