My Kind of Perfect

by Lockheart, Freesia

  “Crap!” I crumpled the paper that I was reading. It was actually my own writing from way back when. I accidentally saw it when it fell off from my diary as I was dislodging my bag earlier this morning. And as I threw it away to the direction of the door, one uncalled for person came in right on time.

  “What the—” He dodged it anyway but was clearly surprised to see a wrinkled paper being thrown at him. He must have had thought that our constant bickering turned into something brutal and deadly. Well, hideous crimes all started off with something like throwing crumpled papers or so. But that wasn't the case since I was not really interested in getting handcuffs around my wrists.

  Not to mention Dorothy almost charged me with arson a few weeks ago.

  I scoffed and rolled my eyes, turning my gaze towards the window instead. Looking at the sun that was slowly shedding its glory across the horizons, I realized that the day was starting off once more. I counted off my horrible days inside this house. Today would be the last day of the first month. Time sure did fly fast when you were up and running—I mean, ruining—a house by yourself.

  Or sometimes I also managed to pull Dorothy in wrecking her own home.

  Preparing horrible meals, multiplying a piece of plate into hundreds, near poisoning the whole household by the things I put in the meals, and occasionally yet unintentionally almost putting the kitchen into fire—those occupied my days for the last few weeks. And in turn, hundreds of plates were being delivered to this house every other day in place of the ones I accidentally broke. Dorothy shed a tear. I knew that she did behind the privacy of her room, for the ones her grandmama gave her that I broke first day of lecture. And also, to make things more interesting, there was a fire extinguisher that was accompanying me now in the kitchen if ever the sprinkler and the alarm would not do their job.

  So after some careful thinking and seeing that we were getting nowhere, Dorothy had then decided to throw me off to the hotel. She told me to assist his grandson and be the most sublime wife of the CEO, explaining the corporate dress I was wearing because his secretary was having a vacation and I was being thrown to her place. That for the money I was earning with all this, Dorothy said that they better make good use of me.

  I was so preoccupied with fixing my hair that it took me several moments before I realized what I just threw. Looking back, I cussed. “Oh shoot!”

  I stumbled on my feet in haste, dashing towards the crumpled paper. John must not read that at all cost. But to my dismay, in front of my own eyes, he was already opening the wrinkled sheet and was about to read the contents of the paper. I tried grabbing it from his hands but his reflexes were quick and he held it all the way up in midair, obviously out the range of my hands. Standing almost up to six feet was an advantage on his part.

  “Give me that,” I said, jumping on my feet and trying to snatch the paper.

  I saw him cringed his eyes as he was trying to read the contents. I slowed down until I just stood still instead. Due to my untimely exhilaration, I forgot that he was nearsighted and that he was not yet wearing his glasses. Then after some more while, he finally gave me back my note.

  “Looks like the nerd needs his glasses.” I grabbed the paper from his hand.

  “Uh-huh,” was his uninterested response.

  I deeply exhaled as I clasped the piece of paper in my hands. I was relieved that he hadn't read it or else I would die of instant shame right at this moment. Him reading that last paragraph was like me walking bare in the streets. That was how shameful it could have had been. And since my luck was finally smiling back at me, I was fortunate that he hadn't got his glasses on.

  “Over reacting?” he muttered as he watched me crumpled the paper in my hands. Then he put on a slug smile and walked away.

  “Yes,” I said, “the contents of this paper are deadly.”

  He waved his hand and headed to the bedroom. I felt relieved after he disappeared completely as he shut the door behind him. Tearing the piece of paper into pieces, I made sure that no one would read this kind of absurdity from now on. I was convinced that I must be out of my mind when I wrote that. My innocence and immaturity were the ones to blame for it all.

  A knock came on the door. “Ms. Kayla, you're being called by Ms. Dorothy.”

  “I'll be coming in a while,” I answered. That must be Nate, ordered around by Dorothy to remind me the start of another miserable day. It had been going on for quite some time now.

  I scanned the room and looked for my comb. Our room almost looked like a house in itself except that it had no kitchen inside. There was a pretty huge bathroom on the left side and one bedroom with two beds on the other one. In between those two was a cream colored couch and across from it was John's favorite—a 40-inch Plasma TV equipped with everything.

  So back to finding my comb and actually stop looking around and continue on being amazed, I looked under the sofa and finally found it. I combed my hair and dried it before heading outside to meet my ‘mentor’ for her final briefings as I was about to go on another despicable day ahead of me.

  “What took you so long? I told you to be up and ready at seven,” she scolded me early in the morning.

  “Seven's too early,” I complained, faking a yawn. Lie. I actually slept at around nine last night, not knowing what else to do.

  “Are you sounding fretful now?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied with sarcasm. “In fact, I was being happy.”

  “Go get in the car,” she commanded. “Act civil at the least and don't give Mr. Smith a hard time, alright?”

  “I get it,” I answered and headed out the front door where I saw the mentioned Mr. Smith waiting.

  “Good morning, Miss Brooks,” the man greeted as he opened door for me.

  “Just Miss Kayla, all right? No Miss Brooks,” I corrected him, still disliking the idea. No matter how crazy I was getting sometimes, my mind was still sane enough to know better.

  “As you wish,” he said, holding an amused smile behind his poker face.

  I went inside the car that was waiting for me outside. As Mr. Smith settled himself in the driver’s seat, I started thinking where I had seen this man before. Surely, his face was familiar but I wasn't able to point out who he really was. Curiosity setting in, I took another glance at the rear view mirror up front and peeked at my driver. He must have felt me looking at him and met my inquisitive eyes with a scoffing one.

  Wait. Did he just scoff? At me?

  “Mr. Smith?” I slowly uttered, finally realizing who he was with that scoff he had done a moment ago.

  “Anything I can do for you, Miss Kayla?” the silver-haired man asked.

  “It's you!” I blurted, a little too early.

  “Yes? I’m Mr. Smith, Ma’am,” he replied subtly. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No. I just remembered who you are,” I said, smiling wickedly upon realization.

  He was that same man who dragged me out of the hotel after he caught me sneaking into John's room. Now, just what I had told him before, he would be sorry. I silently laughed at myself and started thinking on how I would give him a hard time. Oh and trust me, this was hard on my part since I was a very good-natured person to begin with. Nevertheless, since it turned out this way, there was only one thing that he ought to know—he should have known who he was dealing with.

  Another thirty more minutes of deep thinking had passed before we arrived at Burchett Hotel. Mr. Smith opened the door for me and led me inside. I walked down the busy hall and was greeted by several hotel staff. I was now thinking that being the CEO's wife was not that bad. Papers. News. Well, they did their job in making it known. Now, people acted differently around me. Surely, not the way I had been treated before.

  I kind of liked it.

  “We're here,” he said to me. “A lady will assist you inside. Come out when you finish changing your clothes.”

  “Change clothes?” I heard myself say, bewildered why I hadn't heard anything about that. I thou
ght the corporate attire was for my new designated position today? Why should I change it? The other secretaries I had seen were not wearing uniforms. Did Dorothy downgrade me during the last minute and wanted me to be a receptionist instead?

  I skeptically opened the door and was greeted by an old lady. She was around Dorothy’s age. “Hello, Miss Brooks. I’m Carrie, a security officer. Here's your change of clothes.”

  She handed me some folded clothes. I outspread it and saw a pair of uniforms fitted for the staff of the hotel security—not the CEO’s secretary nor a receptionist.

  With a baffled tone, I asked, “Are you making me wear this?”

  “Yes, Mr. Smith, our director, will be your guide through this training. Madam specifically asked you to be included in the hotel security,” she uttered.

  “Excuse me? I think you are mistaken. I am here to be the CEO’s secretary while the other one is having a break.”

  “I’m sorry but that’s not what I heard,” I heard her answer.

  “This can’t be. I have no training. No experience. Not even any knowledge about this. And I’m the wife of the CEO. Why should you put me in the hotel security? I’m far too important to be put into danger,” I said, explaining things thoroughly.

  “Madam specifically asked for this,” she repeated. “There’s no mistake that she told me to include you to the hotel security.”

  “You know what? Can you just ask her again? This is just a mistake. I don’t know what’s wrong with you for not getting it right. Just ask her,” I told her. There was no way I would be a hotel guard. Such a lowly position like that was not fit for my personality or even my resume and now my held position. Even if it was fake. And more importantly, I didn't have any form of training for such a task. How was I supposed to be one?

  “I'll give her a call and ask again,” she replied and walked to the phone hanging on the wall at the far side of the room.

  I stood there and watched her talk to Dorothy. The lady was chuckling and softly laughing as she was talking. Were they making fun of me? I cleared my throat and she threw me a chiding smile. Then after she put down the receiver, she said, “No, there has been no mistake.”

  Beep. Beep.

  A text message came in to my new cellphone.

  Evil Dorothy: Kayla, I forgot to tell you that there had been some last minute transfer and that you would be under the care of Mr. Smith, the head director of the hotel security. They are short in number since one of their men is in the hospital and will be in need of a replacement for the mean time. I thought that why not send you there and let you help out. John’s secretary’s vacation got cancelled, too, anyway. Do your best, dear. And do send my regards to John.

  “Oh, I told her to send you a message thinking that you were not the type who easily believed things,” Carrie said to me.

  “Fine. Okay! So that was that,” I replied.

  There was nothing I could do anyway. According to the contract, I was supposed to do everything that Dorothy would order me to. Any rebellion on my part would be equal to a punishment. I didn't want any of that since I was determined to make it through this three-month contract peacefully and of course, with the money flowing.

  Still with an amused smile on her face, Carrie excused herself and let me put on the clothes. Locking the door of the locker room, I removed the clothes I was wearing and put on the black top and pencil skirt I was asked to wear. Then I slipped my feet back on my black pumps. This was the only thing that was still stylish about this whole get-up although, like how it had been a minute ago, the thought of being one of the hotel securities was still horrible if they were to ask me.

  “Miss Brooks are you ready?” Carrie asked as she softly knocked on the door.

  “Yes,” I said, tying up my hair. “Just a minute.”

  I opened the door and was greeted by the old lady again. After that, I was submitted to Mr. Smith's care. And when he saw me, he even managed to throw me a compliment, “The outfit suits you.”

  Could he just go mute this once? I didn’t like this get-up.

  I badly wanted to answer him but John told me continuously for weeks now that if I didn't have anything nice to say, I should just shut my mouth. I was afraid that John would actually get down here and lecture me again. So before any of that happened, I took the precautionary step.

  Then Mr. Smith, whom I had never known to be holding a high position, continued after I did not say anything, “You'll stand with me at the front door. You must greet the guests politely and treat them as kings and queens. You understand, Miss Brooks?”

  “They’re not even kings and queens. Why should I do that?”

  Oops.

  Mr. Smith narrowed his eyes and said, “You are what Madam has told us. This won't do. We'll lose half of our regular guests if you will be stationed at the front gate. Follow me.”

  With just the words that I should follow him, he started walking away. Where was this man going? So what should I do now? Protect everyone here when I myself had no idea of the basic self-defense moves.

  “Miss Brooks, right this way, please,” he called again, realizing that I hadn’t moved from where I was standing.

  I rolled my eyes and started walking towards him. He said that he wouldn’t let me stay at the front door but we were still walking towards it. I suddenly wondered what had changed his mind.

  Senility?

  When we got out, a black limousine stopped in front of the hotel. Mr. Smith said, “Come on.”

  I trailed behind him. And soon after, John's face came in sight. He was surprised to see me and threw me a speculative look. I flinched but raised my eyebrows nonetheless.

  Mr. Smith saw it and he bowed my head instead. “Good morning, Sir.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Smith,” John replied. Then to me, I heard him mutter, “Kayla, what are you doing here?”

  “Your grandma threw me here,” I replied.

  Mr. Smith released my head, making me able to face John. “She's one of the hotel securities now upon Madam's request. And for the following days, she'll be your personal guard.”

  “I… what?” I was surprised to hear that aside from being a hotel security, I would be John's bodyguard. Did they hate John that they wanted him dead?

  “Yes, Miss Kayla. You'll be your husband's personal bodyguard. Madam specifically told me that if I find you discourteous enough to stand at the hotel's front door, you will be given this one instead,” he answered.

  “But she's my wife. How can she be my guard? And how can she even protect me?” asked John with enough implication how limp I was as a person.

  I darted him a stern look.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” said John. Fine, so maybe I was not trained for this job and had zero qualifications for it. But did he really have to scrub it on my face? And what could I do when it was my enemy—Dorothy—was the one who ordered for me to be this way?

  “Enough with that rudeness. You'll be working as an employee and he'll be your boss from this day on. Any form of discourtesy will be reported to Madam and she told me that you know what that means,” Mr. Smith scolded me. “There will be another guard assigned for you, sir. But Kayla will be the one who will be with you inside your office.”

  “I don’t like this. Why don’t I be the one who stays outside? Sounds more fun.” I shifted my weight.

  “I’m not sure what to answer. Aren't you two married? Shouldn’t you be happy to be with him?” Mr. Smith added, perplexed at our lack of affection.

  Oh right. For a moment, I forgot to get my acts straight.

  “Just having a bad mood, right honey?” I tried making a comeback but was actually afraid that the disgust in my voice was so evident.

  “Of course,” John said as he lightly pulled me on the side and placed his arm around my shoulders. “Grandma is always ordering you around.”

  “That would be a hundred thousand,” I softly hissed to John while smiling at Mr. Smith. I kept track of all his touching
. And adding it up put an additional hundred thousand into my bank account.

  “You'll make me a beggar at the end of three months with this deal of yours,” he whispered back to me.

  “As if you’ll be one.”

  We both laughed happily in the most pretense way there was for the sake of everyone watching us from all sides. I had no clue if anyone had seen through it but we were doing our best. We should be at least applauded for our effort. But really, acting was one thing. But having my heart beat unevenly along was another. I hated the latter part. I was thoroughly denying this dreadful act but my body was going against my will and sense of better judgment.

  John let me go and headed off inside. I was busy catching my uneven breaths which made Mr. Smith remind me, “Go along and stay close to him. Isn't it wonderful to be with your husband every minute of the day?”

  “Ha...ha...” I tried laughing off the repulsion that I was feeling. “It... is”

  I hurried on my steps and walked behind John. Folding my arms across my chest sent darting eyes from all directions. Okay, so maybe that was a little rude for someone who should act as the CEO's bodyguard. I kept my hands elsewhere instead.

  Arriving at his floor, John proceeded to his room. The other bodyguard—with a sturdier body and looked far more reliable than me—already took his place outside the door. That meant that I had to go in? Be with John?

  Did I have to?

  Being left alone with John in a single room hadn’t done me any good on providing myself with psychological therapy that this uneven breaths and pounding hearts meant completely nothing. There may have had been this time before, like when I wrote that stupid note, that I had been swayed by his kind acts. Although he was far kinder before compared to now. Still, like opening the door, he still had a touch of the old Johnny I once knew.

  The same old Johnny that made me think twice.

  John continued on holding the door for me. “You're doing a horrible job as my bodyguard. I wonder when Paul will get out of the hospital.”