Student Bodyguard for Hire

by Callie James

  “I want you to print those emails for me,” Mom said. “Right after dinner. I intend to show them to Mr. Tanner personally.”

  Daddy’s gaze shifted from Mom to me. “If you’d just follow the rules and not cause waves, people would leave you alone.”

  “That’s a crock,” Ryan said.

  “Mhm. And I suppose because you’re eighteen now,” Daddy said, still looking at me, “my opinion means nothing. You are still living under my roof. I could take the Lexus off your hands. Maybe you’d change your attitude if you and Ryan had to ride the bus again.”

  “Perfect,” I said, getting angrier. “Stick us on the bus where the bullying is the worst.”

  “The car is mine,” Mom said.

  Daddy gripped the table, looking at her. “Your point?”

  “You can’t take it, is my point.” Her eyes pivoted to me. “I’m giving it to her as an early graduation gift.”

  “Ah, I guess we’re back to assuming she’ll graduate,” he said, picking up his fork and stuffing another bite of chicken into his mouth.

  “You know me well enough, Daddy, to know I loathe conflict. That upsetting people really bothers me.”

  “I’m not so sure,” he said. “In fact, I’m beginning to think this is just a way for you to get back at me because I don’t want you to see that boy.”

  “His name is Sam.” I leaned back and forced my shoulders to relax. “Why can’t you see why I’m doing this? People have given bullies amnesty for decades simply because they’re under eighteen. It’s reverse ageism. Could someone at the firm do these things to you without dire consequences? Stalking. Harassment. Assault and battery. Theft. Sexual—”

  Daddy’s eyes bugged. “What?”

  “She has a valid point, Paul,” Mom said, scooping a small bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “Explain to me why someone her age can’t get the same protection as you or I, simply because she’s a student. If you can give me a logical explanation, then I’ll pull the website immediately.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “You’ll pull the website?” Daddy said, looking uncertain. “How will you manage that?”

  “Because it’s mine,” she said.

  “Mom,” I interrupted. “Wait.”

  She held her palm up to me. “The website is mine, Paul. It’s registered in my name and I’m paying for it.”

  Ryan’s eyes rounded and pivoted to mine. He’d watched me buy the domain and certificate using my own debit card.

  “Wait.” My dad waved his fork at her. “You used my money for this project?”

  “Our money,” she corrected. “Which means your problem is with me. Not our daughter.”

  “Are you insane, Maggie?” he asked, dropping his fork to his plate. “The negative attention alone …do you want our daughter subjected to that?”

  “I’ve already received dozens of phone calls from parents commending Peyton for implementing this idea. You heard your daughter. Who do you think pays these bodyguard fees?” He hunched over his plate, refusing to acknowledge the question. “Oh, relax Paul. When this is over, we’ll all take a nice vacation. Meanwhile, we hunker down and stick it out together.”

  Ryan swallowed audibly next to me.

  Daddy stared at her a long, uncomfortable moment. “I hope you enjoy your vacation. I won’t be going,” Daddy said, pushing his chair back loudly and leaving the table.

  Ryan and I watched him go, heard the front door slam and his car start. I turned to Mom through tears. “Why did you lie to him?”

  “Because he should be on your side.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “You’re already under enough pressure, honey. Adding another project to your schedule. There’s nothing I can do about your workload or what’s to come, but this I can do something about.”

  “What’s to come?” Ryan said.

  “Your father is right,” she said. “This is about to get uglier. Bullying has been a hot topic for a long time. One people feel strongly about. Both sides.” Her voice shook and she placed her fork down to wipe her watering eyes.

  My brother stood and quickly moved to Daddy’s chair, putting his hand over hers. “He’s wrong, Mom. Please don’t cry,” he said, getting teary himself.

  She clutched his hand. “It’s a good idea, Peyton,” she said, turning to me. “No matter what happens, try to stay focused on the students you’re helping. Or the parents who donated money to keep their children safe. Know that I’ll back you up every step of the way.” Her jaw set sternly. “Promise me you won’t quit this. It’s too important.”

  “I promise. I won’t quit,” I said, unable to focus on much beyond Daddy walking out. My parents had problems like everybody else. They argued more than they got along. Still, Daddy had never walked out and I felt responsible. “He’s coming back, isn’t he?”

  She never replied, forcing a smile instead as she stood to clear her plate.

  Later, I heard Daddy’s car pull into the driveway as I worked in my room. I figured everything would be okay, until I found a pillow and blankets on the couch the next morning, and several mornings after that. Clearly, this situation wouldn’t resolve itself.

  Especially if no one was talking.

  Spending more time with Sam kept me sane. He’d guessed for a while things weren’t great at home, even though I wouldn’t talk about it. To keep me distracted, we started setting up homework dates after school where we could get dinner so I wouldn’t have to go home. It quickly became our routine, and if we finished and still had time before his shift at the gym, we’d talk and kiss in the Impala, sometimes ending up in the backseat as we pushed those lines we said we wouldn’t cross. Making out with Sam was the only time I forgot everything else.

  It helped that he was an incredible kisser.

  Then one day when I was too emotional to talk about it, he held me in the front seat and started talking about his family, I think to get my mind off my own. I nearly stopped breathing, snuggled against him and afraid to break the spell. He’d dodged most of my personal questions in the past, giving me only tidbits of information at a time to keep me happy. But something happened that day in his car, and soon I longed for afternoons, sitting in his arms while he talked about his dad, his mom, and family moments when Savanna was little.

  Sam had grown up middle class in Beaverton and couldn’t remember a time when the Impala hadn’t been part of his life. He could recall back to age four how he and his dad spent every Sunday restoring the car. How his dad taught him about the older models and the value of holding onto things long past. They’d spent weekends and nights at the same gym, where his dad had taught him boxing, as his grandfather had taught his dad, and his great grandfather had taught him.

  I smiled every time he referred to his dad as Papá, the term he used whenever engrossed in a story. He said the endearment with that accent and such affection that I envied his dad for taking up such a large space of Sam’s heart.

  His father had been an attentive family man. Much more than mine. I wished I could have met the man. I think the Sam I knew—the side he kept hidden from most everyone else—would have been Sam all the time had his dad not died. But seven years ago, Officer Luis Guerra went to work and never came back—shot and killed while issuing a traffic ticket. Sam wouldn’t talk about much that had happened since then. Most of the time, he’d change the subject if I asked, usually by kissing me.

  And because I loved the way he kissed, I pretended not to notice.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Peyton

  Adam and I had just finished studying for an economics test one afternoon when a second project idea finally hit me. If I duplicated my bodyguard database and matched students willing to pay other students to tutor them, I could avoid half the work required to set up a tutoring website. The school already had free tutoring available, so I didn’t have to worry about an explosion of submissions once it went live. But personal experience told me not everybody could teach, including the tutoring voluntee
rs. Could there be an untapped market there? A small one?

  For the first time in my life, I was willing to accept a C if there wasn’t.

  When I told Sam about it later, he insisted I’d be taking on too much work, but he supported me anyway because he always did. My competition was already a free service available at the school, so Sam suggested I set up the website to allow students to name their own tutoring prices. I would try anything, even if maintaining records on varied pricing made me crazy by the end of the semester.

  The frontend setup took little time. I implemented the idea by replicating my database, purging the fields, and producing a second website. I resented the extra money a second domain cost me, not to mention the upkeep once the responses started coming in several days after I published the site, but whatever. I was willing to do anything to keep studentbodyforehire.com up and running.

  Two weeks into this insane schedule, my bedroom desk became an uncomfortable headrest. I started falling asleep while working on a regular basis, and that’s where Adam found me Friday night before Halloween. He coaxed me awake with a tall mocha and convinced me to go to a movie with him.

  I needed the brain rest, he told me. He wasn’t kidding. I fell asleep twice in the theater.

  “You’re hitting burnout, Peyton,” he said, as we left the movie, “and if you don’t let someone help you soon, you’ll end up no good to anyone. Why don’t you let me take over the database for a while?”

  “You’re sweet and I love you for offering,” I said, turning to hug him by the concession stand. “But you have too many tough classes this semester.”

  He shrugged. “I can handle it.”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, opening my eyes mid-hug to see Savanna across the theater, staring at me with her mouth twisted in a snarl. A pretty, olive-skinned woman stood next to her.

  I released Adam abruptly. “Oh my God. That’s Sam’s mom,” I whispered as the older woman followed Savanna’s gaze to me.

  Adam glanced over his shoulder. “So?”

  “I haven’t met her. This is awkward.”

  “Only one way to fix that.”

  Sam had never offered to introduce me to his mother, and I didn’t want to encroach on an area of his life he wasn’t ready to share with me. The strained moment drew out until I finally waved to them. Savanna’s cold gaze made me want to turn the other direction.

  “This is bordering on rude,” Adam said. “We either go over there now or leave.”

  My brain fast-forwarded to meeting Mrs. Guerra officially one day and having the embarrassing experience of explaining to her why I turned and walked out at the movie theater without introducing myself. “Right.” I grabbed Adam’s sleeve and moved my feet forward, quickly pinching my coat closed when I remembered I wore my brother’s t-shirt with a printed exclamation I didn’t need Sam’s mother to see. Dread made my breaths shorter the closer we got. “Hey, Savanna,” I said.

  “Hey,” she said, curt as ever.

  “Savanna?” the woman said, smiling at me with a glance. “Introduce me to your friend.”

  I smiled in return, searching for any resemblance between the woman and Sam. Definitely the color of her chocolate brown hair and that mischievous smile. She also had an alert wariness that made me think of him.

  “Um, she’s Sam’s friend.” Savanna took a deep breath and nodded to me. “Mamá, this is Peyton Greene. Peyton, my mother, Isabel.”

  “And my friend Adam,” I said, clutching his sleeve tighter.

  Isabel Guerra’s face brightened and she extended her hand, shaking mine, then Adam’s. “Peyton. It’s wonderful to meet you. Finally. Samuel has talked about you several times. I’m certain he wished to introduce us one day himself, but he couldn’t miss work tonight. Would it be wrong if I invited you to a late dinner next Saturday without his permission? I’d like an opportunity to get to know you better.”

  She had a contagious grin. “I’d love to, if Sam doesn’t mind.” She seemed warm and wonderful, as Sam had often described her. She was genuine and easy to like. I wished I could say the same about Savanna.

  “He mentioned you hate violence,” Isabel said. “Is that why you’re not cheering for him tonight?”

  “Cheering for him?” I arched my eyebrows and looked to Savanna, whose eyes had widened to huge proportions.

  “Actually,” Savanna chirped in a high voice, “Samuel is on a …date. Um, with someone else. Ob-obviously.”

  “What?” I blinked.

  Isabel Guerra’s gaze jerked to her daughter and she pinched her arm. “Don’t you dare say that about your brother.”

  Savanna stepped back and rubbed her arm. “It’s true.”

  “He did no such thing.” Isabel turned to me. “Peyton, don’t listen to my daughter. My son would never—”

  Her lips moved but I didn’t hear another word. Adam must have recognized my duck-and-run expression because his fingers entwined with mine.

  Sam dating other people while dating me? It had never occurred to me. All that time together, everything he’d said and done. That our entire relationship might have been some kind of ruse to string me along until he got… what? Sex with the nympho? Did he believe the rumors about me after all?

  God, no. That couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have, would he?

  Staring at Vanna’s please-don’t-shoot-the-messenger expression, I realized Sam had duped me again with more versions of the truth.

  “It was nice…” My chin trembled as my voice shook. I stepped back, unable to keep it together. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Guerra.” Yanking my hand from Adam’s grip, I whipped around and hurried toward the door.

  “Peyton!”

  Savanna’s shout registered but I refused to stop. I swiped a tear and hit the silver bar to the exit door.

  When Sam’s sister yelled my name a second time, I pushed my way through a crowd of people in hopes to get to my car before she got to me. I couldn’t take more remarks. I needed to disappear. Needed quiet. A moment to think. A bush I could hide behind to vomit.

  The sound of pounding feet registered just before Adam’s shout behind me. I felt a hard grip on my elbow, a sudden jerk, and fell back into someone as a car whizzed by me, practically brushing my clothes in a fast exit from the parking lot.

  I stared open-mouthed at the back of the blue car, imagining myself crushed under four wheels or flipping over the hood. Nausea turned my stomach and I squeezed my eyes together as Adam turned me to him.

  I hadn’t realized I was shaking until he folded his arms around me and crushed me against him. “You scared the hell out of me!” he said, his breath hard on my shoulder as he held me tighter. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again, got it?”

  Adam never swore, at least around me, unless he couldn’t help himself. The only time I could remember him sounding this upset had been three years ago after Ryan relayed what Jason had tried to do to me. “I’m sorry,” I said, sniffling. “I …I wanted to…” Disappear. I still did.

  The sound of someone rushing up to us made him turn.

  “What the hell, Peyton?” Savanna said, breathing hard. “You trying to kill yourself?”

  “Get away from her,” Adam said coldly, releasing me to get between us. “You’ve done enough.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have said that,” she said, sounding sincere. “I’m sorry.” She looked at me. “I lied. Samuel isn’t on a date.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Adam said. “Do you enjoy hurting people?”

  She looked down. “No, I always cover for him. I’m just …bad at it.”

  “Covering for him?” Adam said.

  I recalled Sam mentioning it over sushi. Vanna covers for me whenever anyone asks questions. “She’s telling the truth,” I said, stepping next to Adam. “Sam told me as much weeks ago.”

  “Your face,” she said. “Almost the second I said it …I realized the lie was worse than the truth.”

  “What the hell are you talking
about?” Adam asked.

  “When my mother mentioned cheering for Samuel,” she said, turning to Adam. “I didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t supposed to know yet.” She looked at me again. “But that’s where he is. He’s got a fight. That’s what she meant by the cheering comment.”

  “You mean he’s training someone to fight,” I corrected.

  Sweat had formed on her brow and she twisted to see her mother through the glass door, frowning at us. Savanna swung back around, looking more stressed. “He does train fighters, but part of that training is fighting. The real kind. No headgear or padding. Just fighting.”

  “What?” My voice sounded a million miles away.

  “Maybe it’s time you see what he does when he isn’t with you,” she said. “Go to MMA Northwest. It’s in Beaverton. That’s where he’s at.”

  I could only assume that was the name of the gym, but I couldn’t go. I’d purposely avoided seeing him in that place, doing what he did that left all of those marks. I couldn’t take it. “He won’t like me showing up when he’s working.”

  “You need to see him, Peyton,” she said. “Trust me on this.”

  I didn’t trust her for anything, but the urgency in her voice made me think maybe I needed to go. I turned to Adam. “You know Beaverton, right?”

  “That doesn’t mean I know where it is.” His eyes widened and he looked at Savanna. “He fights MMA? Seriously?”

  She nodded. “It’s training, but yeah. He fights.”

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  Adam’s expression only reinforced my decision never to visit Sam where he worked. I had a sick feeling that was all about to change.

  Savanna glanced between us. “There was a tire place that burned down last year. It was on the news. Do you know where it is?”

  “I know where it used to be,” he said.

  “Two blocks south there’s a large building. Looks like an old warehouse. Bars on the windows. No big sign or anything to tell you what it is. Looks like Alcatraz from the outside. You can’t miss it. Take her there. If you get there by ten, you’ll make it in time.”