Life in the Spotlight (Peregrine x babyletsplay)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Peregrine, Feb 6, 2016.

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  1. The lights were blinding. The sold out stadium impatiently called out her name, begging for the show to begin. The sound was perfect. The overwhelming racket from the waiting fans applause was better than any melody Starr could ever hear. This was her dream. To be on stage and perform for people who adored her. The attention was infectious and Starr was instantly an addict. Life in the spotlight. Really, what more could a girl ask for? Fame. Fortune. Publicity. The upcoming new singer was now experiencing it all. Oh boy, was it ravishing. However, with the excitement of the world knowing your name came with great danger. Starr never thought anything of a raging fan. What could go wrong, right?

    It didn’t take long for the now twenty-four year old to get where she was now. Some called her the next Amy Winehouse, others argued for the next Adele. Starr’s opinion? Damned to them both. she was going to make her own name known for her own accomplishments. It was finally time. Her stride was strong and proud as Starr made her way to center stage.

    “What’s up New York! Who’s ready for the show?” Her voice was loud and full of confidence.

    The crowd roared. It was music to her ears. The performance ended flawlessly and she watched as the crowd of strangers push and shoved to exit to stadium. It took an hour or so after the fans cleared for the band to pack up. Starr liked to make sure everything, including the equipment, was in order even after the show. Starr placed a hoodie on and flipped the hood over her head allowing it to cover her face as she made her way to the hotel a few blocks away by foot. She may be pretty well known, but she was still no Whitney Houston Status. Private escorts didn’t seem needed in her book.

    the hotel was literally in sight when a sudden hand from behind grasped her wrist, pulling her into a abandoned dark alleyway. Her body hit the ground hard and before she could react shadowed body was pinning her to the ground using their overpowering wight. STarr only had time to scream once before another hand reached around and restricted her mouth. What was happening? Who was this?

    The attacker breathed on neck like a eager hungry wolf. “I can’t believe I’m going to have the one and only Starr all to myself” The way the male’s voice spoke her name made her want to vomit. Instead the sobbs of desperation began. “I’m going to make you all mine, Then I will make sure no one else can have you.” His low groan reached her ear as his hand began to explore her body.

    Was she going to die tonight? In such a way as this? How could this happen after all the hard work she has done to get where she was now? No! someone please, please help! The thoughts screamed in her mind as her body desperately fought beneath him to get free. If she were to actually live through this… It was time to rethink how she was going about her saftey...
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  2. "Seriously? You're going to do that here? Utterly tasteless." The voice that echoed through the narrow alley was not, in and of itself, particularly impressive. It was neither deep nor high, not particularly rich nor lilted. The only thing that could be considered moderately interesting was the faintest traces of an English accent. What made it rather exceptional was not the voice itself, bur rather the tone with which it was greeting this particular situation. The speaker didn't seem the least bit concerned about having stumbled across a woman about to be raped in an alley, outside of the fact that it, apparently, was not the proper place to do such a thing. The speaker certainly didn't seem the least bit worried about what this unsolicited interruption might provoke in the thug or madman who did think it was good practice to pin a woman down in an alley right off a busy street.

    "Fuck off," said madman snapped. "She's mine." His hungry gaze didn't turn away from Starr, but his hand did, temporarily, stop roaming over her body.

    "Yours?" came the reply, accompanied by a faint, sardonic chuckle. "What, do you think raping her is going to mark her somehow? What are you, a dog pissing on a tree to try and designate it's territory?"

    The man finally whirled around, before lumbering to his feet. He planted one foot on Starr's chest as he stood, making sure his prize wouldn't run, while he turned to face the man speaking to him so casually out of the mouth of the alley.

    The man who stood there seemed a perfect fit for his voice. He was slightly over average height, with dark hair and a faint stubble. He was averagely handsome, more because his features seemed to blend well together and nothing stood out than because there was anything particularly captivating about him. He was wearing a white shirt, dark jacket, and dark pants. He seemed to practically lounge against the air. He grinned, revealing straight, white teeth. "What? Are you going to get mad at me now for stating the obvious?"

    The thug's hand flew for the pocket of his pants, pulling out a small knife, which he promptly flicked open. "I said fuck off," he spat out, waving the knife about menacingly.

    This did not elicit the desired reaction. "Ooo, a pocket knife. How... terrifying." He snorted. "I guess it is true that psychotics favor weapons that look like their dicks."

    With a strangled shout of frustration the ruffian sprung forward off Starr, lifting the knife into the air and bringing it crashing down towards the rather smug, backlit face that waited in the mouth of the alley. It made it halfway through the arc before both knife and arm abruptly stopped moving. The stranger didn't move one inch either. "Well, come on then," he mocked instead.

    Grunting in what had to be effort, the man desperately struggled to bring the raised knife down, and slash the monumental source of irritation that stood less than a foot in front of his face. He couldn't manage it. Finally, as though giving up the hardest struggle in his life, the man released the knife, crumpling towards the ground. Disconcertingly, the knife clattered to the ground several seconds after the man.

    "That's it?" He asked, head tilted to the side. A smile briefly flickered across his face. "Well then, fuck off," he said, rather brightly. The downed man was only too happy to oblige. Snorting again, almost in disappointment, the dark figure turned to go.
  3. Suddenly she heard another voice. ‘The bastard had friends… Things are going to get worse,’ was her original thought. That’s before she listened to the words the man was saying. It was as if the heavens had answered her plea. Starr wasn’t the biggest believer in what her eyes couldn’t see. Maybe she should start considering there are actually things out there.

    The stranger had her attacker’s attention enough for him to remove his grimy paws from her body. Only moments later he was to his feet, with one planted on her chest as if still trying to claim Starr as his own. his weight stole the very breath from her lungs. However, the stranger seemed to royally piss off her attacker enough for him to leave Starr’s side allowing her to once again breathe.

    Once Starr regained her composure, she lifted to her feet. But before she ran she noticed something. Something odd. Honestly she didn’t even know what was going on or how to explain it. Yes, she would definitely start considering there is more than what the eye can see… It all happened in what seemed like moments. The attacker was on his feet then suddenly on the ground and the stranger was walking away.

    Starr blinked through wide eyes as she stared at the scene with uncertainty as her savior was getting away. “w…. Wait! Please!” Starr called out to the man before running to him. Her hands still trembled as she held out her hand for a handshake. “Hello, I am Starr” Starr stood before him looking into his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you very much Sir. How would you like a job? I’m in need of a body guard.” Starr asked the man.

    Starr hoped he would take the offer. Whatever had happened, she knew this man had done it. Starr knew this man held great strength. It almost radiated from him. Starr needed strength if she were to want to be safe.
  4. Her words did bring him to a halt, although he didn't turn around other than to glance over his shoulder at her. She was a pretty little thing, with a graceful face, baby blue eyes, and light brown hair that had been carefully styled to highlight her high cheekbones and full lips. The fact that hardly a strand was out of place despite the tussle she had just gone through paid testament to exactly how much hair gel and spray must have been massaged into her locks. It wasn't hard to see what had driven someone to jump her in an alley. Hers was the kind of face men would pay hundreds of dollars to have for even a single night.

    He turned around a bit more fully, casting an appreciative gaze up and down the rest of her body. Her clothes were as carefully styled as her hair, and he knew some wardrobe person was going to be very upset about the rip in her thin jacket. It certainly won't be this young woman's responsibility to fix. Everything about her seemed to reek of young money. He studied her face a little more carefully, trying to see if he could place her.

    As though in response to his silent question, she offered up her name without question. Ah. Starr. It sounded more like the name of a hooker than a singer to him, but perhaps that wasn't really all that surprising. Stage names were stage names, after all. Whatever his thoughts about where such a name belonged, it was certainly a name that he, and everyone else in the country, knew. Starr had come out of nowhere to become exactly what her namesake implied. A star. Everyone had become obsessed with her music, despite the fact that she had only released one album and a hit single. It didn't seem to matter. That song played every day on the radio, blasted from souped up speakers, and tinkled through tiny audio systems hidden in the ceilings of department stores. It was impossible to escape. The fad would die down eventually, but as long as Starr didn't do anything stupid, her career was set for life.

    A life that wouldn't last very long if she persisted on wandering alone in dark alleys.

    It seemed that Starr had very different ideas about how to preserve her life, though. He had turned to go once more after hearing her name, but was brought to an abrupt halt when he caught what came after her thanks for his saving her life. She wanted him to be her bodyguard?

    This time he turned around fully, a look of incredulity plastered over his face. He didn't even bother trying to conceal it. "Did you seriously just ask that? I knew you were a naïve fool for wandering alone in a less than affluent section of New York City dressed like that, but are you completely daft? You nearly got raped in an alleyway, and now you are asking a complete stranger with inscrutable intentions to become an integral part of your life?" He snorted, and once more turned to go. "Grow up and learn a bit about the real world, kid."
  5. "Grow up and learn a bit about the real world, kid."

    The reality of how true the statement was, hit her harder than any blunt force she had ever endured. It was insane how just a harsh comment could be so eye-opening. He hadn’t known her more than 5 minutes and he had just described her insecurities to a Tee. Starr was a child, sheltered by the fortune and fame. No one dared to disobey her demands let alone speak to her in such a way. Honestly, it was ruthlessly refreshing. His opinion only made her more intrigued, determined to have him as her own. He was perfect for the job.

    However, the words would not breach her lips as his figure faded in the distance. It wasn’t like her to not jump out and grasp something she dearly wanted. Then why was this situation any different? Was it because deep down she knew she could not win? Admitting defeat with curved lips, Starr made her way back to the hotel. Cautiously aware of her surroundings this time.

    Once she had made it safely into her room she pulled out her phone and dialed the only person she knew would get what she wanted done.

    “Zach. I apologize for calling at such an hour. I need you to do something done of utmost importance.” She told her personal assistant, the one person who has been there for her through thick and thin. Even her her poverty. The one person she knew she could trust. “I would like for you to set up interview for a personal bodyguard.”

    “Is everything okay? Did something happen?” He frantically asked.

    “I am fine. I just believe I have come to the point I will need one for now on.”

    “Yes, of course. Consider it done.” He reassured her.

    “I knew I could count on you. Good bye for now” With that she ended the call.

    Starr would show the stranger just how grown she truly was. Starr worked hard to get to where she was now and she did it without anyone’s help. How dare he judge her without walking in her shoes. There was a bottom for her before all this and she was fully aware of how the real world worked. Sure, the fame clouded her memory on just how cruel it could be. But her eyes were open now. Damned to them all. She would show everyone just how hard she worked and she will become number one. Just watch.

    The next few days had passed quickly full of studio recordings and TV interviews with the press. Starr had seen a few good prospects who was interested in the bodyguard job. Although none had really impressed her. Not like the stranger of the night had.

    Today seemed to be another disappointment once again. One more, she would see one more and call it day.

    “Zach, I’ll see just one more. Then today’s interviews will end. I’ve grown tired” Starr informed Zach.

    “I will let them all know, I’ll bring the best from the bunch.” Zach then left the room to grab the next person. He looked aobut the crowd. “You will do. Come in here, she is waiting to interview one last person.” He told the rugged stranger.
  6. And that was that. Another good deed done, another day saved. Normally, Lucanus might have even bothered to feel good about himself. But today, somehow, it didn’t even feel worth it. Perhaps it had to do with how utterly anticlimactic that entire moment had been. He didn’t know what he had expected. It wasn’t as though he had run across some underground gang fight, or even some ex-military veteran, suffering from a sudden PTSD attack, who might have at least proved somewhat engaging in conflict before Lucan subdued him. No, all he had found was a madman in an alley. He should have known by now that madmen didn’t provide any entertainment.

    Perhaps it had something to do with the girl. Starr. She was what had stopped him in the first place. Or, rather, the sillage left behind by her perfume, the traces of orange blossoms and vanilla unexpected and remarkable in that dark street. It was not the kind of smell that was associated with the girls on the street corner, who were just looking to hide the more rancid scents that lingered underneath. No, this was refined. Bright.

    Even the faint glimpse of her he had gotten before turning to scrutinize the scene more fully had been more than enough to confirm the impression the manufactured scent of floating blossoms had left behind. She had been delicate, perfectly poised even when pressed into the dirty concrete of the alley.

    A part of him had expected perfect sophistication from her, something to match the painting her form and demeanor had promised. He had wondered if he had finally found something new and different, if his life had been moments away from changing into something new and different. He had turned away, waiting to see what glorious future she would offer to draw him back.

    Instead, she had proven to be nothing more than a child. Naive. Sheltered. He might even go so far as to call her callow. It had shattered the illusion that her natural showmanship had created. The bubble had burst. Lucan was left only with reality, and found it wanting.

    Now, instead of accompanying some vivacious mavourneen back to her room, Lucan found himself seated in another dingy bar, swirling the straw through the ice while squinting against the light of a neon that was directly in front of him, and considering breaking the jukebox to halt the god-awful caterwauling that was coming from it.

    It was a relatively busy evening, and the bartender wandered past him exactly seven eyes before the traces of movement from Lucan’s straw suddenly brought him to an abrupt halt. He stared agog for a few moments at the straw, which continued to swirl lazily through the drink for a few moments, before turning to grin at Lucan. His teeth were asymmetrical, with a gap large enough to stick a toothpick through in between his right front tooth and the lateral incisor next to it.

    “That’s a neat trick,” the man said, grinning further and revealing another gap in his teeth. “Next round’s on the house if you tell me how you do it.”

    Still feeling somewhat bitter over the puncturing of the lustrous dream Lucan had allowed to overcome himself, he couldn’t help the cynical smile that flickered across his lips at this proclamation. Fine. He’d do just that. “Bona fide magic,” was his dry reply. He flicked a finger into the air, and the straw lifted itself out of the cup, spinning lazily in the air a couple of times, before coming to lay down across the rim of the glass.

    If the bartender’s eyes had been wide before, it was nothing compared to the gape-jawed look that plastered itself across his face now. For a few moments he seemed to forget how to breathe, before letting out all the air that had been trapped in his lungs in one abrupt guffaw. “That’s pretty fuckin’ good,” he pronounced. “I can see why you might want to keep that one to yerself. Couldn’t ‘ave been easy to learn.”

    There. Another evening made, if the smile crossing the man’s lips was any indication.

    He walked a few steps away, before turning around again abruptly. “Show me again, and I’ll still toss in a free drink. Nothing imported, mind you.”

    Lucan obliged willingly, not even bothering with the finger motion. The straw spun end over end, before dropping back in the ice. A brief look of frustration crossed the bartender’s face, still unable to figure out the trick, but he sighed and nodded his head all the same. “Whaddaya want?”

    “Charbay vodka.”

    That earned a solid snort. “I said something cheap.”

    “You said nothing imported.”

    The man opened his mouth halfway, before clicking it closed and chewing briefly on his upper lip. “Fuck,” he finally said. “You’re too damn good, man.”

    Yes, that was the problem, wasn’t it. He was simply too damn good.

    Lucan didn’t pay for another drink that entire night. Every twenty minutes or so, just as his glass was starting to get empty, the bartender would wander over again, offering another glass in trade for another chance to dissect the “trick”.

    “I fuckin’ give,” the bartender finally spat after the ninth glass, all the while imposing more and more strict regulations on the performance each time he offered another chance, hoping that Lucan would slip up and reveal the method as he grew inebriated. “Not only can I not figure out this trick, but I’m certain you should also be flat-on-your-face drunk by this point, but you don’t even seem unbalanced. Maybe you are fucking magic.”

    “That’s what I said at the beginning,” was Lucan’s bland reply. This endeavor had proved nowhere near as satisfying as he had hoped it would be, either. Maybe the alcohol was having more of an effect than it should have, if he was expecting some display of brilliance from a man who could do no more with his life than mix cocktails. In the background, the jukebox clicked as the song came to an end.

    The barman grumbled, before stomping away. Letdown after letdown. Lucan would have even taken a bar fight at that moment, anything excited and unexpected, anything to break the monotony that seemed to hang over this day like some oppressive, smothering fog, anything to...

    The jukebox popped again, and the next song began. The next song, a slow and soulful rhythm that was impossible to forget and even more impossible to avoid. Judgement, Starr’s instant hit.

    Lucan shot to his feet, slamming his hands down on the counter with a bang that sounded more like a gunshot than flesh striking against vinyl. That was it. It was too much. He couldn’t take it anymore. There was another pop from the jukebox, this one more electrical than static, and the bar was instantly silent once again.

    Damn her. Damn her for letting him down. Damn her for somehow managing to force expectation into his life again, only to leave him floundering and wanting. Everyone was staring at him, eyes wide but Lucan didn’t care one bit. He was heaving breaths as though he had just sprinted a mile, and his hands were shaking slightly.

    The bartender took a hesitant step forward, towards Lucan. “You okay, ma...”

    It was the wrong move. Any other person might have been able to calm him down, remind him of where he was and the role he was supposed to play as a member of modern civilization. But this man, he’d been nothing but another letdown. Another moment of infuriation, brought on by that woman. Lucan’s eyes jumped to him in an instant, and the man’s words were cut off in a sudden gurgle as invisible pressure suddenly squeezed against his throat. His hands went up, scrabbling in vain, and now his eyes widened with real fear. Real belief.

    “I’m...” he choked. “I’m so... sorr.. y. P...p...ple...”

    With a snarl, Lucan released the bartender from the mental grip that had held him paralyzed. The man broke into a fit of coughing, but Lucan didn’t pause. Instead he simply turned around, stalking towards the door of the bar, which swung open in front of him. He only halted when it had slammed closed behind him again.

    Wryness twisted his lips, but this time the mockery was directed towards no one but himself. No matter how much more satisfying it was to believe otherwise, this was not the bartender’s fault. He was simply another symptom, not the cause. Back inside the bar there was another pop from the jukebox. The lights flickered, and the machine turned back on. Completely reset, it selected another song and cheerily started playing as though nothing had happened. A moment later the bartender would rush out of the door of his establishment, looking up and down the street, but Lucan’s dark-clad figure would have already vanished into the postmidnight darkness.

    He wandered without direction, irrationally bothered, until the pitch sky had lightened to the bluish-grey that signified the coming of dawn. Several times along his route, Lucan had to halt himself and pointedly take a few calming breaths, to stop the little pebbles he passed by from lifting into the air in direct response to his frustration.

    The dawn seemed to jolt him out of his stupor, though, and now he halted more fully, turning down a couple of streets until he found a large tree. With a glance the moist ground right around the roots dried out, the water pushed deeper into the soil, and Lucan seated himself down.

    What now? He had to do something, that much was clear. Simply waiting and trying to move on wasn’t going to be sufficient. If it was, he would have already calmed down by now. The sun crested the horizon, and reached all the way up over the roofs of the nearby buildings, and Lucan simply sat there, thinking. No obvious solution presented itself. It was obvious that relying on some random stranger to suddenly cut through the impossible boredom and frustration that consumed him now was not a valid option. People simply didn’t work like that.

    Yet, it was equally true that he wasn’t going to be able to simply move on. Now that he felt the lack of some unknowable thing he wasn’t going to just be able to forget its existence. Not without doing something stupid out of frustration along the way. No. Somehow he was going to have to find a way to fill whatever it was he suddenly felt was missing.

    But how was he supposed to fill it when he didn’t even know how to begin going about it? He didn’t even know what was missing! Unable to contain himself any longer, Lucan’s fists shot back behind his head, slamming hard enough into the trunk of the oak he sat under to shake the leaves. He moved his hands forward, cradling them for a moment as he gasped in pain, before, one quick blink later, the abrasion was gone as his skin rippled slightly and straightened itself out.

    This was absurd. Why was he abusing himself when it was Starr’s fault he was feeling like this at all. She was the one who had caused this. She was the one who should fix it, too.

    Lucan froze suddenly, before straightening. Yes. Why not? He knew she wouldn’t be able to offer what he had expected from her, but maybe he could use her to lead him to the thing he really wanted. The entire world she lived in was filled with charade and performance. He would fit right in.

    Now it was just a matter of finding an in.

    “So... Lukanoos?” Starr’s aide asked, as he guided Lucan through the door and down a short hallway towards where she was waiting. Lucan’s hands were tucked in his pockets, his expression utterly blank. He had spent, essentially, the entire day waiting to be called. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised him that every able-bodied man in the personal protection industry had come to try and gain a job as Starr’s new bodyguard, but it had frustrated him even further. Her aide’s incompetence was just another straw on the camel’s back.

    “Lukahnyus,” he corrected, a brief look of disgust crossing his face, even as he barely managed to contain the sigh that almost accompanied the correction. He was supposed to be appearing as a professional, and snide remarks or comments would be a sure way to get himself shown to the door before he was able to get what he wanted from this whole encounter.

    “Ah. Of course. Thank you.” He didn’t sound like he meant it in the least.

    The man stepped through another door, only just remembering to hold it for Lucan to pass through behind him. “Miss Starr has had a long day, so keep your audition short and to the point. Good luck.”

    Lucan stepped through the door.
  7. Another one in and another one out. Once again a complete waste of her day off. Sure, A hand full of them very well might have had the requirements for the job. However, Becca knew what she had her eye on. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she was going to get it. One way or another. The thick headed woman may not be street smart but one thing she did have going for her was pure determination.

    Impatiently, Becca waited for the next interview. Already expecting to kick them out the door after a few short, to the point useless questions, obviously not interested.

    This was the lifestyle she has chosen after all. Kill or be killed. It was a brutal war out there and you had to mentally prepare yourself to be beaten down before you can pick yourself to the top. Even at the top, you are not good enough. Growing even more and more impatient as moments went by, her fingers tapped away a new melody in her head. Zach sure was taking his time to gather the next contestant. Hopefully she wouldn’t be disappointed again.

    Finally, the sound of the door opening filtered in breaking her concentration from her bouncing pen and replacing it to the man walking through the door way. It took all she had to hide the surprise in her expression. It was him. The very man who started this all. The very thing she has been impatiently waiting for.

    “Well, nice to see you again.” Her words were more sarcastic than an actual greeting. Becca slowly rested her head in her palm with a pertched elbow before gripping her pen. “Please, feel free to be seated.” She pointed the pen to the chair placed a few feet before her. “Let’s not waste time then. I can only assume you are here for the job. Please tell me why you think I should choose you over anyone else I’ve seen today”
  8. Lucan didn't bother to hide the look of distaste that flashed across his face at her sarcastic tone, or the brief snort that accompanied it. He was already feeling disappointed about this whole affair, but this time the emotion was not unexpected. He already knew that this woman wasn't perfect, no matter what her carefully styled hair and makeup might imply. She wasn't going to give him what he wanted, whatever that might be. That was why he was going to have to use her to find something else. But, before he was able to do that, he had to get... hired. That was another thing deserving of a sigh. Hired. Putting himself at the mercy of this child, letting her decide what he would be doing, where he would be going, requiring him to...

    Lucan sat down in the chair casually, allowing his long legs to stretch out in front of him. "Had a change of heart did you?" Lucan casually replied to her question. Evan Lucan wasn't entirely sure whether he was amused or irritated by the sudden reversal of roles. Yesterday, she had requested he become her bodyguard and he had turned her down. Today, he was here to offer his services, something he never would have done under other circumstances, and she was acting as though she was considering rejecting him. He let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a snort, and seemed to perfectly embody exactly what he thought about this situation. Fine. She wanted to play it that way? He could play, too.

    "Why?" Lucan repeated. "That's simple. None of those men out there could so much as even touch me if I didn't want them to, and no one can touch you if I don't want them to. Picking anyone else under the assumption that they could protect your life better would be tantamount to declaring your own ignorance and obliviousness."

    Of course, since the moment that Lucan had been walking into the room, Starr's assistant Zach had slowly been losing his cool at Lucan's arrogant and unconcerned attitude. Lucan had been watching with some amusement as his blood pressure continued to rise and his hand's balled into fists. But at Lucan's concluding words Zach finally lost the ability to restrain his anger, no matter how professional he might be under normal circumstances.

    "You lout," he exploded. "How dare you speak to Starr in such a disrespectful manner?"
  9. “Do you even know who you are talking too?” Zach took a step forward. “Who are YOU to disrespect Starr!” Then another step, “Get the hell out and never …”

    “Hold your tongue Zach!” Starr cut him off quick, raising her voice, eyes still on Lucan.

    “B… But,” He stuttered.

    Only now did she look at Zach, proving her dominance in her glare, “Remember who works for who and learn your place. Or I’ll be happily throw YOU out the door.” Once Zach retreated, stepping behind Starr, her attention turned too Lucan once again. “I apologize for Zach’s…“ She paused then accented her next word, “disrespect to you in this interview. Let’s carry on now shall we?” She slowly leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “That was honestly one of the best answers I’ve heard all day. A bit of a confident response, however, I’ve seen what you can do personally.” Starr stood, gathering her notes and paperwork. “I have a show tonight. You are to escort me to it and back. If I get even a scratch one me then, well I’m sure you get the jest. But, with YOUR skills… This shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Her sarcastic tone returned. “It’s nice to see I’m not the only one who had a change of heart.”

    Zach looked between the two in disbelief until he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer, “Starr! You’re not really going to give this … This fraud the job, are you???”

    Sighing, she headed to the door. “Yes. I believe I made that pretty clear Zach…”

    “Even after he disrespected you like that?”

    Starr couldn’t help but laugh. “Not everyone is going to suck my ass like you do. It’s a bit refreshing to be disrespected every once in a while. It’s a reminder the real world isen’t all smiles.” She sent a quick glance in his direction then redirected it to Zach. “You are fired, by the way.” Before he could respond she closed the door behind her. There was no time to deal with untamed dogs, she had to get ready for her show.

    Zach stared at the door in disbelief. Then turned to Lucan. “You really think you can protect Starr?” Suddenly he launched at him, “Then prove it!”
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  10. Well. Someone grew a spine. Lucan couldn't help but raise his brows as the effeminate man flew at him, wondering what exactly it was he expected to be able to do. Even if they collided, Lucan had a solid fifty pounds on the man, if not more. Zach was an office worker, not a fighter. He had probably never even been in so much as a drunken bar brawl, let alone a no-holds-barred street fight. It was far more likely that he would hurt his own hand punching Lucan than it was for him to do any real damage. Not that Lucan had any intention of testing that theory.

    Lucan had never been a timid person. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, with absolute confidence in himself. It wouldn't have taken him more than a simple thought to bring Zach crashing to a halt, unable to move a muscle, unable to even so much as blink his eyes. The same thought could just as easily kill the man, rupture his heart, snap his spinal column. But there was a difference between being confident and being reckless. That difference was in understanding what was necessary for a situation, and being able to pick appropriate actions.

    Although he might not have been officially hired yet, Lucan now considered himself Starr's bodyguard. It was an unprecedented situation, at least for him, but he fully intended to act out his role to the best of his ability. Not to mention, these last several moments had raised his estimation of Starr by a few notches. That wasn't to say he was impressed with her, but he also felt that there was something to be said for people who knew how to take a bit of verbal abuse without snapping. Not to mention, he hadn't liked Zach from the moment the man mispronounced his name. If he was fired, all the better.

    One thing that was for sure, though, was it was not the place of the bodyguard to go out-shining the star. At least, not until Lucan knew he had something to gain from it.

    Instead, he moved with quick, graveful movements, pushing himself back to a standing position before Zach even had a chance to make it halfway across the room. As Zach got closer Locan twisted to the side, before his hands lashed out like a couple of vipers, pinning onto the man's shoulder and arm. A split second later, and a movement that not even Zach was able to fully understand, and he was pinned to the floor, his shoulder screaming in pain as his arm was twisted behind his back, Lucan's knee embedded into his spine. Zach whimpered, before falling silent.

    Lucan looked back up to Starr, his eyes calm. "What would you like to do with him?"
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