Page 9 of Finding My Bodyguard

“Did you see where… um or did he say where he was going? My phone died.”

“Oh, yes he left a message for you. Hold on let me find it.”

That nigga left her here. Anger coursed through my veins again as I listened in on her conversation. I didn’t know Kashus Grant outside of what Meechie had told me about him, but from what I’d seen, he didn’t give a damn about his fiancée. It made me want to shoot my shot with her even more. I watched as Monroe tapped on the table nervously while Rebecca fondled with the papers on the desk. I should have minded my business, but something pulled me toward her, beckoning me to be her savior.

“I can call you a car to the recovery house. I saw on your charts that’s where you're staying. You’re welcome to stay there as long as you need,” I offered. Her head lifted in my direction, and her eyes darkened.

“Fuck you!” she spat, causing me to grab my chest. If looks could kill, I would be six feet under. I didn’t expect her vulgar language, but it turned me on. I liked my women with some spice. I wouldn’t push it today, though. There was a lot I needed to look into before I made a move on her.

“Oop! Oh… um! Got it!” Rebecca stuttered, darting her eyes between me and Monroe. She was caught off guard. Nobody spoke to me that way except for Samara.

“It says… call Rah when you are finished.”

Monroe nodded and moved away from the desk. Her body language showed defeat. Her face showed anger. She slumped over to a waiting room chair. My feet moved toward her again. Something about Monroe Iris was speaking to me, and I didn’t know if I should act on it or let it be.

“Please, leave me alone!” She barked as I neared her. I wanted to tell her to shut up and let me be her savior, but that might have been too much. Instead, I turned and retreated to my office, where I watched her on the security cameras. Every tear that fell from her eyes reassured my decision. Monroe Iris needed someone with the resources to help her out of her current situation, which may very well be me. I just needed to get her away from her fiancé. Picking up my phone, I dialed Meechie. If anyone could get information on Monroe, it would be him. Meechie had Homeland Security on his payroll. It was the luxury of being head of the London Cartel.

“Sup, bro!” he answered on the third ring.

“I need someone to pull the information on Monroe Iris and her fiancé Kashus Grant!”

The phone was quiet before Meechie burst out laughing.

“One encounter, and we about to snatch a nigga bitch?” His statement came out as more of a question.

“Chill on the bitch word. She showed up in my office today.”

“Word?”

“Yeah, that nigga making her get her body done.” I exhaled a breath I ain’t know I was holding.

“The real curvy girl we saw last night?”

“Yeah.”

“And that shit bothering you because you think she's perfect.” Meechie called it correctly.

“Yeah.” It was no use in denying it.

“I got Jared on it, nigga.” Jared was the tech guy that Meechie used to gather information. With him looking into Monroe, I would have a file on her by tonight.

“We going to war behind a female?” He was snickering, but I knew he would have my back no matter what. Meechie had been down for many of my shenanigans since we were kids. It didn’t matter how dangerous or silly they were. Meechie was gon’ ride first and ask questions later.

“Yeah, man.” I sighed. The phone fell quiet again.

“Well then, let me alert the shooters!” he shouted.

Monroe

“Every plastic surgeon in the Miami area is booked this week, Tessa! Booked!” I shouted into the phone. I was having a mental breakdown. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

I plopped down on the hotel loveseat. It felt like the first time I’d sat down since I’d left Dr. London’s office. I couldn’t believe he’d refused to give me surgery. It had thrown me off. It was none of his business why I was getting my body done. His job was to operate, not be a damn psychologist.

Leaning back on the couch, I made myself comfortable. Thanks to Dr. London, I’d been franticly moving around, calling, and dropping by plastic surgeons’ offices all day, attempting to find someone to do my surgery. Four hours later, I’d come up with nothing. After retreating to my hotel room, I’d resorted to calling plastic surgeons in other areas. It didn’t matter how much money I’d thrown at them, the story was the same. There were no openings. The earliest availability was at an office in Arizona six weeks from now.

The timeframe wasn’t ideal because it didn’t give me enough time to heal before the wedding, but if it was my only hope, I would have to take it. I wanted to scream! I was done crying. I wished my fiancé was here to help me sort this out, but Kashus had left. He’d hopped on his private jet and returned home with only a text message as to why. Maybe my brain was foggy, but I wasn’t even surprised or upset by his actions. It was on brand for Kashus. He was a selfish asshole, but what could I do about it? I wasn’t getting the surgery now, so what did it matter? Maybe this was for the best. If Kashus couldn’t support me through this, should I be changing my body for him?

“First, you’re going to calm down,” Tessa instructed, bringing my attention back to her. I held up the phone. Staring at her puffy caramel face, I admired her beauty and calmness. My little brother or sister had been treating her well. She was glowing.