Chapter 4 : The Bodyguard
Girlfriend?
Immediately, as I fell, my glasses slipped off and bounced with a dull thud on the ground. Jeremy Neubart shifted his blond head towards me, but then seeing that it was the unattractive "Raggedy Ann", he turned back to his guitar and began to strum away the beginning of an unfamiliar song.
The way his muscled arms emerged from his half sleeve plaid shirt, and the way they wrapped around the lucky wooden instrument did cause me to blush, but I let on as if it didn't as I continued to search for my fallen glasses and produce enough courage to speak aloud.
"Um, Jeremy. I'm really sorry about what I said in the gym."
"Ok, Raggedy Ann. I barely even remember what happened," Jeremy replied, pursing his soft pink lips and continuing his icy blue eye focus on his sturdy hands. Every once in a while he would stop, think to himself, run his hand through his dirty blond hair, immerse his nose downward in thought, and then realize how to continue.
After his third time doing this, I finally found my large, bottle cap glasses and sat next to him.
He turned and faced me as if I were a disgusting alien.
"What are you doing?"
"I-I-I'm sorry." I apologized, blushing. "I wasn't trying to get close to you or anything I just, I didn't think you'd care if I sat next to you."
My normally soft voice was becoming croaky.
Shaking his head and saying, "girls", he moved away from me. Okay, I was so not trying to make a move on him.
After giving him a while to "recover", I spoke again.
"Shouldn't you be in class?"
"Who is this girl?" He asked sarcastically, smirking up at some unknown friend in the ceiling. Ignoring me, he continued playing.
Ok, I understood. I was ugly...I wore thick black glasses, hadn't utilized any modern conveniences to compose my hair or face, and wore baggy, unattractive clothes. And those were just the things that annoyed me.
According to my mom, I looked absolutely ridiculous. She told me I reminded her of a Halloween costume she wore in college. Of course, she said this with the good humor that came with the fact that I had to dress like this for school.
It went something along the U.G.A. contract's lines of keeping me isolated from my classmates or anyone that didn't absolutely have to be connected with me. Paul Demine had the same awful fate, but I don't think he minded it as much. He was a very naturally reserved person.
I, on the other hand, was ready to punch a hole through Jeremy's face.
"You, idiot! So help me if you insult me one more freakin' time. If I don't see you standing up with your dumb guitar packed in your stupid bag in one minute, I am going to make you wish you never came to Westingale High!"
I could feel my cheeks burn as I put my face less than an inch from his. I meant to intimidate him. Instead, I just confused him. Annoyingly enough, I became intimidated as I began to inhale his
Axe.
"Wait a second. How do you know I have Spanish right now? And wait a second...I just realized we've been in like all the same classes all day, haven't we? You're a freakin' stalker. Get away from me." He shoved me away, and though I wanted and couldn't resist, I fell back purposely. Getting up, he began to walk away with his guitar case.
"Where are you going?" I asked, panicking.
"To Spanish. Where Mr. Garcia can protect me." As he was walking away, I could hear him mumbling, "Gary's gonna get a kick outta this one."
Well, I may have managed public humiliation, but at least I had found Jeremy Neubart and gotten him back to Spanish class.
**********
The cool thing about being an agent was that whatever crap you had to deal with during the school day (or work day for some of our older agents) was that when you did your shift ranging from 4 pm to 2 am...you became a completely different person. Literally.
I looked at the woman staring back at me through the full length mirror. It was me, but instead of my dark brown wig, I wore my natural blond hair down and wavy. My lips were red with my U.G.A. supplied gloss and my eyes darkened by my outlining job. I wore a tight fitting, chest bearing dark tank.
It certainly gave off an appearance of your average clubber, off to drink booze and find guys. I was going to The Playplace, a naughty understatement downtown where it was rumored a lot of mobsters, drug dealers, and your general criminal population liked to hang out.
My job was to listen in on their conversations, record them, and keep an eye out for any bad guys that fit the description for a listed criminal on the U.G.A.'s criminal network.
I rotated clubs and criminal hangouts every day of the week. That was on a normal week. Of course, there were organized missions and such, but I've only gone once before, and they barely let me do anything. That sort of thing on a regular basis was reserved until you were twenty one.
Grabbing my purse, I giggled at my mom's annoyed sigh.
"If this wasn't paying for your college..." She moaned.
"Mom, come on. I could be dressing like this for school. It could be worse."
"I'd much rather you be dressing this way for harmless teenage boys than mob gangster dudes." She shook her head, running her slight hand through her short, bobby hair.
"Mom, I think I have a two guns and a knife and a knockout spray in my purse."
Shrugging and putting her hands up, she gave me a frail smile.
"Just another day in the life of your average American girl and her average mother. Who will both be attending Grandma's Birthday party."
Putting my hands on my hips and shaking my head angrily, she began to open her mouth in protest when my dad walked down the stairs.
"I'm not even going to look." He said, covering his eyes before he reached the bottom of the stairs, "Just go before I ground you until you're forty."
Smiling, I walked out the door. My parents were both ridiculous and ridiculously funny.
My U.G.A. approved license which lied to the world that I was above 21 allowed me to both drive my black Honda to the Playhouse and get past the large man at the door.
"Enjoy your time, baby," he said, glancing me up and down as I walked through the door.
Smiling at how ridiculously men acted just based on how a girl looked, I slid into a random bar stool. I had to "establish my presence" first. Coolly, I winked the bartender over and got a coke.
"No alcohol for you, babe?" He asked sadly, watching my chest.
Smiling provocatively, I shrugged my tanned shoulders. "I don't know." I replied, giggling, "It depends on how the night turns out."
Walking through the crowd, I began to relax. This was actually a scene I knew well. And if my knowledge was any help, the real bad guys were hanging out in the back of the club, in the private area. All I needed to do was to find a place to hide near them.
Of course, soon I saw a booth filled with six burly men. Attached to the end of them was a young man. He didn't fit in, physically. But somehow the broad confidence of his shoulders and his rough leather jacket made him seem like he belonged among them.
Luckily, there was a booth, unoccupied, right next to them. When their attention was focused intensely, I slipped in.
"I wanna be in on next month's poker game." The young man challenged. His voice sounded familiar.
"Son, aren't you a little too young to take part in our poker game? And poor, too?"
"Dude, I got the money. I'm Jeremy Neubart. I fly in the money. Come on. It's my first night on the town. I need something to go back to school and impress my friends with."
Luckily no one could recognize the woman I was now from the girl that went to Westingale Heights. That wouldn't really be a problem. What was a problem was the fact that Jeremy was a bigger idiot than I had first perceived. His first night out and he was already mixing in with the worst attendees of the Playhouse? This kid was ridiculous!
Suddenly, I realized I should go before the suspected I was listening to them. Getting up, I bumped, hard, against one of the bad guys that had been getting up as well.
"I am so sorry, sir." I said, giving him my round eyed apology.
"No, it ain't no problem hunny." He spoke with a Hispanic accent and smiled as he took me in. Grabbing my hand, he began to tug me towards the dance floor.
"You wanna come out here and dance?"
"No, that's quite alright." I said, beginning to tug away.
"I insist." He urged, continuing to tug at me.
Suddenly, Jeremy came up from behind me and hugged me from behind, nestling his mouth into my bare neck and beginning to give it little kisses, leaving me with tingles.
"Hey baby." he murmured, blowing slowly on my neck. Glancing up at the man, he smugly stated, "I'm glad you've met my girlfriend."
Girlfriend? Girlfriend!? Just a few hours ago he couldn't finish speaking of his distaste for me and now he was all over me!
I could see that the other man was intimidated and angry that I had been taken. Blushing, I glanced up at Jeremy as he coolly took my hand and kissed it.
"Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to meeting with you all next month for our poker game."
Murmured response came as he led his "girlfriend" away. He had managed to both save me and horrify me at the same time.
The way his muscled arms emerged from his half sleeve plaid shirt, and the way they wrapped around the lucky wooden instrument did cause me to blush, but I let on as if it didn't as I continued to search for my fallen glasses and produce enough courage to speak aloud.
"Um, Jeremy. I'm really sorry about what I said in the gym."
"Ok, Raggedy Ann. I barely even remember what happened," Jeremy replied, pursing his soft pink lips and continuing his icy blue eye focus on his sturdy hands. Every once in a while he would stop, think to himself, run his hand through his dirty blond hair, immerse his nose downward in thought, and then realize how to continue.
After his third time doing this, I finally found my large, bottle cap glasses and sat next to him.
He turned and faced me as if I were a disgusting alien.
"What are you doing?"
"I-I-I'm sorry." I apologized, blushing. "I wasn't trying to get close to you or anything I just, I didn't think you'd care if I sat next to you."
My normally soft voice was becoming croaky.
Shaking his head and saying, "girls", he moved away from me. Okay, I was so not trying to make a move on him.
After giving him a while to "recover", I spoke again.
"Shouldn't you be in class?"
"Who is this girl?" He asked sarcastically, smirking up at some unknown friend in the ceiling. Ignoring me, he continued playing.
Ok, I understood. I was ugly...I wore thick black glasses, hadn't utilized any modern conveniences to compose my hair or face, and wore baggy, unattractive clothes. And those were just the things that annoyed me.
According to my mom, I looked absolutely ridiculous. She told me I reminded her of a Halloween costume she wore in college. Of course, she said this with the good humor that came with the fact that I had to dress like this for school.
It went something along the U.G.A. contract's lines of keeping me isolated from my classmates or anyone that didn't absolutely have to be connected with me. Paul Demine had the same awful fate, but I don't think he minded it as much. He was a very naturally reserved person.
I, on the other hand, was ready to punch a hole through Jeremy's face.
"You, idiot! So help me if you insult me one more freakin' time. If I don't see you standing up with your dumb guitar packed in your stupid bag in one minute, I am going to make you wish you never came to Westingale High!"
I could feel my cheeks burn as I put my face less than an inch from his. I meant to intimidate him. Instead, I just confused him. Annoyingly enough, I became intimidated as I began to inhale his
Axe.
"Wait a second. How do you know I have Spanish right now? And wait a second...I just realized we've been in like all the same classes all day, haven't we? You're a freakin' stalker. Get away from me." He shoved me away, and though I wanted and couldn't resist, I fell back purposely. Getting up, he began to walk away with his guitar case.
"Where are you going?" I asked, panicking.
"To Spanish. Where Mr. Garcia can protect me." As he was walking away, I could hear him mumbling, "Gary's gonna get a kick outta this one."
Well, I may have managed public humiliation, but at least I had found Jeremy Neubart and gotten him back to Spanish class.
**********
The cool thing about being an agent was that whatever crap you had to deal with during the school day (or work day for some of our older agents) was that when you did your shift ranging from 4 pm to 2 am...you became a completely different person. Literally.
I looked at the woman staring back at me through the full length mirror. It was me, but instead of my dark brown wig, I wore my natural blond hair down and wavy. My lips were red with my U.G.A. supplied gloss and my eyes darkened by my outlining job. I wore a tight fitting, chest bearing dark tank.
It certainly gave off an appearance of your average clubber, off to drink booze and find guys. I was going to The Playplace, a naughty understatement downtown where it was rumored a lot of mobsters, drug dealers, and your general criminal population liked to hang out.
My job was to listen in on their conversations, record them, and keep an eye out for any bad guys that fit the description for a listed criminal on the U.G.A.'s criminal network.
I rotated clubs and criminal hangouts every day of the week. That was on a normal week. Of course, there were organized missions and such, but I've only gone once before, and they barely let me do anything. That sort of thing on a regular basis was reserved until you were twenty one.
Grabbing my purse, I giggled at my mom's annoyed sigh.
"If this wasn't paying for your college..." She moaned.
"Mom, come on. I could be dressing like this for school. It could be worse."
"I'd much rather you be dressing this way for harmless teenage boys than mob gangster dudes." She shook her head, running her slight hand through her short, bobby hair.
"Mom, I think I have a two guns and a knife and a knockout spray in my purse."
Shrugging and putting her hands up, she gave me a frail smile.
"Just another day in the life of your average American girl and her average mother. Who will both be attending Grandma's Birthday party."
Putting my hands on my hips and shaking my head angrily, she began to open her mouth in protest when my dad walked down the stairs.
"I'm not even going to look." He said, covering his eyes before he reached the bottom of the stairs, "Just go before I ground you until you're forty."
Smiling, I walked out the door. My parents were both ridiculous and ridiculously funny.
My U.G.A. approved license which lied to the world that I was above 21 allowed me to both drive my black Honda to the Playhouse and get past the large man at the door.
"Enjoy your time, baby," he said, glancing me up and down as I walked through the door.
Smiling at how ridiculously men acted just based on how a girl looked, I slid into a random bar stool. I had to "establish my presence" first. Coolly, I winked the bartender over and got a coke.
"No alcohol for you, babe?" He asked sadly, watching my chest.
Smiling provocatively, I shrugged my tanned shoulders. "I don't know." I replied, giggling, "It depends on how the night turns out."
Walking through the crowd, I began to relax. This was actually a scene I knew well. And if my knowledge was any help, the real bad guys were hanging out in the back of the club, in the private area. All I needed to do was to find a place to hide near them.
Of course, soon I saw a booth filled with six burly men. Attached to the end of them was a young man. He didn't fit in, physically. But somehow the broad confidence of his shoulders and his rough leather jacket made him seem like he belonged among them.
Luckily, there was a booth, unoccupied, right next to them. When their attention was focused intensely, I slipped in.
"I wanna be in on next month's poker game." The young man challenged. His voice sounded familiar.
"Son, aren't you a little too young to take part in our poker game? And poor, too?"
"Dude, I got the money. I'm Jeremy Neubart. I fly in the money. Come on. It's my first night on the town. I need something to go back to school and impress my friends with."
Luckily no one could recognize the woman I was now from the girl that went to Westingale Heights. That wouldn't really be a problem. What was a problem was the fact that Jeremy was a bigger idiot than I had first perceived. His first night out and he was already mixing in with the worst attendees of the Playhouse? This kid was ridiculous!
Suddenly, I realized I should go before the suspected I was listening to them. Getting up, I bumped, hard, against one of the bad guys that had been getting up as well.
"I am so sorry, sir." I said, giving him my round eyed apology.
"No, it ain't no problem hunny." He spoke with a Hispanic accent and smiled as he took me in. Grabbing my hand, he began to tug me towards the dance floor.
"You wanna come out here and dance?"
"No, that's quite alright." I said, beginning to tug away.
"I insist." He urged, continuing to tug at me.
Suddenly, Jeremy came up from behind me and hugged me from behind, nestling his mouth into my bare neck and beginning to give it little kisses, leaving me with tingles.
"Hey baby." he murmured, blowing slowly on my neck. Glancing up at the man, he smugly stated, "I'm glad you've met my girlfriend."
Girlfriend? Girlfriend!? Just a few hours ago he couldn't finish speaking of his distaste for me and now he was all over me!
I could see that the other man was intimidated and angry that I had been taken. Blushing, I glanced up at Jeremy as he coolly took my hand and kissed it.
"Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to meeting with you all next month for our poker game."
Murmured response came as he led his "girlfriend" away. He had managed to both save me and horrify me at the same time.
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