3. Katie
Chapter 3
Katie
T he next morning, I wake up early because I have to make it into the courtroom on time.
I didn’t get enough sleep because all I could think of was the sexy male sleeping in the room next to mine. My mind ran over every bit of our dinner conversation, the sound of his voice and the curve of his lips. And I learned that he likes my pizza. Watching him devour that pizza and ask for more was simply amazing.
I’m losing my mind.
I sit up and push my hair back from my face, forcing myself to get started. No sleeping in today. The distance from my home to the courthouse isn’t all that far, but because of crazy San Francisco traffic it will take an eternity. It would technically be quicker to walk or bike to the courthouse, but because of the recent danger, I can’t be exposed like that on the streets. Darn it.
I step into the small hallway while dressed only in my cutest robe and underwear and glance at the door to the second bedroom. It’s standing open. Vander is long gone. His bed is made and all of his weapons look neatly organized.
Hmm.
I hear banging sounds from the kitchen. Is he making coffee? I hope so.
“I’m taking a shower,” I yell out. “I’ll be in here awhile dominating the bathroom. I hope that’s okay and you won’t need it?”
I hear a grunt.
Because I know that’s the extent of his dialogue, I get in and start getting ready.
I’m the type who has a lot of hair on my head and on my legs so there’s always a lot to do. I wash my hair, twice, and then put in conditioner. All the while I think of the big, blue alien bodyguard who lives with me now. My new roommate. My new security detail. Or could he one day become my new boyfriend?
No, Katie. Not your boyfriend. Never your boyfriend.
Then I shave my legs and thighs and even the tops of my feet and toes. I have to do this every day during the spring, summer and fall. It’s annoying, but I like wearing shorts and skirts, so this is what needs to be done.
Then I’m out and I dry off with my favorite fluffy white towel and put some fancy oil in my long hair that is supposed to make it shiny and healthy. I pause to moisturize my face and body. Soon I’m all dried off and back in the robe.
I return to my bedroom to figure out what to wear and lay out my clothes. It’s a beautiful fall day outside in San Francisco, which means the weather is mild. I glance through my clothes, trying to figure out what to wear this time. Nothing sexy, nothing that will make me stand out. I need darker colors and comfy shoes. Nothing tight. I’ve already learned that it’s chilly in that courtroom, so I need layers.
I get it all laid out. Then I go back into the bathroom to blow out my hair and put on some makeup.
Vander catches sight of me. “Hurry up,” he growls.
I chuckle because I know that I’m not really taking that long. Apparently even alien men get impatient at a woman getting ready.
In the bathroom, I give my hair a shiny blow out. Then I brush my teeth and apply a light layer of make-up. I’m back in the bedroom putting the clothes on and I check my watch. I wear my most comfortable bra and pull on some comfy, wide-legged, cream-colored pants—the kind that look tailored and professional but feel like pajamas. I slip my feet into shiny black loafers that are super comfortable and pull on a pale pink, short-sleeved, dolman, cashmere sweater that’s thin and a tad bit oversized. Then I pull over this my favorite black blazer.
I add small gold hoop earrings.
Ready.
I’m standing by the front door at exactly the time he’d indicated. I grab my pre-packed, brown leather tote bag and smile up at him. “Right on time.”
He grunts. Vander is somehow more handsome than yesterday. He’s indeed wearing that shiny chest armor he referenced, and his weapons somehow appear more deadly. I feel like a noble lady being protected by a modern knight.
“You thought I’d be late. But I’m not. I’m an on-time person, but I’m not early. I’m never late for work. I know exactly how long it takes me to get ready, but I don’t start early because why bother.” I glance at the kitchen. “But I would love a…”
He hands me a warm travel mug.
“Oh, is this…”
“Yes, it’s that dark brew with no sweetener that you like.”
“How did you even know?”
“I do my research.”
A goofy smile spreads across my face as Vander guides me out the front door and locks up behind us. He’s right at my side as we step out the front door to the car that he’s pulled up and parked on the curb. It looks big and black, like something a celebrity or politician would drive.
I do a quick glance and see no one on the street, which is surprising. “Where is everyone? Usually when I leave like this there’s people out here with signs, yelling out my name and trying to get pictures or interviews.”
“I got rid of the humans and created a perimeter of safety around your house.”
“You did? How?”
He doesn’t respond.
Heh.
He’s all around me as we get into the big, black shiny car. The back seat is large and comfortable, and I feel spoiled because I’m the only one back here. This whole car is for me. I’m used to driving my small EV that I keep parked in my tiny garage space behind my home.
Vander gets in front and expertly drives us down the streets of San Francisco, as if he were born and raised here.
I glance down at my cell phone and see a new text message and smile. “Hey, good news,” I tell him. “The gag order on the defendant is in place so he can’t dox me anymore or talk about me, nor can any of his surrogates or any of those media people.”
“I know.”
I set down the phone, feeling light-hearted. This is indeed good news. I have my privacy back. Well, everyone already knows where I live and they even passed my picture around on those weird dark web sites. But at least they will have to take it all down and there won’t be more of this.
And I glance at the back of Vander’s head. And now I have a badass alien hunter to protect me. I have a feeling no one will get past him.
Eventually we pull into the downstairs parking garage of the federal courthouse. Vander finds a space that is unbelievably close to the entrance and boldly leaves the SUV in a secured spot. Soon he’s opening my door and hustling me into an empty hallway.
In moments we walk together, through a side door, into the main entrance of the courthouse that everyone must pass through. It’s an enormous space with lots of people hustling to get where they need to be and lots of security. I get ready to pass through the metal detectors and get patted down.
Vander growls when they guards try to do the same to him.
The guards look wide eyed at his blue muscles and flash of fang and sputter at the futuristic weapons strapped to Vander’s body and his shiny armor.
A woman strides forward, very official-looking, most likely their boss. “Let this man through. Vander Best and his client have been precleared. He’s always to be let through and so is his charge.”
Vander grunts in agreement and places a hand on the small of my back and guides me away. Normally, I’d never let a man touch me in this way without my consent, but I love the feel of his hand on my body, even through two layers of clothes. It feels right.
He directs me to the closest elevator. It seems to open quickly and we both step inside. Other people in suits try to get in too and he shoves them out over their protestations and soon the doors close and we’re going up, just the two of us.
“That was rude.”
He crosses his arms. “But you are safe.”
We exit on the correct floor and he’s right beside me again. I don’t even have to tell him where to go, he simply guides me to the jury waiting room as if he’s been here before and soon I’m there and he’s in a seat in a corner.
Everyone else on the jury, people I’ve befriended over the last week, stare at him in wonder. For some reason they’ve all voted to have me as their jury foreperson, which is scary and nice at the same time.
“Who is that?”
“His name is Vander Best. He’s my new bodyguard.”
They all nod in understanding because they know what happened to me and how dangerous it’s been.
“He gets to stay in this room with us?” someone whispers.
“I guess?”
“He’s an alien, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“His skin is so blue,” Nelson gripes.
Alisha, a young college student with long, glossy, black hair and incredible legs, sighs with delight. She smiles at Vander with perfect teeth. “I think he’s handsome.”
A spark of jealousy hits me hard. I can’t help but glance across the room at Vander, who grins back at me. I bet he’s heard every word. “He’s got amazing hearing,” I warn them. “Whatever you say, even if you think you’re whispering, he can hear.”
“Oh good,” Alisha says, tossing her lovely hair over her shoulder and giving him a wink.
“How did you end up with this fancy security that the rest of us don’t get?” Nelson, who is retired and the oldest among us, grumbles.
I put my hands up and tell the honest truth. “My dad paid for it.”
“Your dad can afford this guy to be here for the next few weeks? How rich are you? I thought you were normal, like the rest of us, but you’re some rich princess, aren’t you?”
There’s a growl in the corner and Vander is glaring at Nelson with his hand on the nearest weapon.
I step close to Nelson. “He just likes to bluster,” I inform Vander. “He means no harm.”
Vander nods, crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.
“Isn’t an alien bodyguard a little over the top?” Nelson sputters.
“I am a hunter,” Vander answers with his deep, melodious voice.
Everyone turns to look at him and the room grows quiet.
“What did he say?” a man in a suit questions.
“I said, I’m not a bodyguard. I am a hunter.” Vander inhales loudly. “And not only can I hear everything, but I can scent everything. I know what each of you consumed for your first meal today.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Oh, shut up Nelson,” another man interjects, “Katie is the only one of us who isn’t anonymous anymore. She’s trying to stay, even though she’s been outed and the only way to stay is with that extra guard. If her family can afford it, then all the better. Really, since he’s here guarding her, in effect, he’s guarding all of us, so it’s all good.”
A courthouse guard enters the room. “The judge has called court into session. It’s time to go.”
And we all file out and get started.
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted.
The judge gave us directions and then we barely got started on the actual trial. The scariest part was the defendant, the famous guy charged with tax fraud—he glanced at us often and I swear met my gaze for a second and glared. A shiver of fear ran down my spine. Suddenly I feel twice as thankful that Vander is with me, considering this guy knows where I live and in fact his followers doxed me and let the world know my address.
I sat in my uncomfortable wooden jury seat, taking notes, or went to a small room behind the court. They sent out for a nice lunch for all of us and good drinks and snacks, so it’s not all that bad. But still, taking notes and then trying to understand law when I don’t know law at all, is hard. It’s like I’m back in college. I have a very serious job, trying to remain neutral even though I’m of course angry at the defendant for doxing me and then glaring at me in court. He seems to think that I was already against him and what’s sad is it’s really his behavior that’s hurting my neutrality. But I’m also taking my role as juror very seriously. If the evidence shows he’s innocent, then he’s innocent. If the evidence shows he’s guilty, then he’s guilty. I’m ready to find him innocent if that’s the way this plays out in the end.
There’s a team of journalists in the court, from all the major networks and publications. Luckily the judge didn’t allow the proceedings to be televised, but there is still someone who is drawing pictures of the defendant. All of us on the jury are still anonymous.
Somehow, Vander was able to get a seat in the back row. It really does make me feel safe, knowing he’s there.
The day runs long and we’re finally excused in the early evening. I leave with the jury and head out through the back rooms again.
Vander is right there, with his hand on my elbow. “Let’s go.”
We leave the way that we arrived. This time I demand that many of my fellow jurors are allowed with us on the elevator.
He frowns but allows it. “Only jurors,” he growls.
Alisha stands next to me. “It’s amazing how he manages to get this hallway clear for us. No one is here, not even the guards.”
“They are all stationed around the corner,” Vander growls. “This jury is anonymous, and I will make sure it stays that way.”
“Heh,” a nice man who works at the docks says. “I’ve decided that I like having Vander Best here with us. Makes things quieter.”
I glance over at Vander and decide I like it too.
Soon we are in the garage again. The others disperse to their own cars and Vander opens the fancy car just for me.
We get home and all I want to do is kick off my shoes and change into my favorite loungewear set, which is what I do. I lay on the bed for a moment, looking out the window, loving the quiet. But then I feel guilty that I have no idea what Vander is doing. Also, I miss him when he’s not near.
I get up and find him in the guest bedroom, sitting on the chair, tapping on his high-tech, hand-held glass screen. He’s removed his armor and is bare-chested again.
“How about I make us a quick dinner? You’d think I’d want to order out, but I had a big takeout for lunch and I’d just like something small and simple for dinner. Like soup and some ice cream. Also, I noticed you didn’t eat with us, which worries me. A big male like you can’t live on nutrition bars alone.”
He perks up. “Pistachio ice cream?”
“Yes.”
He stands and follows me to the kitchen. “Do you want me to cook?”
“No, I want to feed you because I like to cook and I haven’t had anyone to cook for since Shelby left. Don’t you eat with all your clients?”
“No. No one has wanted to eat with me before.”
“Oh, well that’s rude and inconsiderate.”
“I am only the hunter. Our relationship is I protect and they get to continue their lives.”
And suddenly I feel sad at the thought of this ending someday and I never see him again.
I open a lot of cans and heat up a quick five bean soup with lots of melted cheese and a loaf of reasonably fresh baguette. He loves it. And I make sure to give him a big bowl of ice cream.
While we eat, I tell stories of my childhood growing up in San Francisco, which he seems to find fascinating. He surprises me with stories of how he was taught to hunt by his mother, which are a thousand times more fascinating than growing up around here. I learn that he has a very large family and he keeps in touch with them even though he lives far away.
I find myself staring at him in wonder as he talks, because he’s so handsome. I love that beard and the ripple of muscles on his forearms is swoon-worthy. At the same time he’s easy to talk to and I simply enjoy his company.
Vander insists on helping me clean up.
I bend over to put a dish back in a lower cabinet. I glance back over my shoulder and I’m startled at what I see: Is he staring at my ass?
Vander lets out a nervous cough and our gazes meet and we both stand quietly. I’m not sure what to say and I don’t think he knows what to do either.
“I’m going to do a final check of the perimeter, then bed,” he finally announces.
And then he’s gone.
And a big smile widens across my face.