Page 37 of Guarded
Ofelia walks to the other side of the bar and fills a glass cup before placing it in front of me. I pull out a can of cat food, put the inflatable dish I keep for Guapo in my bag, and set it next to him.
“Don’t let that one get to you. She has diarrhea of the mouth and thinks we can’t all smell it.” Ofelia says before setting down my soda. I let out a small laugh, but I couldn’t help but not let Shawny get to me.
I sip on my soda while Ofelia pulls out a clipboard and goes through the different bottles on the shelves behind her. I want to ask her five million questions, but I can tell she’s busy, so I hold off.
I just need something to distract my brain from going wild with imaginary scenarios about Nero and Shawny. It pisses me off to think of them together. I don’t know why it does, but it does. Maybe because I know all we’ll ever have was this client-employee relationship he consistently reminded me of.
I pull out my phone and bring up Instagram. Since I uploaded a selfie with Sergio and my newly restored hair, I have received over a hundred notifications.
The caption:Forever Blonde.
The hype in my comments section is real. I go through and like my favorite ones.
NotThaliaConsuleo: Perrisima
CoopersWorld: She’s backkkkk
JavierGomez2304: ¿A que hora vas por el pan mami?
Ofelia exits through swinging doors to the kitchen behind the bar. Guapo has decided he likes her and follows her into the office.
“Guapo!” I call out, but she waves me off.
“He’s fine. He can come back here with me,” Ofelia says.
So much for being my emotional support pet. I swear Guapo was suffering from Alzheimer’s because he seemed to forget that I should be his number one priority.
I’m left alone at the bar until Shawny returns and starts wiping down the counters. When she’s done, she places a bottle with a shot glass in front of me.
“A little Don Julio to take away the nerves?” she says, pouring tequila into the glass.
“Oh, I don’t drink,” I say, and she lets out a laugh.
“Of course you don’t.” The sarcastic tone is thick.
She lifts the glass to me and smirks before downing the shot. I go back to my phone in an attempt to ignore her, but she keeps poking.
“You know you’re not what I would expect Nero to go for.”
“You shouldn’t expect anything, considering he’s just my bodyguard,” I murmur.
“Right.” She says and pours another shot.
“I mean, all this Polly Pocket shit isn’t his type.” Her laugh is cruel, and I feel the weight of her insult in the most vulnerable parts of me.
“And you know his type?” I challenge, my nostrils flaring.
“I do. He likes everything dark. Wild and untamed. He likes tight leather, impact play, and full domination. Someone he can ruin with no commitment. Not the Barbie doll that breaks too easy.”
Her words cause my pulse to thrum. I swallow down her insult and glare at her. She smiles at my defeat, pours another shot, and pushes it in front of me.
The burning of the tequila down my throat is easier to push down than her vile truth. I knew I wasn’t Nero’s type, but the confirmation from someone else, someone who was his type, made the reality of my delusions sting. Shawny fills the glassagain, and I down it. It’s the only way to distract myself from the stinging behind my eyes.
Chapter 11
Nero
“Nice of you to show up motherfucker.” Jasper says.
