chapter five
Wren
When we’re at home, Jay doesn’t need to be in the same room as me. If I want to leave, I have to find him somewhere. Each reincarnation of Jay is most typically in the security room, called the Crow’s Nest, or his room, which is one down from Angelica’s. I find my current Jay in his room this time. He is unpacking a suitcase of identical black shirts and pants on his bed. He looks up when I knock on the doorframe. An eyebrow quirks in question.
“I’m going to meet my friend for coffee,” I say. “At The Beanery.”
He puts down the garment he’s holding and meets me at the door, gesturing for me to lead the way. Downstairs at the front doors, I wave at a Crow, one of the security staff not assigned as a bodyguard. He straightens up in his seat at the sight of me and Jay. His eyes narrow at Jay in confusion. I look up at Jay and say, “You have to tell security we’re leaving.”
“Excuse me?” The first day jitters are audible in his quiet voice.
“You have to say into the microphone ‘Blue Jay leaving the nest with Wren. Destination The Beanery. Anticipated guests Gemma and Lance,’” I explain to him. If he doesn’t inform security headquarters we are leaving, he’d lose his job. My goal is to get him to rage quit his assignment to me, not lose his career. I’m not entirely heartless.
Jay lifts a hand to his earpiece and fumbles at pressing a button. He clears his throat and says in his smooth, deep, quiet voice, “Blue Jay leaving the nest with Wren. Destination The Beanery…. Guests are Gemma and Lance.” He pauses as he listens to someone on the other end. “Yes, sir.”
He presses the button to turn off his microphone and looks down at me expectantly. I wave again to the Crow and leave with Jay on my heels. The walk to the Beanery isn’t very long, but many Jays in the past have insisted we take a car. This Jay doesn’t seem to care as we stroll down the busy sidewalk. People part around us as we walk, giving us a wide berth. That often happens with Jays, but especially with one so large. Scary dog privilege includes personal space on NYC sidewalks.
The scent of The Beanery wafts out to us as we get closer. I smile when I see Gemma and her bodyguard Lance are already seated at a little bistro table outside. She is wearing a wide brimmed black sun hat over her curly blonde hair and huge sunglasses. She waves dramatically at me as I approach. Lance’s eyes are surveying the area on a continual swivel, but he smiles and gives a nod when he sees me. I gesture to Gemma that I am going to order before sitting down.
“Gemma is my best friend and Lance is her bodyguard,” I say over my shoulder as we get in line to order.
Jay nods, but he fixes his eyes apologetically on a woman and child that hurry out of his way, as if he is a threat. This happens often with a masked bodyguard. It is one pressure of the job I can’t intentionally inflict. It occurs enough Hawk has a prepared business card and speech for the occasion. “This is my bodyguard. You’re safe. Here’s the card for the security firm he works for. I’m sorry he scared you. Here, I’ll buy your coffee,” I say soothingly to the woman as she takes the card from my hand.
“Is he a GI Joe?” the little boy asks warily. His wide eyes never leave Jay.
“He sure is!” I say happily.
“I’m sorry, he startled me,” the mom says, her hand to her throat.
“We get that a lot,” I say with a sigh.
“Who are you that you need a bodyguard?” a man asks from behind us.
I look over to see Jay already has eyes on the man. He is a tourist, holding out his phone like he is ready to take pictures. My picture has ended up on plenty of gossip websites for a brief time whenever I go shopping or out with Gemma. The paparazzi photograph her whenever she goes out, and they often wonder who she is with. Safe House Security always has the photos and articles down in a matter of hours.
“My ex-husband is out on parole. Can never be too careful,” I lie before turning back to pay for the mom and her son’s order.
“Hey Wren,” the barista, Steph, greets me. She doesn’t know my last name or who my dad is, but she’s been making my coffee for months now. “Do you want your usual?”
“Yes, thank you,” I say and look up at Jay. “Would you like a coffee?”
He reaches for his wallet.
“No, I’ll buy you a coffee,” I say and touch his hand to still him. The skin on the back of his hand is warm and smooth. I pull away instantly.
“I’m wearing a mask,” Jay mutters.
“Yeah, how does he drink?” Steph asks, having obviously noticed this was a new Jay. She knows her part in the Jay torment and plays it very well.
“Rectally,” I reply.
Jay shifts his feet uncomfortably.
“Oh!” she says with well-acted shock.
“Yeah, he butt chugs it,” I say with a solemn nod.
“Better for caffeine absorption, I guess,” she says supportively.
Jay dares to touch my shoulder lightly. He is so uneasy he is touching me to get me to stop talking. Perfection.
“You know, coffee enemas are all the rage,” I continue, outwardly unphased.
Jay clears his throat. “A black iced coffee, please. Small.”
Steph gasps. “Iced? Shocking!”
I giggle as I pay for our order and leave a huge tip.
We move down to the order pick up area and Jay leans down to speak low to me. “That may have worked on other Jays, but I was warned about you.”
“Nobody could prepare you for me,” I say and look defiantly up at him. He stands up to his full height and keeps his bright blue eyes narrowed on mine. I can see the movement of his jaw clenching under his mask. His light brows faintly bunch together in his annoyance. My stomach jumps in excitement at getting him to speak informally to me so early in the game. Despite his words, this feels like a win for me.
We keep up our stubborn eye contact until our order is called out. I carry my ceramic mug of a frothy caramel cappuccino to Gemma’s table and Jay picks up his iced coffee. He swipes a metal straw from the barista, who is grinning challengingly at the masked man.
“Hello, my dearie,” Gemma says as I sit in the seat across from her. Her own cappuccino remains untouched before her. “I waited for you.”
“She was taking pictures,” Lance scoffs, sipping from his own coffee. Lance has been Gemma’s bodyguard for about a year. He isn’t masked like my Jay is, but the same company employs him. Gemma and I have been friends for years, having been introduced by our fathers who are business besties. She had been modeling when we met as teens, but she didn’t reach supermodel status until she graduated from high school and signed to a larger agency. An incident with a stalker last year had led to her hiring her own bodyguard for outings. Lance is older than Gemma and me, but he keeps up with her well.
“It’s marketing. You wouldn’t get it,” Gemma says and waves her hand dismissively at him. Gemma pulls down her glasses over her nose and looks Jay up and down with her wide blue eyes. “New Blue Jay? Where’d you import him from?”
“I don’t know. Wherever Vikings come from,” I say and sip my drink.
Jay folds his massive body into the remaining chair and nods to Lance. Lance and Jay seem to have a nonverbal conversation over our heads. Gemma and I watch silently.
“Will you two shut up?” Gemma scowls. “We’re trying to chit chat over here.”
I snort into my cappuccino.
“How was Paris?” I ask her.
“All work and no play,” she says. “I had a shoot scheduled here, so I couldn’t stay long.”
“We’ll have to schedule a week next spring to go to Paris. You know my dad said we can use his place there whenever,” I say, picturing our previous wild trips to France.
“I will have to see. I just signed a contract with Noody, that shapewear company, and they’re doing a huge summer campaign,” she says. Pride laces her soft voice, and a smile curls the corners of her lips.
“That’s great!” I exclaim.
“I’ll have to hide it from the photographer I just worked with in Paris,” she says with a scoff. “He told me I should look into Botox! I’m twenty-five! I told him to Botox his ball sack and then we’ll talk.”
I give a loud cackle.
“Jay, can you Botox labia?” I ask him.
He has the straw of his drink slid under his mask as he takes a sip. I can see a small sliver of tan skin at the base of his neck as he swallows. My eyes are drawn to it like I am thirsty for information on what this man looks like under his mask. It’s a habit I could never grow out of since I’ve had so many Jays. As much as I despise having a bodyguard, I am eternally curious about who is under the mask.
“I’m not… a gynecologist,” he replies after sliding the straw out of his mask.
“No kidding. You can Google it,” I say.
“So could you,” he shoots back.
I gasp with fake outrage and Gemma echoes, matching my energy immediately. “How dare you!” I say adopting a dramatic, old timey, Transatlantic accent.
“Sir, how could you?” Gemma puts a hand to her mouth, her accent even better than mine.
“I would never dirty my hands with- with electronics!” I say dramatically.
“A lady would never!” Gemma adds.
“Preposterous!”
Gemma and I continue to make ridiculous quips back and forth until Jay rolls his eyes and pulls out his cell phone. I smile triumphantly at Gemma as he unlocks his phone and types. He turns the screen to me, and the first result has both Gemma and I shocked out of our accents. “Oh,” I say. “You and the photographer can make it a double date, I guess.”
“Hm, you learn something new every day,” Gemma says.
Jay puts his phone back in his pocket and I see the corners of his eyes crinkle just the slightest, like he is smiling. I need to work harder at making him uncomfortable if he can manage a smile.
Gemma and I chat about a recent party and the scandals that occurred before she has to leave for a meeting and I have to leave for Taekwondo lessons. My lessons are on the other side of town, so Jay and I take a cab. He looks shocked I am taking a cab, but I don’t enjoy having a driver waiting for me wherever I go, and the subway grosses me out. I have Jay, and he is enough to be annoyed with. While we are ensconced in the cab, he quietly informs the Crow’s Nest of our movement. His knees are firmly pressed against the passenger seat of the cab. I take a moment to consider if the length of his legs and size of his thighs mean he is a fast runner, or a clumsy runner. I need to find a way to test that. For science.
The purse I’d chosen for the day is large enough to hold my dobok and nunchucks. I arranged for the rest of my supplies to remain in a rented locker at the studio, but I took my nunchucks home to practice and the uniform to wash. When we arrive at the studio, Jay waits outside the admittedly gross restroom for me to change. I shove my purse into his hands as I exit the restroom and put my shoes in my locker. With a friendly greeting to Master James as I enter class, I stand in my usual space and start my stretches. Master James looks Jay over and then back at me. “That’s not Hawk,” he says.
“Nope. New Jay,” I reply and sigh into a hamstring stretch.
Jay is waiting on the sidelines where there are seats for parents of the youth classes. He is standing, holding my bag, looking like an idiot. “Jay, sit down. Any attack in this room is consensual,” I snap.
Master James chuckles and returns to the front of the class as more people file in. I am close to testing for my second degree black belt, so I am focused throughout the lesson. Master James is a great instructor, and I am lucky to work under someone so accomplished in his craft. I had arranged to meet with Master James after class to work on one of my forms before testing, but he has other plans.
Jay stands up as everyone but me and my instructor leave the class, chatting animatedly. I remain in my assigned class space while Master James looks Jay over again. There is a thoughtful furrow in his brow. “Jay, I’ve been working with Wren here for almost six years. She came to class hoping to defend herself if the need arose. I understand with a constant presence of the likes of you, she’d hopefully never need it. But I also understand that sometimes unfortunate things happen. I have not taken my job in teaching her to defend herself lightly. I assume you have training in some form of martial arts?”
“Yes,” Jay replies.
“Don’t tell me the type,” Master James says and raises his hand to stop Jay from speaking further. “What I need Wren to know and practice is using Taekwondo against someone who is not likely going to use it back at her. The sparring we do in class is Taekwondo against Taekwondo. Out in the world, that’s not likely to happen. We need her to practice using her skills against an unmatched opponent.”
He’s done this with every Jay I’ve brought in. I hate that he’s right. But mostly I hate knowing I’ve never won one of these sparring matches against a Jay. Crossing my arms over my chest, I fight the urge to pout.
“You want me to… fight with Wren?” Jay asks, his eyes practically bugging out of his skull.
My scowl slowly morphs into a smirk when I realize he is not happy about fighting me. He is massively uncomfortable. He hasn’t been around long enough to want to fight me. His discomfort is more fuel for me.
“Afraid to get beaten up by a girl?” I taunt and cock my hip to the side.
“You have to roll your uniform at the ankles,” Jay drones in his quiet voice. “One hit and you’d be out cold.”
“We’re sparring, Jay. Light touches only,” Master James scolds.
“I won’t- I’m not going to—” Jay stutters.
I laugh and Master James smiles.
“Wren, move to the center of the mat and face away from Jay,” Master James instructs.
I follow instructions, and my skin prickles with awareness. I feel both sets of eyes on me as I stand and examine my manicure as casually as I can manage. Both men’s voices mutter behind me, and I hear a shuffle and thump like Jay is removing his boots. Then the clunking rustle sound of his gun being placed into my purse. I face away from the mirrors intentionally, so I can’t see him coming. Master James insists most hand-to-hand attacks would happen in surprise. Except, standing here impatiently waiting, there is no surprise.
Just as I am getting bored and irritated, I feel goosebumps rise on the back of my neck. It is a survival instinct. A reaction to a threat. But one my stupid body sometimes gets confused with sexual arousal. Who gets turned on by a threat? People with their wires crossed. People like me, apparently. I suck in a breath. Every atom in my body zeroes into the awareness that someone is behind me. Jay is close. He must be. I can feel his presence… just behind me and to the right. My legs are stronger than my arms, but I can’t tell how close Jay is. He is absolutely silent in his approach. I adopt a fighting stance and pivot, a powerful sidekick at the ready, only to strike… air.
A hand wraps securely around my throat, while a foot knocks into mine just after it lands on the mat, spreading my legs enough to catch me off balance. I let out a garbled yelp of shock as the powerful body behind me takes me to the mat, flat on my belly, before I could even fathom a next move. Jay’s body smashes mine into the mat and all the air in my lungs leaves me in a wheezing rush through my constricted throat.
I hear him exhale above me as he loosens his hold on my neck. He is heavy on me, and I wonder if that is his entire weight. He covers me completely. Muscles in my body that were not supposed to engage, clench. His weight lifts off me and cool air rushes in to replace his body heat. The cold air brings me back to reality, and I stand up angrily.
“Wren, Jay is an experienced fighter. Don’t be discouraged,” Master James says as I stand up, pushing my disheveled hair away from my face.
My breath is still harsh as I recover from the choking hold he had on me. Jay’s eyes are assessing in their stare. “Are you alright?” he asks softly. The man just choked me out and flattened me to the ground and now he is puppy-dog-eyeing me and asking if he hurt me.
I nod sharply, embarrassed by how quickly I was taken down and for my confusing arousal. Would he choke in bed? Shut up, Wren.
“I’m not a… fair fight,” Jay says to Master James. “A, um, previous job…”
“I understand,” Master James says with a nod. He slaps Jay on the shoulder. “You two should practice at home. I think it would be great for Wren’s confidence in her abilities to learn from you as well.”
Sure, just what I need. More time with Jay. Wrestling.
I stomp to my bag and pick it up. Jay is next to me in a single stride and pulls his gun from my bag. “It’s not nice to rummage through a woman’s purse,” I snap, more breathless than I would have liked.
“I figured robbing you after taking you to the mat was appropriate,” he mutters with a crinkle at the corners of his eyes.
I groan despite my impulse to laugh and take my bag to change into my clothes. In the bathroom, I look up at myself in the mirror. I look thoroughly ravished and all he did was knock me over once. There is only a faint pink smudge around my neck from his grip that will fade completely in a few minutes. No bruising and no scratches to show on my skin. With a gentle touch of my fingertips on my neck, I swallow and close my eyes. I draw in a slow breath, calming my hormones. There is something to knowing Jay is here to protect me, but he can easily use that same strength to control me that gets me… hot. I splash cold water over the back of my neck and change back into my clothes. My panties are uncomfortably wet against my skin, and I frown as I leave the bathroom.
Jay is waiting for me, and Master James is cleaning up for the next class. I say my goodbye and lead the silent Blue Jay out to hail a cab.