Page 8 of Forced Proximity

I know what she wants. I’m just not sure if I can hear it.

Chapter 4

Lexi

The strong, musky aroma of the sweat-stained plastic from the sticky mats usually gives me the jolt of energy I need to train. But not today. The video of Justin I saw yesterday left me uneasy, unfocused and with a raging case of decision paralysis.

I wrap my legs around Marcus to isolate his arm, but he flips me over and knocks me on my back. Ouch.

‘You’re off your game.’ Marcus hops up from the mat and retakes a fighting stance. ‘Talk to me. What’s your resistance with this assignment?’

I meet his stance, flex my core and bend my arms. When he lunges, I pin him with my elbow across his neck and squeeze my thighs across his waist until he taps me. ‘I hate arrogant men.’ I swipe the sweat beads off my brows. ‘No matter what they say, I can hear their condescending thoughts from a million miles away.’

‘Weren’t you raised with four brothers?’ Marcus asks, crouching.

‘They’re not arrogant.’ I pounce, grab him by the shirt and flip him over. ‘What’s this guy’s daily life like? Reading scripts and picking out which model to bang? No thanks.’

Sweat seeps into Marcus’s gray T-shirt. He swipes his forearm across his forehead and calls for a break. ‘You’re not gonna like this, but I’m calling it. You think people like him are morally inferior to you, don’t you?’

I hate when he’s right. ‘I didn’t say that.’ But I didn’t have to. Seriously, what’s wrong with me? I sit on the floor and gulp back water. Obviously, I know these thoughts are unfair. I just can’t help it. People like Justin – Hollywood elite who don’t understand the working-class struggle, even when something like a freaking tornado hits their town – completely get under my skin.

‘You’ve dealt with rich assholes before. Hell, that’s fifty percent of the clientele.’ Marcus reaches for a water bottle. ‘What is it about Justin specifically that pisses you off so much?’

His no-show at the Midwest tornado fundraiser pushed me over the edge. But truthfully, I’ve never liked him and can’t pinpoint exactly why. Over the years, I’ve seen him on red carpets and in interviews, and he has this ultra-confident air that rubs me the wrong way. Trust me, I love me a man or woman with confidence. But this has surpassed typical confidence and moved straight into epic-level arrogance.

If there were just a couple of incidents, I could’ve probably looked past it. But there’s a ton to back up my theory that he’s a total ass. Him entering the red carpet doing the tango with his co-star and then leaving her to face the cameras on her own like he couldn’t be bothered. Interviews where he’s looking everywhere but at the person with the microphone, annoyed at the lobbed questions. Or the ones where he was so over-the-top charming, I nearly pulled out my checkbook to buy a used car.

Now, admittedly, I haven’t followed much about him online in the last few years. But someone like that doesn’t change. And meeting him yesterday with his cocky smile and irritated words did nothing to change my mind.

‘How did his team find me?’ I ask, dragging a towel across my neck. ‘There are other female bodyguards in the city.’

Marcus pulls back his arms in a stretch. ‘Someone I know from the production studio reached out to me. So, I showed them your work. And your picture.’

I shoot him a fierce glance and reach for a glucose tab. It took me a long time to get to the place where I’m comfortable and confident in my skin. But the idea that I was hired for my looks, over my tactical skills and speed, makes me rage.

But the video Anthony showed me yesterday shook me. Dozens of scenes from Justin’s action movies were strung together, all showing close-ups of his face in pain. Slashed across the screen was the message: ‘he has no idea what’s coming,’ which left me on edge about leaving Justin unprotected. I may not like him very much but that doesn’t mean I want someone to get hurt because my ego took a hit. And after looking at the extremely limited available agents who could commit three to six months right now – none who have even close to the level of experience I do – I know I’m the best one for the job.

I flick my fingers against the mat. Ugh. I’m so going to regret this. ‘Give me the rundown on the people closest to Justin. I’m not saying I’m taking the job, but at least I can have better insight into what’s happening.’

Marcus wipes his hands on a towel and pulls his laptop from his bag. After putting on his bifocals, he takes a breath. ‘Zane Mackey, twenty-nine. Non-binary, pronouns they/them. Personal assistant, going on six years. Minor run-ins with the law. Arrested at a protest a few years ago. Bunch of parking tickets. Nothing concerning.’ Marcus swipes his thumb across the mouse pad. ‘Anthony Rodgers, male, forty-three. Manager. Been with Justin for over ten years. No priors, nothing concerning.’ He pauses and takes a sip of water. ‘Spends time with a college friend, Conner Dolan, male, thirty-two. He works in finance, no priors. And Justin has a sister, Mia Greenwood, who lives in Seattle. Recovering addict, a few non-violent drug possession arrests, and rehab stints. According to the research, she’s been clean about two years.’ Marcus removes his bifocals. ‘Of course, there’s the situation with his dad.’

I flex my foot until my calves burn. ‘What about his dad?’

‘You don’t know about his dad?’ Marcus asks like I spend all my time reading everything about this guy, which I assure you I don’t. ‘Even I saw this in the headlines a few years ago. Didn’t you see it?’

Picturing a very serious Marcus putting on his reading glasses to scour a Us Weekly article cracks me up. ‘Must’ve missed it. What happened?’

‘He died a few years ago but sounds like he was involved in some shady, Ponzi-like business dealings. Some hefty conspiracies swirled around about his death but sounds like he died from a heart attack. Anyway, after some investigation, nothing came from the crooked deals but one of his close colleagues went to prison.’

Oof. Having something like that so public would be mortifying, and now that Marcus mentions this, I have a vague recollection of the story. Well, this is both helpful and not helpful. Anyone of these people can be potential suspects. ‘Girlfriends? Boyfriends? Significant others?’

‘Right now, no. At least they didn’t give us any and none from the research.’ Marcus says, glancing up from the laptop. ‘But of course, there’s everything that happened with Willow Summerland …’

Willow Summerland? The stunning red-headed actress who looks like a real-life Jessica Rabbit? My ears perk at her name, more than what’s necessary for a job. I don’t like this physiological reaction one bit and I shrug it off. ‘Yep. I’m blissfully ignorant. What happened?’

Marcus gives me a quick debrief and I have proof confirming I’m human and not a total asshole – my heart pinches. Being cheated on so publicly would suck.

When I proposed to Katey, I knew it would be forever. No doubt existed in my mind that she was my person. We’d met right after high school, became best friends and fell in love. Sure, my parents raised their eyebrows when we got married at twenty-one. But why wait? I’d said. I’d found the one. We had the type of love my parents had, the type people cry over in movies and pray to whatever entity they believe in that they’ll find for themselves someday.