The Bodyguard

Clubs and Chauffeurs

"Look how pretty we are! Ugh! I knew I should have straightened your hair a lot earlier, it looks so pretty like this!" Jasmine gushes, running her fingers through her hair for about the millionth time that day.

"Yeah, you're pretty, I have too much makeup on and look like a circus monkey in a tight dress." She complains, shaking her head at the mirror with a small grin. She had been trying to get out of going to an actual club for the past couple of ours and it really had not worked out for her. They were still going, all she had done was make it so that she isn't allowed to have her hair up and added a lipstick stain instead of actual lipstick because she talked too much and licked it off multiple times.

"Oh shush, you look fantastic. Don't you think Mr. Knyte?" She teases, turning  Emilia to face the bodyguard that had showed up roughly ten minutes before and is standing in the doorway with his hands locked behind his back like the stiff that he is.

He just looks very awkward at the question and seems to twist his hands a little.

"You don't need to answer that, I know I look ridiculous." Emilia tells him quickly, giving him the excuse not to say anything but it just seems to deepen his frown a little more but she only shakes her head and slides a hair tie onto her wrist, knowing that it is going to be in a floppy bun whether Jazz likes it or not by the end of the night. As pretty as her hair might look, she got very annoyed with the length very quickly.

"Alright, it is time to go, it is 8 o'clock and I am ready to party, so let's move our cute asses and get to the damn club already!" Jazz practically screams, grabbing tightly to Emilia's wrist and yanking her towards the door into the hall and then down the stairs to the waiting car with Mr. Knyte trailing behind them effortlessly.

"Wait, but 4 hours? Ok, Jazz, are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should just go to dinner/ I'm sure we can find a nice little restaurant and. . ."

"Nope! We are doing this, move it!" Jazz shoves her into the back of the car and climbs in beside her as Mr. Knyte closes the door behind them and climbs in the front of the vehicle behind the wheel again.

"Where to Miss Emilia?" He asks, looking in the mirror once again with those gorgeous eyes. But Emilia can't respond, she doesn't know where they are going, it is all up to Jazz.

"Red Room, and step on it por favor." She says, ever so sweetly, giving her most award winning smile as she flips that gorgeously curled hair over one shoulder and crosses her legs like a beauty contestant.

"Where to, Miss Emilia?" He says again, looking very pointedly at Emi again and she can't help the smile that spreads across her face at his insistence that she chooses.

"The Red Room, if you don't mind Mr. Knyte." She says softly, looking away shyly as he nods and peels out of the driveway. For once, Jazz doesn't say a word as she raises an eyebrow and trying not to smirk at her.

"As you wish ma'am." He states, that look in the mirror again as she brushes a piece of hair behind her ear, trying to ignore the blush creeping into her cheeks again as she quickly pulls her phone out to try and ignore the world.

"I still can't believe I agreed to doing this." She hisses under her breath, refusing to even glance up from her phone.

"Me too, but, you need to, you have been way too stressed lately, even just after that engagement party you were just freaking out for the longest time, you really need this girls night, trust me, it's just what will take your mind off everything." She practically complains, patting her shoulder as she leans back against the door to the outside and Emilia just mumbles something about it getting her into trouble. 

Nearly a half hour later the car comes to a much slower halt than in front of her apartments, in front of a door outlined rather spectacularly in, surprise, red. Emilia already feels her stomach sinking as she follows suit and slides down in her seat away from the eyes on their very conspicuous vehicle. 

"Out, let's go! Move it!" Jazz squeals, getting out and practically slamming the door behind her, jumping with excitement and very eager to get in the line with all the other girls in short dresses and guys in dress shirts. 

The door opens for her with Mr. Knyte standing guard like always and she slides out to stand beside him in the pair of heels lent by Jazz that are still too big for her feet despite their strappy design. "Are you sure this is where you want to be Emilia?" The voice is so soft that she isn't quite sure who it is at first, but looking up she realizes it's him. 

"Yes, I uhm, I need to be with her. She's going to get in trouble if I'm not here, I know it." Emi sighs softly and gives him the most sincere smile she can manage. "It will be great!" she attempts to be cheerful but it just comes out incredibly sarcastic.

"As you say Miss, I will be in in just a moment." He whispers again, making hairs stand on the back of her neck. It wasn't in an uncomfortable way, it was just an awareness of him that had her on edge but not frightened. Nodding as she lets out a breath, Emilia goes to be in line with her much too eager best friend while Mr. Knyte takes the car off to park it somewhere.

In all reality, she is very surprised that he has even let them come to the club, I mean, it is decently against Mr. Delmont's rules, though she still hasn't technically broken any yet. She could still go back, still just go home and not get in trouble. She thinks, but even as she thinks it she knows it won't happen, no matter how much she protests Jazz's idea, she knew that she would have fun, and better yet, she knew that she would kick those damn rules in the balls and take a chance for once in her life. 

With the new determination she pushes her shoulders back, standing a little straighter and letting an actual smile lighten the corners of her mouth as she peers around the people in front of them to see just how many more people there are before they can go inside.

She knows that her fake ID is good, and she really doubted that the bouncer would care either way with her hot ass friend flirting all the while. It's not like the guy is bad looking, but he isn't Mr. Knyte. She froze at the thought, what? Why did she make that comparison? Did she really think he was hot? Well, he was, but why did she even think about that? Why did she care? He was just doing his damn job, employed by Mr. Delmont. He wasn't her friend, he didn't give a shit about her and never would if it weren't for the large sum he gets every other week for keeping her out of the papers and driving her around when she felt like escaping. He was nothing to her, nothing.

She thinks grimly, hearing very unsatisfied and rather angry growls as he slides into line behind her, but the voices shut up rather quickly and she had the feeling that he gave them that stone cold look he had sometimes that was so damn scary it could make anyone shut up. She felt bad for a moment, guilty about her own thoughts as if he could hear them. But he couldn't, and even if he did it doesn't matter, he just works for Mr. Delmont, he doesn't care about her, her friend, or what she thinks about him.

"IDs please?" Barks a voice, hard but not unbreakable unlike Mr. Knyte's when he's trying to be intimidating.

Yanking hers out of her bra, where she admittedly kept ID, emergency cash, and her card just in case something comes up she shows it quickly to the guy who merely glances, eyes focused. . . elsewhere. She couldn't help the dark flush that crosses her face as he just keeps looking until a very clear cough comes from just behind her and he looks away to the ID that was stretched across her vision, catching the guys eye rather effectively.

And she can't help her eyes wandering to the card as well, curious about how old Mr. Knyte is as she is waved on into the club. He was clearly older than her and Jazz but didn't appear by much as she catches the birth date. 6/14/1997. 23, only 4 years older. She thinks, heart fluttering slightly as she tries to ignore it yet again, why did she even care.

But as the three of them step inside she can't help but feel slightly giddy, 4 years, that isn't a big enough difference to actually matter to anyone, or at least, probably not to him. She hoped for no apparent reason as they step inside of the Red Room.