Page 9

chapter eight

Tuck

I squinted up at the steel-and-plexiglass monstrosity. Others probably considered it sleek, but I’d seen enough steel and plexiglass to last a lifetime.

But this was Emily—or, Nova’s —home, my new boss, so I better get used to it, even if most of my work hours would be spent at public events. Or so I assumed. Mrs. Swanson hadn’t given me many details, only that Emily had been thrilled by the offer of my services, and that she’d outline my position when I arrived.

I entered the open lobby, heading to the bank of elevators and pressing the button to the penthouse level. My black jeans, black boots, and gray T-shirt looked worn and overly casual for a job interview, but it was all I had. Plus, I’d already been hired for the job, and so it wasn’t as if this was an actual interview. I’d signed the tax forms Emily’s accountant had sent to her moth er’s email address, and a nondisclosure agreement, promising not to leak any of Emily’s personal information.

As the mirrored elevator car rose, a flutter of nerves made me feel antsy. Not only was I somewhat anxious about seeing Emily for the first time since we were kids, but I also hated feeling penned up. I’d never had claustrophobia before, but prison could do that to you. I’d had to actively work through it every day for six years, and it seemed my nervous system wasn’t quite ready to let go.

The elevator dinged when it reached the penthouse level, and I stepped into a wide-open foyer area with two walls made completely of plexiglass, so the Los Angeles skyline was on full display.

I raised my hand to knock on the tall door across from the elevator, but before my knuckle made contact, the door was pulled open, and a very petite girl with bright fuchsia lips, a high black ponytail, and a flower tattoo that wound up her neck, stood there. She gave me a cursory glance and then her gaze returned to the phone in her hand, and she punched something in before again looking up. “Tucker Mattice,” she said, perusing me. Her tone was unimpressed.

Not that I’d imagined I was very impressive, but most people could muster the basic social grace of a smile. This is LA , I reminded myself. Everyone is unimpressed by everything. It’s a whole mood.

“Tuck,” I said.

She raised her brows. “Well, you certainly look the part.”

“The…part?”

“Bodyguard. Hired—” her gaze swept my body again “—muscle.”

“Oh, ah, well yes, that’s why I’m here…” I held my hand out, realizing I hadn’t been given her name and waited for her to tell me, but she simply nodded, gave me a limp shake, and then stood back so I could enter.

Okay, then.

The inside of the apartment felt about as welcoming as the outside. Everywhere I looked was white and shiny and bereft of knickknacks of any kind, as though I’d stepped into some futuristic alien pod. If the aliens in question were completely devoid of personality. There was a Christmas tree by the window that looked more like a large, white pipe cleaner adorned with shiny silver balls. I looked over at the woman just to set my eyes on something that wasn’t stark and mostly monochromatic. She was staring at her phone, her eyes practically bugged out. “Oh shit!” she exclaimed.

“Is everything…okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. Excuse me, I’m on damage control. Nova will be out in a few.”

With that, she raced out of the room, yelling something into her phone about an Instagram post.

I walked over to the couch and began to sit down but then thought better of it. I’d showered that morning, and my clothes, though old, were clean, but even so, I worried I’d leave a speck of dirt or an ass imprint in the smooth velvet. Standing seemed safer.

“Tuck.”

I looked up, and every molecule in my body seemed to quicken at the same time. Emily. It was her, only…

She came closer, her lips curved slightly, expression pleasant, if not warm. Her hair was no longer the golden shade I remembered, but instead a pale champagne blond, the waves hanging down to her waist. Her lips were plump and glossy with long, dark lashes shading her blue eyes. She was wearing a cropped shirt, a small slip of her smooth, tanned stomach showing, and torn jean shorts that barely hit the crease at the top of her thigh. This was not Emily. This was Nova.

I tried to keep my eyes from wandering. I didn’t recognize this woman, but she was undeniably sexy. A twinge between my legs reminded me that it’d been a long damn time since I’d touched a woman. Over six years in fact. Frankly, I couldn’t even remember the last woman I’d touched. “It’s nice to see you.”

Her expression barely changed. She held out her hand, and I glanced down at her nails, silver and sharpened to blades. Walking contraband. I cleared my throat to hold back the nervous laughter that threatened to spill out.

“It’s nice to see you too, Tuck. You look good.”

“So do you.”

There was an awkward silence, and a pit opened in my stomach. Emily had become something entirely different than what she’d been then. Just like my family. My home. The entire area where I’d grown up. All that had once been overflowing with warmth and natural beauty, had either disappeared completely, or become cold and fake.

Even her.

I felt something I could only call deep disappointment trickle slowly through me. I hadn’t actively thought of Emily in a long time, but somewhere in the back of my mind I’d held her up as one of the last remaining pieces that still existed from my former life, the one I’d never been able to fully let go of. Seeing her like this felt like another unexpected loss, and one I hadn’t been prepared for. But I was standing in front of this new person now, and so I pushed my emotions aside. “I appreciate the job offer,” I said. “It came at just the right time.” I was sure her mom had told her I’d gone to their orchard looking for work. She might be able to guess that I’d had a hard time finding employment, but I wasn’t going to confirm it.

It’d also become exceedingly clear in the last few minutes that Mrs. Swanson had lied. Emily had not been thrilled to hire me. Not even close. She’d most likely been guilted into it. The realization was humiliating. But I supposed it was a fair trade. If I was disappointed in what she’d become, there was a good chance she was disappointed in me too. I wouldn’t exactly blame her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I’m glad the timing worked out for both of us,” she said, gesturing to the couch and then sitting in the chair across from it. I hesitated, then sat down gingerly, beginning to lean, but realizing the back was tilted at a strange angle that would force me to practically recline, and so I remained upright. “I’m sure things have been…challenging for you,” she said, her eyes sliding away as though she was uncomfortable talking about my hardships.

“You’ve really done great,” I said, turning the conversation away from me. My challenges were the last thing I wanted to talk about with her. I glanced around the room. Whether it was my personal taste or not, I was pretty damn certain that the decor had come with a substantial price tag. She seemed to fit her surroundings. All perfection and gloss and superficial beauty. “You’ve become everything you ever wanted to be.” Had she though? Was this how she imagined her life would look once she’d found fame? Still, she was hugely gifted, and it was nice to know that sincere talent was rewarded. “You deserve it, Emily. You were always a beautiful singer.”

She held my gaze for a moment as though searching for something, but then blinked and looked away. “Thank you, Tuck.”

“You’re welcome… Should I call you Emily or Nova?” I asked, tipping my head.

“Emily. Unless we’re working.” She waved her hand in the air. “It can be kind of hard to switch back and forth, but I’m sure you can manage it.”

“I’m sure I can.” Plus, I didn’t imagine there was a lot of talking that went along with the job.

There was another awkward silence. I waited for a minute, wondering if she might bring up her parents, or the area where we had once lived, or something personal regarding the years we’d been apart, but when she remained silent, I sat forward. “So, ah, tell me about the job,” I said. “I understand of course that I’ll be part of your security team, but what do I need to know specifically?”

“Well, it’s not so much a team right now.” She let out a thin laugh. “I have a few people who help me out with things.” She made a face, which gave me the first small indication that she still had at least a tiny sense of humor and made me smile in return. “But none of them are equipped to handle any real trouble.” Her gaze moved down my body, but then as though her eyes had wandered without her permission, they shot back to my face. “I know you’re not trained either, but I think you can do a good job. You’re obviously very fit and, you know…in good shape.” I swore I saw the color in her cheeks deepen very slightly, but I couldn’t be sure. “Anyway, your job will be to have my back, watch the crowd, act as a barrier between me and any out-of-control fans. Two weeks ago, someone rushed me. He just wanted to give me a letter, but it spooked me. My boyfriend has a security team, but their job is to keep their eyes on him. So, when the guy shot forward, they surrounded Charlie, and I was sort of left hanging.”

Her boyfriend. “Got it,” I said. It sounded easy enough. I’d learned to keep my head on a swivel in prison as a matter of self-preservation. I could certainly keep Emily safe from overeager basement dwellers wielding love letters and reeking of desperation.

“You’ll accompany me to any and all social events. If it’s a party or something like that, you’ll only be expected to escort me in and out of the location. But if it’s a public affair, I’ll ask that you guard me inside the venue.”

“Okay.”

“So, your work hours may be unpredictable. I’ll have to ask you to be on call some days.”

“That’s fine.”

“If at some point it becomes clear that I need to expand my team, then I’ll make that happen.”

I nodded.

“Anyway, some of it we’ll have to make up as we go along. I’ve never had a bodyguard before. Any questions for me?”

I ran my palms over my jean-clad thighs. “I guess my only question now is whether you want me to wear anything specific?” Did bodyguards wear uniforms? I wasn’t sure. I’d let her tell me.

She seemed stumped for a moment, looking away as she twirled a piece of ice-blond hair around one daggerlike finger, her lips puckered in a shiny pout. “All black, maybe?” Her eyes moved over me again. “Hold on.” She turned her head. “Destanie?”

The petite, colorful young woman rounded the corner as though she’d been standing nearby, just waiting to be summoned. “Yes?”

“What do you think my new bodyguard should wear?”

Destanie approached, crossing her arms and examining me as though looking closely at something the cat had just dropped on her doorstep. “Gray,” she said. “But not just gray. Silvery gray. Something with spandex in it for a bit of shine. Tight too. The spandex will give it some stretch so he can perform his duties, but definitely very tight. His muscles alone will deter most of the creeps,” she said, talking about me as if I wasn’t sitting right there.

And hold up. Tight? Silver? Stretch? They wanted me to dress like a Cirque du Soleil performer? No fucking way.

“Perfect,” Emily said. “It’ll differentiate him from Charlie’s team too, which is important. Okay, so that’s the uniform.”

She stared at me, and I stared back, attempting to keep my expression as neutral as possible. With effort, I put aside the small amount of pride I had left. “Where might I find clothes like that?”

“Oh, I’ll give you the names of a few department stores where I have lines of credit. They’ll take care of you.”

“Make sure to get some shoes too,” Destanie said on her way out of the room. “And sunglasses,” she called over her shoulder. “No one should ever know exactly where your eyes are focused.”

Emily picked up the phone she’d set on the side table next to her. “Give me your cell phone number,” she said.

“I don’t have one yet. I’ll have to pick up one of those prepaid phones.” Not that I could afford very many minutes.

She stared at me a moment and then laughed. “Wait, are you joking?”

I slowly shook my head.

She waved her hand. “I’ll have a smartphone sent over and put it on my plan. That’s a necessary part of the job. Plus, I need to be able to text you, and I have to know you’re available at a moment’s notice.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I sounded like a pet dog. God, it was stuff like this that made me feel like a total loser, and I hated it.

“We leave for the tour in six weeks.”

A tour. I’d barely been out of California, and suddenly I was heading out on a big tour in just over a month. I’d have to let my parole officer know. What did I need to know? Would I be provided with an itinerary? Did I need to scope out places before Emily’s arrival? Fuck, I was way out of my depth. Not that I could say that, of course. My head spun at what a difference a week could make.

Emily stood, and again, I made sure to maintain eye contact, even as my mind begged me to peruse her curves. She gave me the name of a hotel nearby that I’d be staying at until the tour. “If you want to wait in the lobby downstairs, I’ll call an Uber to pick you up. It will be paid for.”

An Uber. I knew an Uber was a ride, but I’d never actually used one. Ubers hadn’t really been popular—especially in the neighborhood I’d lived in—before I was taken out of society. But I wasn’t going to ask questions. I’d wing it from there. “Thank you.”

“I’ll have Destanie text the information about the stores to the phone that’s delivered later today.”

I gave a terse nod. I was grateful for the job, but the fact that I was about to become one of these people, part of Emily’s entourage , did not sit well. Frankly, it pissed me off because this was not me, and it was only due to my desperate situation that I was being forced to play along. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it, except squander the opportunity.

She walked me to the door, and held out her hand, those fingertip daggers glinting in the overhead light. I frowned but shook it.

“Thank you again,” I said. “I’ll wait to hear from you.” And then I got the hell out of that weird spaceship and hightailed it for the lobby, eager to put the last demeaning half hour behind me.