Chapter 1: Girl Bodyguard Vs Mr Player
Saving lives of many presidents, prime ministers and politicians – that should be me. I had graduated from BlackArrow Academy, a school of only professional bodyguards. And well, my life just started. I was ready to take whatever life threw at me.
I headed to the office, rooms and hallways of mirrors and glass.
What a big place this is, I thought to myself.
Walking quicker, I tucked in my black suit and fixed my tie a bit. As I came closer to that door, people around me stared. I guess it was unusual for them to see a person like myself; a different gender wearing a dark suit.
The light was bright, shining on the polished marble tiles below my leather black shoes.
Feeling the tension around me, I took off the shades and folded them. My fingers felt a little cold and shaky as I reached for the pocket inside my black suit; must be because of the snow outside.
Glancing around the large area again, I shook my head and forced a straight face; I was not afraid of anybody – not even if they were three times larger than me. Fixing my tie one more time, I strolled through the large wooden doors.
Yes, this was my first mission or assignment as a professional bodyguard. I came first for BlackArrow Academy and I had gained respect from everyone there.
What was left to me now was a lifetime of protecting important people of the country. Other bodyguards would protect a person as long as they paid them. But not me. I'm different. Only if that person was good, then I will do what they ask me. If not, well, goodbye.
Holding tightly to the metal handle of the giant doors, I clicked the knob and pushed it.
Standing there was a man with strong features. He was indeed the boss of this office; he smiled at me as I entered.
"Welcome, Taylor." He greeted.
I walked closer and offered him my hand, "You must be Mr. Peterson." I shook his hand firmly.
"Yes, yes." He nodded, "Please take a seat."
I glanced over to his desk and saw many objects that were made out of either gold or silver, which added a nice touch to the rich brown wooden table. Opposite of the table were two chairs, cushioned with soft leather. I sat down.
Lifting his glasses, Mr. Peterson seated himself in his chair across from mine. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you." He said, "I had heard a lot about you." He signalled with his hand for someone to close the doors behind me. "I need your help." He passed me a file.
I glanced down and opened the folder, "What is this?"
Mr. Peterson crossed his hands and placed them just above his desk. "A mission you need to accomplish for me."
I raised an eyebrow, "For what cause?" I flipped through the sheets curiously.
He laughed, "For my family," He said, closing his eyes, "It's about my son."
"Your son?" I asked, wondering why he would ask me to do such a thing.
"Yes." He said firmly. "I need you to maintain him." He paused, "And keep him out of trouble."
The old man sighed, "He's too much for me," he answered, "even for a well-known businessman."
I glanced down at the files again, and continued flipping through the folder. I noticed several police records, and well, anything else that you could think of for a player. As I read through the words, I found a photo of this boy.
Golden hair, blue eyes, firm nose and thin lips. I can just simply glance over a photo and remember a person's detail appearance for a lifetime. I can never forget people who I see or talk too. Like the time when I was seven. I remembered exactly how the postman looked like. Even though he just delivers mail, which would only take about five seconds to do so, I still remember his appearance even to today. This was one of the reasons why I was top in BlackArrow Academy. However, this wasn't a skill that BlackArrow Academy had trained me. This was one of my natural abilities.
I glanced back at the photo and nodded to Mr Peterson's statement. Yes, as I guessed, his son was definitely a player. A boy that seemed to be afraid of nothing but himself.
"So can you do it?" Mr. Peterson questioned, gazing intently into my eyes. "Miss Rosanna?"
I looked at him, "Yes."
Standing behind the brick wall, I glanced over my shoulder. For the last half an hour, I had been watching this person. The person I was supposed to, what you call, 'protect', or, look after.I didn't mind watching people, to be honest, though it does make me feel like I'm a stalker. But this was my job; to maintain a person – in this case a playboy.
The boy walked out of the hotel through the shiny glass doors. A person walked past and threw him his keys, which he caught easily, with his eyes glimmering in soft blue; even I could see it from ten metres away. He smiled as he winked at the girls who walked past him. All of them giggled amongst themselves. He took slow steps to his red Ferrari, which apparently was everything to him.
I ran quickly over behind him and grinned. This might actually be a little fun.
"Where are you going?" I questioned, with my dark shades covering my eyes mysteriously.
He turned around, looking shocked, "Who are you?"
I smiled, "From now on, you and I are going to be buddies." I paused and whispered, "Very close buddies."
His eyes widened and grinned back, "Really?" He started, "How so?" He said, stepping into his red shiny sports car.
I placed my hand over his shoulder, "Where are you going?" My voice changed to a much deeper tone.
"I don't know," he replied, still grinning at the girls who walked past, "you tell me."
"Is that how you want it?" I turned and flipped his hand so that it was bent backwards, making a sound of cracking bones under his skin.
"Owwww!" He yelled, "I'll tell you. I'll tell you." He repeated and turned around, trying to look under my shades, "Can you let go of me?"
"No." I answered firmly, "You tell me first."
It seemed like forever as he smiled and winked at the next group of girls who walked past, "You're embarrassing me."
"I don't care." I enforced more muscles onto his hand, "Tell me."
"Okay, okay," he said, trying get loose, "I promise I'll tell you, if you let go of my hand."
It looked like he was still blabbing on about this, so I pushed his hand and twisted it further, making a louder sound of cracking veins and bones, before I let go of his hand. I smiled.
"Ouch." He complained, reaching for the keys in the car, and turned on the engine. He boosted his red Ferrari and sped off to the main road.
I stood there momentarily, "I knew he'd do that." I smiled, talking to no one in particular and shifting my hat tighter, "But he'll be back."
Shaking loose of his hand, the boy grinned. "Who does he think he is?" He said out loud, still smiling, "I beat all forty-eight of those bodyguards and I'll do the same to this one too."
But as he stopped his Ferrari and pulled the brakes, using the hand the bodyguard just adjusted, cracking sounds under his skin was heard. The boy stepped out of his red car and yelled at the top of his lungs as he glanced down at his hand.
"What the hell did he do to my hand?" He screamed.
Well, this is a story I just started. Hope its good. Looking forward to your comments. Thank you!