Lourdes of Loki 12 - The Bodyguard

Yes, I was definitely going to bless this Vittorio if I one day got to meet him. He did live up to his promise after all and found us a bodyguard who lived up to our demands. It didn't take more than a week, before Vittorio called Gaetania and told her that he had found our man and that was sending him our way. A trustworthy and tough fellow according to Vittorio. He and my best friend had chatted a bit more and Gaetania invited this bodyguard up to the Clinic after our last client the next day. That seemed like safe – just in case we weren't comfortable with him, it was better to not having him knowing where we lived.

But we needn't have to worry, about ten minutes after our last client, a reporter for a flashy fashion magazine, had left us, a huge black guy walked over the threshold. Thinking 'mob bodyguard', I had expected some generic badass, a thug with shaven head, scarred face, tattoos, piercings and worn leather jacket. But no, I guess we had crashed one too many B-movie premiere, Gaetania and I, because I had sure been victimized by my prejudices in this case. No, beside of his size and fit body, this man looked like he could be working in a Wal Mart packing groceries or something.

His name was Malcolm, and he lived not far from our place, so it was easy for him to get around should he be needed. So we sat down around the table in the kitchen, him, Gaetania and me. While having sushi, we told what we were doing, where we lived, where we usually went during the weekdays and weekends, and what we did there and finally why we felt we needed his services.

"Vivek, you say. What more than Vivek," Malcolm asked, resting his cheek upon a basketball sized knuckle.
"Frode," I replied.
"Can't say I've heard of her."
"Is some kind of model," Gaetania explained. "Don't know in what business, but she's definitely thin enough to do the catwalk. Unfortunately we don't have a photo of her but we might very well be able to get one. I bet her ex-boyfriend Sean has a bunch if we ask him."

"So what happened really," Malcolm asked and I told him the story about the event at the beach.
"It's hard to say where it started to go sour, but apparently this girl had an attitude problem to start with. And for that reason she dragged in her pals, who weren't exactly small if you might put it mildly."
"Seems I should do some checking in on this Vivek Frode to start with," Malcolm promised. "I'm not sure, at first sight it might sound like your friends are exaggerating her malicious intent. On the other hand one can never be too careful. After all, coming to the beach with five guys to mess with three, that's a bit of overkill if you ask me. Come to think of it – where did she find those hulks? And why did they come with her? She paid them or what? Quite a few questions to find answers to. Perhaps she is dangerous, perhaps she is vindictive, but she might as well either have forgot about your involvement in the game, or be the kind of dog who who's barks are much worse than her bites."

"Actually," I said and regarded Malcolm. "I'm more worried about the guy I 'tazed'. He looks like the kind to pursue – eh, what was it you called it, Gaetania. At Sicily?"
"La Vendetta."
"Yes," I acknowledged. "After all I sent him straight out in the water, wetting his cool leather panties and made a general fool out of him, even if I couldn't have hurt him that bad. He just became a bit Loki'd."

"Hm..." Malcolm said. "Vendetta? Loki'd? I'm not really sure your European concepts work the same way on this part of the globe. But I'll have a look into this Vivek Frode and see if I can find out who she is, what her issue with Sean Conroy is, and if this in some way can come to affect you. Including that big guy you forced in the water, Lourdes."
"You seem to be good at these things," I pointed out.
"Well, I've been doing this now for a while. Besides being a body guard I'm also a private investigator. A man's gonna be able to have more than one string to his bow, you know."
"Sure," I replied. "And you know, if you can fix this, I think I have another job for you as well."

***

Four days later Gaetania received a text from Malcolm. He had found Vivek, and Gaetania made an appointment with him at a small café in Bel Air, where our believed nemesis was apparently hanging out. So after another busy working day, we made our way down to the rendezvous. I don't know if I'd become affected by the general surrounding but it had started to feel as if I was living in a movie. No blockbuster, mind you, but some of these films which were shoot in some old trucking garage and which made it directly to the DVD market. I almost waited for someone to call out 'cut' as we entered the little joint, which appeared to not have changed style since the 80ies, as the walls were white and covered in neon art, mirrors and chrome junk and the furnishing was chrome too, which pastel coloured soft areas.

"Perhaps this is the place in Back to the Future II," Gaetania said when I mentioned my thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
"The 80ies café. When this guy's travels into the future and ends up in 2010something, might as well have been 2012, he finds himself in the 80ies café. And there the 80ies theme rules and they play all these old songs by Michael Jackson and Madonna and the likes."
"You're right, they DO play Madonna here," I replied. "However it's one of her new ones."

Then we spotted our man, who was sitting in a corner boot reading a magazine, and we walked over to him and slipped down by him, Gaetania trying to catch the eyes of the waiter.
"You order by the counter," Malcolm explained after that we had said hello. "But I don't think you need to bother, the coffee is not exactly good and the sandwiches are overpriced. And we don't need to stay long."
"Well, we didn't hear that with 'order by the counter', Malcolm," I replied. "So we're heading your warnings and skip getting something. What do you have for us?"

"I couldn't find any Vivek Frode, but after some asking around it seems that this lady runs under several names."
"Just like some people I know," Gaetania pointed out off topic and I blew her a raspberry.
"The name she's mostly known by is Vivek Tuchniac. Apparently she makes a living as a so-called body model. Which is just another fancy name for porn actress."

"Should've guessed," I say. "I nicknamed her Latex after my first encounter with her.
"Yes, there's indeed a lot to say about that nickname. Seems like latex and leather such is the dress code in the little 'coven' she hangs with."
"Coven? She's some kind of wicca?" Gaetania asked.
"Not really," Malcolm said. "It's more like they are into some advanced games including sex and drugs."
"But no rock'n'roll?" I just couldn't help asking.
"No more like techno music," Malcolm didn't show with a twist of his face that he was amused.

"So where's she now?" Gaetania asked.
"I was getting there. Normally she's involved in some kind of movie shooting not far from here. Porno stuff, as I said. Not really your cup of tea I should think. But at this time she ought to be at a gym nearby."
"A gym?" Gaetania again. "Well, let's go then!"
"Hey, wait a moment," I halted them as they started to rise. "Why exactly should we see this lady?"
"To tell her to stay away from us of course," my friend said.
"But Gae, she has yet to pay us any attention. Save for that encounter at the beach, we haven't heard a word from her. Or her oversized friends. So I say we just lay low and let her take the first step. If any."

"You have a point," Malcolm conceded. "However, where she is now, we might just go and eye her over. She's never seen me before, so I could ask her some questions, while the two of you hang back."
"She's at a gym, you said?"
"Yes."
"I have no gym stuff with me," I replied. "Actually I don't even have gym stuff. I'm a runner. Do it in old trash, cut-off jeans and T-skirts with prints."
"I've taken care of that little part."
"Hey," Gaetania protested. "I'm not paying you expenses just to get some gym clothes to be able to sneak in and spy in a gym."

"No worry about that, they're free. Actually, they're commercial stuff, from a movie which never got shot. I got them from a guy who was from the company that went bankrupt, and I'm still trying to get rid of the crap. So if you don't mind your T-skirts and tights saying 'Descartes,' then you can have the outfits."
"Descartes?" I asked. "I mean, they tried to make a movie about Descartes?"
"Yes they were. They did one about Galilei the other year, it flopped, so why changing a losing theme, they thought and went with another old Euroguy. Shall we go?"

***

No, Toto, we were definitely not in Kansas anymore! Actually it felt like stepping into a Sci-Fi movie this time. Into that company where they manufactured those soulless clones which are actually droids, and with which they planned to take over the universe.  

Because here there were so many young people working out on various machines or with weights and stuff, and they all looked more or less the same. The men as well as the women. Fit, slimmed, elegant, spotless, faultless and cutting edge dressed all of them, just the right match of black breathing material from NASA with neon orange or ditto green linings and some white little logo in the corner, either picturing some kind of chibi ghost or two Japanese signs. It didn't matter what gender or that they ranged across all the races, save for perhaps jotuns, they still managed in some peculiar way to look all alike.

On top of that, they were all sweating the right way too. No drips and drops and big stains on their clothes, just some moisty coating, to show that they worked hard. Not like yours truly who always felt like I had swam the Niagara after my running rounds and who always was soaking in the armpits. Now, these people looked more like they had been sprayed with some water from a siphon. Then I was willing to beat dad's next down-payment upon that they didn't smell anything either - well perhaps lavender or peach...

And there she was. Latex, Aka Vivek Frode, aka Vivek Tuchniac. She was working the treadmill, running as if she had the wolf Fenrir sniffing at her ankles. Running, running, running - no wonder the woman stayed so skinny. (And what was wrong with outdoors, I mean really!) I pointed her out to Gaetania and she snorted as she caught sight of the woman.
"I'd love to tackle her down from that band and start force feeding her with pizza and donuts and pies and whatever and then tape her mouth so she can't barf it up again."
"I'll give you a hand in that," I said as I eyed Malcolm while he walked up to Latex and tapped her on the shoulder.

With an annoyed look she stopped the band and turned, facing Malcolm, and then her eyed widened slightly, as he was saying something to her, while Gaetania and I were pretending to be busy with our stairs machines. We watched them exchange a few words more and then Malcolm turned and walked away, and I patted Gaetania on her shoulder and I started after him, before my friend grabbed my arm.
"Wait a sec; it might look suspicious if we left the same time as him, when he has just talked to Latex.
"Point taken," I said and sat down on a bench, idled with re-tying my shoes and then drinking from my water bottle. At the same time some girl started yelling at Gaetania:

"What have you done, fatto? You just destroyed this machine!"
"Talking to me?" Puzzled, Gaetania regarded a girl almost as skinny as Latex, who was trying to re-start the stairs machine Gaetania had just used. It didn't want to obey her commands, it was just flashing some matrix-like message on the screen and refusing to kick into action. And it didn't get better because the skinny woman kept pressing all the buttons repeatedly and more or less simultaneously.
"Yes I am! You ruined the machine."
"Hey, I just switched it off," Gaetania's sarcastic reply hit the air. "So cool down a bit will ya!"

"Cool down nothing! Fattos like you shouldn't be allowed in here!"
"Hey," Gaetania balled her fist. "Who did you just call fat?"
"You!" the skinny girl pointed a red nail at Gaetania. "You people don't know how it works in here! You just break everything! Now, I can't use this."
"No you can't," I said. "And that's because these machines are meant for people with brains, not IQ-less stick insects like you!"

Then I grabbed Gaetania and pulled her more or less brusquely away, into the women's dressing room, hoping that Latex hadn't noticed us after our little drama. Gaetania was cursing in Italian under her breath, but she abided, because neither she was that found of facing Latex another time.

***

"I don't think she'll give you any more trouble," Malcolm said as he was driving us home in his blue BMW. "But I'll hang around for a while more just in case."
"Great," Gaetania said. "Now what did you just say to Vivek?"
"I just said 'hi' from Sean and told her I was not going to break her arm this time, but if she kept on harassing him and his friends I would be back. And then I WOULD be as mean as The Terminator."

We laughed at that and then he dropped us off by our place – and when he hit the accelerator again and roared off down the street, I turned towards our place – only to see the curtains in the neighbor's house move again. Now, that one, whoever it was, had been there looking again. And I had a gut feeling he wasn't a regular peeping Tom but something else. Something creepy!

***

"Dad," I prompted after finishing telling about Malcolm. "Now, how about that Hello Kitty t-skirt..." I could hear him groin on the other side of the phone. But a bet was a bet. So I told him firmly to take a picture of himself in the infamous skirt and mail it. I promised to only show it to Gaetania and then to delete the pic. "Besides she thinks you're gorgeous," I soothed him.