Student Bodyguard for Hire

by Callie James

  “Thanks.”

  “Um, Mr. Guerra,” he said when I was almost out the door. I poked my head back in. “You’re not to hang out on school property. Not for your girlfriend or any other reason. Got it?”

  I nodded, knowing I might not have a girlfriend after today. God, I dreaded that conversation.

  Grabbing my coat and bag from my locker, I stopped by Campbell’s classroom to take one last look at Peyton. I thought of each horrible instance in my life that had guided me to this school, and eventually to her. Had Papá never died … had my mother never gotten sick …had my uncle never moved us here, I never would have met her.

  Looking at my past from that perspective, I felt several kinds of fucked up. How had anything good come from those horrible events? Yet something had, and she tapped her pencil now, looking worried as she watched Campbell lecture. How would she explain my getting kicked out of school to her parents? How the hell would I explain it to her?

  Did the why even matter when a person permanently fucked up his life?

  *****

  Peyton pulled the Lexus into the closed lumber mill parking lot—the midpoint between our houses. I’d been shocked at first when she’d agreed to see me, then dreaded how pissed she’d be. If my actions made her cry even one more time…

  She opened the door and jumped inside, launching herself across the seat to kiss me. After falling into my lap, she giggled and curled between me and the door, exactly where I wanted her. She hugged me hard before kissing me long and slow.

  Eventually she pulled back, frowning. “Why did you do that today?”

  “I thought you said Ryan told you.”

  “He told me what happened but I want to know why.”

  “Why?” I shrugged. “First, the asshole threatened my sister. I don’t care if he was just taunting Ryan. He couldn’t have hit a rawer nerve on your brother. Not after what Thompson did to you. Was I supposed to let Tanner suspend him for defending my sister’s honor? Because he would have, you know.”

  “I know. But this is exactly what you were avoiding the day we met. You’ve worked too hard to graduate.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Did you really hit him? Carter Delaney?”

  “Kind of.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Kind of?”

  I looked down. “I used my left. I also held back… a lot. Let’s just say I didn’t hit him half as hard as I wanted.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said, hugging me tightly again. “I’ve seen your right hook. You would have put him into a coma and then we’d have more problems than we already do.”

  “We?” I pulled her away and brushed her hair back. “Hermosa, this is my problem. Not yours.”

  She looked ready to cry. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve made an appointment with an advisor at MHCC. A friend of Tanner’s, believe it or not. She told me over the phone I could get my high school diploma through the college.”

  “Does that mean you’ll start classes in January?”

  “I won’t know until I talk to her again. Martin has more work at the shop than I can stand and I’m adding extra lessons onto my schedule at the gym. It works out better for my family.”

  “I’ll bet your mother doesn’t see it that way.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  Her face crumpled. “Well, I can tell you my life is about to suck lemons. Ridgeview will be an abyss of despair without you.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “An abyss of despair?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Worse than that, but there aren’t words to adequately describe it.”

  I kissed her. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  She hugged me. “Thank you for helping Ryan,” she whispered. “Again.”

  “Are you kidding? We’re not even close to even. The guy outted himself trying to save me from your dad’s wrath. Then he pulled that ground and pound on Delaney for—”

  “Ground and pound?” She blinked.

  “It’s exactly what it sounds like. And trust me, it’s an impressive sight when it’s executed well. Not everyone his size would try to smack the shit out of Carter Delaney. I still don’t get why he did it. I knew Delaney hit a raw nerve, but he wasn’t talking about you. He was talking about Vanna. Ryan doesn’t know Vanna.”

  “But you’re his friend,” she said. “Sam, I don’t think you realize what you have in Ryan. He’s the most loyal person you could know. I want to be mad at him because he shouldn’t have lost it like that today. But he did it for you. I can’t be mad at him for that, even though it’s cost you so much.”

  “The bitch of it all is that I can’t be on school property. I don’t know how to make sure Delaney stays away from Vanna now. I’m sure he was just bullshitting to get under Ryan’s skin, but if he wasn’t…”

  “Trust me when I say Carter Delaney won’t get near Savanna. We’ll all make sure of that. She can even join the carpool if she wants.”

  Where did this girl come from? I kissed her once, twice, and things quickly escalated. I couldn’t get close enough. “Can you come by the gym later?” I whispered, pulling her against me to kiss her neck.

  “I have way too much work tonight,” she said. “My database has practically become a dating site. Some of my bodyguards are even hooking up. It takes forever to get through the junk mail now. I think it’s that video. My own fault.”

  It occurred to me what she meant and I stopped kissing her. “Wait, are guys asking you out through your website?”

  Her gaze lowered to my chest. Even at twilight, I could see her cheeks turn pink in the darkness of the car. “Yes and it’s embarrassing. I don’t have time to read that junk. I just want to do the work.”

  “Tell those pendejos your boyfriend is the guy in the video,” I said, peeling her coat off her shoulders, “and I’ll kick their asses if they don’t leave you alone.”

  “I don’t think that would go over well coming from the administrator of an anti-bullying website.” She looked down as I undid the top two buttons of her blouse. “Sam,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “Undressing you.”

  With a devious sparkle in her eyes, she looked past my shoulder and out the window to the desolate parking lot surrounded by trees. “What if someone catches us?”

  “They won’t.” Her third button caught on a thread. Impatient, I slipped my hand under the material at her waist. “I want you so much.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered, kissing me.

  “After what happened today, I didn’t think you’d talk to me.”

  She halted the kiss and pulled back. “Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”

  I shook my head. “The violence thing. I figured you’d walk again.”

  “You thought I’d …walk again? Sam—” She shifted over my lap, straddling me and giving me that hurt look that killed me. “How can you say that? I thought the other night meant something to you.”

  “You know it did.”

  “I told you I love you, Sam.” Her eyes drifted down to her hands as she played with my shirt collar. “And I meant it.” She looked at me. “I love you so much it sometimes scares me. What do I have to do to make you believe me?”

  I studied those blue eyes and thought seriously about saying it back to her. I love you. What was so easy to do should have been easy to say, but it wasn’t. Peyton used the word love like most people used please and thank you. I barely used it with my closest family members, and even then, it was usually only in my head. “I believe you,” I said, pulling her mouth to mine. A half-truth if ever there was one, but she didn’t question it as she kissed me back.

  *****

  Mamá looked at the dinner table, perching her hands on her waist in satisfaction before giving Peyton a wink. “I think we’re ready.”

  Peyton grinned and quickly moved the sweetcorn gratin to the other side of a plate next to the avocado salad, checking me then for approval.

  With a should
er resting against the kitchen doorframe, I hadn’t stopped smiling all day, watching them giggle and whisper while fixing Christmas dinner. Ma was showing Peyton how to make her amazing pollo con piña—a family recipe she’d only shared with Vanna, who still appeared to be irked that Ma had brought Peyton into the recipe-sharing fold. I’d only mentioned it to Peyton for her love of pineapple.

  Any time I tried to eavesdrop by offering to look for a spice or reach for something, one of them would shove me out of the kitchen.

  Ma turned now to the living room where Vanna sat glued to the news. “Mija, turn off that infernal news. Don’t make me ground you on Christmas Eve.”

  “Fine.” Vanna grunted and shut it off. “Coming.”

  Peyton sat next to my mother, whispering in conspiring tones. My attention shifted to Vanna, who had been acting weird all day.

  “So,” Vanna said after everyone started eating, “I heard a podcast this morning. An interview with you.”

  I followed my sister’s gaze to Peyton, who’d stopped chewing and looked a little pale. “Oh.”

  “Another interview?” Ma asked.

  My sister smiled. “I’ll say.”

  “Let her tell it, mija,” Ma said. “If she wants to.”

  Peyton chewed a couple of times, her eyes pivoting to Ma. “There isn’t much to say.”

  “Well, if Peyton isn’t talking then I’ll have to,” Vanna said. “An eighth grade girl killed herself in Illinois two days ago, they say due to online bullying. KSMR radio interviewed Peyton yesterday. Apparently, they’d done their homework.” She nodded toward me. “Especially on you, Samuel.”

  I grabbed another scoop of the sweetcorn, my gaze shifting from Vanna to Peyton. “How much homework?”

  “I’d planned to tell you later tonight,” Peyton said softly before plowing her fork through her rice several times, her eyes darting between my plate and hers. We’d already had this discussion, so I didn’t know why she looked so nervous. I’d never blame her if my past came out. She knew that.

  “There, you see?” Ma said. “This is none of our business, Savanna. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “It was that bad?” I asked, unable to wait until later.

  Peyton took a small drink of tea. “Define bad.”

  Shit.

  “Your boyfriend has won numerous boxing and MMA belts,” Vanna said, trying to sound like a DJ doing an interview. “Mixed martial arts—a sport—blah, blah, blah, that’s left numerous fighters paralyzed, blah, blah, and some dead, blah, blah, blah, due to the brutality of the sport.”

  Peyton’s frown grew as Vanna continued the recap, which told me my sister wasn’t embellishing the interview.

  “He asked Peyton to explain,” Vanna said, looking to Ma, “how she could be against violence when her boyfriend participates in one of the most violent sports out there.”

  “I told him he might as well compare apples and oranges,” Peyton told Ma, her cheeks turning pink with remembered anger. “I told him MMA is no different than football or hockey, and that all physical sports have an element of risk.”

  I smiled as she practically repeated my own words to my mother. Peyton hadn’t always felt like this.

  Vanna nodded at me. “He also made the mistake of asking Peyton if she supported you participating in such a violent sport.”

  “Great,” I murmured.

  All eyes jerked to me.

  “That’s when Peyton excused herself from the interview,” Vanna said. “It was very dramatic.”

  “This rice is especially good, Peyton,” Ma said cheerfully, trying to change the subject. “Did you add something extra?”

  Peyton stared at her plate. “No.”

  “My blog readers are curious,” Vanna said, folding her arms next to her plate. “Half say you can’t be for violence to stop violence.”

  “Then your blog readers are either twelve,” I said, “or stupid.”

  Ma nearly dropped her fork. “Samuel.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “But the people threatening Peyton are supposedly civilized, claiming to be against violence.”

  “What do you think, Peyton?” Vanna said.

  Peyton looked fierce now. “I think everyone wants a one-size-fits-all answer to society’s problems and there’s no such thing,” she said. “I think there’s gray area. Lots of it. And I think we can’t continue to throw out lazy, catchall responses to every problem we have. It’s arrogant and ignorant.”

  I winked at Peyton. “What she said.”

  “I love it,” my sister said. “Can I quote you on that?”

  I kicked Vanna’s leg under the table.

  “Ow!”

  “Yes,” Peyton said, leaning forward. “In fact, you can also quote me on this. The reason I know there’s gray area, is because I care about someone very much who wants to be, who should be, a professional fighter. The idea of him getting hurt makes my stomach drop to my shoes, but I’d support him a hundred percent if he took that path. Why? Because mixed martial arts is a professional competition. It has nothing to do with bullying. I don’t want it brought up when I’m talking about bullying. And I’ll smack the next person who references MMA, my boyfriend, and my website in the same sentence.”

  Ma’s eyebrows shot up.

  Peyton straightened and grabbed her fork. “Strike the last phrase. I wouldn’t smack anyone.”

  I swallowed. Watched her eat her first bite of the chicken she helped make. She moaned and turned to Ma. “Oh my gosh. That is so good, Mrs. Guerra.”

  “Thank you.” Ma blushed. “It’s been through generations of revisions. I don’t think I’d change it now. What do you think?”

  “No.” Peyton looked like she was in pineapple chicken heaven. “I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s perfect.”

  “I have another chicken recipe made with mandarin oranges, toasted almonds and Madeira wine. If you think you’d like that as well.”

  Peyton moaned. “Of course. Sounds heavenly.”

  I was still in shock. “Are you serious?”

  Both of them turned to me. “Don’t you like it?” Peyton asked.

  “I meant what you said to Vanna. About the fighting.”

  She looked back to her plate. “Yes, except the smacking part.”

  Vanna dropped her fork loudly and immediately scooped it up.

  Mamá tried to smile. “So, Peyton. What does your family do Christmas Day? I want to know what my son will be up to while Savanna and I eat all these delicious leftovers.”

  “Brace yourself, Vanna,” I said.

  Peyton smiled, knowing Vanna’s allergic reaction to nice people. “My mom takes a few days off to make twenty homemade pies each year for the mission downtown. Different stores donate the ingredients. My brother and I help her deliver. Sometimes we stay and serve. So basically, Sam will be a delivery boy tomorrow and quite possibly a food server.” She grinned at me with those dimples. “After that, it’s home and more eating.”

  “Don’t let her lie to you,” I told Ma. “She works just as hard. Peyton peeled apples half the day yesterday.”

  Vanna rolled her eyes.

  We hadn’t gotten far into a Christmas movie later, something about second chances, when Peyton sank against my shoulder. I looked down to see her asleep. She passed out early more often than not lately.

  “She works too hard,” Ma whispered, a smile brightening her face as she watched Peyton from her chair. “Your father was like that. He never knew when to quit. She has so many of his qualities. It doesn’t surprise me you love her.”

  “What?” Vanna’s head snapped up, almost asleep herself from eating too much. “Love who?”

  “Ma,” I whispered, checking Peyton’s face.

  Mamá rolled her eyes. “Admit it, mijo. You love her and she loves you.”

  If I hadn’t been so curious, myself, I would have changed the subject. “How do you know?”

  “It’s obvious every time you look at her.”

  �
��I meant her,” I said. “I’m an open book, clearly, but she loves everyone, Ma. She throws the word around on a daily basis. To her friends. Her brother. Her parents. I love you were probably her first three words. How do you know she means it … you know, like the rest of us mean it?”

  “How do I know she’s in love with you, you mean? Because she said the idea of you fighting makes her physically sick. She even has nightmares about it. Yet it’s all she wants for you. She wants you to have a chance to fight professionally because it’s what you want. What she thinks will make you happy. That’s love, is it not?”

  I swallowed, surprised to see Ma still smiling, given the topic. “She said that?”

  Ma nodded. “What do you think we talked about all afternoon? You. She loves you very much.”

  I looked down at Peyton’s serene face.

  “Go,” Ma said. “Take her home. She needs her rest. You can talk about it when you see her tomorrow.”

  Vanna’s gaze slid to Peyton. “What are we talking about?”

  “How Samuel’s life will change when he starts training again.”

  Vanna did a double take. “What?”

  I blinked. “When I start what?”

  “Training,” she repeated. “Because Peyton was right.” She looked at my girlfriend with affection. “Your father would have wanted you to be happy. To do what you feel you need to do.”

  “Peyton said that?” Vanna said, echoing my thoughts.

  Ma nodded. “Perhaps I can let go a little bit now, knowing I’m not the only one worrying about you.” She pointed at me and squinted. “But you’re still taking those two classes this spring and getting your diploma. I don’t care how hard Jonas works you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Tell Peyton goodnight for us and that we loved having her. Come on, Savanna.” She waved to my sister. “Bedtime.”

  Vanna scowled. “It’s only nine.”

  “And it’s bedtime,” Ma said over her shoulder.

  Vanna flicked off the movie and stuck her tongue out at me as she followed Ma to the back bedrooms where I knew she’d dive into work on her laptop.

  I kissed Peyton awake, and she stayed groggy and apologetic the entire time it took to get her from the sofa to the Impala. The second I covered her with my leather coat, she fell back asleep. My mind raced as I tried to think of what I’d say, how I’d approach the subject tomorrow, after Christmas with her parents.