Don't Play With My Body

Kyle's POV

Dear Kyle. E. Livingston,

I hate you.

My hate runs deeper than Lake Baikal for you.

Oxford needs to put your name in the dictionary as the definition to the word snake.

I thought we were friends. From the day I took you home and introduced you to my mom, you were special to me. But you betrayed me.

You messed with the wrong female. The wrong former best friend and the wrong Hollen.

We'll forever have beef.

*Zenobia

I laughed at the letter that was nearly six years old. I was cleaning out my room when I found it in my old highschool backpack.

Zenobia Hollen.

A crazy, fun, spoil rich girl with everything she ever dreamt about right there at the tips of her fingers.

She was my best friend and the one I let slipped through my fingers because of a stupid lie I created to impress a group of stupid guys who weren't worth impressing.

Although it was six years ago, I thought about Zen everyday. She had block me on all social medias and contacts and I couldn't show up to her father's house.

Mr. Ethan Junior Hollen scared the hell out of me. Zenobia was his one and only child and that man would walk through hell and kick satan in the balls for his daughter.

When Zenobia was five, she loved animals. Her father bought a zoo and arranged it special for her.

When Zenobia was ten, she got into computers so her father bought her her own Information and Technology lab.

When Zenobia was fifteen, I asked her out on a date. Her father bought a gun.

The Hollen Family were great people. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Ethan Hollen when Zen and I were friends. He was the man who started the empire. He changed the way I viewed rich people. I always assumed rich people were stuck up jerks and only think about money but he was so down to earth and humble.

Evan Hollen, Zen's uncle, scared me just like her father. He was a man of few words and he never repeated himself. He would look at you as if he was reading your entire life from since birth.

The wives of the Hollen men were angels. I met the first lady as they referred to her. Mrs. Emma Cole Hollen. She was a sweet old woman with a warm smile.

They accepted me as one of their own although it took a while longer for Zen's father to do so.

But, I found out the hard way that it was never wise to cross The Hollen Family. Forgiveness wasn't a strength of theirs and cutting people off and never speaking with them was almost too easy.

~

"Kyle! You're going to miss your interview!" my aunt called from downstairs.

"I'm leaving right now," I answered. I reached for my cellphone and my wallet before leaving the room.

"Good morning Aunt Jackie," I greeted her when I reached the kitchen. Aunt Jackie grew me up like her own son when my mother couldn't get over her addiction of drugs and would disappear for weeks, leaving my older sister and I to fend for ourselves in an empty house.

Aunt Jackie took us in. But when my sister fell in love with a basketball player, they got married and she left to be with her husband as a wife should.

I stayed with Aunt Jackie. She didn't have kids on her own nor a husband. Well, she did have a husband once upon a time but she divorced him for infidelity and got half of his assets including his mansion. He was a rich.

That was how I came to live in Los Angeles and met Zenobia.

"Good morning Pumpie."

That was the nickname she gave to me and it wrecked my teenage-hood. My aunt showed up in high school, at a meeting, with my other classmates present, principal and teachers and called me Pumpie in front of everyone.

"Do you need coffee?" she asked.

"Yes, please, but I'll have it to go," I said.

"Good luck today. I hope you get the job."

"Thanks Aunt Jackie."

~

I didn't get the job. At the interview, an online exam with a grade of one hundred and three out of one hundred and five was required and I missed it by one.

"Don't give up," Aunt Jackie encouraged when I told her about the interview and test.

"I'm not going to but I'm now twenty three. I'm a man already. I should have my own house and making my own money."

"You recently finished college. Give yourself some time."

"I finished college two years ago and so far all I ever landed were jobs for being a temporary assistant. All my friends found permanent placements and making good money."

"Stop! It's not always about money. Why are young people so obsessed with making money?"

"Of course it is not about the money but I do need it to find my way in life. I can't buy a house for free or drive a car for free and I'm not going to be a leech on you. I need my own."

I was frustrated.

"Okay. How about this?" She turned on her computer and found an article. "It would be perfect for you. You did take that Close Protection Operative course in college just for an extra activity. And your grades deserve medals."

I looked over her shoulder at the screen. My heart leapt in my chest.

Bodyguard Wanted:

Personal protection for Miss Zenobia Hollen.

A cold knot tightened in my stomach. Zenobia. The girl I betrayed. The one who swore we’d forever have beef.

And now, her face was staring back at me from the screen—a reminder of everything I’d lost, and a dangerous chance to get it back.

Zenobia's POV

"Dammit, Zenobia. That's the third body guard you fired this month!" my father yelled from the head of the table after I told him I had to let go my bodyguard.

"Dad, he was a risk. He fell asleep while he was behind the wheel."

"He wasn't sleeping. He was praying."

"He was sleeping," I declare.

"Look, Zen. You need a bodyguard as protection. I'm not about to have my only child out there without someone watching her back."

"I'm not a child. I'm twenty three years old."

"I don't care if you're thirty. You're my child. My little girl."

"Fine, dad. A vacancy for a new bodyguard just opened up," I said.

"I'm going to be praying for that person because Lord knows you dispose of your bodyguard like if they were used tea bags," my mother said.

"I'll try to be lenient with the next."

"You'll do more than try. After Blossom was kidnapped in daylight, I'm not taking any chances. Your next bodyguard is going to be fired only if I say so."

I was shell-shocked. He couldn't be serious. "You're taking the firing power away from me?"

"Yes."

"Fine," I said, "I can't wait to torment that unlucky person," I mumbled to myself.

~

The next day, applicants sent and delivered their resumes. The head security personnel approved and disapproved the successful and unsuccessful applicants accordingly.

I sat in the living room next to my father when the HOS (Head Of Security) came in.

"Good morning Mr. Hollen. Miss Hollen."

"Good morning, Kenneth."

"Two applicants stood out. They were already called to be interviewed as you requested."

"Excellent," I responded. Kenneth handed me the resumes and the background information my father ordered them to seek out on the successful candidates.

"Riley. C. Payne. Twenty-six years old. Resident of Glendale. 6"2 in height," I read aloud then went to the last candidate.

"And lastly it's.....," my words got caught in my throat and my eyes blinked rapidly.

"Who's the last one Kenneth picked out?" dad asked.

"No. Not him."

"Not who?"

I felt all the hate building up again. "Kyle. E. Livingston."

The silence in the room became deafening. Six years of anger, betrayal, and unanswered questions crystallized in that single name. He had the audacity to come back, to ask for this job, to walk back into my life as if he had any right to be near me.

A cold, sharp smile touched my lips as I met my father's gaze. Fine. Let him come.

If Kyle Livingston thought he could survive as my bodyguard, he was in for the shock of his life. I was going to make sure he regretted ever applying.