A threat, even. It’s clear Jack cares for Milo beyond just his job.
I nod, all the while keeping my face neutral, because I won’t be seen backing down or looking weak in front of a peer. Jack doesn’t dwell long and heads deeper into the garage, where I presume he’s parked his car.
“The fitting with Ralph Lauren will take a good part of the afternoon. We’ll have to get right into it as soon as we arrive,” I hear Ray say when I take my position in the driver’s seat. He turns to me and adds, “I believe Price sent you the itinerary? With the flight delays, we’re running behind—oh, let me introduce you. Milo, this is your new trial bodyguard, Rowan. Rowan, Milo has been very excited to meet you.”
That’s what Ray says, but I can’t fathom why a pop idol would look forward to meeting his new bodyguard. And atempone at that. Ray clearly pointed out that I’m still on trial.
It’s impossible to tell what Milo’s thinking or to see his so-calledexcitement, since he’s still wearing those dark sunglasses. He’s smiling my way in a polite manner that’s all formality and not much else.
“I’m, uh, excited to meet you too,” I say, hoping I didn’t sound too flat. I’ve never been good at acting. “And yes, Price sent me the itinerary. Don’t worry, I’ll get you both there quickly and safely.”
Ray shoots me a grateful smile. “That would be much appreciated. Milo, you should get some rest. You won’t have much of that once we arrive.”
Milo doesn’t answer, and something about his posture tells me he’s already closed his eyes and was on the verge ofknocking out. I’m proven right when, not even a minute later, I see his head bob with the sway of the vehicle through the rearview mirror. It’s fallen onto Ray’s shoulder by the time I’m pulling onto the highway.
Ray’s easy acceptance of being a makeshift pillow tells me this is a normal occurrence. He catches my eye in the mirror and offers, “He doesn’t rest well on planes.”
I can’t do much else but nod and focus on the road. Despite the constant construction, New York’s roads are littered with potholes. I try my best to avoid them, but that’s impossible for some parts of the highway.
Milo’s head bobs again and hits Ray’s shoulder hard. A particularly rough patch of road has his body jolting slightly into the air before his head lands hard back on Ray’s shoulder.
It looks painful, but Milo doesn’t seem to wake. It makes me wonder if the man is trulythattired or just lacking a defense mechanism.
The last bump would have had me sitting up straight, ready for battle, but not him, apparently. Milo’s still knocked out, his neck twisted in a position that can’t possibility be comfortable, and snuggles deeper onto Ray’s shoulder blade.
His sunglasses slip from his nose to reveal thick blond eyelashes that twitch slightly in his sleep. He must be dreaming about food, because his lips smacking loudly echoes inside the SUV.
Ray is oblivious to all this and is intently focused on the MacBook on his lap. Meanwhile, I’m fascinated by all the little movements I catch glimpses of in my mirror.
Not in a creepy,I’m-watching-youway, but in the normal, keeping-my-eyes-on-my-charge way.
It’s literally my duty to watch over him. And sure, maybe the job description doesn’t include peeking at him while he sleeps, but I consider this as studying my target. Getting to know him and his habits is an important part of being a bodyguard too.
There’s nothing wrong with being thorough.
By the time I pull into a parking garage close to the destination, I manage to convince myself of just that. I’m taking my duty seriously and following my tasks to a tee.
Ray closes his laptop and gently nudges Milo. “Rise and shine, goblin. We’re here,” he says and bumps his shoulder to jolt Milo up.
I’m confused by the nickname. Nothing about Milo screamsgoblin, but I find myself thinking it suits him. I don’t have time to dwell onwhythat is, since Milo pops his eyes open with alertness, as if he hadn’t just been snoozing for the last hour, and then we’re exiting the SUV.
Milo folds his Ray-Bans and slides them into the pocket of his hoodie. The fabric pulls up at his belly as he stretches his arms over his head. His jeans are low cut and give me a peek of lean muscles, bare of hair, and a sparkle of something in his belly button.
Is that a piercing?
And just the fact that I can see his belly button piercing means he’s not wearing anything underneath that thin hoodie. He’s dressed like he’s planning a chill day in Palm Springs rather than braving the cold of the Northeast.
Even if he was out of town until today, surely he must have heard about the snowstorm? Surely he has a plan to keep himself warm other than shivering in his single layer of protection?
Apparently not. Milo crosses his arms and starts trembling. He makes a whistling sound that’s a cross between a lowbrrrand sucking in cold air. Just looking at him makes me feel cold, and I’m about to give him the coat off my back, but Ray is rushing us forward before I get a chance to.
Ray is almost a foot shorter than me, but he’s speeding ahead like a true New Yorker. Milo and I are practically sprinting to keep up, which I guess does wonders in warming Milo up. The snow has stopped, but the cold is still sticky in the air.
Someone is already waiting for us in the lobby and gives us a quick greeting as soon as we enter the building, before herding us to the elevators.
She speaks so fast I don’t catch her name, but Ray is completely tuned in to their discussion of suitable fabrics and buttons. Milo’s eyes dart around the elevator, taking in the magazine covers featured on the wall, and I have the distinct feeling he’s either disinterested or as lost in the conversation as I am.
A horde of people meets us when we reach our floor and promptly whisks Milo away. Ray’s still in deep talks as we follow them into what looks like a giant fitting room. Clothes and fabric are thrown all over, probably organized by some arbitrary system that goes way over my head.
