Carla Cassidy - The Bodyguard's Promise

Gracie stared at Clay with wide blue eyes, eyes that quickly filled with tears. Those tears splashed down her cheeks and her lower lip quivered as if her little heart was breaking.

She laughed then, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “That was pretend tears,” she explained.

At that moment Helen came into the room to begin serving breakfast, and Clay found himself wondering how in the hell with these two females anyone ever knew what was truth and what was pretend.

Maxim Studios, where Gracie’s current film, Revenge of the Kids , was being filmed was just off Sunset Boulevard. As always, when they passed through the security gates of the movie studio, Libby felt a small thrill tremble through her. She had spent most of her childhood dreaming of the day when a security guard at a movie studio would greet her by name and flag her car through with a welcoming smile.

As they parked and got out of the car to enter the building where Gracie would work for the day, Libby tried to keep her attention focused on Gracie and not on the man who accompanied them. But it was difficult.

He wasn’t wearing jeans today, but instead wore a pair of black dress slacks with a silver-and-black pinstriped dress shirt. He’d looked raw and male in his jeans. He looked hot and utterly male in dress clothes.

Why hadn’t Charlie hired somebody who was fifty pounds overweight and balding? Why couldn’t he have hired somebody about fifty years old instead of this thirty-year-old man with evocative green eyes and taut six-pack stomach muscles?

“What happens now?” he asked Libby as they entered the building where there seemed to be people and activity everywhere.

“She goes directly to makeup.”

“There’s so many people around,” he said, obviously tense.

“It’s a movie set, Clay. It takes a lot of people to make a movie.” She still clung to the hope that the threats in the letters would turn out to be nothing, that Clay’s presence in their lives was nothing more than an unnecessary precaution.

Besides, surely the person responsible for the horrid letters couldn’t be somebody they knew, couldn’t be somebody who really knew Gracie. Everyone who knew Gracie loved her. Not only was she incredibly talented, but she had a heart filled with love and a sweet nature that brought smiles to everyone around her.

They followed Gracie into the room where her makeup would be applied. As she sat in the chair and the makeup artist got to work, Clay leaned toward Libby.

“Are all these people’s names on the list you made for me?” he whispered so nobody else would be able to hear.

She looked around the busy room and frowned. “Some, but not all of them,” she admitted. She wished he’d step back from her. He stood so close she could smell the pleasant clean scent of him, could feel the heat from his body radiating toward her.

“Can you get a complete list of everyone working on the film from the director?”

“I guess I could try, although such a request might bring up difficult questions.”

“I have every confidence that a woman of your resolve will think of something,” he said smoothly. For some reason he made it sound like a bad thing that she was a strong, determined woman.

He probably liked his women soft and warm and subservient to his big, strong, silent type. He wouldn’t find a woman like that in Hollywood. Here it was eat or be eaten. Only the strong survived.

They didn’t get an opportunity to talk again until Gracie was on the set and Clay and Libby made their way to a section of chairs designated for the parents of the little actors.

“Libby, dear, tell me where you found this handsome hunk.” Delores Gleason, the single mother of six-year-old Malcolm, heaved a sigh that nearly burst her D breasts completely out of their C cups. She held out a hand to Clay. “Please, tell me you have a brother,” she exclaimed.

“I’ve got four, but two are already spoken for,” Clay said as he pulled his hand from her grasp. “And those remaining two live a long way from Hollywood.”

“Hmmm, too bad. I was just telling my little Malcolm the other day that it was time for Mommy to find a new man, but of course I assured him that he’d always be the number-one little man in Mommy’s life. He’s going to be a big star, you know. It’s just a matter of time.”

Libby could almost see Clay’s eyes glazing over as Delores extolled the talents of her son. Delores was a bore…a caricature of a pushy, overbearing stage mother.

“We’re just waiting for the right vehicle to come along to carry him to stardom.” Delores smiled thinly at Libby. “Sooner or later something is going to come along.”

“Ah, but right now the movie industry seems to be hot for little girls.” Richard Walker joined them and Libby quickly made the introductions. Richard was the father of Gracie’s best friend, Kathryn. He was also a single parent.

Libby introduced Clay to the rest of the parents, then it was time to take their seats as the director, Jordan Rutherford, came onto the set to begin the day’s work.

Libby still didn’t know what she felt about Clay West. Most of the people who came to work for her or for Gracie were overtly eager to please, deferential to the point of being irritating.

In the brief time she’d spent with Clay, he certainly hadn’t been particularly deferential. Rather, she had the distinct impression he didn’t like her, didn’t approve of her lifestyle and couldn’t wait to get out of town.

What she found odd was that what people thought of her had never bothered her before, not since she’d left that dreary little town in Pennsylvania. She’d known she’d need to be hard and cold to survive in this world. What she didn’t know was why Clay West bothered her in a way nobody had since she’d arrived in Hollywood.

The morning passed quickly. Lunch break came and while Clay sat with Gracie, Libby went in search of Anna Baxter, the director’s assistant.

“Anna, could I speak to you for a moment?”

Anna looked like she was somewhere between the age of twelve and fourteen. She was a tiny young woman with gamine features that belied her real age of almost thirty.

“Of course, I can always make time for the mother of our little star.” She looked harried and busy, but the smile she offered Libby was genuine.

“I was wondering if there’s any way you could get me a list of all the people who are working on the movie.” Libby forced a light burst of laughter. “Gracie has it in her head that she wants to start a scrapbook and insists she wants to know the names of everyone who worked on this film.”

“Sure, I can probably get a list from payroll. How about I have it for you first thing in the morning?”

“That would be great,” Libby replied, relieved that she didn’t ask questions about the request but seemed to accept Libby’s explanation.

Lunch passed and the workday concluded at two. They were getting ready to leave when the director called to Libby, “I need to talk to you.”

A cold dread filled the pit of her stomach. Had her request for the list of people set off some sort of alarm? Or had somehow word filtered out that Gracie was receiving threats?

“Talk to me about what?” she asked after she’d made the introductions between him and Clay.

Jordan Rutherford smiled and ruffled Gracie’s hair affectionately. Rutherford was a big man with a frizzy head of snow-white hair that he wore too long and that gave him an almost demented look. “About our little girl, what else? A script hit my desk yesterday that I think is perfect for her. I’d like to finish up this project and roll right into another with her.”

“I don’t know, Jordan. We’re currently in the preliminary negotiations with Walter Zicar for a new project.”