Bodyguard Beast

She nodded. “I was. You could have cut off your ears. The way you were snipping away.”

“You took a bit of flak for that, didn’t you?”

“Nah, nothing your mother said could have been worse than what I told myself. You were my baby.”

I placed my hand over hers on my shoulder, my gaze filled with the deep love and gratitude I felt for her. I wished I could tell her she’d been more of a mother to me than my glamorous socialite mother, but I couldn’t betray my mom so I just said, “And you were my second mother, Gemma. Thank you, Gemma. For everything.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. It’ll make her jealous,” she said heartily.

I laughed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be our secret.”

She joined me in laughter before she announced, “Alright, we are finished.” She moved away to switch off the curling iron.

“Funny you should bring that incident up, because I’ve been thinking of cutting my hair,” I mentioned, as I went to my bed to pick up the satin, knee length dress I had chosen earlier.

“To what length?” she asked, taking a seat on the stool of the vanity I’d just vacated.

“About here.” I placed the tips of my fingers on my shoulders.

Her eyes widened in horror. Then she smacked her thigh and rose dramatically to her feet. “No! Don’t do that. Beautiful, thick, waist-length hair is a rarity these days.”

“I need a change, Gemma,” I said, as I slipped off my robe.

“Moving back home from London is already a very big change. Leave your hair alone. Every time I look at it, I envy you. Just look at mine.” She leaned down so I could inspect the thin layer of hair on the crown of her head. “I tell you, there is very little difference left these days between Anderson and I.”

The expression on her face and the incongruous idea that there might be very little difference between her dramatic, colorful self ? and our terribly stoic and now almost bald English butler ? made me laugh so much, I ended up falling on the bed with the dress tangled around my legs. “You’re one crazy woman, you know,” I gasped, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes. I never really realized just how much I missed being with someone I completely trusted. Someone who would never betray me no matter how much money was on the table.

“I’m serious,” she said, coming to sit on the bed next to me. “As the years go by, I begin to think we’re starting to look alike, no?”

When I was younger I’d watched Remains of the Day and always imagined Gemma Cannizaro and James Anderson as the characters that played the part of the butler and housekeeper. I’d been sure there was hidden yearning there ? but more than two decades later ? they were both single and showed no intention of ever leaving my parents’ home. To the best of my knowledge, Gemma was still a virgin. Sometimes I sensed the sadness in her smile, and always tried my best to behave as if I was the daughter she never had.

“Well, I’ve got news for you. You look absolutely nothing like James.” I rose from the bed and pulled my dress up over my body, thank God, it was one of those materials that never creased.

Gemma stood up. I turned around, and she zipped my dress up for me. Then I turned back to face her. “Do you know I always thought you guys would marry one day.”

“So did I.”

Her answer surprised me. “So … you were in love with him,” I whispered in awe.

She smiled, but sadness showed in her eyes. “Yes.”

I sat heavily on the bed. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. He just wasn’t interested in me. It was all on my side.”

“You mean you asked him and he said no?” I gasped incredulously.

“Of course not,” she replied immediately. “I’m not that bold, but he had his chances. More than a few and he didn’t take them. Anyway that was another lifetime ago. We are both old now.”

“You’re forty-two. That’s not old. Haven’t you heard, life begins at fifty.”

“His pee-pee is probably all wrinkled and soft by now, anyway,” she muttered with a scowl.

I giggled. “I could tell you how to get it hard again.”

She looked scandalized. “How would you know? Have you been with a boy?”

“No,” I admitted, “but I’ve done some reading and I’ve watched some movies.”

She grinned naughtily. “Ah, dirty movies. I’ve watched a few of those in my younger days and all I learned is that plumbers have very big pee-pees.”

I laughed, but didn’t tell her porn was no longer cheesy sketches about plumbers with big pee-pees. It had become an altogether different animal. I moved to put on the pair of blood red Christian Louboutin’s I had selected for the evening.