Presidents, Spies, and Boys, Oh My!

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next day didn't bring nukes or World War 3. Instead, it brought me with Ariana, Brittany, and another girl named Stephanie to the movie theater. Dressed all in black and wearing dark sunglasses, I didn't look like any other seventeen year old here. Being summer, they were all decked out in short shorts and revealing tank tops. Oh, did I mention that the guys were shirtless in some instances? Strange theater. The comms unit earpiece in my ear remained silent. Ariana, Brittany, and Stephanie giggled over a (not-so) cute guy sitting over near a poster advertising a horror movie set to come out in December. I scanned the theater, looking for cameras (27) and exits in case of a need for a quick escape (4 counting the "Employees Only" marked door). I watched the people, looking for anyone suspicious. People freaked out when they saw Ariana, asking for autographs and pictures as if she were a celebrity on the red carpet. I kept back a crowd of unruly people who argued about not getting their tickets due to the backup.

"I never even wanted her father in office! WALSH SHOULD HAVE WON!" one man at the back called out.

"I understand you all want your tickets but if you could please be calm about it, I'd appreciate that very much. Miss McGallen will be done shortly."

"Oh, yeah, and who are you to be telling us that? You don't look like a bodyguard." a guy up front, with a beer belly and a stained gray shirt that looked like it hadn't been washed in months, scoffed.

I turned to face him, glaring. I've heard from my colleagues I have a pretty badass glare. I once made a six foot seven, 600 pound guy run away screaming like a little girl from glaring at him. That was a long time ago. Oh, Morocco. 

"Don't judge a book by it's cover." I answered through gritted teeth.

He laughed, his fat jiggling. I fought back vomit. Ew. Gross. Didn't need to see that. 

"So? You're only a little girl, missy. You shouldn't be guardin' a First Daughter. You're not strong enough and couldn't beat anyone if you tried. "

Ugh, I hate it when people underestimate me! I turned to face him, striding over slowly and glaring at him. I was taller than him by about three inches from my leather combat boots. Great.

"Oh, really? Well, would you like to test that theory?" I asked icily.

The group of people took one look at me and backed up seven steps. I can be threatening when I feel like it. Beer belly remained. His eyes showed fear but his posture didn't falter.

"Hell yeah I am." 

"Fine." I answered, stepping back and getting into position.

Everything I learned from my trainers came flooding back to me. Three black belts in different combat techniques...I'm good. Beer Belly threw a weak first punch, which I dodged easily. Amateur. I don't want to hurt him too much. Just his pride. Keep it toned down.

"Is that the best you got? Honestly."

His face turned red as he charged towards me like a bull. I easily avoided him and grabbed his beefy arms, swinging him around and pinning him to the ground. All the air was knocked out of him as he hit the ground, already sweating. Fat ass douchebag. I felt a rush of adrenaline. I love fighting. Unless it's against a guy with a gun. That's not fun at all. Just hard.

"Now what was that again about being a little girl?" I asked in a sickly, sweet voice.

"Nothing." he panted as I got off him, hoisting his weight up with me, and shoving him back to the group.

"That's what I thought." I said, pulling my wild auburn hair back into a ponytail and walking towards Ariana, whom had finished with pictures and autographs. The guy at the ticket counter stared at me wide eyed. I smiled at him and waved. He stared in awe. Hell yeah. Ariana snapped him out of his daze, doing her flirting thing and getting free tickets to a romance movie that I will end up barfing in. I hate romance movies. HATE THEM. They're too gushy and predictable and cheesy. I prefer action...but maybe that's because I'm a spy. Oh well.

"Come on, Ember. Let's go." Ariana piped over to me, even though I was following.

I hurried my pace, staying a safe distance behind the girls as they walked, arms linked, into the theater number 17. Here goes nothing.