“So, what?” Kate asked in dismay. She turned to the mystery man, still leaning against the wall and watching the scene play out. “Who’s this guy? The lawyer?”
The man paused his methodical M&M consumption, and his jaw dropped in mock outrage. He finally spoke. “Hey. Rude.”
Jack shook his head. “This is Chris Taylor,” he gestured. “He’s gonna be your security until this situation gets cleared up.”
“Security?” Kate laughed. “Jack, come on.” When Jack simply shrugged at her, she looked at Chris. “Seriously?”
“I have excellent credentials,” Chris grabbed the chair next to Kate and swung it around, plopping down on it backwards and counting off points on his fingers. “Marine Corps for six years, five years of private security experience for high value clients, I own three pairs of handcuffs, and I can run really fast.”
Kate stared with incredulity at Chris. “Do you think this is a joke?”
“Well, I didn’t,” Chris replied, emptying the bag of candy into his palm before tossing the remnants into his mouth. “When I thought you were a journalist who had broken a story on a corrupt politician and needed help. But then I found out you were actually just a glorified librarian and now, yeah, I think it’s kinda funny.”
Kate turned to Jack. “Really?”
Jack pointed at her. “He might be a wiseass, but he’s the best there is. And he ain’t cheap, either. If you do get whacked, it won’t be because this paper cheaped out on your security detail.”
***
“This is so ridiculous,” Kate muttered, face buried in her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to raise her head and see Chris standing outside of her office with that stupid smirk. He had spent the morning playing James Bond around the office, insisting on clearing the bathroom before Kate used it and frisking the copier for weapons. She had pushed him out of her office when Holly came by for lunch, but not before he insisted on checking the sandwiches Holly had brought.
“Hold it right there. Gotta wand ‘em,” he had told Holly.
“You have your own portable metal detector?” She had asked, amazed.
“It’s a stapler,” Kate yanked her friend into her office, exasperated. “He’s just bored and playing pretend.”
Holly pulled Kate from her reverie. “Better safe than sorry,” she chirped, plucking a chip from Kate’s untouched bag while Kate groaned in disagreement. “It can’t hurt having him around, can it?”
“I don’t know, but I’d rather not find out.” Kate sighed. “Look at him, Holly.”
“Oh, I am,” Holly widened her eyes appreciatively, hoping to evoke a laugh from Kate. “Yummy.”
Kate swatted playfully at her friend. “Ew, no! He’s just a dumb jock all grown up,” she grumbled. “He isn’t even taking this seriously, he’s just full of jokes. I don’t think he even knows what I do for a living. Probably because he’s never read a book in his life.”
“When you’re that pretty, you don’t need no book learnin’,” Holly said sagely.
Kate tried to glower at Holly, but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Do you think he’s on steroids? His arms are the size of my head.”
Holly turned to look at Chris, who gave them a wink and finger guns. “Maybe. He’s a big dude, that’s for sure.” She turned back to Kate. “So did Jack say exactly what the threat you got said?”
Kate shook her head. “No, only that it was credible, whatever that means. I mean, I don’t know the criteria they use to distinguish a sincere threat from a fake.”
“Probably once they cross that line from ‘vaguely threatening’ to ‘an actual death threat,’ I’d imagine.”
“Well I hope whoever wrote in that threat makes their move soon, because part of me is okay with giving my life to watch this guy fail.” Kate watched disdainfully as Chris rapped on the glass door with his knuckles and made a series of nonsensical hand gestures.
“What…what does that mean?” Holly asked, confused.
Kate shook her head. “He said it means the perimeter is secure. I’m pretty sure he made it up.”
Holly burst out laughing. “Don’t encourage him!” Kate scolded her.
“I’m sorry, Kate, but you could use a little fun in your life. Don’t be so hard on this guy! He doesn’t seem so bad.” She winked. “And he’s easy on the eyes. Speaking of which…did I tell you I’ve got a date with Michael tonight?”
Kate frowned, chewing her pickle. When she had swallowed, she asked, “Michael?”
“Yeah, from the café the other day. Our server. He asked me out when I was paying the bill. At first I thought he was just trying to flatter me so I’d leave a decent tip, but he called me even after I paid in mostly nickels.”
“It must be true love,” Kate observed dryly.
“I don’t know about true love, but he was okay with the idea of hitting an art gallery opening tonight for the free hors d’oeuvres, so it’s definitely something special. Hey, why don’t you join us? You and Jean Claude Van Sexy over there,” Holly pointed.
Kate snorted mid-bite and began coughing, sending sprays of bread crumbs flying across her desk.
“Oh, man, if he saw that we can forget a double date,” Holly peeked over her shoulder. “Be a lady, dude.”
Kate wiped her mouth with a napkin and gaped at her friend. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t think I’m interested in going on a double date with you and the guy you tipped four percent after you attacked him. Especially not with my comedian of a bodyguard. Thanks, though.”
“Okay, I would hardly call what I did to Michael ‘attacking’ him. But, message received, loud and clear.” Standing, Holly stretched. “I’ve gotta head back to work, my lunch break was over forever ago.” Pulling Kate into a hug, she added, “Be nice to the new kid, okay?”
As she left, she stopped to speak with Chris. Kate watched their mouths move wordlessly, and cringed as Holly gestured towards her.
“Damn it, Holly,” she muttered under her breath as Holly broke away to the elevators and Chris headed into Kate’s office.
“Your friend said you could use a little company,” he said, dropping into the chair Holly had vacated and opening a package of Rolos. “Said you’re pretty freaked out about this whole threat thing.”
Kate smiled tightly. “She misspoke. I’m not worried.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Kate trailed off, chuckling dryly at the absurdity of having to explain herself. “Because it isn’t real.”
Chris shrugged. “Your boss thinks it’s real enough. He wasn’t kidding when he said I’m not cheap.”
“Jack is just covering his ass. I can’t blame him for that, but this whole thing is just, well, ridiculous.” Kate pointedly turned her attention to her computer screen. “I actually have a lot of work to do, so…”
“I don’t mind.” Chris watched her, chewing his candy slowly, one by one. Kate was growing unnerved by his intense gaze. “So you think this is just an empty threat, huh?”
“Yup.”
“But you said you get a lot of hate mail. Isn’t this just the logical progression?”
“In what world are death threats logical?”
“In this one, apparently.” Chris didn’t take his eyes off her. “Why would you get hate mail at all? You write book reviews. Vicious ones, granted, but still. Who would take it that seriously?”
Kate turned to Chris. “People write books because they want to share a story with the world,” she explained. “It’s taking a piece of themselves and putting it into words, because they think somewhere out there someone will relate to what they have to say. Books and stories are incredibly personal things, and they’re a part of the storyteller’s very being. It’s what makes books so special.” She said the last bit quietly, with reverence. It was a concept she had considered before, and she supposed it was why books had always held such a mystical allure for her. “It must be devastating to hear someone tear apart your work.”
Chris
didn’t change his expression. “Then why are you so harsh in your reviews?”
“I…” Kate looked at Chris, surprised. “I don’t know,” she finished lamely. “I’m going to use the bathroom. No, no, please,” she held up her hands to stop him when Chris’ eyes lit up at the prospect of doing another bathroom perimeter sweep. “I’ll be fine, I promise. You just stay here.”
***
Kate stood over the sink in the bathroom, washing her hands while letting her mind wander. ‘I don’t know’? What the hell kind of cop out was that? I’m harsh in my reviews because I expect writers to meet a certain standard of quality and have respect for the craft. I don’t go out of my way to be mean, I go out of my way to be honest. Ahh, damn it! That’s what I should have said!
Kate let out a frustrated groan. Of course her best zingers came to her five minutes after they were most needed. Having Chris around was really throwing Kate off her game, and she wondered anxiously how long it would be until she was free of him. Of course she didn’t want to put herself in unnecessary danger, but it seemed to Kate that there was quite a difference between someone writing a threat and actually carrying it out, especially for a writer! Their whole lives were more or less focused around putting hopes and fantasies into writing, not acting on their every impulse. In fact, Kate decided, if there was anyone in the world from whom I wouldn’t take a death threat seriously, it’s a writer.
Kate dried her hands, feeling more confident in her decision to let Chris and Jack know that a bodyguard was patently unnecessary. If O’Bannon felt that strongly about his own liability, Chris could hang around the office while she was there, but he wasn’t going to be following her around to personal appointments, and most definitely wasn’t going to be following her home. Kate strode purposefully back to her office with renewed confidence.
“Okay, Mr. Taylor,” she began. “I think we need to have a frank discussion…what are you doing?” Chris hadn’t acknowledged her, and was bent over her desk writing something. Coming closer, she saw he was filling in her blank crossword spaces—with pen!
“Hey!” She scolded, snatching the paper away from him. “I was almost finished with that,” she complained. “Are you a child? Can you really not keep your hands off someone else’s things for ten minutes?”
Chris shrugged. “You weren’t going to get three down, anyway, with the way you had three across going. You wouldn’t get ‘Gretzky’ if you had ‘Marcel’ going across, because the ‘r’ was in the wrong spot. It should have been just ‘Proust,’ which you wouldn’t know because you had another mistake over” he pointed “here.”
Kate looked over the crossword. She had made a few mistakes. “How do you know Proust?” Kate asked, stupefied.
Chris smiled wryly. “Because I’m just an idiot muscle head?”
Kate blushed. “No,” she lied. “I just mean, he’s not as…accessible as, say, Stephen King or Tom Clancy. Swann’s Way is something you read in a graduate class, and I thought you were prior military. I just didn’t realize you’d been to college.”
“I haven’t.” Chris shook his head and smirked. “I can see why you get hate mail. You’re very elitist.”
“I am not!” Kate’s cheeks were burning. “And I don’t think assuming that most people don’t read Proust for fun is elitist. I just don’t know you very well.”
“But you don’t like me.”
Kate hesitated. “I don’t like the situation,” she allowed. “And I may have been treating you poorly as a result. I’m sorry. Can we start over?”
Chris leaned back in the chair and shrugged. “We can try. I’ve found there aren’t very many do-overs allowed in life, though.” His jaw tightened, only slightly, but Kate noticed.
Kate took her seat behind the desk. What a weird guy. I’m trying to offer an olive branch, here! He’s so damn cocky. “Well, look, Chris. I’m sure you’re very good at your job, and I appreciate that you’re a more well-rounded person than I gave you credit for initially, but look: I really just don’t think my having a bodyguard is necessary. I can understand O’Bannon’s cautiousness, though, and I’m not opposed to having you hang out here, around the office. But I don’t need you following me grocery shopping, or to my home, or to…yoga, or whatever.”
Chris was unfazed. “You don’t do yoga.”
Kate blinked. “Excuse me? Why do you say that?” It was true, Kate didn’t do yoga. But she was offended at the insinuation that she didn’t have a yoga body. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited for an answer.
“Ms. Burt, I told you: I’m very good at what I do. Part of being good at what I do is knowing the habits of my clients. That means talking to your boss, your co-workers, and your friends. Sorry, your friend. No one mentioned anything about yoga, there’s nothing about yoga in your calendar, and pardon me for saying so, but you do not seem like a woman who spends a lot of time centering herself.”
“Maybe you’re not as good at your job as you think,” Kate replied icily.
Chris cocked an eyebrow. “Where do you practice yoga?” he challenged her.
“The…” Kate wracked her brain. “Red Lotus.”
Chris smirked. “You don’t do yoga.”
Kate was losing her battle to remain calm. “Mr. Taylor, I am telling you right now that I do not require your services. I know you think you’re a certified badass, but you should know that I can handle myself and a phony threat just fine.” A thought occurred to her, and she leaned forward. “In fact, just last night someone left a flaming bag with a dead rat inside it outside my door, and I-”
Chris shot upright in his seat. “Someone set fire to a dead animal at your home?” he demanded, eyes boring into hers.
Kate nodded. “Yes. Well, outside my door, I mean. And I took care of it, which brings me to my point-”
“Someone killed an animal and lit it on fire outside of your apartment, your personal address where you live and sleep and are at your most vulnerable, and you just thought to bring this up?” Chris stood up and narrowed his eyes at her. “Clearly you can’t handle yourself, because that is absolutely the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Pack up whatever you need to take with you. And be quick about it.” He strode to the door.
“Wait, what?” Kate stared after him in disbelief. “Why?”
“Because there’s a good chance that the person who had a bonfire at your place last night is the same one who issued your death threat. Coming to where you live is a clear escalation, and pretty sick, to boot. We’re going to stay in a safe house until we can be sure the risk is minimized.” He looked at her appraisingly. “Who could you possibly have pissed off to such an extent? You’re a book critic, for God’s sake.”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t know! It’s crazy, I just-” her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. I think I know who this is.”
6
Chris sat on the twin bed opposite Kate, shaking his head as he leafed through Days by the Pond. Kate had found it lying forgotten at the bottom of her bag, and showed Chris the particularly disturbing passages that mentioned animal abuse. “What the hell is this?” he wondered aloud. Disgusted, he threw it on the nightstand that separated the two beds.
After informing O’Bannon of the new information that had come to light, Chris convinced the editor that Kate was much safer living in and working from a hotel room for the next few weeks, or until the threat was “neutralized.”
“Fine, fine,” O’Bannon had agreed grudgingly. “If that’s what ya gotta do, do it. Paper will cover the expense. But we already got you a bodyguard,” he said, pointing his sausage-like finger at Kate. “So midrange hotel only. And no room service.”
Kate had argued against the decision, but feebly. Her mind was reeling at the possibility that someone out there, a Mr. Rodney Wash, if her hunch was correct, might actually want her dead. The afternoon had taken on an air of surrealism, and she was finding it hard to concentrate. “I need to get some clothes from my place,” she said absentl
y. “And my toiletries. A book. My phone charger.” She listed things off as they occurred to her.
Chris nodded. “We’ll head over there eventually, maybe later this week. Right now I want to make sure I’ve got all the facts straight, and get you settled in. You look pretty freaked out.” Chris leaned forward and put a concerned hand on Kate’s trembling knee. “Are you doing okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Kate flapped a hand at him and smiled. It’s not fine, her mind screamed. Why do I think I have to pretend that I’m fine?
Chris stood and walked into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water. “Here,” he handed it to Kate. “I know you think you can take care of yourself, and I’m sure you can. But you’ve gotta let me do my job and help keep you safe, okay?” Chris spoke softly, and Kate found herself calming at the sound of his voice. He was a strong, capable-looking man, and he had an impressive work history. His cocky behavior earlier in the day had nearly driven Kate mad, but now, seeing him take control of the situation, Kate appreciated Chris’s confidence in himself.
“So, how long are we going to be stuck here?” Kate asked. She looked around the room, taking stock. The room was clean and pleasant enough, but not terribly large. Two twin beds, two nightstands, and a desk took up the bulk of the main room. A small foyer held a couch and a coffee table, and a bathroom, the largest space by far, had a large shower and separate tub. Kate couldn’t imagine spending more than a day, or maybe two, caged in such a small space with a relative stranger, and her heart sank.
“Probably not long,” Chris answered casually. “I know it seems overwhelming right now, but you can work from here and the time will go by quickly. And O’Bannon is going to call me the second that publishing house gets back to him with Wash’s address. I don’t think he’ll let them hem and haw over it, either. He doesn’t want to be spending a dime more than he has to on me, you better believe it. This whole thing will be over before you know it, and you can get back to reading books and not doing yoga.”
Kate laughed and swatted lightly at him. “That sounds really good right now, honestly. Not doing yoga calms me down.”
The Book Critic's Bodyguard Page 4