Her Secret Bodyguard

by Misha Crews

Blake left the car in the driveway and lugged Ernie's present into the front hall. Later in the evening she'd move it to the spare bedroom for storage, and she'd find some good wrapping paper – something thick and expensive, which would give the little boy satisfaction in tearing it open. She'd seen the perfect stuff in a shop recently. Where was it?

  Oh, right, when she was out somewhere with Caleb. Her heart, which had briefly begun to rise at the thought of her godson's birthday present, sank again slowly. She didn't want to think about Caleb, didn't want to let him into her thoughts. What she'd told Mira today was true – it was probably for the best that Caleb hadn't been to see her. He said he had business out here. Well, fine. Let him finish it up and ride that sexy motorcycle of his straight back to Iowa. He didn't belong here with her and her mess.

  She slid open the glass door to the back patio and stepped outside. Without a thought, she stripped off her clothes and dove naked into the silvery lap pool. As the water swept coolly over her muscles, she pictured it washing her clean, rinsing away her depression and unease, leaving her unsoiled and empty, ready to be filled with whatever happiness next presented itself.

  So, she was in a hell of a peculiar situation. Wasn't she always? "Weird" had always been her "normal," so what was she getting upset about?

  When she'd exhausted herself to the point of exultation, Blake climbed out of the pool and shook herself like a dog, determinedly flinging away the last vestiges of her melancholy. Then she spread a thick towel over one of the deck chairs and threw herself down, still dripping, allowing the sun and the wind to dry her skin.

  It was a cool day, and the gentle breeze rose goose bumps on her flesh, even while the sun beamed its burning rays down on her. She heard her mother's voice in her head, telling her to cover up and put on sunscreen, or she would be risking both pneumonia and a third degree sunburn. Either way, Elaine's voice assured her, death was inevitable unless she acted immediately.

  Well, okay, that little bit of Mom-related humor wasn't really fair, and Blake knew it. Elaine had never been one to try to scare her with dire consequences for carelessness. But on the other hand, she'd never shied away from projecting vivid pictures of possible outcomes of Blake's various actions – and, more to the point, inactions. All of it, of course, was based on Elaine's deep love and concern for her daughter's welfare.

  But that didn't necessarily make things more comfortable. A loving hand can smother as easily as caress.

  Blake stood abruptly. She toweled herself off roughly, scooped up her clothes and headed for her bathroom. A hot shower was invigorating, and the cool glass of white wine that she poured for herself afterwards made the world mellow and just a bit surreal. She slipped into the silk dressing gown that Rube had given her for her last birthday, and lit a fire in the oversized stone fireplace before settling with a sigh into the deep cushions of the sueded leather sofa.

  She sipped her wine, digging her toes into the luxurious pile of the Persian rug at her feet. From out of nowhere came the memory of another rug, a beat-up old thing, made of rough braid that poked you with its bristles. And the couch that went with the rug was cheap, in an ugly polyester plaid that was hard on both the eyes and the derriere. Yuck.

  Blake stared sourly into the leaping flames of the fireplace as she recalled the old lake-house that had housed both of these furnishing atrocities. It was just a little shack up on Clarion Lake, a timeshare that her parents owned. It was falling apart and always smelled of mildew. So why, she wondered, did the thought of it suddenly seem so lovely, calling up memories of innocent summers: fishing with her dad, sharing books with her mother, laughing at everything and nothing? She'd give anything to feel that way again, even if it meant putting up with the polyester sofa and stupid old rug.

  "Christ," she murmured. "I obviously need more wine."

  When her phone rang she assumed it was Caleb, calling for his evening check-in. Good, this would give her the chance to tell him that he didn't have to keep checking on her, that she was fine and he should just go about his business, maybe drop her a card when he got back to Iowa. No sense dragging this thing on since it obviously wasn't going anywhere.

  But it wasn't Caleb's voice on the other end of the line. It was Greg Betch. "Is Rube there?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. And before she could answer: "Please, Blake, tell me he's there."

  A chill ran up Blake's spine at the sound of his desperation. "I'm sorry, Greg, but he hasn't been home."

  "And he hasn't called you? You haven't heard from him?"

  "No. I'm sorry," she repeated. She tried to keep the worry from her tone. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

  He laughed miserably, and Blake could almost picture him running a shaking hand through his hair. "The only one who can help me now is Rube, and if he's gone…well, then I guess I'll be gone soon, too. For good."

  Greg's fear was palpable, vibrating through the phone line and transmitting panic like Morse code. Blake gripped the phone with both hands. She knew she couldn't afford to succumb to the fright that was trying to worm its way inside her. She had to stay in control of the situation, for Rube's sake as well as her own. When she finally spoke, she heard her mother's voice, pointed and direct, cutting through the fear with a sharp swipe of practicality. "Now, Greg, you have to tell me what's going on. This is getting ridiculous."

  "Oh we're way passed ridiculous, sister. We're bordering on bizarre, in fact." Hysteria had begun to creep into his tone, and Blake suddenly felt impatience flare inside her. For crying out loud, couldn't the man give her a direct answer for once?

  "Greg, snap out of it! What's happened? What is it exactly that's got you so worked up?"

  Another laugh, this one dark and ugly. "Well I guess you'll know soon enough." And with an abrupt click, he was gone.

  Blake held the phone in a shaking hand and stared at it, as if it could tell her something that would explain what was going on. Finally she drew a deep breath and set it back on the coffee table. She'd come here because she thought she'd feel more secure than at the beach house, but she hadn't really expected the darkness of this mystery to try to touch her here, not in this place where she'd always felt so safe.

  Abruptly she got up and checked the security system. It was on, alarmed, including the front gates, which the digital readout told her were closed and locked. Moving systematically, she went through the house and closed all the curtains, checked the locks on the windows and doors. It brought back the memory of Caleb, and that last night she'd seen him when he was –

  She stopped in the middle of the living room and turned around in a complete circle, moving slowly. The last time she'd seen him, he'd done exactly what she was doing now: made sure the house was locked up tight and the security system was on. It was almost as if he'd known something was wrong.

  But that was ridiculous.

  Wasn't it?

  How could Caleb have any idea of what was going on? She barely knew herself what was happening, and certainly on that day she hadn't been aware of anything odd.

  But he had, she could see that now. In her mind's eye, she could see him: the soldier militantly fortifying her position. And then he'd retreated, and he hadn't come back.

  "No." She didn't realize she'd said it out loud until she felt the stubborn set of her lips that always accompanied the speaking of that particular word. "No. He is not involved in this."

  Obstinacy was starting to set in, she could feel it. There was danger in that, of course, because when she got into this mood she had been known to overlook unpleasant facts that were staring her right in the face. But she just couldn't bring herself to believe that Caleb had any part in her life aside from being a sweet guy who made her laugh and who coincidentally had lovely bones that she'd very much like to jump, as impossible as that was given her current situation. Caleb, she told herself with childlike stubbornness, was good, pure and simple.

  As if on cue, her cell phone rang again, and this time it was him. She picked th
e phone up gingerly and made sure to check the caller ID before pressing talk. When she heard Caleb's voice on the other end of the line, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and light flooded into all the dark corners of her life. Here was safety, here was kindness. Here was someone she could trust.

  And that was all she needed to know for now.

  Chapter Twelve

  "I am big," Norma Desmond said, drawing herself up haughtily. "It's the pictures that got small."

  Blake moved closer to Caleb and rested her head on his shoulder, ignoring the way the movie theatre seat dug into her side. On the screen in front of them, Gloria Swanson and William Holden were sizing each other up in a crumbling Hollywood mansion. Dreamily, Blake reached for the popcorn, watching Holden's near-perfect features alter subtly as he tried to manipulate the glorious Gloria Swanson.

  Oh, it felt good to be here, snuggled up with Caleb in the dark. When he'd called her this evening and invited her to a late screening of Sunset Boulevard at the little Los Feliz theatre near his hotel, she felt like a she was being thrown a life preserver. After Greg's disturbing phone call, Caleb's invitation had been soothing oil on the troubled waters of her psyche.

  He'd picked her up around nine-thirty, brought her flowers and everything, just like a real date. When he'd looked at her, his eyes were full of such lovable warmth that it practically restored her faith in humanity. "I missed you these last few days," he'd said, and she believed him. Just the way he'd held her hand when they walked down the street towards the theatre had made her shiver.

  And she shivered again now as he put his arm around her and pulled her close. It felt good to be with him. Felt good just to sit next to him, to feel the warmth of his leg next to hers. It was the kind of good she hadn't experienced in a long time.

  When they reached the point in the film where Holden engages a fresh, young Nancy Olsen in a desperate lip-lock, Blake felt Caleb's gaze turn toward her. His eyes burned a hole right through her. She lifted her head and looked up at him. In the flickering dark, they stared at each other. A long moment passed. She laid her head back on his shoulder, and reached for his hand.

  After the movie, they strolled slowly up Vermont Avenue until they reached Franklin Street. They crossed the street and stood at the bus stop. They'd left Caleb's bike at his motel and taken the bus to the theatre. Parking in LA could be tricky business.

  Suddenly Caleb laughed. "I can't believe I got you to take a bus!" he said.

  Blake pretended to be indignant. "Why? You think I'm so stuck up that I won't ride public transportation?"

  "No…."

  "Buses are great! They're good for the environment."

  "So I imagine you take them all the time," he teased.

  She rolled her eyes. It was liberating to act like her old spunky self. "Oh yeah, I make a point of riding the bus at least twenty times a day. Are you happy now?"

  "Very," he said. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, taking her by surprise. It was a quick kiss, sweet and friendly. He straightened up again. "Very happy," he repeated. And Blake could see that he meant it.

  It was a short, lumbering ride down Franklin Avenue to the 101 Diner. Caleb climbed off the bus first, then reached up and helped Blake as she hopped down.

  It was 11:30 on a weeknight, but the diner was surprisingly full. Blake smiled as several of the young people crowded into a series of booths along the front called out a greeting to Caleb. He nodded to them, then called to a waitress, "Hey Dina, is that booth free?"

  "Yeah," she said, not looking up from the register. "Go ahead. I'll have someone over to bus it for you in a few minutes."

  Apparently, her farm boy friend was making a lot of friends of his own, Blake mused. He lead her through the crowd to a circular booth in back. It was a large booth, capable of accommodating at least half a dozen people. "Are you sure they won't mind if we take this one?" Blake asked. "There's only two of us, after all."

  Caleb shrugged. "I've been coming in here practically every day, and this is always where I sit. If they get really full, sometimes Dina will squeeze a few more guests in here. Gives me an opportunity to get to know some of the local people."

  "That's why all those kids up front know you?"

  "Mmm-hmm." Caleb made himself busy stacking dishes to the side, using a paper napkin to wipe off the table.

  Dina came over to clear the table, smiling when she saw the results of Caleb's work. "I may have to start splitting my tips with you!" she said.

  "No sweat," he told her. Something caught his eye and he sat up straighter to get a look at her face. Blake couldn't see what he was looking at. "Hey, you did it!"

  "Yep." Dina smiled with pride.

  "How does it feel?"

  "It was easier than this one," she said, and tapped the side of her nose. Then she turned to Blake, and Blake could see a diamond stud in her nostril, as well as a silver ring in her eyebrow. "I just had the eyebrow done today," Dina told Blake.

  "She'd been talking about doing it since the first day I walked in here," Caleb added. "I didn't think she'd ever get around to it."

  "Hey, I'm a busy girl, okay?" Dina laughed.

  Caleb laughed with her. "Don't I know it. Maybe if that hectic schedule of yours clears up, you'll be able to bring us a couple of menus."

  "I'll do my best." Dina winked and walked off.

  "Pretty girl," Blake commented.

  "She's a good waitress," Caleb said. "And she wasn't kidding about being busy. Apparently she's going to school full-time in addition to working here."

  "She was flirting with you," Blake said pointedly.

  Caleb gave Blake a don't-be-ridiculous look. "She flirts with everybody. She works for tips, remember?"

  Blake felt her cheeks redden at her unexpected feeling of jealousy. Seeing her face, Caleb reached for her hand and squeezed it. At his touch, the warmth of her blush seemed to spread, flowing out to her extremities, settling between her legs. She shifted, unsure what to say.

  "Here you go." Dina returned briskly, placing menus on the table in front of them and pulling an order pad out of her apron. "You want drinks? Coffee?"

  Caleb spoke for both of them. "I'm guessing Blake would like iced tea," he looked at her for confirmation before continuing, "and I'll have – "

  "And coffee for the cowboy," Dina interrupted, scribbling away. "Real coffee, real cream."

  "You got it," Caleb answered. He was talking to Dina, but he was looking at Blake.

  "Back in a jiffy," Dina said, and sailed away again.

  Blake was flattered but disconcerted to realize that Caleb hadn't taken his eyes off her since he'd taken her hand a moment ago. She picked up her menu, hoping to distract him.

  "So what are you having?"

  "Breakfast," he answered promptly. He looked down at the menu. "Breakfast is my favorite dinner. Omelet, bacon, hash browns, toast."

  "What about fruit? Don't you eat that?"

  "Orange juice, woman. Haven't you ever heard of it?" Caleb smiled as Blake shook her head. "So, what are you having?"

  "The fruit and yogurt plate," she told him self-righteously. "Real fruit, and no fat."

  "Sounds boring."

  "It's not boring. It's good for me – and helps me keep in shape. Not all of us can be as naturally perfect as you are."

  "Oh yeah, I'm just all kinds of perfect."

  Behind his laugh, Caleb was worried. After Blake had left the pier today, Pinkshirt had continued to follow her, and had gotten himself into a fender-bender near Malibu Road, when Blake had apparently decided not to go back to the beach house. That seemed like good news at first, since the man wasn't likely to continue a tail in a car that was obviously fresh from an accident. But then it had occurred to Caleb that there might be somebody else – or more than one somebody – who was watching her, and he'd realized that he was no longer comfortable just protecting her from a distance.

  So he'd convinced Steve to put another man on Pinkshirt, and with Steve'
s blessing, Caleb had invited Blake to the movies. Of course, for Caleb it wasn't just about the operation. Tonight had given him that thing he'd been craving for three long days: a chance to see Blake. To really see her, not just from a distance. To look into her eyes, to touch her hand, to steal a kiss. He'd done all those things this evening, and he wanted to do them again. And again. And more.

  Just a little while longer, he told himself. When Steve got the results back from the fingerprints that they'd lifted off that milkshake cup, they'd have a real identification on that bozo who'd been following her. And then he'd tell Blake everything – why he was here, what he'd been doing. He wasn't sure that she could forgive him, but he owed her the truth. And she would get it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh, this is bad, Blake thought. Really bad. Really, majorly bad.

  The noise level in the coffee shop rose steadily, as people continued to swarm in for late-night sustenance. She had to lean closer to Caleb to hear what he was saying.

  "Of course, Andie was only about this big at the time," he held his hand at slightly above table level to show the height of his niece when she was three, "but she was already an opinionated woman. That day, her mother tried to get her ready for church by putting her in this cute little dress with old-fashioned saddle shoes. It was quite a little getup, but apparently Andie didn't think it was fancy enough. So she went digging through her grandmother's dress-up trunk, found some old Halloween costume and ended up going to church in a Cinderella dress and a rhinestone tiara!"

  Blake laughed at the image conjured by his words. "Already a little princess."

  "You know it!"

  "Well, I can relate to that." She sucked a sip of tea through her straw, unable to take her eyes from Caleb's face. When he talked about his family, his whole being lit up, became animated in a way she'd never seen before. Blake felt her heart warm in response: a tiny flicker of affection that was glowing brighter by the minute, dangerously close to flaming into the worst of the four-letter words: love.