The Author and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 3

I woke up with a crick in my neck that had burrowed its way into my restless sleep and dragged me back to consciousness at four in the morning. Apparently, I had managed to curl into a tight ball on the pull-out couch, face pressed aggressively into the bed frame at an odd angle. My hands were balled into fists against the bedspread, numb from poor circulation.

Staying quiet, I stood up and stretched, ignoring my neck for as long as possible as I scooped up the only change of clothes I had and moved to the bathroom. Ignoring the mirror, terrified of finding more words left for me like a creepy hate letter, I took a shower and threw on my leggings and yellow dress before finally taking in my appearance. My wet blond hair sat in wild tangles around my round face. Bright green eyes stared back at me with a tired expression.

Working the tangles into organized strands, I put on concealer to cover up the proof of my restless night and moved back into the other room where Sanders has started brewing coffee, filling the studio apartment with the smell of liquid heaven.

She'd already dressed in a pair of black slacks and a blue blouse underneath a suit jacket. Looking like the slick agent she was, ready to take on the day even before coffee had entered her system. What a strange creature.

"Morning Bright-eyed girl!" she chirped too loudly. "Ready to take on the day?"

I muttered an unenthusiastic yes, pouring myself a cup of coffee and adding a generous amount of creamer. I loved the effect that coffee had, but hated the taste of it. Once all taste of the coffee was gone, I gulped down the hot liquid of the gods, and settled into a plush loveseat, giving Sanders more of my attention.

"We're heading to the signing at ten, what's the hurry? It's barely five in the morning," I mumble as I wrap my fingers around the mug, enjoying the warmth. I hated how cold my fingers always were.

Sanders plucked a piece of toast out of her toaster, added a generous amount of jelly, and handed it to me, urging me to eat it. "We have a stop to make before we do, and considering neither one of us slept in, I don't see why arriving early is a bad thing."

With my mouth half full of the burnt piece of toast, I gazed up at Sanders with a dubious expression. "Where exactly are we going?" I asked, trying not to spit toast everywhere.

Sanders shoved a piece of toast into her mouth making it impossible to understand her as she answered, mumbling something before plucking up her purse.

"What?" I asked, refusing to move from the cozy seat until the last possible moment before we had to leave.

"Come on," she replied dryly as she moved towards the front door. "Unless you want to take a bus or call an Uber or a Lyft, your agent chauffeur leaves in two minutes."

Coughing past the last bit of toast I attempted to swallow in one swoop, I scrambled around the room, looking for my shoes. "Seriously?!?" I finally found my left shoe and continued to scan the room for the second one. "No warning? Just hurry up or I'll leave you here?!?"

She laughed. "This is my warning." She dropped her house key on the small table next to the front door looking unbothered by my panicked expression. "I'll be in the car. Don't forget to lock up with my key. One minute and thirty seconds left."

"I hate you!" I hissed, as I yanked a pillow off the ground, hoping to find my second shoe.

Sanders snorted. "Riiiiight." She closed the door and the sound of her muffled laughter made me move faster, irritated by her insistence to be in a state of constant motion. Thirty seconds later, I found my shoe, and hopped around, yanking on the black flat before I found my purse under the pull-out couch.