Hurt and Comfort Ch. 01

I check my image in the pocket sized mirror that I've stuck to the back of my locker door.

My short dark hair is neatly combed, the dark circles around my blackish brown eyes are not noticeable. There isn't a speck of make up on my brown skin because I don't bother with them. I have applied only enough lip balm to prevent my lips from getting chapped.

In the small mirror I can only see up to the collar of my black uniform.

I sigh and close my locker before setting my 5'10" frame straight. I run my hands once to straighten any unwanted creases in my already ironed uniform. My name tag is straight, I have the baton and taser clipped to my left, close to my dominant hand and my radio to my right. My jet black uniform is stainless and my work boots are shiny.

Working as the head of security in an acting studio that deals with the biggest names in the industry has its demands. You need to be presentable at all times. You need to be fluid in your communications. You should be confident enough to instill confidence in others. You need to be patient enough to tolerate the careless attitude from the bratty celebrities. You need to be strong enough to fend off the paparazzi when they are circling the studio like hawks or sneaking into the parking lot like thieves, with the sole purpose of catching the actors unawares in their personal moments. Then there are rabid fans. Most of them are okay but a few are willing to break all rules only to attract their idols' attention.

It is my job as the head of the security to manage and direct my team at all times to stop any unwanted incident. It is in my work description to stop any potentially damaging photos to be snapped that could end up on the front page of the tabloids or go viral on the social networking sites. You would think that's the job of the PR teams but then you would be wrong. The PR team comes into play only when such things have already happened. They control the damage and mitigate the consequences but not before several security personnel such as myself lose their jobs.

I don't dislike my job. On site, I'm constantly on my toes, surveying potential threats. I have to stay alert. I have to constantly monitor my team members. It's a good exercise for my mind and body and I love challenges. Also, it takes up most of my time and I have less time to feel lonely... but that's beside the point.

There are downsides of my job too. For one, I need to control the filthy rich celebrities and their wayward whims that could land them and myself in trouble. I have to bear with their tantrums when they don't have their way. It's a thankless job. You get cursed at by the fans, the paps and the actors themselves and the management don't really care unless you really screw up. Then they all blame you.

I have another job on the side for weekends. I teach martial arts, something which people love to call self defense. But being a woman is not for the best in this business. Men often find it degrading to learn the arts of attack and defense from a woman. Most of my students are teenage girls learning how to ward off potential molesters and rapists. It is fine by me, at least I'm doing something good.

After 5 years of service in the army, people would think I would find a job with better prospects. Well, to be honest, people do think that my job at Dreamway Studios is great. It is, if I consider the finances. Job satisfaction is a different thing though.

Today is just another day for me. I know exactly what is going to happen. The call time is at 10 but only the director, the intern and the lead actress will show up. The rest will show up at least an hour later after a few phone calls have been made and countless expletives have been yelled at no one in particular and yet, at everyone. Then slowly and steadily, the shooting will start and to make up for the lost time, they will drag their shooting until three at night. Then they will wrap up and head home, scheduling another call time at 10 tomorrow and the story will repeat itself.

We, on the other hand, will oversee the janitors lock everything up and reach home at four in the morning. Then we have to be back by nine to oil the machinery that won't even start running in hours. Of course the boys in my team are nice and they often offer to make sure the place is locked up prim and proper, so that I can go home early but I don't take up on their offer because it sets a bad precedence... and may be also because I'm a control freak.

I meet Charlie on my way out. He is a cheerful man and I'm glad that he is my assistant. Don't let the broad smile on his face fool you. He can be really strict when he wants to be and he knows how to keep the newbie watchmen in line. He is older than me by seven years but I beat him to the top because of my experience. To his credit, he took it sportingly. That's Charlie, a good man and a team player. I know if one guy will ever have my back, it would be him.

"Hi Ari!" he greets me with a smile, like every day.

Smiling isn't my strong suit. In fact, showing any emotion on my face is something I'm not comfortable with. Still I give him a smile. "Hi Charles."

He huffs in response. I know calling him Charles pisses him off and that I'm being a bitch. "Come on, I told ya, no one but my mother calls me that."

I grin. I love getting a rise out of him. He knows it too.

"Anyway boss, what's the plan today?"

This is why I like him. He's playful and jolly but thoroughly professional. No wonder he is a "guy's guy" as people call him.

"You patrolled the parking lot until 2 last night, so you man the CCTV rooms today with Jonas."

"Come on," he whines, albeit playfully, "not with Jonas. Please. Let me patrol the lots instead, I don't mind."

There is a reason why Charlie doesn't want to be in the same rule with Jonas. In fact none of the boys do. Jonas is a first class son of a bitch who should have been fired a long time back... Selfish and a back stabber. We have lost count of how many times we have been in a pickle because Jonas wanted to play the hero. His behaviour is even worse. Sloppy and complacent, he thinks he's too cool for his job. The only thing that bastard has going for him is his looks. With blond hair, blue eyes and shiny milk cream skin, he's the apple of the manager's eye. Also, I once overheard the manager saying that he is pretty good at giving blowjobs. I suppose that's why he still has his job.

I sigh. "If anyone can keep Jonas under check, it's you."

"Don't downplay yourself. You're the leader." He emphasizes on the word 'the' for effect. He looks at me in the eyes to show he means every word.

How can I probably torture him with Jonas after this?

"Okay," I sigh, already feeling tired even before the day has started. "I'll take Jonas with me for patrol. You team up with Tim."

The big smile on his lips is back again. "So it worked."

I frown. "What?"

"Flattering you... It worked." He tries to sound serious but the wink at the end of the sentence is a give away.

"Shut up and get out before I change my mind."

But Charlie understands I'm not serious either. He makes an exaggerated effort to exit the room, like a rat scampering away from a predator.

When I'm out in the lot, I'm already in a better mood.

It is almost close to ten when I finish patrolling the studio grounds once, checking for hidden cameras and making sure that the gates and doors that should remain locked are indeed locked. Then I make a sweep to keep the entry and the exit ways clean. I glance outside. There are only a few youngsters hanging out, probably to catch a glimpse of their favourite stars while they drive in. They seem harmless but I stand close to the gate, just in case.

It's past ten and Jonas is nowhere to be seen. My mood is rapidly deteriorating. Manning an entire studio lot with only four people is tough enough but we have to manage because of the recent downsizing. And now one of them decides to play hooky. I briefly consider pulling Tim out of the camera room but then decide against it. Tim works hard enough. He should rest his legs while he can. If it gets hot out here, may be I'll drag him out.

Also, I'll get that ass Jonas fired. I don't care how many people he has blown to stay afloat, I'm going to sink him today.

(.................................................................................................................................................................)

As predicted, the intern shows up first, followed by the director, then the actress, Tonya Mason.

I have to admit though, of all the celebrities I have handled during my three years of security work, Mason is... different.

Tonya Mason has been acting since she was seven, so at 27, she is an acting veteran. I hardly know anything about acting but I have caught glimpses of her work and I have to say, she is damn good. She has won countless awards and accolades.

Surprisingly enough, she seems alright. She's the first among actors to arrive on set every day and she works hard. She isn't a snob and is polite to everyone, including lowly security personnel like us. She usually listens to the advice we give her. She also has a wicked sense of humor. I have never spoken to her in more than a few sentences because I like to keep things professional but I have heard her interacting with others and more often than not, I have found myself smiling at the jokes she cracks. She is a true entertainer at heart.

If I weren't the icy bitch that I am, I'd have fallen for her. She's so small at 5'4" with curly brown hair rippling over her shoulders. Her eyes are a mysterious shade of hazel. She has full lips and a round face. She still has a thin pad of baby fat over her cheek bones that gives her a "girl next door" vibe that makes everyone swoon. Don't get me wrong, she is gorgeous. But she isn't one of the porcelain dolls we're used to seeing on screen.

May be I had had a crush on her for a few hours after meeting her for the first time but I don't let my libido interfere with my efficiency. My personal life is shit anyway and I'm practical enough to know my place in the scheme of things. Being a woman sucks in my line of job and I have worked hard to build the reputation I have today. Throwing away what I have over a mirage would be a foolish mistake, one that I'll not commit.

Still, my heart quickens its pace when she throws me a smile and I get a glimpse of her crooked teeth. Only the other day I heard an insider comment that she needs to get her teeth fixed in order to be more popular. I think that insider has his head too far up his ass.

Her smile is the most gorgeous thing about her... and her eyes... and her hair.

Damn, I sound like a starstruck school girl.

Like every day, she looks at me while swiping her card at the entry point where I stand guard today. She gives me a blinding smile, like she does every time our eyes meet, which is quite often. I nod and smile politely, ignoring the physiological reactions in my body.

Then she drives past me and I'm left there at the gate to tackle with the hoards of camera wielding, self proclaimed journalists that threaten to breach the perimeters.

(........................................................................................................................................)

By the time everyone of the cast and crew has entered into the studio and I have set the last "biggest fan" on their way home, it's past noon.

Jonas hasn't shown up yet. Great!

I roll my eyes once and walk inside. The summer is supposed to be over but the weather gods don't seem to have gotten the memo. I wipe the sweat off my brows with my sleeve.

I have been in far worse situations. I have been in a war in a desert and lived to come back and tell the tale. But the starched and ironed uniform and leather boots are making me boil.

Damn decorum.

At two, Charlie and Tim take turns to go out for lunch. After they are done, Charlie comes up to me so that I can go and grab a bite. He's manning the CCTV, no wonder he knows Jonas hasn't shown up.

"You know boss, you really don't need to patrol the area. This is not war."

"Yeah, it's worse," I mutter. "Thanks Charlie, I'll back in five."

"Take your time!" Charlie yells at my back as I pace to the cafeteria.

I return to my post in ten minutes after grabbing a sandwich and a bottle of cold water. I would really like coffee but a hot drink will make me sweat more and caffeine makes me jittery. A jumpy guard is the worst thing ever.

Just after Charlie notifies me on radio that he is back in the camera room, the cast and the crew come out in the grounds on lunch break. I straighten up in alertness once more.

From my experience I know that anyone can do anything to screw up a multi million dollar project.

Nothing happens though. Nobody gives me a second glance. The intern runs around, arranging for coffee and other stuff and almost bumps into me. He doesn't glance at me once.

I don't care.

I stroll lazily to the back where the actors' trailers are.

When I'm walking past Tonya's trailer, I hear something that makes me stop in my tracks.

"Stop please, you're hurting me."

It is Tonya's voice. Her trailer door is closed. Is she in danger or is she rehearsing a line?

I listen carefully.

It's Tonya again. "Stop, no! Don't make me call security. You said you wanted to talk."

I could hear panic rising in her voice but then, she's a good actress. I waited, ready to spring into action if needed.

I hear a male voice this time. "Don't be a bitch! You're mine, you understand? Just tell me who you're fucking behind my back."

Tonya replies, "That's none of your business. I'm not fucking anyone behind your back. We broke up, remember? It's over." She sounds angry.

The man seems to fly out of handle. "You just don't break up with me, you slut. It's over when I say it's over. You don't get to dump Tim Carson, do you hear me?"

This is all what I need. I know for a fact Tim Carson is Tonya Mason's ex boyfriend. They broke up two weeks ago. It created quite a splash.

I knock on the door loudly before calling out, "Ms. Mason, are you alright?"

At first everything is silent.

Then Carson yells back, "Go away, bitch. Mind your business."

I ignore the jerk. "Ms. Mason, I know you're in there. Please open the door."

I'm replied with more expletives from Carson.

"Open the door or I'm coming in."

I hear shuffling from inside.

"I'm coming in," I announce for the final time before knocking the door open.

As soon as I enter, I see Tonya face down on the couch and Carson standing over her with a glistening blade in his hand. His muddy brown hair is messy and he is sweating in buckets. The stubble on his face is at least a day old. His designer T-shirt looks worn and dirty. He is shaking like a rabid dog, probably effects of a missed dose of medication or drugs. Even from the distance, I can smell alcohol in his breath. He looks like a maniac and his slate grey eyes are insane.

I fight the adrenaline rushing through my veins to stay calm. I need to stay calm in order to control the mad man. Hopefully, Charlie has already seen me going into the actress' trailer on the camera and he knows how odd it is, so he'll sense something is amiss.

I bring out my taser in one swift motion and point it at Carson.

"Put the blade down, Carson." I manage to sound calm.

"You put that thing down," he spits in response in a way only a drunk man can.

"Don't harm her. You don't want to be arrested, do you?"

He opens his mouth to say something but at the same time, I hear Charlie's voice from behind. Carson hears it too. That's the distraction I need. I don't hesitate to use the device in my hand and in a second, Tim Carson is lying in a heap on the floor.

I run to Tonya and help her to sit up while Charlie restrains the perpetrator.

"Are you alright?" I ask her and my heart breaks when I see tears in those beautiful golden green orbs.

She glances at me for a second and then something similar to embarrassment or regret flashes in her eyes. She quickly looks away and nods.

"Are you hurt?"

She shakes her head mutely.

"Ma'am, did you invite her in?" Charlie asks.

I cringe. Charlie is asking an important question because if she didn't, our collective asses will be on the line for letting an unwanted visitor reach her tailer. Still, this woman is shaken and now is not the time to ask sensitive questions.

"Ye...yeah... I let him in," she struggles to choke back a sob.

She looks so fragile that I feel a strong urge to take her in my arms and assure her that she is safe. I'm startled by my own thoughts.

"We'll have to inform the manager and call the cops," Charlie pushes.

Her face darkens in panic and I can't stop myself. I sit down beside her on the couch. "Hey, don't worry, okay? There won't be a scene."

"You go inform the manager, let him call the cops. I'll keep the wolves away," I direct Charlie as I get up. The "wolves" in question are the paps who might intercept police radio and hear the cops responding to a call from Dreamway Studios.

Her hands suddenly grip mine, her fingers strong around my wrist. "Pl... please, don't go," she stammers.

She looks up at me with those wide beautiful eyes and I feel something shift inside me... something that I have not felt since... since I saw the love of my life blown up right in front of my eyes in Afghanistan three years back. I close my eyes and almost shake my head to stop that line of thought.

Thankfully, Charlie breaks the silence. "Okay boss, you stay with her. I'll radio Tim to come out and manage the wolves. I'll talk to the manager." With that, he nods at me, lifts Carson up on his shoulders and hauls him away.

We sit in silence for sometime. I struggle to keep dangerous thoughts out of my head. Her hand still grips mine but sometime in between her fingers have laced through my fingers.

"What will they do to him?" she asks shakily.

"Nothing. The cops will probably book him for trespassing but the rest depends on whether you decide to press charges." I pause for a moment. "How did he get in?"

"I... I invited him in... through the exit..."

She glances at my face quickly. I try hard to keep a neutral expression but she probably sees through it because she hangs her head down. "I'm sorry." She speaks so softly that it's almost inaudible.

"It's alright," I breath out. A strange heaviness is settling on my chest, a mixture of sadness and some other emotion that I can't quite place. I squeeze her hand instinctively and immediately curse myself. What am I even thinking?

She looks at me for a long moment before whispering, "Thank you."

(........................................................................................................................................................)

I leave her trailer when the cops arrive to take her statement. I give my statement too, so does Charlie. Shooting is suspended for the day. Hours pass by in a blur and I see a cuffed Carson being led away by the cops.

At around seven in the evening, I get summoned to the manager's office.

"Ms. Arianna Summers, do you know why I called you to my office?" the manager, John Huntington asks. His small face is almost covered by fashionably thick, oversized pair of glasses. He gives me a creepy smile and I can see the nicotine stains on his teeth. The man is a walking chimney. His greying hair is slick with oil and he often drapes his thin frame with a large coat that makes him look like a bat.

"I suppose it's about today's incident," I reply with a confidence I don't feel.

"Yes, indeed." He grinds his palms together, like he is enjoying every moment of it. "Today's incident proves something. Do you know what?"