by Jochem Vandersteen
by Jochem Vandersteen
JOCHEM VANDERSTEEN has been writing all his life. With the Internet he found a chance to share his work with the rest of the world. His main influences include the old guys like Hammett and Chandler as well as newer writers like Harlan Coben and Dennis Lehane. He's also a big fan of alternative rock and comic books, which explain a lot of the pop culture references in his work. His work has appeared in Thrilling Detective, Nefarious, Judas and Hardluck Stories. His first novel White Knight Syndrome is available now! Everyone who's got something to say to him is encouraged to contact him at [email protected] or visit his site at http://members.tripod.com/~shforum/noahmilano.htm.
CHAPTER ONE
The man who had introduced himself as Calhoun Caldwell had a powerful handshake. His looks matched the handshake. There was a very arrogant look about him. His hair was the color of silver and his expensive suit matched it perfectly. The cool blue of his eyes matched his tie. He either had the fashion sense of a GQ editor or paid someone to dress him. Since Calhoun Caldwell was one of the richest industrialists in L.A. this was quite probable.
"Take a seat while I get you some coffee, Mister Calhoun," I said and went out the door of my office, to the coffee machine at the end of the hall. A few minutes later I returned with two Styrofoam cups filled with coffee, pitch-black, bloody hot and strong enough to power alkaline batteries. Just the way I liked it. By the way he squinted his eyes and pulled his mouth when he took a sip I could tell Caldwell didn’t share my taste in coffee. I offered him some sugar but he declined, diabetic, he told me.
"All right, sir. What can I do for you?" I asked and settled in my chair.
Caldwell leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of my desk. "I need protection for my daughter when she goes to her prom."
I laughed. "You want me to do what?"
"I thought I was speaking very clearly to you, Mr. Milano. I said I wanted you to bodyguard my daughter when she goes to her prom," he repeated, an annoyed look on his face.
"I’m a security specialist, not a chaperon," I told him.
"Listen to me, I want to hire you. Just for one night," he urged. "Money is not the object."
I always liked it when they said that. Hey, I’m not greedy but I’ve got to pay my rent. And I was two months behind.
"All right. It’s your money. Is there a reason you think your daughter might need protection?" I asked.
Caldwell’s face changed suddenly. A very sad and earnest look washed over the arrogant one. "My wife was kidnapped three years ago," he said. "The kidnappers killed her when she tried to escape them."
I remembered now. It had been all over the news back then. Strange, though, how you can forget things like that so quickly. My dad complained about the way that kidnapping went. Said it was typical of independent operators to fuck up a simple kidnapping like that. My old man didn’t tolerate thugs who operated without his permission much.
" I am not going to take that risk with my daughter, Mr. Milano. Normally I’ve got a bodyguard of my own to keep an eye on her, but Ty is in the hospital. Food poisoning. So I need someone to fill in for him tomorrow night."
"So you came to me. Why me? Was it the wonderful ad in the trade press? My good reputation?"
"No. I called every agency in the book. You were the only one who could take the job on such short notice." My ego deflated like a hot air balloon.
"Lucky me," I said. "I guess you hired yourself a security specialist then, Mr. Caldwell." I got up and shook his hand. His handshake was even stronger then before now. He looked me straight in the eyes. The cold stare in it spooked me a little.
"I know about your father. If you fuck with me I’ll make sure you never work in this city again." The words came out very deliberately.
I nodded. I wanted to tell him to take his business elsewhere if he didn’t like my dad, but if I had to do that every time someone made a comment like that I wouldn’t have any clients at all. Besides, I wasn’t too crazy about my dad either.
"Don’t worry. I like women, not men." I assured him. It took a few moments for my joke to register with him. When it did he frowned instead of laughed.
"Very funny, Mr. Milano. Very funny," he said dryly. I thought it was too.
CHAPTER TWO
I agreed to pick up Caldwell’s daughter at eight. His Beverly Hills mansion was so big the maid probably used a map to navigate through it. Caldwell had made his fortune in construction. Boring maybe, but it obviously paid better than being a security specialist. I used to live in a place like this as well, back when I still worked for my dad. It used to take me ten minutes to decide which of the bathrooms I wanted to go to.
When I rang the doorbell I almost felt like I was picking up a girl to take to the prom. Hey, as a matter of fact, I guess I was! It was a shame I'd forgotten to bring a corsage.
Caldwell opened the door himself. "Come in Mr. Milano."
I followed him inside admiring the fancy furniture and expensive works of art on the wall. Nothing brightens up a place like some Picasso, right?
Walking to his mini bar he asked me if I wanted a drink. I declined. "No, sir. Not while I’m on the job. Professional ethics kind of thing."
He nodded. "Smart man. I’ll get Laurie for you." Score one for the cautious security specialist.
When he went up the stairs another person entered the living room through what I suspected was the kitchen. Of course it might as well have been another living room. It was a young man, about seventeen years old. He had a muscular build, bright blue eyes and blond hair, filled with gel. I was betting he was the school president. And of course, Laurie’s date for the prom.
"Hello," he said.
"Hi kid," I said. "Are you Laurie’s date?"
"Yes," he answered and extended his hand. I shook it. He had a nice grip for his age. "Stan Thomas. And you’re Laurie’s bodyguard tonight?"
I nodded. "Yep, that’s me. Don’t worry though, I’ll allow you two some privacy when you really need it. I was your age once, you know. As a matter of fact I think there was a bodyguard present at my prom too."
"There was?" he said, then his eyes went to the stairs Calhoun had ascended a minute ago. Laurie was a beautiful young girl. Her body looked slightly older in the blue tight dress she was wearing. She had perfectly coifed strawberry blond hair, big bright blue eyes, and the sweetest, most innocent smile I’d ever seen. Aside from my best friend Minnie’s, that is. Without a doubt a lot of guys in her school had sleepless nights over her.
"Hello, Stan," she said. Her voice was soft and thin. "Do you like my dress?"
"You look absolutely stunning," he said. Smooth.
"All right, with those formalities out of the way we can go," she said and hurried of the stairs. I noticed her voice wasn’t that soft anymore. It was still a nice voice, though. She gave me an inquisitive stare. "Are you Mr. Milano?" she asked.
"Call me Noah," I said. "I’m not that much older than you."
She nodded. "Cool. Let’s go." She took Stan’s hand and dragged him along like he was her baby brother.
"Wait a minute!" Calhoun yelled from the stairs. "Not before I take a picture for my little girl’s big prom." How heartwarming, I thought.
She sighed. "All right. Let’s get it over with."
After the pictures were taken we were ready to go. Just before I went through the door Calhoun put his hand on my shoulder. "Don’t let anything happen to my baby girl, Milano."
"Don’t worry, Mr. Caldwell. I’m a trained professional." I grinned. Judging by the look he gave me he wasn’t very convinced of that.
When we got in my Mazda and drove away to the prom I could see him in my rear-view mirror, not letting us out of his sight until we had driven around the corner.
Laurie and Stan sat down in the backseat of my Mazda. Stan put his arm over Laurie’s shoulder, but she didn’t make any effort to curl up to him. Cold. Well, I wasn’t getting paid to judge whether or not Mr. Caldwell’s baby girl was frigid or not. These days with all the scary diseases and all the teen pregnancies, I guess it’s not a bad thing for a girl that age to be a little non-aggressive when it comes to making out. I wondered for a moment if kids still called it that.
My thoughts were interrupted by Laurie’s soft voice. "I don’t really need a bodyguard that bad, you know. My dad’s just a little paranoid."
"Being paranoid’s not that bad," I said. "It’s the reason I’m still walking around with all my organs in working order. But don’t worry kid, I won’t be chaperoning you. I’m just here with you to see that you don’t get hurt."
"You know Mr. Milano, calling us kids is very patronizing. I’d appreciate it if you called her Laurie," Stan told me.
I smiled. "All right, I won’t call her kid anymore. If you don’t call me Mr. anymore. Mr. Milano is my dad, and believe me I don’t want to be my dad. We got a deal, kid?"
"Very funny, Milano. Very funny," Stan said. Laurie giggled softly. She seemed to think it was very funny too I guess.
"Why are you badmouthing your father like that, sir?" Laurie asked. "Did he hurt you or something?"
Somehow the directness of her question surprised me a little. I chewed on my lower lip for a while, then said, "No. He didn’t hurt me – physically anyway. But in other ways he hurt me and my mother a lot…" And why the hell was I telling her that?
In the rearview mirror I could see Laurie swallow. Stan fiddled with his cufflinks. Great, I upset the kids with my little confession. Why do all the shrinks say it’s not good to bottle up your feelings? It sure seems to avoid a lot of embarrassing moments. Truth was I guess I could kind of identify with Laurie. I knew the feeling of having a rich, powerful dad. Of never being able to go anywhere without a bodyguard. At least Kane taught me to be my own bodyguard after my eighteenth birthday. Of course Laurie’s father didn’t put people in cement shoes on a regular basis.
Not that I was aware of, anyway.
I decided to lighten the mood a little. "You guys like Creed?" I asked and didn’t wait for a reply, putting the tape in my deck. Powerful bass-guitars filled the car. I decided to keep my big mouth shut until we arrived at the prom. God only knew what else I would tell them if I didn’t.
The parking lot was filled with surprisingly expensive cars. I guess kids did well for themselves these days. Of course, I used to drive a Porsche when I was a kid too. I could already spot a couple making out in a forest-green Nissan. I guess they didn’t want to lose any time dancing and drinking punch.
I acted like a real expensive Hollywood bodyguard, getting out of the car to let Laurie and Stan out. I made a gallant gesture as they left the Mazda.
Stan held out his arm. Laurie took it, and they walked to the door of the club where the prom was being held. I followed them like a shadow, like I was paid to.
I knew this club. I used to go there when I was a bit younger. They didn’t play my kind of music anymore, though. These days I was more of a barfly I guess. Did that mean I was growing old?
There were two big bouncers front of the door. It was like the school hired the World Wrestling Federation for security. I suddenly wondered why Caldwell hired me. These guys seemed to be able to take care of anything short of an alien invasion. It was kind of sad, though, that these security measures were necessary these days. Still, someone had to keep the gangs out, and the English the math teachers probably weren’t qualified to do the job.
The bouncers nodded at Laurie and Stan and gave them a polite smile. I got a suspicious look.
I smiled at them. "I’m with the kids."
The bouncers frowned.
"He is," Laurie assured them. "He’s my bodyguard." Their frown deepened.
"I’m sure there’s nothing you guys can’t handle by yourselves, guys, but I’ve been hired to watch these kids, so…"
I didn’t think it was possible, but their frowns deepened even further.
"Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to do that," I said. "Your face will freeze like that permanently if you’re not careful."
I decided not to wait and see if they could appreciate the joke, and slipped through the door after Laurie and Stan.
CHAPTER THREE
As I went in, I was dazzled by the menagerie of kids I found. Guys wearing tuxes, green hair, and noserings. Girls with dresses so short I almost mistook them for underpants. It seemed like half the girls had gotten a boob-job for their birthday. When I was young they’d get a Barbie. Well, in the neighborhood where I lived they got a pony, but you know what I mean. I had to remind myself these girls were way too young for me.
The band was pretty good, playing college rock songs and grunge (who said it was dead?), some of their own, some covers. The bass-player was a bald guy with a giant dragon tattooed on his right arm, flaying his guitar like a madman. The vocalist clenched the mike like he was afraid they’d try to take it away from him, wailing into it like a man possessed. Good stuff, but not exactly slow dancing material. I guessed these kids didn’t need to dance cheek-to-cheek to have a good excuse to grope at each other.
I scanned the room for anyone who seemed to be out of place here, anyone who could be a threat. The only one who was out of place here was me, I decided. Besides, I didn’t really expect someone to do any harm to Laurie. I figured her dad was just a bit too concerned.
Laurie and Stan headed to the dance floor, leaving me behind next to the table with the punchbowl. Laurie glanced over her shoulder for a moment. Was she checking if I was okay? Nah, probably my imagination. Not quite sure how to behave as a stranger between these kids, I did what all guys do in situations like these. I put my hands in my pocket and leaned back against the wall, trying to look cool.
Apparently I did a good job of it, because soon, a pretty young girl tried to make eye-contact with me. Or she tried to figure out what an old geezer like me was doing there. I winked at her and smiled.
That was all the encouragement the girl needed. She came at me, doing her best to swing her slim hips like a femme fatale. She came pretty close to it, too. The girl was quite small, even for her age. She had blond hair, worn in a ponytail. It looked like she spent a lot of time brushing it. The red dress she wore accented her small breasts quite nicely. In some way however, the sexy outfit didn’t seem to fit with her sweet smile and soft blue eyes.
"Hi," she said focusing those big blues on my eyes. "I’ve never been in your class before. What do you teach?"
That hurt a little. I was hoping she was thinking I was a senior.
"I don’t. Teach I mean. I’m Laurie’s bodyguard."
I could see the admiration in her eyes. "A bodyguard? Like Kevin Costner you mean?"
I swear, us security specialists are never going to live down that blasted movie. I smiled anyway. "Not exactly. You see, I do my own stunts. And I don’t get paid as well as he does. On the good side, I still have all my hair."
She gave me a schoolgirl giggle. It served to put things in perspective for me, enhancing the age difference for me. I know, I know it was a disgrace I even needed that, but 10 years isn’t too much of an age difference is it?
"So, do you carry a gun, then?" she asked, brushing my arm with hers, as casually as she could.
"Yes, but I prefer to rely on my sharp wits and keen intellect.’
There was the schoolgirl giggle again.
She tried to stand even closer to me now. Now it was her breasts brushing against my arms. I had just arrived in the danger zone. Time to escape as casually as possible.
"Listen, I’m afraid you’re a bit too young for me, er…" Very casual, Noah. Very casual.
"Cindy. And I think age should be measured in experience, not years."
"Very philosophic, but the judge might not agree."
"Hey, I just turned eighteen. Don’t worry about it." Now, I really felt cornered.
"Cindy, I mean… I…I listen, I…" Way to go, wisecracking tough guy.
Then my savior arrived in the form of another gorgeous female specimen, but this one was at least 5 years older than me. She wore a blue skirt, with an impressive slit at the sides and a velvet white blouse. Blonde hair framed a beautiful and intelligent face with cute red cheeks and sexy green eyes. She put an arm around my shoulder and said, "There you, are! You promised me a dance, remember?"
With those words she guided me to the dance floor, not giving me a chance to protest. Not that I felt a need to. I was glad to be saved from the web of the Amazing Spider-Girl.
"Er… do I know you?" I asked as I stood in front of her, moving my hips to the beat of the band’s drummer.
"No, but I saw what was going on and had to save you. I felt so sorry for you. A big guy like you, backed into a corner by a young, innocent cheerleader. It was quite a pathetic sight." She laughed while she danced like she was in a Whitesnake video.
"You arrived just in time, too. I almost went for my gun," I said.
"Bullets may not be enough to stop Cindy when she sets her mind on something."
I glanced over my shoulder and could see Cindy staring at us. If looks could kill, it was time to call the paramedics for my beautiful savior.
"I see what you mean."
"You’re Laurie’s bodyguard, right?" she asked.
"Yeah, that’s right. How did you guess?"
"I saw you come in with her and she never goes anywhere without her bodyguard. Where’s Ty?"
"Sick, apparently. Flu season I guess."
"I guess." She peered over my shoulder. "Coast is clear. Cindy’s found another victim. Would you like some punch?"
"Sure," I said, checking if the danger had indeed subsided. It had, Cindy was snuggling up to a kid with a pierced lip and a goatee now. "The last time I had punch, it was in my face."
She laughed. "Comes with the profession, right?"
"Actually, it happened while I was shopping. The incident involved the last box of Capn’n Crunch on the shelves and a 70-year old lady with a good right hook."
She walked over to the table with the punchbowl. I followed, appreciating the way her behind moved in the tight dress.
"What’s your name, anyway?" she asked while she poured a glass full of punch.
"Milano," I said, "Noah Milano."
"Tamara Walters," she said and handed me the glass of punch.
"You’re a teacher, right?" I asked, sipping the punch. It wasn’t spiked. What a surprise.
"Yes, I am. English, in fact." She poured herself some punch as well.
"Well, in that case – to Shakespeare then," I said and toasted with her.
"To the Bard," she laughed.
While we toasted I could see Laurie heading to the front door. What, you thought I was too busy flirting with Tamara to be bodyguarding her? I had my eyes on her all the time. Well, one of them any way.
I excused myself and walked after her. As I came close enough I put my hand on her slim right shoulder and stopped her. "Where are you going?" I asked.
Laurie turned around to face me. Her face was angry. It made her even prettier. "I’m just going to the ladies room. God, paranoid android!"
"All right. Sorry, I overreacted a bit. I guess you can go to the bathroom by yourself."
While Laurie went to the bathroom I talked to Tamara some more. I liked her. She was intelligent, sweet, funny and beautiful. Wasn’t it every schoolboy’s dream to date their beautiful English teacher?
"So, Noah… What do you do when you’re not bodyguarding innocent rich girls?" she asked me.
"I like to dream about dating cute English teachers."
She flushed. The fiery red color on her cheeks became her. "That’s funny. I spend my off hours dreaming about dating bodyguards. Oh, and gardening, of course."
"Would you like to turn the dream into a reality some day?"
"Well, maybe I would. Do you like Indian food?"
"Sure," I lied. Actually, Indian food gave me gas. I handed her my card. "Call me."
"I just might," she said and her fingers brushed softly against mine as she took the card. Was this where Cindy had learned her tactics?
I glanced at my watch. Laurie was taking an awful long time in the restroom, even for a girl. I figured I had to look. Who knew? Maybe she got her head bashed in by a classmate she pissed off by not allowing her to copy her homework.
The ladies room was close to the door. A young couple was busily engaged in some heavy petting and kissing next to it. I ignored them and rapped my knuckles on the wooden door that said ‘LADIES’. I called out Laurie’s name. No answer. That bothered me. Still, I would feel pretty silly if I burst in the ladies room for nothing. I felt enough of a pervert about eyeing Cindy a bit too much already. I didn’t need to feel like a voyeur as well. Of course, if something had happened to Laurie I would feel a lot more than just silly.
I opened the door. There was a girl checking her lipstick in the mirror. No sign of Laurie though.
"Hey, what are you doing here you creep?" she asked me, wielding her lipstick like it was a knife.
"Relax," I said. "I’m not here to get my kicks. I’ve got cable television for that. I’m just looking for Laurie Caldwell. Have you seen her in here?"
"No, sorry," she said. "You’re her bodyguard, right?"
"Yep."
"You seem a lot nicer than that creep, Ty."
"Thanks." I checked the stalls. Empty, every one of them. Through the bathroom window, I heard the roar of a car, from the sounds it was in one hell of a hurry to leave the parking lot.
I drew my Glock and ran out of the room. I raced through the hallway, through the door, my heart beating in my throat. My mind went through all kinds of possibilities, none of them very pleasant. Sure, it could have been just some reckless kid showing off his wheels to his friends. It could also have been worse. As a security specialist, I was paid to think of the worst possibility.
When I got outside, pushing the security guards out of the way, I could see a black Volkswagen, racing away with great speed. I was pretty sure I glimpsed Laurie’s strawberry blond hair behind the driver. The license plate was covered with dirt, making it impossible to make out the number.
I went into a shooter’s stance. I aimed for the right tire of the Volkswagen, seeing the path of the bullet in my mind’s eye. One well- aimed shot should be able to stop it. Then I realized I was acting like a madman and lowered the gun. I had no reason to fire it. I had no proof Laurie was being kidnapped in that car. Maybe she went with it of her own free will.
One of the security guards pulled my arm. "Are you fucking crazy? What are you doing here with a gun in your hand?"
I couldn’t find the strength to say anything in my defense. The only thing I could think of was how I’d been entrusted to watch this girl and how I’d gotten distracted. The car was already out of sight. I’d screwed up.
Copyright© 2003 Jochem Vandersteen
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