[2] I'm Body Guarding the President's Jerk Son...Who Is HOT...FML!
I sat in the backseat of a tinted SUV, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth as I thought about my new problem: Jayden Taylor.
Rick sat in the back with me, his fingers playing over the back of my hand. He tugged on my hand lightly and said, "Stop biting your lip, you're leaving teeth marks on it. Is that how you want to make your first impression?"
I stopped gnawing on my poor lips for a second and looked at him. "I don't want to make an impression at all, I just want to melt into the background", I whined, sounding horribly like a young girl.
He smiled. "The guy can't be that bad. You haven't seen him in ten years. Things could have improved. He could have gotten better."
I shook my head, not giving myself the hope to believe. "No, I doubt it. With guys, usually bad qualities just become worse over time." I smiled apologetically at him, not wanting to have him offended.
He smiled back. "Maybe." He sighed. "I don't know why I'm trying to comfort you when I can't even get myself to believe my own words. Even if I didn't know the guy, I'd still think he's a jerk. I mean, you've seen him on TV a couple of times, right?"
I nodded. Rick was honest with me. I liked that. Too bad his honesty was making me a little sick in the stomach.
I saw the imposing mansion through the gates. Oh no! We were here.
As the SUV pulled up to the gates, I started worrying the skin on my hands with my nails, leaving deep crescents on my flesh. The driver's window rolled down and he handed the two security guards documentation. One security guard waved a pole with a mirror underneath the car to check for bombs. The other checked the lining of the wheels for bugs before cracking open the trunk. There was nothing there. Still, as a good security guard should, he felt the lining with his hands for a security compartment full of weapons. The first opened the door and looked us over. He ignored us, knowing we would be extensively checked once inside the gates, and checked the lining of the back row before going on to the driver's position.
Once they were certain we were who we said we were, or at least, not crazy ninja people coming to blow up the White House, they let us in.
The SUV drove smoothly up the long driveway and came to a stop in a discrete little corner behind the giant white mansion. I climbed out of the car with a duffel bag full of ten days' clothes and the barest essentials. My dad could always visit me and bring me more stuff. But knowing him and his busy work schedule, he'll probably send someone else to do it. Or, I could just wash my clothes once a week and wear them again over and over. I wasn't here for a fashion statement. This was my job and I didn't need to look pretty for anyone.
Rick clambered out of the other side. The driver headed out for a better place to park the SUV.
A short man dressed in a dark suit too big for him trotted up to us with a rather large smile plastered on his face, full of teeth probably artificially whitened. He held out a hand full of stubby fingers to us.
"Ah, Carolina Dupont and Richard Marc. I'm Mr. Stevens."
I gripped his hand, perhaps a little too firmly, for I saw him wince. "It's a pleasure to be here, sir."
Mr. Stevens nodded and quickly extracted his hand from mine. I let him-his palm was too clammy to hold onto for any longer.
Mr. Stevens led us through a side door and to a security check center. I wordlessly handed the guard my bag and he ran it through the machine.
Mr. Stevens asked, "Is that all? You do realize you will be staying here for quite a while."
I said, my tone clipped, "I'm well aware of this."
