When we’re on a job it’s professionalism all the way. Plus I had a good ten years on her and as we all know, nothing lasts in this damn town. Who the fuck has time for that? Not that I won’t break one off if I get the itch, but her ilk is just not my type. They live their lives in a fishbowl; I do better in the shadows.
Anyway, she seemed normal enough on first acquaintance. That first day I’d dealt more with her manager than her, while she sat on the couch in his office reading what I guess was a script. All I saw was a nest of messy hair piled on top of her head and reading glasses perched on her nose. She was wearing baggy sweats and a tank. Shit made no sense, you’re either hot or cold, what the fuck.
I’d left the office still in doubt as to whether or not I really wanted to do this shit, but my boys were all still tied up and none of them seemed too thrilled at the prospect of taking over for me. That’s a testament to our past dealings with her type. After the last one I needed fucking combat pay.
It didn’t take me long to realize that she was different though. There were no tantrums or impossible demands like I’d expected. She kept her head down and did as she was told without question. From what I’ve seen so far she isn’t much of a partier, or girl about town the way the write-ups had intimated, far from it.
She was usually in bed by eight at night, which made my job easier, since the crazies seemed to keep most of their physical shit for after dark. In the first few days I was holding my breath, waiting for her to start chafing at the restraints I’d placed on her, but nothing; not a peep.
Most people seem to think that once they have security in place they no longer have to be careful. They leave their lives and wellbeing to us. I’m the fucking security and I think that’s some dumb shit. You can never be too careful. She had sense it seemed, because she did everything to keep herself as inconspicuous as possible.
I’d read the letters and shit that the nut who was after her had sent, had seen the escalation from the first letter to the last. Total fucking fruitcake, but he wasn’t my first. Personally, if she was my woman I’d have hunted him down and peeled the skin off his ass with a rusty knife, but hey, that’s just me.
This skell’s whole deal was instilling fear. That’s the quickest way to take over someone’s life, have them so afraid they’d jump at their own shadow. My job wasn’t just to give her a sense of security though. They’d brought me in to take him out. That’s my specialty. Well their exact words were take him in, whatever.